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“When you shatter the chains of this world and forge the next, remember that art is as vital as food to a kingdom. Without it, a kingdom is nothing, and will be forgotten by time. I have amassed enough money in my miserable life to not need any more—so you will understand me clearly when I say that wherever you set your throne, no matter how long it takes, I will come to you, and I will bring music and dancing.”
She was the heir of fire.
Behind them, across the hall, the dancers shattered their roses on the floor, and Aedion grinned at his queen as the entire world went to hell.
She was a whirling cloud of death, a queen of shadows, and these men were already carrion.
He had understood that with Rowan, she was no longer afraid
with Rowan, Arobynn was now utterly unnecessary. Irrelevant.
“What if there was a god of truth—a Sin-Eater? What if he blessed Gavin, and this sword?”
She’d forgotten the name she’d been given, but it made no difference. She had only one name now: Death, devourer of worlds.
This witch had been crafted from the darkness between the stars.
“But would you bleed red, or black?” “I’ll bleed whatever color you tell me to.”
Manon. A name. Do not think of that one—do not think of her. The demon hated that name. Manon. Enough. We do not speak of them, the descendants of our kings.
“What if we go on,” he said, “only to more pain and despair? What if we go on, only to find a horrible end waiting for us?” Aelin looked northward, as if she could see all the way to Terrasen. “Then it is not the end.”
She said softly, “You make me want to live, Rowan. Not survive; not exist. Live.”
Light up the darkness, Majesty.”
👀👀👀
Then she smiled with every last shred of courage, of desperation, of hope for the glimmer of that glorious future. “Let’s go rattle the stars.”
a death for every day in hell, a death for the childhood taken from her and from Evangeline. She was fury, she was wrath, she was vengeance.
Aelin extended her hand—a question and an offer and a promise. “To a better future,” she said. “You came back,” he said, as if that were an answer. They joined hands. So the world ended. And the next one began.
The Crown Prince tipped his head back to the sky and roared, and it was the battle cry of a god.
👀👀👀👀👀👀
