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“If you are allowed to change so greatly in two years, may I not be permitted to have changed as well?”
Sorry not for what she’d done to his face, but for the fact that her heart was healed—still fractured in spots, but healed—and he … he was not in it. Not as he’d once been.
But where are the checks against your kind? Iron? Not much of a deterrent, is it? Once magic is free, who is to stop the monsters from coming out again? Who is to stop you?” A spear of ice shot through her heart. Monster.
At first light, Chaol went to the nearest jeweler and pawned the ring for a handful of silver.
But she was her own champion now.
And for a moment, she wondered how another young woman’s life would have been different if she had stopped to talk to her—really talk to Kaltain Rompier, instead of dismissing her as a vapid courtier. What would have happened if Nehemia had tried to see past Kaltain’s mask, too.
And a child born of Valg and witch bloodlines …
The Valg—the demons that had bred with the Fae to create the witches—somehow returned,
“We are to be your army, not your whores,”
Human children didn’t count—human children were as good as veal to some of the Clans. Especially the Yellowlegs. But witchlings … there was no greater pride than to bear a witch-child for your Clan; and no greater shame than to lose one.
The courtesan had no idea how close she was to the truth. Aelin wondered how the woman would react to her other form—to the elongated canines. Somehow, she doubted Lysandra would call her a monster for it—or for the flames at her command.
“What if we killed two birds with one stone?”
“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.”
If these were her last moments, then at least she would go down fighting, to the sound of exquisite music.
She was the heir of fire. She was fire, and light, and ash, and embers. She was Aelin Fireheart, and she bowed for no one and nothing, save the crown that was hers by blood and survival and triumph.
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.
Most men, she’d decided, were bastards of varying degrees. Most of them were monsters.
Her title. Lady of Perranth—that’s what she should have been. Not that it mattered now.
She’d overheard the other servants whisper about the dark, fell things that went on under those mountains: people being splayed open on black stone altars and then forged into something new, something other.
Manon had a soft spot for broken things, perhaps she would spare her as well.
Don’t be angry, Finnula had said, be smart.
giant, lethal dog. With wings.
She had no idea that witch-blood flowed strong in her mortal veins.
That’s why her uncle brought her there
The Ironteeth took after our Valg ancestors more, while the Crochans got more of the Fae traits.
“We are wicked,” Ghislaine said. “The Valg? Legend has it that they’re the origin of evil. They are blackness and despair incarnate.”
Nesryn said, “Stop feeling sorry for yourself. Stay the course, but also plot another one. Adapt.”
A new world, yes. But a world in which the ordinary human voice would be nothing more than a whisper.
“There is no such thing as a witch being alone.”
“You met his father. A few weeks ago. Gavriel.”
“Lorcan’s here.”
while people died because of her actions—
I don’t like Chaol anymore
shape-shifter?”
Lysandra turned her attention to Aelin. “No one knows this. Not even Arobynn.”
My mother died defending Aelin Galathynius, the heir to the throne of Terrasen. She bought Aelin time to run. They followed Aelin’s tracks to the frozen river, where they said she must have fallen in and drowned.
“Do you believe monsters are born, or made?”
“I’m going to enjoy having you back,” he purred. Then, faster than she could react, he slid the Wyrdstone ring onto her finger.
“I had to know.” “Know what? That Arobynn is a monster?” “That there was no redeeming him. I knew, but … It was his final test. To show his hand.”
All this time I thought it would be a relief, a joy to end him. But all I feel is hollow. And tired.”
Then she lifted her father’s sword and severed Arobynn’s head from his body.
“Just to be sure,” was all she said.
“They buried him
“How do you say ‘Black Mountains’ in the Old Language?” A pause, and then a loosened breath. “Morath,”
Erawan—”
Valg king
they’d discussed this beforehand. What to say to her.
“The ring doesn’t kill them. It grants immunity from their power. A ring forged by Mala herself. The Valg could not harm Athril when he wore it.”
Never—never had her grandmother bowed or curtsied or so much as nodded for another ruler, not even the other Matrons.
The queen looked at the nails, the teeth, and grinned. Honestly—it was a shame that Manon had to kill her.
Can you please stop fighting and just become besties
Aelin ran for Manon, leaping over the fallen stones, her ankle wrenching on loose debris.
The Queen of Terrasen had saved her life. Manon didn’t know what to make of it. For she now owed her enemy a life debt.
