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She’d known—of course she’d known—but to feel it … The most powerful purebred Fae male in existence. To an ordinary human, he was as alien as the Valg.
want you to sell those. And burn this dress.” “As you wish,” he said, pocketing the combs. “Such a pity, though. Your enemies would have fallen to their knees if they ever saw you in it.”
Rowan stood with his queen in the rain, breathing in her scent, and let her steal his warmth for as long as she needed.
Lightning gleamed on the blade, a flicker of quicksilver. For Wesley. For Sam. For Aelin. And for herself.
Clarisse, golden-haired and aging gracefully for a woman in her forties, clicked her tongue.
“We’re not whores for your men to use.” “You are sacred vessels,” the duke said. “It is an honor to be chosen.” “I find that a very male thing to assume.”
Damn
“And what could I ever ask of you that I couldn’t do myself?” “That’s the problem. Yes, you can do most things on your own. That doesn’t mean you have to.”
His Fireheart, shut in the dark.
A wind pushed from behind, toward the hole. Into it.
Gavin had been Dorian’s childhood hero, she recalled. And the story had been a lie. Elena had lied to her—
“Kill me. Please—please kill me. Roland—my name was Roland. Tell my—”
Dorian’s cousin
Get away, the demon had screamed—as if in surprise and terror. After looking her in the eyes. Those who had been affected … their eyes were ordinary colors. Brown and blue and green. But the ones who hadn’t … Black eyes, flecked with gold. And when he’d looked at Manon’s eyes … Gold eyes had always been prized among Blackbeaks. She’d never wondered why.
Wait are they the key to pushing all the demons into the gate and locking it?
The Fae Prince hoisted her up and set her on her feet. Neither of them immediately let go of the other. Chaol waited—waited for that twist and tug of jealousy, for the bile of it to sting him. But there was nothing. Only a flickering relief, perhaps, that … That Aelin had Rowan. He must be feeling truly sorry for himself, he decided.
Meeting over. But Aelin suddenly said, “Thank you.” Nesryn paused, somehow knowing the queen had spoken to her. Aelin put a hand on her heart. “For all that you’re risking—thank you.” Nesryn’s eyes flickered as she said, “Long live the queen.” But Aelin had already turned away. Nesryn met Chaol’s gaze, and he followed after her and Aedion.
An indestructible army, possibly led by Erawan, if the King of Adarlan were insane enough to raise him. An army that could crush any human resistance. But … but maybe not if they allied with magic-wielders.
“No words, Prince?” “Why?” was all Rowan could ask. Every action, every possible plan still left him too far away. He wondered whether Lorcan realized that if he killed her, Lorcan himself would be next. Then Maeve. And maybe the world, for spite.
He’d done a good job concealing it, and his rage had been … she’d never seen someone that wrathful. But she’d still seen the terror on his face. It had been enough to make her master her own fear as fire started crackling in her veins. And she’d tried—gods damn it, she’d tried—to find a way out of that hold, but Lorcan … Rowan had been right. Without her magic, she was no match for him.
All she had been able to think about, in spite of her kingdom, in spite of all she still had to do, was the fear in Rowan’s eyes. And that it would be a shame if he never knew … if she never told him
“I broke your trust.” “You did no such thing. Rowan, you told him you wouldn’t hand over the key.” He sucked in a breath, his broad chest expanding. “I would have. Gods, Aelin—he had me, and he didn’t even know it. He could have waited another minute and I would have told him, ring or no ring. Erawan, witches, the king, Maeve … I would face all of them. But losing you …” He bowed his head, his breath warming her mouth as he closed his eyes. “I failed you tonight,” he murmured, his voice hoarse. “I’m sorry.”
“I missed you,” he said quietly, his gaze darting between her mouth and eyes. “When I was in Wendlyn. I lied when I said I didn’t. From the moment you left, I missed you so much I went out of my mind. I was glad for the excuse to track Lorcan here, just to see you again. And tonight, when he had that knife at your throat …” The warmth of his callused finger bloomed through her as he traced a path over the cut on her neck. “I kept thinking about how you might never know that I missed you with only an ocean between us. But if it was death separating us … I would find you. I don’t care how many
...more
Oh, she was in so much gods-damned trouble.
“We will get her back. We will save her. Together.” Chaol just held Aelin’s gaze, his shoulders squaring as he said, “Never again.” She wanted to believe him.
It was foolish to even start down this road, when every other man she’d let in had left some wound, in one way or another, accidentally or not.
“When we get back,” he said, “remind me to prove you wrong about every thought that just went through your head.” She lifted an eyebrow. “Oh?”
Her hands behind her back, Manon waited as her grandmother glided toward the king, monitoring his human-Valg entourage while they surveyed the clearing. The man closest to the king didn’t bother glancing around. His sapphire eyes went right to Manon, and stayed there. He would have been beautiful were it not for the dark collar around his throat and the utter coldness in his perfect face.
He smiled at Manon as though he knew the taste of her blood.
??
The prince was now leaning against a gnarled oak. Noticing her attention, he gave her a lazy grin. It was enough. King’s son or not, she didn’t give a damn. Manon crossed the clearing, Sorrel behind her. On edge, but keeping her distance. There was no one in earshot as Manon stopped a few feet away from the Crown Prince. “Hello, princeling,” she purred.
The ancient, cruel demon squatting inside him began thrashing as the white-haired witch sauntered up to him.
Her eyes
“Hello, princeling,” she said, her voice bedroom-soft and full of glorious death. “Hello, witchling,” he said. And the words were his own.
!!
“What is your name.” A command, not a question, as eyes of pure gold met his. “Dorian,” he breathed.
The stench of the Valg faded as they vanished, cleared away by a brisk wind as if Oakwald itself wanted to wipe away any trace.
Perhaps Manon would lose herself in blood and gore instead. “You’re carrion,” Manon said, and lunged. Only to slam face-first into an invisible wall. And then freeze entirely.
Dorian?
Chaol’s human blood wouldn’t hold the spell for long.
Wyrdmark?
That was why the captain had come running. He had come to kill the prince—the only mercy he believed he could offer him. The rebels didn’t know that the man was still inside.
If things had gotten to the point where Asterin could not be trusted to be alone with her … Manon did not want to consider it. Perhaps that was why she had agreed to come. Perhaps it was because of the scream Asterin had issued from the other side of the ravine. It had been so like the scream of the Blueblood heir, Petrah, when her wyvern had been ripped to shreds. Like the scream of Petrah’s mother when Petrah and her wyvern, Keelie, had tumbled into thin air.
Are they mated? They are part Fae
“But I made it to three months, then four. And when I couldn’t hide it anymore, I told your grandmother. She was pleased, and ordered me on bed rest in the Keep, so nothing disturbed me or the witchling in my womb.
Wouldn't she also be Asterin's grandmother?
“I made a plan. The moment I recovered from the birth, the moment they looked away, I’d take the witchling to her father and present her to him. I thought maybe a life in the forest, quiet and peaceful, would be better for my witchling than the bloodshed we had. I thought maybe it would be better … for me.”
Thinking like a Crochan
Something … something was cracking and aching in Manon’s chest, caving in on itself.
A jaunty slant to her lips, but silver lined her eyes. “I know.”
This has been said before. What does silver lined eyes mean
“I can curse,” Lysandra said as Aelin suppressed a smile, “because I’m older, and I know when it’s most effective. And right now, our friend looks like absolute shit.”
Lysandra gave her young ward a long look. “If you’ve finished eating the tarts clean off our plates, Evangeline, go onto the roof and raise hell for Aedion and Rowan.” “Take care with Rowan,” Aelin added. “He’s still on the mend. But pretend that he isn’t. Men get pissy if you fuss.” A wicked gleam in her eye, Evangeline bounded for the front door. Aelin listened to make sure the girl did indeed go upstairs, and then turned to her friend. “She’s going to be a handful when she’s older.”
Evangeline and Aedion? That's quite the age gap. Not compared to Aelinand Rowan I guess...
Aelin sighed. “Oh, thank the gods. You can look hideous when you cry.” Lysandra burst out laughing.
When Manon eventually dozed off, curled against Abraxos with a blanket of stars overhead, her head felt clearer than it had in months. And yet something nagged at her, even in sleep. She knew what it was when she awoke. A loose thread in the loom of the Three-Faced Goddess.
They were airborne within an hour, flying hard and fast above the clouds to keep hidden. Mile after mile they flew. Manon couldn’t tell why that thread kept yanking, why it felt so urgent, but she pushed them hard, all the way to Rifthold.
A male scent in the room snapped Rowan from sleep. He slid his knife out from under his pillow and sat up slowly. Aelin slumbered beside him, her breathing deep and even, yet again wearing one of his shirts. Some primal part of him snarled in satisfaction at the sight, at knowing she was covered in his scent.
His old commander was waiting, arms crossed over his broad chest. He surveyed Rowan with a frown, noting the bandages and his bare torso. “Should I thank you for putting on pants?” Lorcan said, his voice barely more than a midnight wind. “I didn’t want you to feel inadequate,” Rowan replied, leaning against the roof door.
Damn
was wondering who would ultimately win—you or the Wyrdhounds.” A flash of teeth. “I slaughtered them all.”
“We do not look back, Chaol. It helps no one and nothing to look back. We can only go on.”
“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.”
Also home to the Torre Cesme, the best mortal healers in the world.
Yrene!
