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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.
She was a whirling cloud of death, a queen of shadows, and these men were already carrion.
Rowan was the most powerful full-blooded Fae male alive. And his scent was all over her. Yet she had no gods-damned idea.
Gods, he hated the smell of their blood. But damn if it wasn’t a glorious thing to be covered in
This is a great set of lines
Love the 1 sentence para. Love the antithesis.
WITCH KILLER— THE HUMAN IS STILL INSIDE HIM
Slowly, Aedion drew his blade and knelt, his head bowed as he lifted the Sword of Orynth. “Ten years of shadows, but no longer. Light up the darkness, Majesty.”
“Let’s go rattle the stars.”
Flesh tore, revealing a white column of bone—his spine—which she gripped, her nails shredding deep, and broke in two.
