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“Hello, witchling.” Some ancient, predatory part of her awoke at the half smile. It sat up, cocking its ears toward him. Not a whiff of fear. Interesting. Manon purred back, “Hello, princeling.”
He wished Chaol were with him.
“You will find, Rolfe, that one does not deal with Celaena Sardothien. One survives her.”
“Would you like me to kill him for you?”
the Mycenians would only return when the sea dragons did. And so Aelin had ensured that one appeared right in their gods-damned harbor.
silver flame …
realized it was the cold of the stars, the cold of stolen light. Not wildfire—but moonfire.
There was no force in any world that could keep her contained.
“The useless sentries in the watchtower are now all half in love with you,” he lied. “One said he wanted to marry you.” A low snarl. He yielded a foot but held eye contact with her as he grinned. “But you know what I told them? I said that they didn’t stand a chance in hell.” Aedion lowered his voice, holding her pained, exhausted stare. “Because I am going to marry you,” he promised her. “One day. I am going to marry you. I’ll be generous and let you pick when, even if it’s ten years from now. Or twenty. But one day, you are going to be my wife.”
“I love you. There is no limit to what I can give to you, no time I need. Even when this world is a forgotten whisper of dust between the stars, I will love you.”
What the hell are you thinking about? But his pupils had flared enough that she was well aware he knew precisely where her mind had gone as they walked down to the witch’s cabin. That Fenrys hung far back down the hall told her enough about the change in her scent. The usual things, she shot back at Rowan with a simpering smile. Killing, crocheting, how to make you emit those noises again—
“But it lets me slip between folds in the world. Only short distances, and only a few times before I’m drained, but … it’s useful on a killing field.”
Manon’s answering smile was terrifying.
When she awoke, clean strips of linen for her cycle were next to the bed. His own shirt, washed and dried overnight—now cut up for her to use as she would.
“From now until the Darkness claims us.”
“Remember who you are. Every step of the way down, and every step of the way back. Remember who you are. And that you’re mine.”
“We like to call it ‘territorial male nonsense,’ ” Aelin confided. “Or ‘territorial Fae bastard’ works just as nicely.”
I’ve been with just as many people. Women, men … I’ve seen and tried it all.” Her brows had risen. Aedion shrugged. “I find pleasure in both, depending on my mood and the person.” One of his former lovers still remained one of his closest friends—and most skilled commanders in his Bane. “Attraction is attraction.”
Rowan had not possessed an army of his own to give to Aelin. To give to Terrasen. So he had won an army for her.
Whitethorn had done it. For her. All of it, for Aelin.
You did not yield.
A wyvern. A wyvern with shimmering wings. And behind it, descending upon the Fae fleet with wicked delight, flew twelve others.
“Flame and shadow and death.
To raise an army of assassins and thieves and exiles and commoners.
