“Yes. Yes—it was all for you. All of it.” Elide gripped the seagrass in fistfuls, and Manon half wondered if she’d grow iron nails and shred it apart at the fury in her face. The hate. Maeve stepped over Aelin’s blood-splattered shirt, and brushed her hand over Lorcan’s cheek. “I have no use,” she crooned, “for self-righteous males who think they know best.”
Oh fuck, that’s what you fucking get Lorcan. God damn breaking blood oaths left and right over here
