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They were not seen, or heard, or scented by those before them. And this was the past. A thousand years ago, to be exact.
“Mala’s bloodline shall bleed again to forge the Lock anew. And you will lead them, a lamb to slaughter,
So essentially Aelin has to do all this to sacrifice herself.... well this fucking sucks
And he did not tell her what he’d detected while he touched the Sword of Truth, what lies he’d sensed and unraveled. They never spoke of them again.
WHAT LIES
“In the North, two branches flow from Mala. One to the Havilliard House, where its prince with my mate’s eyes possesses my raw magic—and her brute power. The other branch flows through the Galathynius House, where it bred true: flame and embers and ashes.”
OH NO IT WILL BE DORIAN OR AELIN IN THE ENDDD oh no its going to be gutting
She had modified her sea dragon. Given it longer limbs—with prehensile thumbs. Given her tail more strength, more control. Her own little project, during the long days of travel. To take one original form and perfect it. To alter what the gods had made to her own liking.
She has quickly become a favorite of mine
Clubbed, not spiked—no, the spikes had gotten stuck in Skull’s Bay. So she’d made her tail into a battering ram.
Like... Badass
They bounced off scales of Spidersilk. Hours spent studying the material grafted onto Abraxos’s wings had taught her about it—how to change her own skin into the impenetrable fiber.
WHAT it just gets better
Now the dark queen’s flag vanished entirely, as Fae ships bearing the silver banner of the House of Whitethorn opened fire upon their own armada.
HAHAHAHA FUCK YOU MAEVE
The words hit her like stones. “The Queen Who Was Promised,” Aelin said. “But not to the world. To the gods—to the keys.”
“I go, too. For the time I bought you, when this game is finished, my soul will be melted back into the darkness. I will not see Gavin, or my children, or my friends … I will be gone. Forever.”
I’ve hated Elena because she’s been so unhelpful really, it’s been infuriating, but have to cut her some slack with this sacrifice. Essentially damning her own soul.
Brannon’s mark. The mark of the bastard-born … the Nameless. Nameless is my price. To buy them a future, she’d pay it.
Oh man this book is just so well written
And behind it, descending upon the Fae fleet with wicked delight, flew twelve others.
Abraxos found them :)
“The girl who Lorcan Salvaterre summoned me to save.” That ripple of Lorcan’s power the day Ansel’s fleet had closed in … She’d known it was a summoning. The same way she’d summoned the Valg to Skull’s Bay.
He fucked them
“It is done,” she said simply. “Let the world know you, a male of honor, have none. That you betrayed your queen for another, for a bastard get of yours.”
Maeve said, “So your mate was given to another. And I let him fall in love, let him get her with child. And then I broke him. No one ever asked how those enemy forces came to pass by his mountain home.”
PSYCHOPATH
You’re likely about five years away from Settling.”
Oh my god
“Ten lashes, Cairn. Let Her Majesty have a taste of what to expect when we reach our destination, if she does not cooperate.”
I’m UNWELL, so unwell
“What number was that, Aelin?” She would not. She would never count for that rutting bitch—
Oh GODDDDD not again
Lorcan’s eyes widened, but with Maeve’s command, he couldn’t move, couldn’t do anything as Manon slammed the hilt of Wind-Cleaver into the side of Elide’s head. The girl dropped like a stone. That was all Manon needed to haul her over a shoulder and say to Maeve, “Good luck.” Her eyes slid to Aelin’s once—only once. Then she looked away.
“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
And for the sake of their world, Manon prayed the Queen of Terrasen could survive it. If only so Aelin could then die for them all.
What a sad sentence
Rowan hissed, “Where is my wife?” Lorcan swayed where he knelt. Wife. Wife.
WIFEEEE!?!
Aelin had known. That Lorcan had betrayed her and summoned Maeve here. That she had been living on borrowed time. And she had married Whitethorn … so Terrasen could have a king. Perhaps had been spurred into action because she knew Lorcan had already betrayed her, that Maeve was coming …
How had the other fae males not noticed the summoning too??
Manon came closer, her witches now flanking her. They all sniffed at the blood. A golden-haired one swore softly.
I thought the witches would get there in time and kill Maeveeeee
Lysandra did not flinch. “She asked me—that day on the boat. To help her. She told me the suspected price to banish Erawan and restore the keys. What I needed to do.” Aedion snarled, “What could you possibly …” Lysandra lifted her chin.
But no one would know. No one but us. Not while you wore her skin for the rest of your life.”
NOOOOOO WAYYYYY I HAVE GOODEBUMPS
“But any offspring with Rowan wouldn’t look anything like—” Lysandra’s face was pleading. “You would fix that, Aedion. With me.”
OMFG THE ELABORATE PLAN OMGGGG
Elide said to Lorcan, “I hope you spend the rest of your miserable, immortal life suffering. I hope you spend it alone. I hope you live with regret and guilt in your heart and never find a way to endure it.”
“I am going to find the Crochans. And I am going to raise an army with them. For Aelin Galathynius. And her people. And for ours.”
She had made plans for all of them—and none for herself.
I'm weeping SOS
eyes. Turquoise—with a core of gold. Aedion breathed as if in a trance, “Galan.” Galan Ashryver, Crown Prince of Wendlyn.
white-clad people that appeared on the cresting dunes behind them, splattered in mud and looking like they had trekked across the marshes themselves.
NO WAY IS IT REALLY THEM FROM THE RED DESERT
“Galan?” Rowan went still as death at the voice that floated over the dunes. At the golden-haired woman who wore the skin of his beloved.
I CANNOT
