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“I love you. I am in love with you, Rowan. I have been for a while. And I know there are limits to what you can give me, and I know you might need time—”
“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.”
“Fireheart.” She sniffed back tears. “Buzzard.”
“You are mine.” Rowan’s breathing started again, jagged and savage as the waves breaking around them. She flicked open the top button of his pants. “I’m yours,” he ground out.
“And you love me,” she said. Not a question. “To whatever end,” he breathed.
“You are mine,” Rowan breathed, and she felt the claiming in her bones, her soul. “I am yours,” she answered. “And you love me.” Such hope and quiet joy in his eyes, beneath all that fierceness. “To whatever end.”
“You don’t want to know the depraved things I’ve thought about this mouth.”
Lock for the Wyrdkeys—to seal shut the gate, and bind the keys inside them forever.
“Why do you think you burn so brightly? It is not just Brannon’s blood that is in your veins. But Mala’s.” Aelin breathed, “Mala Fire-Bringer was your mother.”
Silence fell on the ship as Manon Blackbeak tumbled from her saddle, falling through wind and spindrift, and hit the water.
I have no lands, no money, no army to offer Aelin Galathynius. But I will find her—and help her in whatever way I can. If only to keep just one girl, just one, from ever enduring what I did.”
It’d be a shame to lose the most beautiful woman in the world so soon into her immortal, wicked life.”
“You killed him, didn’t you?” That was what the splash had been. A body being dumped over the side. Lorcan halted. Looked over a broad shoulder. There was nothing human in his dark eyes. “If you want to survive, you have to be willing to do what is necessary.”
“If you have a problem with my killing someone who reeked of itching to betray us the moment he got the chance, then you are going to love your queen.”
“Your little queen,” Lorcan sneered, “is a murderer, and a thief, and a liar. So if you’re going to call me such things, then be prepared to fling them at her, too.”
“I’m going to Eyllwe. Take me ashore and I’ll wash my hands of you as easily as you washed the blood of that man off yours.”
“I see you. I see every part of you. And I am not afraid.” I will not be afraid.
“I’d walk into the burning heart of hell itself to find you.”
“It’s called the Yielding,” she said, a chill brushing down her spine. “The bit of magic we have. We usually cannot summon or wield, but for one moment in a witch’s life, she can summon great power to unleash upon her enemies. The cost is that she is incinerated in the blast, her body yielded to the Darkness. In the witch wars, witches on both sides made Yieldings during every battle and skirmish.”
“I don’t think you can handle the sort of things I need, witchling. And I am never begging for anything again in my life.”
Dorian lowered his mouth to hers.
Rowan had healed the bruise on the back of her knuckles from the blow she’d dealt the witch—and she’d thanked him by locking the door to their room and getting on her knees before him. She could still feel his fingers fisted in her hair, still hear his groan—
Killing, crocheting, how to make you emit those noises again—
Round two, he seemed to say. As soon as this is dealt with. We’re having round two. This time, I get to see what noises you make.
“No, he’s not,” Manon said. The witch’s iron nails flashed out a heartbeat before Fenrys struck.
Ahhhh
“Erawan’s Bloodhound.”
“You look like you could barely lift a fork—and haven’t in months.”
“Your Second screamed when Erawan broke her,” the Bloodhound said. “His Dark Majesty sends this to remember her by.”
We are the ilken, and we have come to feast.
She was not fast enough to stop it as two sets of claws slashed through the white coat, through the shield he kept on himself, and Fenrys’s cry of pain barked across the water.
Gavriel, bloodied and limping worse than Aedion, was a step behind his son.
The key. Erawan knew she had the Wyrdkey.
“Pay up, pricks.”
“But if Maeve had tried to harm either you or her, Aedion, I would have done everything in my power to get you out.”
“I have no interest in human women,” he purred. “Too breakable.”
Eyllwe was burning.
Vernon. Sitting on the other side of the table, smiling at her like a cat.
As her shoulders curved inward, her chest caving, and she drove the blade home.
“I will always find you,” he swore to her. Her throat bobbed. Lorcan whispered, “I promise.”
Soon to be only one more, once Elide gave her the key she carried. Two keys—against one. Perhaps they would win this war.
Elide stood on her toes, kissed his stubble-rough cheek, and said, “I will always find you, too, Lorcan.”
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.
The Queen of Flame and Shadow, the Heir of Fire, Aelin of the Wildfire, Fireheart …
They both turned, giving Rowan Whitethorn horrifyingly innocent smiles. The Fae Prince, to his credit, only winced after they looked away again.
Unleashing a cry that set the world trembling, Prince Rowan Whitethorn Galathynius, Consort of the Queen of Terrasen, began the hunt to find his wife.
