Empire of Storms (Throne of Glass, #5)

by Sarah J. Maas

Because her safety always would come first. For him, keeping her protected, keeping her alive, would always come first. He’d learned it the hard way.

This thing between them, the force of it, could devour the world. And if they picked it, picked them, it might very well cause the end of it.

Not even Rowan-rutting-Whitethorn.

She had not asked him the questions that seemed to matter the most, letting him think her a foolish girl, blinded by gratitude that he had saved her.

“You will find, Rolfe, that one does not deal with Celaena Sardothien. One survives her.”

“The world,” Aelin said, “will be saved and remade by the dreamers, Rolfe.”

Aelin was insane, Dorian realized. Brilliant and wicked, but insane.

Dorian realized he … perhaps he could do with a bit more wickedness and insanity, too.

Fenrys let out a low whistle. “Gods help you, Rowan, that woman is …”

Gods, they looked so much alike, moved alike, the Lion and the Wolf.

They had not come ten years ago. She wanted them to know she had not forgotten it.

Never underestimate the power of that insufferable swagger.”

She chuckled, starting to feel the cool kiss of the water on her naked body. “As far as memory serves, Prince, it was that insufferable swagger that won your cranky, immortal heart.”

“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.”

“I’d walk into the burning heart of hell itself to find you.”

Even from across the deck, every inch between them went taut.

“I will always find you,” he swore to her.

And had then acted territorial enough to make Rowan wonder if he seemed so ridiculous around Aelin all the time.

“The fear of loss … it can destroy you as much as the loss itself.”

“This wasn’t my plan.” “I know,” Dorian said with a half smile. “That’s why you don’t like it.”

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.