Empire of Storms (Throne of Glass, #5)

by Sarah J. Maas

Gods-damned Whitethorn had been his most effective general, assassin, and executioner for centuries. They had laid waste to kingdoms and then drunk and bedded themselves into stupors in the following days-long celebrations on the ruins. This winter, he’d had a damn fine commander at his disposal, brutal and vicious and willing to do just about anything Lorcan ordered. The next time he’d seen Rowan, the prince had been roaring, desperate to fling himself into lethal darkness to save the life of a princess with no throne. Lorcan had known—in that moment. Lorcan had known, as he’d pinned Rowan into the grass outside Mistward, the prince thrashing and screaming for Aelin Galathynius, that everything was about to change. Knew that the commander he’d valued was altered irrevocably. No longer would they glut themselves on wine and women; no longer would Rowan gaze toward a horizon without some glimmer of longing in his eyes. Love had broken a perfect killing tool. Lorcan wondered if it would take him centuries more to stop being so pissed about it. And the queen—princess, whatever Aelin called herself … She was a fool. She could have bartered Athril’s ring for Maeve’s armies, for an alliance to wipe Morath off the earth. Even not knowing what the ring was, she could have used it to her advantage. But she’d chosen Rowan. A prince with no crown, no army, no allies. They deserved to perish together.