“Manon Blackbeak,” Aedion mused, “would be a valuable ally, if we can get her to turn.” Aelin glanced at Rowan’s shoulder—where a faint scar now marred the golden skin beneath his clothes. “Perhaps getting Manon to turn on her kin would ignite an internal battle among the witches,” she said. “Maybe they’ll save us the task of killing them and just destroy each other.”
