Still Aelin kept burning. Aedion couldn’t even see her in the heart of that power. There was a cost—there had to be a cost to such power. She had been born knowing the weight of her crown, her magic. Had felt its isolation long before she’d reached adolescence. And that seemed like punishment enough, but … there had to be a price. Nameless is my price. That was what the witch had said. Understanding glimmered at the edge of Aedion’s mind, just out of grasp. He fired his second-to-last arrow, straight between the eyes of a frantic ilken.
