“Who was your mother?” Dorian ransacked his memory, all his history lessons on his royal house, but couldn’t recall. Elena made a sound that might have been a sob, her image fading into cobwebs and moonlight. “She who loved my father best. She who blessed him with such mighty gifts, and then bound herself in a mortal body and offered him the gift of her heart.” Aelin’s arms slackened at her sides. Aedion blurted, “Shit.” Elena laughed humorlessly as she said to Aelin, “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,
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