Tower of Dawn (Throne of Glass, #6)

by Sarah J. Maas

He had chosen, and it had cost him. He had picked and he had endured the consequences. A body on a bed. A dagger poised above his heart. A head rolling on stone. A collar around a neck. A sword sinking to the bottom of the Avery. The pain in his body was secondary. Worthless. Useless. Anyone he had tried to help … it had made it worse. The body on the bed … Nehemia. She had lost her life. And perhaps she had orchestrated it, but … He had not told Celaena—Aelin—to be alert. Had not warned Nehemia’s guards of the king’s attention. He had as good as killed her. Aelin might have forgiven him, accepted that he was not to blame, but he knew. He could have done more. Been better. Seen better. And when Nehemia had died, those slaves had risen up in defiance. A rallying cry as the Light of Eyllwe was extinguished. The king had extinguished them as well. Calaculla. Endovier. Women and men and children. And when he had acted, when he had chosen his side … Blood and black stone and screaming magic. You knew you knew you knew You will never be my friend my friend my friend