“So there it is,” Aelin said, nodding toward the dark stain on the balcony stones. “Where Erawan met his end at the hands of a healer.” She frowned. “I hope it will wash off.” Rowan snorted, and when she looked over her shoulder, the wind whipping her hair, she found him leaning against the stairwell door, his arms crossed. “I mean it,” she said. “It’ll be odious to have his mess there. And I plan to use this balcony to sun myself. He’ll ruin it.” Rowan chuckled, and pushed off the door, going to the balcony rail. “If it doesn’t wash off, we’ll throw a rug over it.”
