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You do not yield. Then she was gone, like dew under the morning sun. But the words lingered. Blossomed within Aelin, bright as a kindled ember. You do not yield.
“How do you want to play this?” Dorian murmured. “Do you want me to keep quiet, or be at your side?” “Asterin is my Second.”
“Is there something you’d rather do instead, witchling?” His voice turned rough, and he knew she could hear his heartbeat as it began hammering.
“His name is Abraxos,” Manon said. “He is … different.”
His Fireheart.
Rowan wrapped an ice-kissed wind around the tent, blocking out all sound, and began.
So Rowan followed her, as he would follow her until his last breath, and beyond
As Kaltain Rompier, clad in an onyx gown and dark hair unbound, smiled sadly at him.
