To hell with waiting. Lorcan broke from the cover of trees, dark power swirling, primed to meet whatever broke through the line of tents. Freeing the sword at his side, he searched the sky, the camp, the world as death flickered, as the rising sun gilded the rolling grasses and set the dew steaming. Nothing. No indication of what, of who— He’d reached the first of the hollows that flowed to the camp edge, the dips narrow and steep, when Aelin Galathynius appeared. Lorcan didn’t expect the sob in his throat as she raced between the tents, as he beheld the iron mask and the chains on her, hands
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