A blast of wind and ice answered—Sellene or Endymion. Maybe one of their many cousins. “No bridge big enough. But the river’s frozen solid—we might cross it, then melt it.” “With Aelin.” A doubtful, careful question. Aedion gestured toward the source of that answering blast of magic, now warring with the Valg princes’ power. “If the Fae royals can make ice, then they can unfreeze it. Right beneath Morath’s feet.” Galan’s turquoise eyes flickered, either at the plan or the fact that Aelin would not be the one enacting it. “Morath might see through us.” “There’s little other option.” From
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