Kingdom of Ash (Throne of Glass, #7)

by Sarah J. Maas

A sword hung from his belt, its ruby smoldering in the light of her fire. She knew that sword. An ancient sword, forged in these lands for a deadly war. It had been her sword, too. Those erased calluses had fit its hilt so perfectly. And the warrior-prince now bearing it had found the sword for her. In a cave like this one, full of the relics of heroes long since sent to the Afterworld. She studied the tattoo snaking down the side of his face and neck, vanishing into his dark clothes. I am your mate. She had wanted to believe him, but this dream, this illusion she’d been spun … Not an illusion. He had come for her. Rowan. Rowan Whitethorn. Now Rowan Whitethorn Galathynius, her husband and king-consort. Her mate. She mouthed his name. He had come for her. Rowan. Silently, so smoothly that not even the white wolf awoke, she sat up, a hand clutching the cloak that smelled of pine and snow. His cloak, his scent woven through the fibers. She rose to her feet, legs sturdier than they’d been. A thought had the bubble of flame expanding as she crossed the few feet toward the sleeping prince. She peered down at his face, handsome and yet unyielding. His eyes opened, meeting hers as if he’d known where to find her even in sleep. An unspoken question arose in those green eyes. Aelin? She ignored the silent inquiry, unable to bear opening that silent channel between them again, and surveyed the powerful lines of his body, the sheer size of him. A gentle wind kissed with ice and lightn...