Her breath turned jagged as she began shaking, as a scream surged within her. She bit her lip, canines piercing flesh. She would not scream. Not yet. Breathe—breathe. The tang of her blood coated her mouth as she bit down harder. “A pity that there’s no audience to witness this,” said Maeve, her voice far away and yet too near. “Aelin Fire-Bringer, wearing her proper Faerie Queen’s crown at last. Kneeling at my feet.” A tremor shuddered through Aelin, rocking her body enough that the glass found new angles, new entries.
