A queen who took his massive paw in her hands, pushing back folds of fur and skin to unsheathe a curved claw. She slid it over her bare forearm, splitting skin. Leaving blood in its wake. Rowan’s breath caught. Gavriel and Lorcan whirled toward them. Aelin spoke again, and Fenrys blinked once in answer. She deemed that answer enough. “Holy gods,” Lorcan breathed as Aelin extended her bleeding forearm to Fenrys’s mouth. “Holy rutting gods.” For Fenrys’s loyalty, for his sacrifice, there was no greater reward she could offer. To keep him from death, there was no other way to save him. Only this.
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