But he lingered in the center of the space as his mate paused before the shining, living wall. There was no expression on her face, no tension in her body. Yet she inclined her head to the Little Folk half-hidden in the branches and boughs before her. Her jaw moved—speaking. Brief, short words. He’d never so much as heard of the Little Folk talking. But there was his queen, his wife, his mate, murmuring with them. At last, she turned away, her face still blank, her wildfire eyes as flat and cold as the lake. Fenrys fell into step beside her, and Rowan remained in place as Aelin aimed for the
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