Arcas, Borte’s ruk. A golden-haired woman dangling from his talons. Aelin. Aelin was— Arcas neared the earth, talons splaying. Aelin hit the ground, rolling, rolling, until she uncoiled to her feet. Right in the path of that wave. “Oh gods,” Fenrys breathed, seeing her, too. They all saw her. The queen on the plain. The endless wall of water surging for her.
