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Once upon a time, in a land long since burned to ash, there lived a young princess who loved her kingdom …
Dorian dared a step forward. “Am I human?” Gavin’s sapphire eyes softened—just barely. “I’m not the person who can answer that.” And then the king was gone.
It had been his honor. From the very beginning, it had been his honor, the greatest of his immortal life.
It is the strength of this that matters. No matter where you are, no matter how far, this will lead you home.
You do not yield. Then she was gone, like dew under the morning sun. But the words lingered.
They’d walked this dark path together back to the light. He would not let the road end here.
The rage that roiled through him had no space for mercy. No room for compassion.
To keep him from death, there was no other way to save him. Only this. Only the blood oath.
“I’m so tired, Rowan.” His heart strained again. “I know, Fireheart.”
“I love you,” he whispered in Elide’s ear. “I have loved you from the moment you picked up that axe to slay the ilken.” Her tears flowed past him in the wind. “And I will be with you …” His voice broke, but he made himself say the words, the truth in his heart. “I will be with you always.”
A beacon glowing bright in the shadows of the mountains, in the shadows of the forces that awaited them, Aelin lit the way north.
“We are the Thirteen,” she said. “From now until the Darkness claims us.”
“Let’s make this a fight worthy of a song,” Aedion said.
Until the blast site was covered, as if a garden had grown from a field of blood.
the bridge, be the light. When iron melts, when flowers spring from fields of blood—let the land be witness, and return home.”
My name is Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, and I will not be afraid. I will not be afraid. I will not be afraid.
As the Lock became forged once more, as real as her own flesh. As Aelin’s magic completely vanished.
Aelin’s hand drifted to her heart and rested there. It is the strength of this that matters, her mother had said, long ago. Wherever you go, Aelin, no matter how far, this will lead you home.
She passed through a world of snowcapped mountains under shining stars. Passed over one of those mountains, where a winged male stood beside a heavily pregnant female, gazing at those very stars. Fae.
Together, they turned toward the stairs that would take them down to the gates. To death’s awaiting embrace.
Before them all, riding on the Lord of the North, was Aelin.
Aelin smiled, and Goldryn burned brighter. “I am a god.” She unleashed herself upon them.
I name you Elentiya, “Spirit That Could Not Be Broken.”
“Live, Elide,” was all the witch said to her before striding out of the hall once more. “Live.”
“Will you marry me, Lorcan Salvaterre?” He swept her up into his arms, raining kisses over her face. As if some final, chained part of him had been freed. “I’ll think about it.”
I, Aelin Ashryver Whitethorn Galathynius, swear upon my immortal soul to guard, to nurture, and to honor Terrasen from this day until my very last.
Their first as queen and consort. Their movements had been a question and answer to each other, and when the music had sped up, Rowan had spun and dipped and twirled her, the skirts of her black gown revealing Aelin’s feet, clad in golden slippers.
But Rowan pulled away, just far enough to rest his brow against hers. “Let’s get you to your chambers, Majesty, so you can commence your royal wallowing.”
For across every mountain, spread beneath the green canopy of Oakwald, carpeting the entire Plain of Theralis, the kingsflame was blooming.
