“And if I choose to banish you, you will go wherever it is we decide. And never bother us again, or any other.” “Yes,” Maeve snapped, grimacing at the immortal blade piercing her heart. The queen bowed her head, panting, and took Aelin’s outstretched hand. Aelin drew close. Just as she slid something onto Maeve’s finger. And whispered in Maeve’s ear, “Then go to hell.” Maeve reared back, but too late. Too late, as the golden ring—Silba’s ring, Athril’s ring—shone on her pale hand.
