Kingdom of Ash (Throne of Glass, #7)

by Sarah J. Maas

A crown of flame appeared atop her head, swirling and unbreakable. She could never win against both of them. But she wouldn’t make it easy.

“There are no gods left to watch, I’m afraid. And there are no gods left to help you now, Aelin Galathynius.” Aelin smiled, and Goldryn burned brighter. “I am a god.” She unleashed herself upon them.

Down the battlefield, portal after portal opened. Right where Rowan and the cadre had drawn them in their own blood as they fought. All to be opened upon this spell. This command. And beyond each portal, that teeming mass of people could be seen. The army.

“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.

“And when we are wed,” he whispered, “I will bind my life to yours. So we will never know a day apart. Never be alone, ever again.” Elide covered her face with her hands and sobbed, at the heart he offered, at the immortality he was willing to part with for her. For them.

Aelin said to them all, “Thank you.” They faced her again. She swallowed, and put a hand over her heart. “Thank you for coming when I asked. Thank you on behalf of Terrasen. I am in your debt.” “We were in your debt,” Ansel countered.

“There will be a monument,” she said to Abraxos, to Manon. “Should you wish it, I will build a monument right there. So no one shall ever forget what was given. Who we have to thank.”

Aelin ascended the three steps and knelt upon the top one. The only time in her reign that she would ever bow. The only thing she would ever kneel before. Her crown. Her throne. Her kingdom.

And when Aelin lifted her head to survey the cheering crowd, when she smiled, Queen of Terrasen and the Faerie Queen of the West, she burned bright as a star.

The bells still ringing, Aelin nodded to the guards at the castle gates. They opened at last, and the roar from the gathered crowds was loud enough to rattle the stars.

Then Manon said, “It is only a few days by wyvern from the Wastes to Rifthold.” Her eyes were wary, and yet—yet that was a slight smile. “I think Bronwen and Petrah will be able to lead if I occasionally slip away. To help the rukhin.” He saw the promise in her eyes, in that hint of a smile.

Aelin’s embrace with Nesryn Faliq had been long. They had whispered together, and he’d known what Aelin offered: companionship, even from thousands of miles away. Two young queens, with mighty kingdoms to rule.

For a moment, Aelin and Yrene just stared at each other. “We’re a long way from Innish,” Yrene whispered. “But lost no longer,” Aelin whispered back, voice breaking as they embraced. The two women who had held the fate of their world between them. Who had saved it.

She felt as if she had been crying without end for minutes now. Yet this parting, this final farewell … Aelin looked at Chaol and Dorian and sobbed. Opened her arms to them, and wept as they held each other. “I love you both,” she whispered. “And no matter what may happen, no matter how far we may be, that will never change.”