Something in Rowan’s chest, intricate and essential, began to strain. Began to go taut. The mating bond. Rowan lurched forward a step, a hand on his chest. No. The mating bond writhed, as if in agony, as if in terror. He halted, Aelin’s name on his lips. Rowan fell to his knees as the three Wyrdkeys within Aelin’s arm dissolved into her blood. Like dew in the sun.
