Kingdom of Ash (Throne of Glass, #7)

by Sarah J. Maas

And sometimes, he spoke along the bond between them, sending his soul on the wind to wherever she was held captive, entombed. I will find you.

The gods did not care who paid the debt. So she knew they would not come for her, save her. So she did not bother praying to them.

Once upon a time, in a land long since burned to ash, there lived a young princess who loved her kingdom …

The prince whose scent was kissed with pine and snow, the scent of that kingdom she had loved with her heart of wildfire.

Hell-bent on finding the queen who held his heart.

One blink for yes. Two for no. Three for Are you all right? Four for I am here, I am with you. Five for This is real, you are awake.

She would never let go of it—the rage. Even when she sank into that burning sea within her, even when she sang to the darkness and flame, the rage guided her.

For it would take an army to keep Whitethorn from reaching his mate.

Aelin had been his, and he had been hers, from the start. Longer than that.

And tell him thank you—for walking that dark path with me back to the light. It had been his honor. From the very beginning, it had been his honor, the greatest of his immortal life. An immortal life they would share together—somehow. He’d allow no other alternative. Rowan silently swore it to the stars. He could have sworn the Lord of the North flickered in response.

At the woman by his side, who had healed his fractured and weary soul.

The Queen Who Was Promised.

You have been very brave, her mother said. You have been very brave, for so very long. Aelin couldn’t stop the silent sob that worked its way up her throat. But you must be brave a little while longer, my Fireheart. She leaned into her mother’s touch. You must be brave a little while longer, and remember … Her mother placed a phantom hand over Aelin’s heart. 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. You do not yield. You do not yield.

Over and over, she pounded against the lid. Over and over, that song of fire and darkness flared through her, out of her, into the world.

It filled him with sound, with fire and light. As if it screamed, again and again, I am alive, I am alive, I am alive.

They’d walked this dark path together back to the light. He would not let the road end here.

With a roar, Fenrys leaped. And with it, he snapped the blood oath completely.

The fool didn’t realize who he faced. What he faced. That it wasn’t a fire-breathing queen bound in iron who charged at him, but an assassin.

He opened his mouth, to shout what, he didn’t know, but a cry pierced the blue sky. The sob that came out of Aelin at the hawk’s bellow of fury cracked Lorcan’s chest.

For Fenrys’s loyalty, for his sacrifice, there was no greater reward she could offer. To keep him from death, there was no other way to save him.

He was here. It was him, and he’d come for her.

But he’d work with her, help in whatever way he could. And if she never returned to who she had been before this, he would not love her any less.

“I told you once that even if death separated us, I would rip apart every world until I found you.”

fire. “All this time, I wanted it to be you.”

“I know you are tired, Fireheart. I know that the burden on your shoulders is more than anyone should endure.”

“We’ll face it together,” he swore again. “And if the cost of it truly is you, then we’ll pay it together. As one soul in two bodies.”

A moment later, Chaol was glad he was sitting down. Nesryn breathed, “Holy gods.” Chaol was inclined to agree as Aelin Galathynius, Rowan Whitethorn, and several others entered the tent.

And even now, I feel like someone has ripped me from myself. Like I’m at the bottom of the sea, and who I am, who I was, is far up at the surface, and I will never get back there again.”

She was no helpless princess. She had never been.

As Aelin opened her hand toward it. Fire erupted. Cobalt fire. The raging soul of a flame. A tidal wave of it. Taller than the raging waters, it blasted from her, flaring wide.

For three months, she had sung to the darkness and the flame, and they had sung back. For three months, she had burrowed so deep inside her power that she had plundered undiscovered depths. While Maeve and Cairn had worked on her, she had delved. Never letting them know what she mined, what she gathered to her, day by day by day. A death blow. One to wipe a dark queen from the earth forever.

As if she were forged anew, forged back into her body. Back into Aelin.

Nothing at all beyond a sleeping, tired woman. Who held the might of a god within her veins.

Anything she asked, he’d give her. Anything at all.

Manon lifted her chin at the two paths before her. One to the east, to Morath. The other northward, to Terrasen and battle. The wind sang, and in it, she heard the answer. “I shall answer Terrasen’s call,” Manon said.

Aelin awoke to the scent of pine and snow, and knew she was home.

She touched the spot on his shoulder where Asterin Blackbeak’s arrow had pierced him all those months ago. The moment she’d known what he was to her.

Aelin took one look at those chains and had to swallow. Rowan laid a hand on her lower back, and Fenrys stepped closer to her side.

A beacon glowing bright in the shadows of the mountains, in the shadows of the forces that awaited them, Aelin lit the way north.

He tapped his neck, right over the pale band across it. “I have knelt, and found I have no interest in doing so again. Not for Erawan, or for Aelin, or anyone.”

“You will find, Your Majesty, that a loyal friend is a rare thing indeed. They are not so easy to sacrifice.”

And there is only one witch who will be my queen.

World-walker no longer, he said as his raw magic shifted her own. Changed its very essence. I suggest you invest in a good pair of shoes. Then he let go of Maeve’s mind.

“Together, Fireheart,”

I don’t know what to do, she said silently. He kissed the top of her head. Together.

“We have no master,” Manon Blackbeak said, and it was indeed a queen’s voice that she spoke with, her golden eyes bright. “We come to honor a friend.” There was no sign of Dorian amongst the Thirteen, but Aedion was reeling enough that he didn’t have the words to ask. “We came,” Manon said, loud enough that all on the city walls could hear, “to honor a promise made to Aelin Galathynius. To fight for what she promised us.” Darrow said quietly, “And what was that?” Manon smiled then. “A better world.”

An aerial legion to challenge the Ironteeth. The Crochans had returned at last.

did. “We are the Thirteen,” she said. “From now until the Darkness claims us.”

But another tattoo lay there now. A tattoo that sprawled across her shoulder bones as if it were a pair of spread wings. Or so he’d sketched for her. The story of them. Rowan and Aelin.