Kingdom of Ash (Throne of Glass, #7)

by Sarah J. Maas

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.”

It had been his honor. From the very beginning, it had been his honor, the greatest of his immortal life.

How many of those beasts might have been like Abraxos, had they good riders who loved them?

“Is there any other reason you would deign to visit Morath, Maeve?”

What a shady B

“I threw up earlier,” Evangeline whispered. Aedion said in a conspiratorial whisper, “Better than shitting your pants, sweetheart.”

Remember that we have something to fight for, and it will always triumph.”

But Aedion kept his attention fixed on Lysandra. “Please. I am begging you. I am begging you, Lysandra, to go.” Her chin lifted. “You are not asking our other allies to run.” “Because I am not in love with our other allies.”

“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.

“Let’s make this a fight worthy of a song,” Aedion said.

“A dangerous time, bath time.”

So Lorcan did.

Even with the wind, the battle, Manon still heard Petrah as the Blueblood Heir said to her, “A better world.”

“Live, Manon.” Manon blinked. Asterin smiled wider, kissed Manon’s brow, and whispered again, “Live.”

And it was not darkness, but light—light, bright and pure as the sun on snow, that erupted from Asterin. Light, as Asterin made the Yielding.

Light. They all burned with it. Radiated it.

All come to honor the Thirteen.

“Be the bridge, be the light. When iron melts, when flowers spring from fields of blood—let the land be witness, and return home.”

And far away, across the snow-covered mountains, on a barren plain before the ruins of a once-great city, a flower began to bloom.

Rowan had hidden Wyrdmarks in her tattoo. Had inked Wyrdmarks all over it. “A map home,” Mala said, the image fading. “To him.”

She passed through a world where a great city had been built along the curve of a river, the buildings impossibly tall and glimmering with lights.

Velaris?!

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.

WHAT

The Lord of the North. And at his feet, all around him … The Little Folk.

“I will find you again,” he promised her. “In whatever life comes after this.” Lysandra nodded. “In every lifetime.”

Before them all, riding on the Lord of the North, was Aelin.

head. “I hope you found peace, my brother. And in the Afterworld, I hope you find her again.”

The queen had come home at last. The queen had come to hold the gate.

Her name was Aelin Ashryver Whitethorn Galathynius. And she would not be afraid.

“You are my joy,” was all she said to him.

“Go save the world, Yrene,” he whispered,

He said his silent farewell, sending what remained of his heart on the wind to the woman who had saved him in every way that mattered.

I name you Elentiya, “Spirit That Could Not Be Broken.”

The young healer smiled at him, and the white light around her hands winked out as her eyes shifted from gold to sapphire. “I’m not Yrene.”

DORIAN!

His father’s name … Dorian.

I wiped it away from existence. Yet he only remembered it once. Only once. The first time he beheld you.

Aelin drew close. Just as she slid something onto Maeve’s finger. And whispered in Maeve’s ear, “Then go to hell.”

The ring!!!

“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.”

“Rise,” Darrow said, “Aelin Ashryver Whitethorn Galathynius, Queen of Terrasen.”

For across every mountain, spread beneath the green canopy of Oakwald, carpeting the entire Plain of Theralis, the kingsflame was blooming.