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You want a kingdom? Then join mine. Ally with me, work with me to get what we need from Erawan, and I shall make you queen. Of a far bigger territory, with a people who will not rise up against you. A new start, I suppose.”
“You came to Morath for a key and will leave with a bride.” He nearly sagged with relief. “I will leave with both. And quickly.”
“We arrived at this one, encountered a surprising amount of resistance, and they were banished back. I could do nothing less while trapped here than to repay this world for the blow they dealt us. So I will make this world into a mirror of our homeland—to honor my brothers, and to prepare it for their return.”
“Thank you. Perhaps it is our lot—to never have the fathers we wish, but to still hope they might surpass what they are, flaws and all.”
“What you felt in there—that is why I left their world.” She gazed ahead, a shadow darkening her face. “Every day, that was what I felt.”
A shake of her head, and her thick black hair turned golden. Her moon-white skin darkened slightly, to a sun-kissed tan. The angular face rounded slightly, dark eyes lightening to turquoise and gold. “We could play like this, if you’d prefer.” Even the voice belonged to Aelin.
And as the girl sat up farther, the sheets falling away to reveal a wasted, naked body, to reveal a too-thin arm and the hideous purplish scar near the wrist … He knew why he had felt the key’s presence throughout the keep. Moving about. Vanishing. It had been walking. Trailing its master. Her enslaver.
One moment, the girl was weeping. The next, her head twisted to the side, eyes unseeing.
I was a slave once. You didn’t really think I’d allow myself to be so once again, did you?
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.
“You chained and locked my friend in a tower for ten years. Let’s see how you enjoy the experience.” She let her smile turn vicious. “Though, once the trainers here are dealt with, I don’t think there will be anyone left to feed you. Or bring you water. Or even hear your screaming. So I doubt you’ll make it to ten years before the end claims you, but two days? Three? I can accept that, I think.”
“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.”
“If I don’t die tomorrow, may I kiss you when the day is done?”
Rizz mastet
And as Aedion slammed into the Valg prince, the demon drew a dagger from his sword belt and struck. Right where Aedion’s armor exposed just a sliver near his armpit, vulnerable with the outstretched position of his arm. The knife plunged in, rending flesh and muscle and bone.
Where the Valg prince had been, a pile of ashes and a black Wyrdstone collar remained.
“We only go as far and long as you want,” he said. Yet she dared to glance down his body—to what strained under his pants. Her mouth went dry. “I—I don’t know what I’m doing.” “Anything you do will be enough,” he said. She lifted her head, scanning his face. “Enough for what?” Another half smile. “Enough to please me.”
Even as Iskra’s bull pulled back his head—only to close his jaws around Abraxos’s throat.
Noooooo
And she said to Abraxos, touching his spine, “I love you.”
Leaving Iskra and her bull to splatter on the earth.
Light, as Asterin made the Yielding.
As the Thirteen, their broken bodies scattered around the tower in a near-circle, made the Yielding as well.
“Be the bridge, be the light. When iron melts, when flowers spring from fields of blood—let the land be witness, and return home.”
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.
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.
Her name was Aelin Ashryver Whitethorn Galathynius. And she would not be afraid.
I took his name, Erawan spat, writhing as the words flowed from his tongue under Damaris’s power. I wiped it away from existence. Yet he only remembered it once. Only once. The first time he beheld you.
“You could just marry each other,” Yrene said, and Dorian whipped his head to her, incredulous. “It’d make it easier for you both, so you don’t need to pretend.” Chaol gaped at his wife.
