Kingdom of Ash (Throne of Glass, #7)

by Sarah J. Maas

The others again halted their lunches, gaping, some leaning in to peer at him more closely. But he fed his magic into the loom within himself, adding to the emerging picture. “Och, golden hair does not suit you at all.” Asterin grimaced. “You look sickly.” Who did he wish to be? Anyone but himself. But what he’d become.

“Don’t burn them,” Manon said. Silence fell in the clearing. But Manon knelt on the festering earth, unsheathed her iron nails, and began digging. Yanking off her gloves, Asterin lowered herself to the ground nearby. Then Sorrel and Vesta. Then the rest of the Thirteen. The cold, firm earth did not yield easily. It tore at Manon’s fingers, root

and rock burning as they scraped at her skin. Across the clearing, Karsyn, the witch whose broom Manon had returned, made to kneel as well. But Manon held up a filthy, already bleeding hand. The witch halted. “Only the Thirteen,” Manon said. “We will bury them.” The Crochans stared at her, and Manon ripped away the ancient soil. “We’ll bury all of them.”

Eyllwe had given too much, for too long. It was time for the rest of them to shoulder the burden.

Night was full overhead by the time Dorian managed to slip away. By the time he found an empty clearing, drew the marks, and plunged Damaris into earth shining with his own blood. His summons was answered quickly this time. Yet it was not Gavin who emerged, shimmering, from the night air. Dorian’s magic flared, rallying to strike, as the figure took form. As Kaltain Rompier, clad in an onyx gown and dark hair unbound, smiled sadly at him.