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And there is only one witch who will be my queen.
Dorian smiled and brought Morath’s towers crashing down.
“We are the Thirteen,” she said. “From now until the Darkness claims us.”
Her Second, her cousin, her friend, smiled, eyes bright as stars. “Live, Manon.”
And as Chaol Westfall dismounted and ran the last few feet toward Dorian, the King of Adarlan wept.
“Haven’t you given enough, Aelin? Won’t you let one of us do something for you?”
Before them all, riding on the Lord of the North, was Aelin.
two women who the world had deemed ordinary.
“We’re a long way from Innish,” Yrene whispered. “But lost no longer,” Aelin whispered back, voice breaking as they embraced.
