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 …

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.

Over a month later, and he was still marveling at the word: wife. At the woman by his side, who had healed his fractured and weary soul.

She didn’t tell the Healer on High that she wasn’t entirely sure how much longer she’d be a help—not yet. Hadn’t whispered a word of that doubt to anyone, even Chaol. Yrene’s hand drifted across her abdomen and lingered.

“Then I’d say I owe my friend Celaena a favor for her warning at the castle, plus saving my life before that.”

And despite it all, despite the rage and despair and ice he’d wrapped around his heart, he’d still found Aelin. Every horizon he’d gazed toward, unable and unwilling to rest during those centuries, every mountain and ocean he’d seen and wondered what lay beyond … It had been her. It had been Aelin, the silent call of the mating bond driving him, even when he could not feel it.

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

Aelin continued as well. So Rowan followed her, as he would follow her until his last breath, and beyond it.

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

Kaltain studied his neck before she met his stare. “Because I raged against it. Because I did not feel that I deserved the collar.” The truth of her words slammed into him as surely as if she’d shoved his chest. Kaltain only asked, “You drew the summoning marks for a reason. What is it you wish to know?” Dorian tucked away the truth she’d thrown at him, the mirror she held up to all he’d once been and had become. He had not been a true prince—not in spirit, not in deeds. He’d tried to be, but too late. He had acted too late.

“You know what you will face there. It is not for me to tell you if you are ready.”

Who do you wish to be? “Someone worthy of my friends,” he said into the quiet night. “A king worthy of his kingdom.” For a heartbeat, snow-white hair and golden eyes flashed into his mind. “Happy,” he whispered, and wrapped a hand around Damaris’s hilt.

“How long?” It took the entirety of his three centuries of training to keep the devastation, the agony for her, from his face. “Two months, three days, and seven hours.” Her mouth tightened, either at the length of time, or the fact that he’d counted every single one of those hours apart.

“I told you once that even if death separated us, I would rip apart every world until I found you.” He gave her a slash of a smile. “Did you really believe this would stop me?”

“You should have gone to Terrasen. It needs you.” “I need you more.”

“I’m so tired, Rowan.” His heart strained again. “I know, Fireheart.”

For the companions around her, to lift their despair, their fear, she wouldn’t yield. She’d fight for it, claw her way back to it, who she’d been before.

Even if this fractured darkness now dwelled within her, even if speech was difficult, she would show them what they wished to see. An unbroken Fire-Bringer. Aelin of the Wildfire. She would show the world that lie as well. Make them believe it. Maybe she’d one day believe it, too.

She took his hand, and he tried not to shudder in relief, tried not to fall to his knees as she slid the ruby ring onto his finger. It fit him perfectly, the ring no doubt forged for the king lying in this barrow. Silently, Rowan grasped her own hand and eased on the emerald ring. “To whatever end,” he whispered. Silver lined her eyes. “To whatever end.” A reminder—and a vow, more sacred than the wedding oaths they’d sworn on that ship. To walk this path together, back from the darkness of the iron coffin.

“Even if I had my choice of any dream-realities, any perfect illusions, I would still choose you, too.”

Together they would face this, together they would find a way.

“There is a better world out there,” she said again. “And I will fight for it.”

Aelin held up the scrap of paper. “May I keep this?” She eyed Yrene’s locket. “Or does it go in there?” Yrene folded the queen’s fingers around the paper. “It is yours, as it always was. A piece of your bravery that helped me find my own.”

“It gave me courage, the words you wrote. Every mile I traveled, every long hour I studied and worked, it gave me courage. I thank you for that, too.”

The crown’s light danced over Manon’s face as she lifted it above her head and set it upon her unbound white hair. Even the mountain wind stopped. Yet a phantom breeze shifted the strands of Manon’s hair as the crown glowed bright, the white stars shining with cores of cobalt and ruby and amethyst. As if it had been asleep for a long, long time. And now awoke.

Princess Hasar said quietly, “The girl is a fool. The bravest I’ve ever seen, but a fool nonetheless.”

“Yes.” Her mouth tightened, but not in displeasure. So Lorcan said softly, “I meant every word.” His heart thundered, so wildly it was a wonder she couldn’t hear it. “And I will until the day I fade into the Afterworld.”

Aelin awoke to the scent of pine and snow, and knew she was home. Not in Terrasen, not yet, but in the sense she would always be home, if Rowan was with her.

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

Tell Erawan, Dorian said, halting on the windowsill, that I did it for Adarlan.

Dorian you big angel you!!!!

“It would have been an honor,” Ren said. “To serve in this court. With you.” Aedion shut his eyes, swallowing hard. “It would have been an honor indeed.”

But just remember that this fear of yours? It means you have something worth fighting for—something you care so greatly for that losing it is the worst thing you can imagine.”

“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.”

For hours, Manon knelt on the battlefield, Abraxos at her side. As if she might stay with them, her Thirteen, for a little while longer.

“I have always wanted a sister,” Dorian said, and leaned to kiss Yrene on either cheek. “Welcome to Adarlan, Lady.”

Rowan fell to his knees before her, putting his head in her lap as his arms wrapped around her waist. “I can’t bear it, Aelin. I can’t.” She threaded her fingers through his hair. “I wanted that thousand years with you,” she said softly. “I wanted to have children with you. I wanted to go into the Afterworld together.” Her tears landed in his hair. Rowan lifted his head. “Then fight for it. One more time. Fight for that future.”

“I am with you.” He laid a hand on her heart. “Here. I am with you here.” She laid her own hand on his chest, and breathed his scent deep into her lungs, her heart. “As I am with you. Always.” Rowan kissed her. “I love you,” he whispered onto her mouth. “Come back to me.”

My name is Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, and I will not be afraid. I will not be afraid. I will not be afraid.

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

As if tracing the symbols he’d hidden there, in a desperate, wild hope. “I came back,” she rasped.