Kingdom of Ash (Throne of Glass, #7)

by Sarah J. Maas

“Can there not be many gods, from many places? Some born of this world, some born elsewhere?”

I hope you spend the rest of your miserable, immortal life suffering. I hope you spend it alone. I hope you live with regret and guilt in your heart and never find a way to endure it.

Fireheart. The woman’s voice was soft, loving. Her mother’s voice. Aelin turned her face away. Even that movement was more than she could bear. Fireheart, why do you cry? Aelin could not answer. Fireheart. The words were a gentle brush down her cheek. Fireheart, why do you cry? And from far away, deep within her, Aelin whispered toward that ray of memory, Because I am lost. And I do not know the way.

You do not yield.

He’d keep her secret—so long as she wished it hidden. “No self-righteous speeches?” “This is war,” he said simply. “We’re past that sort of thing.” And it wouldn’t matter, would it, when his eternal soul would be the asking price to staunch so much of the slaughter? He’d already had it wrecked enough. If crossing line after line would spare any others from harm, he’d do it. He didn’t know what manner of king that made him.

“The witch towers are real,” Lysandra said, letting Aelin’s cool, unfazed voice fill the tent. “I’m not going to waste my breath proving their existence.

“How did you do it?” he whispered. “How did you break free of its control?” He had to know. If he was walking into hell itself, if it was more than likely he’d wind up with a new collar around his throat, he had to know. Kaltain studied his neck before she met his stare. “Because I raged against it. Because I did not feel that I deserved the collar.”

“How much longer am I supposed to atone?” “Are you growing bored with it?” He snarled. She only glared at him. “I hadn’t realized you were even atoning.”

He had not been trained as a spy, but he’d grown up in a court where people wielded smiles and clothes like weapons. He knew how to blend in, how to listen. How to make people see what they wished to see.

She only asked, “You’re not afraid to go alone?” “Of course I’m afraid. Anyone in their right mind would be. But my task is more important than fear, I think.”

“Do you truly hate them?” Dorian blurted. Erawan half-turned toward him. Dorian asked, “The humans. Aelin Galathynius. Dorian Havilliard. All of them. Do you truly hate them?” Why do you make us suffer so greatly? Erawan’s golden eyes guttered. “They would keep me from my brothers,” he said. “I will let nothing stand in the way of my reunion with them.”

“Why did you capture and torture her?” Such a simple way of describing what had happened in Eyllwe and after it. “Because she would never agree to work with me. And she would never have protected me from Erawan or the Valg.”

“That’s thirty,” Ansel said. “We can count,” Rolfe snipped. Ansel lifted a wine-red brow. “Can you really?” Despite the army marching on them, Lysandra’s mouth twitched upward.

Aelin threw Vernon a crooked smile over her shoulder. “I said nothing about unchaining you.” Vernon went still. Aelin shrugged. “I said none of us would kill you. It’s not our fault if you can’t get out of those chains, is it?” The blood drained from Vernon’s face.

“I threw up earlier,” Evangeline whispered. Aedion said in a conspiratorial whisper, “Better than shitting your pants, sweetheart.” Evangeline let out a belly laugh that made her clutch the cup to keep from spilling.

“But beyond that, no child should have to watch as her friends are cut down. Keeping her busy, giving her a purpose and some small power will be better than locking her in the north tower, scared out of her wits at every horrible sound and death.”

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.”

“We are the Thirteen,” she said. “From now until the Darkness claims us.”

Because I am not in love with our other allies. How the words changed everything and yet nothing.

Dorian said, “I’m sorry. For what success with the Lock will mean for both of you.” Gavin’s throat bobbed. “My mate made her choice long ago. She was always prepared to face the consequences, even if I was not.” Just as Sorscha had made her own choices. Followed her own path. And for once, the memory of her did not ache. Rather, it gleamed, a shining challenge. To make it count. For her, and so many others. For himself, too.

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.

He prayed it was true. But there were no gods left to pray to at all.

A sick sort of joke, a cruel torment, for Morath to halt at each sundown. As if it were some sort of civility, as if the creatures who infested so many of the soldiers below required light. He knew why Erawan had ordered it so. To wear them down day by day, to break their spirits rather than let them go out in raging glory.

“Until the end?” Aedion hefted his shield, flipping the Sword of Orynth in his hand, freeing the stiffness that had seized his fingers. “I will find you again,” he promised her. “In whatever life comes after this.” Lysandra nodded. “In every lifetime.”

Aelin smiled, and Goldryn burned brighter. “I am a god.” She unleashed herself upon them.

Aelin only smiled down at her. “We’ll pretend my last words to you were something worthy of a song.” She swung the burning sword. Maeve’s mouth was still open in a scream as her head tumbled to the snow.

He should go. Should leave this place. And yet he stared at the dark stain. All that remained. Ten years of suffering and torment and fear, and the stain was all that remained.

Elide’s mouth bobbed as she tried to stop her laughing. “It’s just … I’m Lady of Perranth. If you marry me, you will take my family name.” He blinked. Elide laughed again. “Lord Lorcan Lochan?” It sounded just as ridiculous coming out. Lorcan blinked at her, then howled. She’d never heard such a joyous sound.

“Good healers know when to rest. Exhaustion makes for sloppy decisions. And sloppy decisions—” “Cost lives,” Yrene finished.

“You never stop teaching, do you?” Hafiza’s mouth cracked into a grin. “This is life, Yrene. We never stop learning. Even at my age.”

She swallowed, and put a hand over her heart. “Thank you for coming when I asked. Thank you on behalf of Terrasen. I am in your debt.” “We were in your debt,” Ansel countered. “I wasn’t,” Rolfe muttered. Aelin flashed him a grin. “We’re going to have fun, you and I.”