“Take it off.” The queen’s guttural words were swallowed by the moss-crusted trees. “I’m trying,” Lorcan said—not gently, though certainly without his usual coldness. The dagger scraped in the lock, but to no avail. “Take it off.” The queen began trembling. “I’m—” Aelin snatched the dagger from him, metal clicking on metal as she fitted the blade’s tip into the lock. The dagger shook in her ironclad hand. “Take it off,” she breathed, lips curling back from her teeth. “Take it off. ”
