“Now it is my turn to thank you.” But Aelin’s gaze fell upon the wedding band on Yrene’s finger, and when she glanced to Chaol, he grinned. “No longer Yrene Towers,” Chaol said softly, “but Yrene Westfall.” Aelin let out one of those choked, joyous laughs, and Rowan stepped up to her side. Yrene’s head tilted back to take in the warrior’s full height, her eyes widening—not only at Rowan’s size, but at the pointed ears, the slightly elongated canines and tattoo. Aelin said, “Then let me introduce you, Lady Westfall, to my own husband, Prince Rowan Whitethorn Galathynius.”
I LOVE THIS SO MUCH I CANT EVEN STAND IT
