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“Nox Owen.” The messenger bowed at the waist. “From Perranth.” “I’ve heard of you,” Ren said, scanning the man anew. “You’re a thief.” “Former thief,” Nox amended, winking. “Now rebel, and Lord Darrow’s most trusted messenger.” Indeed, a skilled thief would make for a smart messenger, able to slip in and out of places unseen.
Am I supposed to know who this dude this?
She shrewdly looked him over. As if weighing the man within. “It was real, Aedion,” she said. “All of it. I don’t care if you believe me or not. But it was real for me.” He couldn’t bear to hear it. “I have a meeting,” he lied, and stepped around her. “Go slither off somewhere else.” Hurt flashed in her eyes, quickly hidden. He was the worst sort of bastard for it.
You are a bastard, Aedion. Get your head out of your ass and accept that you would’ve done the same for Alain if she asked you to!
Her mother placed a phantom hand over Aelin’s heart. It is the strength of this that matters. No matter where you are, no matter how far, this will lead you home.
And when she awoke chained on the altar, she beheld what she had done to the iron coffin. The top of the lid had been warped. A great hump now protruded, the metal stretched thin. As if it had come so very close to breaking entirely.
Oh shit Aelin’s still got some strength in her
He had to have imagined it. He scanned the starry sky, the slumbering lands beyond, the Lord of the North above. It hit him a heartbeat later. Erupted around him and roared. Over and over and over, as if it were a hammer against an anvil.
OMG HE FELT HER
Manon ignored it and asked the ancient Crochan, “You knew her, then?” The witches fell silent. The crone inclined her head, that sorrow filling her eyes once more. Dorian didn’t need Damaris’s confirming warmth to know her next words were true. “I was her great-grandmother.” Even the whipping wind quieted. “As I am yours.”
OH SHIT PLOT TWIST
The Crochans stood down—under the orders of Manon’s so-called great-grandmother. Glennis.
Btw of *course* they found the one Crochan tribe that had Manon’s great grandmother in it! 😂
He was trying to rile her, to distract her into loosening her iron-hard grip on her control.
Dorian and Manon are both alpha psychos with each other and idk why I love it so much 😂
The camp was instantly in action, shouts ringing out from the scouts who’d sounded the alarm. The Thirteen closed ranks around Manon, weapons drawn. The Ironteeth had found them. Far sooner than Manon had planned.
The Ironteeth had found them. Far sooner than Manon had planned.
Of course they found the one
A lance of solid ice, careening for the exposed, mottled chest. Both arrow and ice spear drove home, and black blood spewed downward—before the wyvern and rider went crashing into a peak, and flipped over the cliff face. Glennis grinned, that aged face lighting. “I struck first.” She drew another arrow. Such lightness, even in the face of an ambush. “I wish you were my great-grandmother,” Dorian muttered, and readied his next blow.
Both arrow and ice spear drove home, and black blood spewed downward—before the wyvern and rider went crashing into a peak, and flipped over the cliff face. Glennis grinned, that aged face lighting. “I struck first.” She drew another arrow. Such lightness, even in the face of an ambush. “I wish you were my great-grandmother,” Dorian muttered, and readied his next blow.
Aww poor Dorian 🥺
Manon’s golden eyes glowed in the firelight. “I swear it. I did not lead them here.” Glennis nodded, but Dorian stared at Manon. Damaris had gone cold as ice. So cold the golden hilt bit into his skin. Glennis, somehow satisfied, nodded again. “Then we shall talk—later.” Bronwen spat on the bloody ground and prowled off. A lie. Manon had lied.
She did lead them there??? Did she do it so the Crochans would trust her more???
And the fact remained that they did not have the time to waste in wooing them. So she’d picked the only method she knew: battle. Had soared off on her own earlier that day, to where she knew Ironteeth would be patrolling nearby, waited until the great northern wind carried her scent southward. And then bided her time.
I knew it!!!
Dorian kept his stance relaxed, even as he asked again, “Where does the shifting come from inside you?” Cyrene angled her head as if listening to something.
Does Dorian think he can shift too?
He willed it toward her—willed it to find that seed of power within her. To learn it. “What are you doing,” the spider breathed, shifting on her feet. His magic wrapped around her, and he could feel it—each hateful, horrible year of existence. Each— His mouth dried out. Bile surged in his throat at the scent his magic detected. He’d never forget that scent, that vileness. He’d bear the mark on his throat forever as proof. Valg. The spider, somehow, was Valg. And not possessed, but born.
Oh shit he shifted the spider not himself!
He didn’t care to know why and how the stygian spiders were Valg. How they’d come here. Why they’d lingered.
Dorian when are u going to figure it out!! Don’t let it be when Chaol arrives idk if I can wait that long
He smiled at the spider. She smiled back. And then he struck. Invisible hands wrapped around her neck and twisted. Right as his magic plunged into her navel, into where the stolen seed of human magic resided, and wrapped around it. He held on, a baby bird in his hands, as the spider died. Studied the magic, every facet of it, before it seemed to sigh in relief and fade into the wind, free at last. Cyrene slumped to the ground, eyes unseeing. Half a thought and Dorian had her incinerated. No one came to inquire after the stench that rose from her ashes. The black stain that lingered beneath
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Oh shit Dorian can be just as ruthless as Manon
“But it was the demon, not the man, who killed your healer.” Dorian clenched his jaw. “It makes no difference.” “Doesn’t it?” Manon frowned. “Most can barely withstand a few months of Valg infestation. You barely withstood it.” He tried not to flinch at the blunt words. “Yet he held on for decades.”
She’s not wrong…
“Is there something you’d rather do instead, witchling?” His voice turned rough, and he knew she could hear his heartbeat as it began hammering. Her only answer was to slide over him, strands of her hair falling around them in a curtain. “I said I don’t want to talk,” she breathed, and lowered her mouth to his neck. Dragged her teeth over it, right through that white line where the collar had been. Dorian groaned softly, and shifted his hips, grinding himself into her. Her breath became jagged in answer, and he ran a hand down her side. “Shut me up, then,” he said, a hand drifting southward to
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They’re feral with each other and I lowkey love it
Glennis nodded. “We know. But we received word from our southern hearths that a threat had arisen. We journey to meet with some of the Eyllwe war bands who have managed to survive this long—to take on whatever horror Morath might have sent.” To go south, not north to Terrasen.
Well that’s not the right direction 😬
Lysandra summoned a lazy smirk and sauntered to the center of the room, Ansel lingering near the entrance. “I heard I missed some fun yesterday. I figured I’d return before I lost the chance to kill some Valg grunts myself.”
We get to see Lysandra act in real time
Lysandra smelled the stranger the moment Aedion did. A moment before the stranger smiled and said, “Erawan sends his regards.” And unleashed a blast of black wind right at her.
Oh no 🙈
Yet not before his eyes darkened wholly, until no white shone. Not from the death sweeping over him. But as he seemed to convey a message down a long, obsidian bond. The message that might doom them: Aelin Galathynius was not here. “Enough of this,” Aedion snarled, and fear—real fear blanched his face as he, too, realized what the messenger had just relayed to his master.
Oh shit that is not good
her shoulders curving beneath the weight—not just of being a woman thrust into this conflict, but a woman playing another, who might be able to pretend, but only so far. Who did not truly have the power to halt the hordes marching north. She’d been willing to shoulder that burden, though. For Aelin. For this kingdom. Even if she’d lied to him about it, she’d been willing to accept this weight.
Oh are u finally starting to realize that Lysandra’s not a lying bitch, Aedion???
She’d been walking back to her own tent—to Aelin’s tent, not fit for a queen, but an army captain—when Nox fell into step beside her. Silent and graceful. Well-trained. And likely more lethal than he appeared. “So, Erawan knows you’re not Aelin.” She whipped her head to him. “What?” A quick, vague question to buy herself time. Had Aedion risked telling him the truth?
Oh shit he figured it out??
“A decent attempt, but Celaena Sardothien looked a little more amused when she cut men into ribbons.” He knew—who Aelin was, what she’d been. Lysandra said nothing, and kept walking toward her tent. If she told Aedion, how quickly could Nox be buried under the frozen earth? “Your secret is safe,” Nox murmured. “Celaena—Aelin was a friend. Is still one, I’d hope.” “How.” She’d admit no more than that regarding her role in this. “We fought in the competition together at the glass castle.” He snorted. “I had no idea until today.
OH SHIT THAT’S WHO HE IS!?!? THE ONE SHE HELPED AND TOLD TO RUN AWAY! Holy shit what a callback! 😱
And when they all awoke the next day, there was only whipping snow beyond their tents. The camp was gone. The army with it.
A slow clap for Team Aelin 👏🏻
“You don’t need to bother proving my value to him,” Yrene said, her icy eyes pinned on his father. “I know precisely how talented I am. I don’t require his blessing.” She meant every damn word.
YES U STAND UP FOR YOURSELF YRENE! 👏🏻
“You knew—that the old king was Valg-possessed?” His father’s fingers stilled on a crust of hearty bread, the only sign of his shock. “No. Only that he was building a host throughout the land that did not seem … natural. I am no king’s lackey, no matter what you may think of me.” He lowered his hand once more. “Of course, in my plans to get you out of harm’s way, it seems it only led you closer to it.” “Why bother?” “I meant what I said in Rifthold. Terrin is not a warrior—not at heart. I saw what was building in Morath, in the Ferian Gap, and required my eldest son to be here, to pick up the
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So the dam had stayed, and the grassy plain with it.
$50 they break the dam before the end of this battle
Aelin smiled back, bowing her head. “Fair enough, Aunt.” Aunt wasn’t entirely accurate, not with generations and millennia separating them, but it was the only thing the queen had suggested Aelin call her.
Is this a dream or delusion??
She learned that there were indeed other worlds. Not the dark, blasted realm in which they lived, but worlds beyond that, living atop one another and never realizing it.
I wonder if this was the first inkling of multiple works coexisting within the Maasverse?
Above her, Maeve was smiling. “You liked that vision, didn’t you?” Not real. That had not been real. Rowan was alive, he was alive—
Yeah I knew it wasn’t real… 😕
“I have no doubt that your mate or Elena or even Brannon himself filled your head with lies about what I’ll do with the keys.” Maeve ran a hand over the stone lip of the altar, right through her splattered blood and shards of bone. “I meant what I said. I like this world. I do not wish to destroy it. Only improve it. Imagine a realm where there is no hunger, no pain. Isn’t that what you and your cohorts are fighting for? A better world?”
So Maeve is finally revealing the truth to Aelin about who she is
A collar. Maeve was going to retrieve a Wyrdstone collar—
This better be Rowan’s plan to draw Maeve away to rescue Aelin!! 🫢
Dread coiled in her stomach, smothering the pressure. Moving her to another location—she had once warned a young healer about that. Had told her if an attacker tried to move her, they would most definitely kill her, and she was to make a final stand before they could.
She remembers her encounter with Yrene 🥺
So did Gavriel and Lorcan. They’d sold their horses the night before, Elide bartering for them. The Fae warriors were too recognizable, and if their faces weren’t noted, the sheer presence of their power would be. Few wouldn’t know who they were.
They made it Doranelle! Yay!
And when they were a few days away from the outer limits of the city, they had laid their trap for Maeve. What he knew the queen might not be able to resist coming to retrieve herself: Wyrdstone collars.
I KNEW IT!!! THANK GOD
The hilltop had been a border. Not of the city limits, but of an illusion. A pretty, idyllic illusion for any scouting its fringes to report. For what now surrounded the city on every side, even on the eastern plain … An army. A great army lay camped there.
Well that throws a monkey wrench in their plans 😬
“And what are you going to do? Ask if Aelin Galathynius has been strutting about town? Ask if Maeve’s available for high tea?” Lorcan’s snarl ripped through the air. Elide didn’t back down for a heartbeat. “I’m going to ask after Cairn.” They all stilled. Rowan wasn’t entirely certain he’d heard her correctly. Elide steadily surveyed them. “Surely a young, mortal woman is allowed to inquire about a Fae male who jilted her.”
I love how smart Elide is!
The snow-crusted plains of Terrasen flowed southward, right to the rolling foothills that spread to the horizon. Earlier this summer, Lysandra
NOOO NOT A POV CHANGEEE 😩 I want them to rescue Aelin (no shade to you, Lysandra, I love u girl but I need to know what happens next!!)
In the chaos, no one noticed that the Fire-Bringer did not appear. That not an ember of her flame glowed in the screaming night.
I guess that’s good?
Morath’s beasts pushed them northward that first day. And into the night. And at dawn the next day. By nightfall on the second, even the Bane’s line had buckled. Still Morath did not stop coming.
Yikes…😬
Elide had never seen such a place as Doranelle.
Oh good we’re back to Elide’s POV! Please don’t switch it again on me SJM…
She hadn’t said anything when she’d found the white strips of linen at the bottom of Lorcan’s bag. Waiting for her next cycle. She hadn’t been able to find the words, anyway. Not with what it would crumple in her chest to even think them.
She knows it was him! 🥺
Elide whirled, but too late. The dark-haired beauty from the tavern was standing behind her.
Oh no 😬
“My name is Essar,” the female said softly. “I am a friend—of your friends, I believe.”
Another possible Fae ally?
“Why should I believe you?” “Because you are wearing Lorcan’s shirt, and Rowan Whitethorn’s cloak. If you do not believe me, inform them who told you and they will.”
Observant of her lol
Essar said softly, “Lorcan and I were involved for a time.” They were in the midst of war, and had traveled for thousands of miles to find their queen, and yet the tightness that coiled in Elide’s gut at those words somehow found space. Lorcan’s lover. This delicate beauty with a bedroom voice had been Lorcan’s lover.
Oooo Elise’s getting jealous 😂
