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And tell him thank you—for walking that dark path with me back to the light.
Queen Ansel of the Wastes,
Queen Ansel of Waste Management
You do not yield. Then she was gone, like dew under the morning sun. But the words lingered. Blossomed within Aelin, bright as a kindled ember. You do not yield.
Darkness embrace his soul,
'god bless him' equivalent lol
“When you finish breaking me apart for the day, how does it feel to know that you are still nothing?”
The rage in Rowan’s eyes could devour the world. And that rage was about to extract the sort of vengeance only a mated male could command.
His Fireheart.
Dorian had brown eyes for three days before he figured out how to change them back to blue.
This souldn't be as funny as it is
“Only the Thirteen,” Manon said. “We will bury them.”
“I don’t know how, but they also found some of your old clothes from Mistward and brought them here.”
I LOVE THE LITTLE FOLK
“Two months, three days, and seven hours.”
“I told you once that even if death separated us, I would rip apart every world until I found you.”
Aelin’s throat bobbed as she whispered, “I’m so tired, Rowan.” His heart strained again. “I know, Fireheart.”
“The male I fell in love with was you. It was you, who knew pain as I did, and who walked with me through it, back to the light. Maeve didn’t understand that. That even if she could create that perfect world, it wouldn’t be you with me. And I’d never trade that, trade this. Not for anything.”
Aelin waved a hand. “Fine, fine. You won’t try to kill Lorcan for what happened in Eyllwe, and in exchange, we won’t invite him to anything.” Her grin was nothing short of wicked.
Rhoe's shield
I feel like someone has ripped me from myself. Like I’m at the bottom of the sea, and who I am, who I was, is far up at the surface, and I will never get back there again.”
“I am so tired,” she wept. “I am so, so tired, Rowan.”
“The last Crochan Queen. Holding the line against us.”
She was not a broken-spirited Wing Leader unsure of her place in the world. She was not ashamed of the truth before her. She was not afraid.
“Rhiannon Crochan held the gates for three days and three nights, and she did not kneel before you, even at the end.” A slash of a smile. “I think I shall do the same.”
Rowan lifted a hand in greeting,
Why is the thought of Rowan waving hilarious
Like the first icy breath inhaled on a winter’s morning.
That shit does hit
She was done making herself appear nice for men whom she had no interest in being nice to.
“I would rather fly with you than with ten thousand Ironteeth at my side.” She smiled slightly. “Tomorrow, we will show them why.”
Her Second, her cousin, her friend, smiled, eyes bright as stars. “Live, Manon.” Manon blinked. Asterin smiled wider, kissed Manon’s brow, and whispered again, “Live.”
“Bring our people home, Manon.”
My name is Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, and I will not be afraid. I will not be afraid. I will not be afraid.
“Nameless is my price,” his father repeated. The warning of an ancient witch, the damning words written on the back of the Amulet of Orynth. “For the bastard-born mark you bear, you are Nameless, yet am I not so as well?” He glanced between them, his eyes wide. “What is my name?”
Groaning, Aelin climbed to her feet. She was no lamb to slaughter. No sacrifice on an altar of the greater good. And she was not done yet.
Wyrdmarks. Rowan had hidden Wyrdmarks in her tattoo. Had inked Wyrdmarks all over it. “A map home,” Mala said, the image fading. “To him.”
She had been a slave and a pawn once before. She would never be so again. Not for them. Never for them.
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.
Cc?
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.
God-killer. That’s what she was. A god-killer. She didn’t regret it. Not one bit.
“But I’m not here to talk about that. I want to talk about you and me.” “My favorite subject,” Aelin said, chuckling slightly.
“Then who shall you ride with into battle?” “I hadn’t gotten that far,” Aelin said, lifting a brow. “Since I expected to be dead.”
“Serving this kingdom has been the great honor of my life.”
A death worthy of a song. An end worthy of being told around a fire.
Yet the songs would mention this—that the Lion fell before the western gate of Orynth, defending the city and his son.
“There are no gods left to watch, I’m afraid. And there are no gods left to help you now, Aelin Galathynius.” Aelin smiled, and Goldryn burned brighter. “I am a god.” She unleashed herself upon them.
Two women, who had never known each other, two women who the world had deemed ordinary. Two women, Josefin and Marion, who had chosen hope in the face of darkness. Two women, in the end, who had bought them all this moment. This one shot at a future.
Dorian. I took his name, Erawan spat, writhing as the words flowed from his tongue under Damaris’s power. I wiped it away from existence. Yet he only remembered it once. Only once. The first time he beheld you.
Aelin looked to Rowan, their crowns of flame still burning, undimmed. Took his hand. Heart thundering through every bone in her body, Aelin took a step toward the gate. Toward Orynth. Toward home.
Rowan’s fingers tightened around hers, but she did not look at him as they crossed the threshold, passing through the gate. No, Aelin only looked at her people, smiling broadly and freely, as she entered Orynth, and they began to cheer, welcoming her home at long last.
Dorian still tightened his hand around the golden hilt and said, “I am human.” It warmed in his hand.
The only thing she would ever kneel before. Her crown. Her throne. Her kingdom.
