The wolf blinked at her—thrice. In the early days, months, years of this, they had crafted a silent code between them. Using the few moments she’d been able to dredge up speech, whispering through the near-invisible holes in the iron coffin. One blink for yes. Two for no. Three for Are you all right? Four for I am here, I am with you. Five for This is real, you are awake. Fenrys again blinked three times. Are you all right? Aelin swallowed against the thickness in her throat, her tongue peeling off the roof of her mouth. She blinked once. Yes. She counted his blinks. Six. He’d made that one
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