Cairn ran a hand over the rim of the coffin. “I broke some part of you, didn’t I?” I name you Elentiya, “Spirit That Could Not Be Broken.” Aelin traced her metal-encrusted fingers over her palm. Where a scar should be. Where it still remained. Would always remain, even if she could not see it. Nehemia—Nehemia, who had given everything for Eyllwe. And yet … And yet, Nehemia had still felt the weight of her choices. Still wished to be free of her burdens. It had not made her weak. Not in the slightest.
