Aelin sketched a mocking bow to the Lord of Anielle. “On that lovely parting note, we’re going to finish up our dinners. Enjoy your evening, we’ll see you on the battlements tomorrow, and please do rot in hell.” Then Aelin was turning away, a hand guiding her husband inside. But not before the queen threw a grin over her shoulder to Yrene and Chaol and said, eyes bright—with joy and warmth this time, “Congratulations.” How she knew, Yrene had no idea. But the Fae possessed a preternatural sense of smell. Yrene smiled all the same as she bowed her head—just before Aelin slammed the door in the
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