Prince Galan, who had kept silent and watchful, a listener despite his frequent smiles and bold fighting on both sea and land, stepped forward. Looked right at Aelin, his eyes—their eyes—glowing bright. “Poor allies we would indeed make,” he said, his Wendlynian accent rich and rolling, “if we abandoned our friends when their choices veered from ours. We promised our assistance in this war. Wendlyn will not back from it.”
