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“Can I hold you?”
“How long?” It took the entirety of his three centuries of training to keep the devastation, the agony for her, from his face. “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.” He gave her a slash of a smile. “Did you really believe this would stop me?”
“You should have gone to Terrasen. It needs you.” “I need you more.”
You do not yield.
She would show the world that lie as well. Make them believe it. Maybe she’d one day believe it, too.
gave you the blood oath to save your life,” she said. “But if you do not want it, Fenrys, I … we can find some way to free you—” “I want it,” Fenrys said, no trace of his usual swaggering humor. He glanced to Rowan, and bowed his head. “It is my honor to serve this court. And serve you,” he added to Aelin.
Two golden rings lay there. “I don’t know the Fae customs,” she said. The thicker ring held an elegantly cut ruby within the band itself, while the smaller one bore a sparkling rectangular emerald mounted atop, the stone as large as her fingernail. “But when humans wed, rings are exchanged.”
Silently, Rowan grasped her own hand and eased on the emerald ring. “To whatever end,” he whispered. Silver lined her eyes. “To whatever end.”
“There is a better world out there. And I have seen it.”
I hail thee, Manon Crochan, Queen of Witches.”
And there is only one witch who will be my queen.
It means you have something worth fighting for—something you care so greatly for that losing it is the worst thing you can imagine.”
“I lost my family ten years ago. Tomorrow I will fight for the new one I’ve made.”
Thirteen wyverns raced from the Staghorns, plunging toward the city walls.
“A better world.”
“We are the Thirteen,” she said. “From now until the Darkness claims us.”
“Let’s make this a fight worthy of a song,” Aedion said.
“Be the bridge, be the light. When iron melts, when flowers spring from fields of blood—let the land be witness, and return home.”
Rowan just stared and stared at his mate. His reason for breathing.
My name is Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, and I will not be afraid. I will not be afraid. I will not be afraid.
She was Aelin.
“And that the debt has been paid enough, Fireheart.”
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.
A death worthy of a song. An end worthy of being told around a fire.
“I am a god.”
Two mothers, whose love for their daughters and hope for a better world was greater than any power Erawan might wield. Greater than any Wyrdkey.
“Long live the queen.”
“I miss them,”
“We’re a long way from Innish,” Yrene whispered. “But lost no longer,” Aelin whispered back, voice breaking as they embraced.
“Together,” Dorian breathed, shaking. “We’ll rebuild this world together.”
“Would you like me to bring you cakes and chocolate so your wallowing can be complete?”
For across every mountain, spread beneath the green canopy of Oakwald, carpeting the entire Plain of Theralis, the kingsflame was blooming.
