But she took the Amulet of Orynth from him. “I thought you might be the one who wished to open it,” Dorian said quietly. Here in the place where she’d suffered and endured, here in the place where so many things had begun. Aelin weighed the ancient amulet in her palms, ran her thumbs along the golden seam of its edges. For a heartbeat, she was again in that cozy room in a riverside estate, her mother beside her, bequeathing the amulet into her care. Aelin traced her fingers over the Wyrdmarks on the back. The runes that spelled out her hateful fate: Nameless is my price. Written here, all this
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