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“I wish you to become who you were born to be. To become queen.”
Faster than she could sense, faster than anything had a right to be, he punched her.
There were few sounds she enjoyed more than the groans of dying men, but the wind was one of them.
Manon had been born soulless, her grandmother said. Soulless and heartless, as a Blackbeak ought to be. She was wicked right down to the marrow of her bones.
“Because I am lost,” she whispered onto the earth. “And I do not know the way.”
“You cannot pick and choose what parts of her to love.”
“Who did that do to you?”
Oh, he was definitely fussing, and though it warmed her miserable heart, it was becoming rather irritating.
He was right—he was always right, and she hated that.
And while she knew Rowan was aware of her early morning practicing, he never lightened her training, though she could have sworn she occasionally felt their magic … playing together, her flame taunting his ice, his wind dancing amongst her embers. But each morning brought something new, something harder and different and miserable. Gods, he was brilliant. Cunning and wicked and brilliant. Even when he beat the hell out of her. Every. Damn. Day.
But it did not stop her from wishing she could keep him.
Rowan looked into her eyes, into the very core of her, and said, “Fireheart.”
One by one, like shadows emerging from the mist, they appeared. The faces of the people she had loved with her heart of wildfire.
She would fill the world with it, with her light—her gift. She would light up the darkness, so brightly that all who were lost or wounded or broken would find their way to it, a beacon for those who still dwelled in that abyss. It would not take a monster to destroy a monster—but light, light to drive out darkness. She was not afraid.
“I claim you, too, Aelin Galathynius.”
There were no words to do justice to what passed between them in that moment.
She lifted her face to the stars. She was Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, heir of two mighty bloodlines, protector of a once-glorious people, and Queen of Terrasen. She was Aelin Ashryver Galathynius—and she would not be afraid.
