Queen of Shadows (Throne of Glass, #4)

by Sarah J. Maas

don’t give a shit what you call me.” He shoved the Valg commander farther inside. “Just take this rutting thing off my hands.”

He cocked his head to the side, a predator assessing prey. “Thank you for the oil,” he added. “My skin was a little dry.”

It took her a moment to process what Rowan had said, and to realize that the almond smell hadn’t just been coming from her. He’d worn it, too.

With every step down the stairs, Aelin’s shoulders seemed to droop, her hair seeming to grow duller, her skin paler. This was where she’d last seen Sam, he realized. And her master knew it.

still haunted her dreams. The table was empty, but she could see him there, broken and almost unrecognizable, the scent of gloriella clinging to his body. Sam had been tortured in ways she hadn’t even known until she read Wesley’s letter.

Requested, as punishment for Sam’s loving her—punishment for tampering with Arobynn’s belongings.

Such a dark, cold room where they’d put Sam’s body. Such a dark, cold room where she’d vomited and then lain beside him on that table for hours and hours, unwilling to leave him.

I’m beginning to admire Lysandra more and more. Seventeen-year-old Aelin must have been a delight to deal with.

would pay good money to see seventeen-year-old Aelin meet seventeen-year-old Rowan.

Seventeen-year-old Rowan wouldn’t have known what to do with you. He could barely speak to ...

You wicked, clever fox.

“I’ll make what was done to Sam seem like a mercy compared to what I do to you.”

For Wesley. For Sam. For Aelin.

“Honestly, I wouldn’t mind seeing you three gutted and hanging from the chandeliers by your insides, but I think it would ruin these very beautiful carpets that I’m now the owner of.”

She’d forgotten the name she’d been given, but it made no difference. She had only one name now: Death, devourer of worlds.

“When we get back,” he said, “remind me to prove you wrong about every thought that just went through your head.”

Aelin said good-bye only to Fleetfoot, who had slept curled by her side during the long night that she’d watched over Rowan.

My heart breaks knowing this moment so well myself

They alighted on a little plateau covered in purple and orange wildflowers, its grasses hissing in the wind. Abraxos was practically grunting with joy, and Manon, her exhaustion as heavy as the red cloak she wore, didn’t bother to reprimand him.

Perhaps it was because of the scream Asterin had issued from the other side of the ravine. It had been so like the scream of the Blueblood heir, Petrah, when her wyvern had been ripped to shreds. Like the scream of Petrah’s mother when Petrah and her wyvern, Keelie, had tumbled into thin air.

don’t think it’s a weak spot,” Manon admitted, and glanced over her shoulder to where Abraxos was sniffing at the wildflowers. “You’re to be reinstated as Second.”

tug her close against him. “Because that golden-haired witch, Asterin … ,” Aelin said. “She screamed Manon’s name the way I screamed yours.” Rowan stilled. His queen gazed at the floor, as if recalling the moment. “How can I take away somebody who means the world to someone else? Even if she’s my enemy.” A little shrug. “I thought you were dying. It seemed like bad luck to let her die out of spite. And …” she snorted. “Falling into a ravine seemed like a pretty shitty way to die for someone who fights that spectacularly.”

Aelin sighed. “Oh, thank the gods. You can look hideous when you cry.”

Payment for a life debt. One sentence just for Aelin Galathynius; one sentence that changed everything: WITCH KILLER— THE HUMAN IS STILL INSIDE HIM

“For Terrasen,” she said to him. “For our family.” “For Marion.” “For us.”

“Ten years of shadows, but no longer. Light up the darkness, Majesty.”

“Let’s go rattle the stars.”