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My sun is setting, Elena. You must find a way to ensure yours still rises.
“None of us are walking away tomorrow,”
Her grandmother’s creature—that’s what Manon was. It had never seemed like a hateful thing.
“Full armor.” She gave them a slashing grin. “We don’t want to make our grand appearance looking anything but our best.”
But Aelin had promised herself, months and months ago, that she would not pretend to be anything but what she was.
Men, and money, and a unified Terrasen.
“For now, I have no plans to lose this war because some old bastard has learned he likes playing king.”
“You are my Fireheart.”
“Find me when you change your mind, Blackbeak.”
Even if this thing between them … even if he knew it was not mere lust, or even just love. This thing between them, the force of it, could devour the world. And if they picked it, picked them, it might very well cause the end of it.
And maybe having Aelin only to lose her was his punishment for letting his mate die; his punishment for finally letting go of that grief and loathing.
Impossible. No one could get through those shields. Not even Rowan-rutting-Whitethorn.
He’d been lucky. The girl, it seemed, had been smart.
He didn’t particularly care to hear her sad story. Everyone had one, he’d found.
“I know you two are of the opinion that we males are here to provide you with a pretty view and meals, but I am a general of Terrasen.
“Aelin is my heart. I taught her what I knew, and it worked because our magics understood each other deep down—just as our souls did.
I will not be afraid; I will not be afraid—
“At least you know how to make a good entrance, Erawan.”
A reminder that she might be the heir of fire … but Erawan was King of the Darkness.
“Bring my body back to the cabin.”
And Manon understood in that moment that there were forces greater than obedience, and discipline, and brutality. Understood that she had not been born soulless; she had not been born without a heart. For there were both, begging her not to swing that blade.
Manon met Sorrel’s eyes, then Asterin’s. And Manon gave the Thirteen her final order. “Run.” Then Manon Blackbeak whirled and brought Wind-Cleaver down upon her grandmother.
There was no such thing as a better world—no such thing as a happy end. Because there were no endings.
Rowan’s hand slid into casual distance of the hunting knife at his thigh.
Gods help them all if Fenrys and Aedion ever sat in a room together.
“Allow me to introduce to you, Captain Rolfe, the incomparable, the beautiful, and the absolutely and all-around flawless Queen of Terrasen.”
“My whole life has been … not about what I want. I don’t know how to choose those things.”
Love had broken a perfect killing tool. Lorcan wondered if it would take him centuries more to stop being so pissed about it.
“Even if Maeve had kept me enslaved, I would have fought her. Every day, every hour, every breath.”
“I would have fought for the rest of my life to find a way to return to you again. I knew it the moment you emerged from the Valg’s darkness and smiled at me through your flames.”
“What I felt for you in Doranelle and what I feel for you now are the same. I just didn’t think I’d ever get the chance to act on it.”
They could burn the entire world to ashes with it. He was hers and she was his, and they had found each other across centuries of bloodshed and loss, across oceans and kingdoms and war.
The body had claimed what it needed, at any cost, at any vulnerability.
Gods, the females in his court ate more than he did.
Despite herself, despite what she’d done, she decided she wanted Rowan to call her milady at least once every day.
“Did Sam die still pining after you, or did you finally stop treating him like filth?”
Aelin was insane, Dorian realized. Brilliant and wicked, but insane.
This war would not be won on smiles and manners. It would be won by a woman willing to gamble with an entire island full of people to get what she needed to save them all. A woman whose friends were equally willing to play along, to rip their souls to shreds if it meant saving the greater population.
“Gods help you, Rowan, that woman is…”
“Because I am going to marry you,” he promised her. “One day. I am going to marry you. I’ll be generous and let you pick when, even if it’s ten years from now. Or twenty. But one day, you are going to be my wife.”
He shrugged. “Princess Lysandra Ashryver sounds nice, doesn’t it?”
“I love you. I am in love with you, Rowan. I have been for a while. And I know there are limits to what you can give me, and I know you might need time—”
“I love you. There is no limit to what I can give to you, no time I need. Even when this world is a forgotten whisper of dust between the stars, I will love you.”
And she wondered if it were possible to love someone enough to die from it. If it were possible to love someone enough that time and distance and death were of no concern.
And he wondered if Aelin was somehow watching the archipelago, and the seas, and the skies, as if she might never see them again.
She hated Death. And Death could go to hell, too—
“Believe it or not, this ship has an unnatural number of attractive men and women on board. You’ll fit right in. And fit in with the cranky immortals, I suppose.”
“Just tell Aelin Galathynius that Elide Lochan is alive—and looking for her.”
Oh, he’d find Aelin for Elide. And he’d make the Queen of Terrasen crawl before the end of it.
“I see you. I see every part of you. And I am not afraid.” I will not be afraid. A line in the burning brightness. My name is Aelin Ashryver Galathynius … And I will not be afraid.
