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But I sent you to Wendlyn for the healing. And so you would … find him. The one who had been waiting so long for you.” Aelin’s heart cracked. “Rowan.”
There was a roar of rage that echoed it. Was Aedion— The coppery tang of blood coated Dorian’s mouth—the burnout. Another roar, deep and bellowing, cleaved the world. Dorian braced himself, rallying his magic perhaps for the last time. That roar sounded again as a mighty shape shot down from the heavy clouds. A wyvern. A wyvern with shimmering wings. And behind it, descending upon the Fae fleet with wicked delight, flew twelve others.
Crying
And then there was Abraxos, plunging from the heavy clouds, twelve other wyverns with riders behind him. Ironteeth witches.
“You and your Thirteen save our asses, witch,” Aedion said, “and I’ll tell you anything you damn want.” A wicked grin and an incline of her head. “Then we shall clear the field for you.”
Rowan hissed, “Where is my wife?”
And she had married Whitethorn … so Terrasen could have a king. Perhaps had been spurred into action because she knew Lorcan had already betrayed her, that Maeve was coming …
Asterin was alive. The Thirteen were alive. And it was joy in Manon’s heart—joy, she realized, as she beheld those smiling faces and smiled back.
But Abraxos found us and seemed to know where you were, so we followed him.” She scratched at some dried blood on her cheek. “And saved your ass, apparently.”
Aelin Galathynius had not beseeched Elena for another fate. She had only asked for one thing, one request of the ancient queen: Will you come with me? For the same reason Manon had now asked them.
“Aelin Galathynius willingly handed over her freedom so an Ironteeth witch could walk free,” Manon said. Elide straightened, pulling from Asterin’s arms. But Manon continued, “We owe her a life debt. And more than that … It is time that we became better than our foremothers.
“I am going to find the Crochans. And I am going to raise an army with them. For Aelin Galathynius. And her people. And for ours.”
“I have them,” Manon said simply. “Aelin slid them into my pocket.” Oh, Aelin. Aelin. She’d worked Maeve into such a frenzy, made the queen so focused on capturing her that she hadn’t thought to confirm if Aelin held the keys before she vanished. She’d been dealt such a wicked, impossible hand—and yet Aelin had made it count. One last time, she’d made it count. “It’s why I couldn’t do anything about it,” Manon said. “To help her. I had to look uninvolved. Neutral.”
His Fireheart. His equal, his friend, his lover. His wife. His mate.
Fight her. I am coming for you. Even if it takes me a thousand years. I will find you, I will find you, I will find you.
I promise you that no matter how far I go, no matter the cost, when you call for my aid, I will come, Aelin had told him she’d sworn to Darrow. I’m going to call in old debts and promises. To raise an army of assassins and thieves and exiles and commoners.
For Terrasen. For them. For a better world. Aelin Galathynius had raised an army not just to challenge Morath … but to rattle the stars.
Unleashing a cry that set the world trembling, Prince Rowan Whitethorn Galathynius, Consort of the Queen of Terrasen, began the hunt to find his wife.
