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Once upon a time, in a land long since burned to ash, there lived a young princess who loved her kingdom …
One blink for yes. Two for no. Three for Are you all right? Four for I am here, I am with you. Five for This is real, you are awake.
Because I am lost. And I do not know the way.
You do not yield.
It was no strange thing, to hate herself
It was in fact not
the queen and the wolf.
The queen has come.
Death had been her curse and her gift and her friend for these long, long years. She was happy to greet it again under the golden morning sun.
“FLY, FARASHA.”
And gods help her, that horse did.
“You flew back onto the battlefield to peck out the eyes of our enemies?” Her gasp echoed off the rock. “And ate those eyes?”
“The gods can go to hell.”
Her Second, her cousin, her friend, smiled, eyes bright as stars. “Live, Manon.” Manon blinked. Asterin smiled wider, kissed Manon’s brow, and whispered again, “Live.” Manon didn’t see the blow coming.
“Bring our people home, Manon.”
A hundred against twelve.
Manon began screaming then. Screaming, endless and wordless, as that thing in her chest, as her heart, shattered.
“Be the bridge, be the light. When iron melts, when flowers spring from fields of blood—let the land be witness, and return home.”
It was not the end. She was not finished.
Once upon a time, in a land long since burned to ash, there lived a young princess who loved her kingdom …
Her name was Aelin Ashryver Whitethorn Galathynius. And she would not be afraid.
if he broke the Lady of Perranth’s heart, she’d flambé him.
The Fae Queen of the East.
The Lady of Caraverre.
The young Lady of Arran.
“We’ll rebuild this world together.”
“To whatever end?”
“To whatever end, Fireheart.”
