And when she looked up at him, there were tears on his face. Not at the dead Valg queen before them. Or even at what Aelin had done. No, her prince, her husband, her mate, gazed to the south. To the battlefield. Even as their power melded, and she burned Maeve into ash and memory, Rowan stared toward the battlefield. Where line after line after line of Valg soldiers fell to their knees mid-fight with the Fae and wolves and Darghan cavalry.
