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It is the strength of this that matters. No matter where you are, no matter how far, this will lead you home.
They’d walked this dark path together back to the light. He would not let the road end here.
He signaled again. To me, to me.
The opposite of what he was. The opposite of the man who’d overlooked Sorscha’s presence for years. And offered her only death in the end. He’d be glad to let go of it, if only the magic would allow him.
“Can I hold you?”
“The male I fell in love with was you. It was you, who knew pain as I did, and who walked with me through it, back to the light.
“Even if I had my choice of any dream-realities, any perfect illusions, I would still choose you, too.”
“Would you let me do it, if I were Yrene? If I were carrying our child?” He failed to block out the image of that dream—of Aelin, heavily pregnant, their children around her. “I don’t let you do anything.”
But just remember that this fear of yours? It means you have something worth fighting for—something you care so greatly for that losing it is the worst thing you can imagine.”
The scent of Dorian’s and Chaol’s tears replaced the salt of Endovier as Aelin stared up at Rowan and smiled.
“I will find you again,” he promised her. “In whatever life comes after this.” Lysandra nodded. “In every lifetime.”
He did not see any of the Thirteen.
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. And would invite Manon Blackbeak to roast some dinner over his burning corpse.
