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Nesryn was so focused on the wall ahead that she didn’t consider where the click had come from. Not in front, but below. One heartbeat, she was crouched on a step. The next, it had slid away beneath her feet, a black pit yawning open beneath— Strong hands wrapped around her shoulder,
Chaol snorted, and the prince straightened. “Good luck to anyone who tries to go after Rowan Whitethorn.” “Because Aelin will burn them to ash?” Hasar asked with poisoned sweetness. But it was Kashin who answered softly, “Because Rowan Whitethorn will always be the person who walks away from that encounter. Not the assailant.”
“I bought it,” Chaol clarified instead, “so you could keep whatever it is you always carry in your pocket inside. So you don’t have to keep moving it from dress to dress. Whatever it is.” Surprise lighted her eyes. “You know?” “I don’t know what it is, but I see you holding something in there all the time.”
TOD - no matter what he’s done, Chaols redeeming quality will always be that he pays attention to the people he cares about
“The darkness belongs to you. To shape as you will. To give it power or render it harmless.” “Was it ever the Valg’s to begin with?” His words echoed into nothing. “Yes. But it is yours to keep now. This place, this final kernel of it.” It would remain in him, a scar and a reminder. “Will it grow again?” “Only if you let it. Only if you do not fill it with better things. Only if you do not forgive.”
Nesryn had slept the entirety of the day before. Not in her room, but curled in bed beside the prince now standing with her before the assembled group. They had both been patched up and bathed, and though Sartaq had not so much as kissed her … Nesryn had not objected when he led her by the hand and limped into his bedroom. So they had slept.
Then Yrene was not there. Then she was on the stones, thrown to the side as Chaol hurled himself between her and the princess. No shield, no weapon. Only his back, utterly exposed, as he shoved Yrene away and took the full brunt of the Valg attack.
The damage is too great. There must be a cost if it is to be repaired. All those lights seemed to hesitate at that otherworldly voice. Yrene brushed herself along them, waded through them like a field of white flowers, the lights bobbing and swaying in this quiet place of pain. Not lights … but healers. She knew their lights, their essences. Eretia—that was Eretia closest to her. The voice that was both Hafiza and Other said again, There must be a cost. For what the princess had done to him … There was no returning from it. I will pay it. Yrene said into the pain and dark and light. A daughter
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But I also told him that the woman I love now plans to head into war. And I intend to follow her.” She didn’t let the words sink in. Didn’t let herself believe any of it, until he’d finished. “He told me that you are common-born. That a would-be Heir of the khagan needs to wed a princess, or a lady, or someone with lands and alliances to offer.” Her throat closed up. She tried to shut out the sound, the words. Didn’t want to hear the rest. But Sartaq took her hand. “I told him if that was what it took to be chosen as Heir, I didn’t want it. And I walked out.”
Four blinks. I am here, I am with you.