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July 17 - October 14, 2024
mold, and rotting things.
And somewhere far and deep inside her, an ember began to glow.
soaked—every damn crevice was damp.
So she left Rowan in the hall. But it did not stop her from wishing she could keep him.
“I claim you, Rowan Whitethorn. I don’t care what you say and how much you protest. I claim you as my friend.”
When Dorian had spoken, it hadn’t been a prince who looked at him. It had been a king.
She was the heir of ash and fire, and she would bow to no one.
claim you, Aelin. To whatever end.
“And then I am going to rattle the stars.”
She was Aelin Ashryver Galathynius—and she would not be afraid.
“Hello, darling,” he purred, his silver eyes bright even in the dimness.
“Yes.” “Does he know that you might decide
She’d overheard the other servants whisper about the dark, fell things that went on under those mountains:
began
commander was
Not flowers—never flowers in Terrasen. Instead, they carried small stones to graves to mark their visits, to tell the dead that they still remembered.
“Such a pity, though. Your enemies would have fallen to their knees if they ever saw you in it.” He’d almost fallen to his knees when he’d first seen her earlier tonight.
You can’t really tell they’re on you until you’re staring right into their pale green eyes …” His smile faltered as Lysandra fixed her green
me.” Her mouth
She said softly, “You make me want to live, Rowan. Not survive; not exist. Live.”
“Let’s go rattle the stars.”
a bridge suspended between glass towers, and another place, perfect and strange, where they had been crafted from stardust and light.
arriving
Rowan made her magic sing. And maybe that was the carranam bond between them, but … her magic wanted to dance with his. And from the frost sparkling in his eyes, she knew his own demanded the same.
Even if this thing between them … even if he knew it was not mere lust, or even just love. This thing between them, the force of it, could devour the world. And if they picked it, picked them, it might very well cause the end of it.
like petals in the wind.
“Every key has a lock. Tell the Queen Who Was Promised to retrieve it soon, for all the allies in the world shall make no difference if she does not wield the Lock, if she does not put those keys back with it. Tell her flame and iron, together bound, merge into silver to learn what must be found. A mere step is all it shall take.”
Not wildfire—but moonfire.
Fire like ice, fire stolen from the stars—
jumped between distances, judging by the wholly different flotsam spinning around them.
“Because I am going to marry you,” he promised her. “One day. I am going to marry you. I’ll be generous and let you pick when, even if it’s ten years from now. Or twenty. But one day, you are going to be my wife.”
His lips crushed into hers, and he said onto her mouth, dropping words more precious than rubies and emeralds and sapphires into her heart, her soul, “I love you. There is no limit to what I can give to you, no time I need. Even when this world is a forgotten whisper of dust between the stars, I will love you.”
“And you love me,” she said. Not a question. “To whatever end,” he breathed.
Aelin eyed his throat, his glorious body, and the face she had once so fiercely hated. And she wondered if it were possible to love someone enough to die from it. If it were possible to love someone enough that time and distance and death were of no concern. “Am I limited to your neck?”
“You and me,” she promised him. “From now until the Darkness claims us.”
“It’s a witch mirror.”
whispered atop rolling desert sands and beneath a carpet of stars.
So he had won an army for her.
considerable swell of her belly.
kindly,
on the
body on a bed. A dagger poised above his heart. A head rolling on stone. A collar around a neck. A sword sinking to the bottom of the Avery. The pain
He’d never spoken of it, what it was like to move to a land with foreign stars—if he’d felt adrift at night.
“Then welcome home.” Nesryn wondered if those words might be the most beautiful she’d ever heard.
to match
busy. Sometimes, a few of us will go for a meal
Nesryn studied the short-sword in her hand, the metal shining as if imbued with starlight, interrupted only by the carvings down the fuller.
But Yrene kissed him again, in answer and silent demand. And as Chaol began to move in her, he realized that here, amongst the dunes and stars … Here, in the heart of a foreign land … Here, with her, he was home.
He had been so afraid—so afraid of magic, of loss, of everything.
Yrene’s smile was brighter than the glow rippling off her body. A star. She was a fallen star.
