“I’d say,” Aelin panted, speaking above the glorious roar of magic through her, the unbreakable song of her and Rowan, “that you haven’t wronged us the most at all.” Like alternating punches, Lorcan struck with them. Fire, then midnight death. Maeve’s dark brows narrowed. Aelin flung out a wall of flame that pushed Maeve back another step. “But him—oh, he has a score to settle with you.” Maeve’s eyes went wide, and she made to turn. But not fast enough. Not fast enough at all as Fenrys vanished from where he knelt, and reappeared—right behind Maeve. Goldryn burned bright as he plunged it
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