Elide hadn’t seen a whisper of the Little Folk since the days before Terrasen fell. Then, it had been flashes and rustling within Oakwald’s ancient shade. Never so many, never so openly. Or as open as they would ever allow themselves to be. The half dozen or so who had gathered across the clearing kept mostly hidden behind root and rock and cluster of leaves. None of the males moved, though Fenrys’s ears cocked toward them. A miracle—that’s what had happened with the queen and the wolf. Though Fenrys seemed drained, his eyes were clear as the Little Folk gathered. Aelin barely looked toward
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