Throne of Glass (Throne of Glass #0.1–0.5, 1–7)

by Sarah J. Maas

His father stood there. The man he had last seen on a bridge in a glass castle, and yet not. There was kindness on his face. Humanity. And sorrow. Such terrible, pained sorrow. Dorian’s magic faltered. Even Aelin’s magic slowed in surprise, the torrent thinning to a trickle, a steady and agonizing drain. “Stop,” the man breathed, staggering toward them, glancing at the ribbon of power, blinding and pure, feeding the Lock’s formation. Aelin said, “This cannot be stopped.” His father shook his head. “I know. What has begun can’t be halted.” His father. “No,” Dorian said. “No, you cannot be here.” The man only looked down—to Dorian’s side. To where a sword might be. “Did you not summon me?” Damaris. He had been wearing Damaris within that ring of Wyrdmarks. In their world, their existence, he still did. The sword, the unnamed god it served, apparently thought he had one truth left to face. One more truth, before his end. “No,” Dorian repeated. It was all he could think to say as he looked upon him, the man who had done such terrible things to all of them. His father lifted his hands in supplication. “My boy,” he only breathed. Dorian had nothing to say to him. Hated that this man was here, at the end and beginning. Yet his father looked to Aelin. “Let me do this. Let me finish this.” “What?” The word snapped from Dorian. “You were not chosen,” Aelin said, though the coldness in her voice faltered. “Nameless is my price,” the king said. Aelin went still. “Nameless is my price,...