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

by Sarah J. Maas

Darrow rolled his eyes, then fixed them upon Rolfe, who was still frowning at the shabby castle. “We have you to thank for the lucky retreat, I take it.” Rolfe fixed his sea-green stare upon the man. “That you do.” Darrow sat again, the other lords following suit. “And you are?” “Privateer Rolfe,” the pirate said smoothly. “Commander in Her Majesty’s Armada. And Heir to the Mycenian people.” The other lords straightened. “The Mycenians vanished an age ago,” Lord Sloane said. But the man noted the sword at Rolfe’s side, the sea dragon pommel. Had no doubt spied the fleet creeping up the Florine. “Vanished, but did not die out,” Rolfe countered. “And we have come to fulfill an old debt.” Darrow rubbed at his temple. Old—Darrow truly looked his age as he leaned against the table edge. “Well, we have the gods to thank for that.” Lysandra said, simmering with rage, “You have Aelin to thank for that.” The man narrowed his eyes, and Aedion’s temper honed itself into something lethal. But Darrow’s voice was exhausted—heavy, as he asked, “Not pretending today, Lady?” Lysandra only pointed to Rolfe, then Ansel, then Galan. Swept her arm to the windows, to where the Fae royals and Ilias of the Silent Assassins tended to their own on the castle grounds. “All of them. All of them came here because of Aelin. Not you. So before you sneer that there is no Her Majesty’s Armada, allow me to tell you that there is. And you are not a part of it.”