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

by Sarah J. Maas

Manon looked from Petrah to Glennis and Bronwen. “What should you like to do?” Glennis said softly, “Go home.” Manon swallowed. “You and the Crochans may leave whenever you—” “To the Wastes,” Glennis said. “Together.” Manon and Petrah swapped a glance. Petrah said, “We cannot.” Bronwen’s lips curved upward. “You can.” Manon blinked. And blinked again as Bronwen extended a fist toward Manon and opened it. Inside lay a pale purple flower, small as Manon’s thumbnail. Beautiful and delicate. “A bastion of Crochans just made it here—a bit late, but they heard the call and came. All the way from the Wastes.” Manon stared and stared at that purple flower. “They brought this with them. From the plain before the Witch-City.” The barren, bloodied plain. The land that had yielded no flowers, no life beyond grass and moss and— Manon’s sight blurred, and Glennis took her hand, guiding it toward Bronwen’s before the witch tipped the flower into Manon’s palm. “Only together can it be undone,” Glennis whispered. “Be the bridge. Be the light.” A bridge between their two peoples, as Manon had become. A light—as the Thirteen had exploded with light, not darkness, in their final moments. “When iron melts,” Petrah murmured, her blue eyes swimming with tears. The Thirteen had melted that tower. Melted the Ironteeth within it. And themselves. “When flowers spring from fields of blood,” Bronwen went on. Manon’s knees buckled as she stared out at that battlefield. Where countless flowers had been ...