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

by Sarah J. Maas

So many witches. There were so many witches, Ironteeth and Crochan, in the halls of the castle. Elide scanned their faces as she worked with the healers in the Great Hall. A dark lord and dark queen defeated—yet the wounded remained. And since she had strength left in her, she would help in whatever way she could. But when a white-haired witch limped into the hall, an injured Crochan slung between her and another witch Elide did not recognize … Elide was halfway across the space, across the hall where she had spent so many happy childhood days, by the time she realized she’d moved. Manon paused at the sight of her. Gave the wounded Crochan over to her sister-in-arms. But made no move to approach. Elide saw the sorrow on her face before she reached her. The dullness and pain in the golden eyes. She went still. “Who?” Manon’s throat bobbed. “All.” All of the Thirteen. All those fierce, brilliant witches. Gone. Elide put a hand to her heart, as if it could stop it from cracking. But Manon closed the distance between them, and even with that grief in her battered, bloodied face, she put a hand on Elide’s shoulder. In comfort. As if the witch had learned how to do such things. Elide’s vision stung and blurred, and Manon wiped away the tear that escaped. “Live, Elide,” was all the witch said to her before striding out of the hall once more. “Live.” Manon vanished into the teeming hallway, braid swaying. And Elide wondered if the command had been meant for her at all.