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

by Sarah J. Maas

The hand she’d been dealt. It was the hand she had been dealt, and she would endure it. Even as a word took form on her tongue. Please. She tried to swallow it. Tried to keep it locked in as Cairn crouched beside the table, flint raised. You do not yield. You do not yield. You do not yield. “Wait.” The word was a rasp. Cairn paused. Rose from his crouch. “Wait?” Aelin shook, her breathing ragged. “Wait.” Cairn crossed his arms. “Do you have something you’d like to say at last?” He’d let her promise anything to him, to Maeve. And then would still light those fires. Maeve would not hear of her yielding for days. Aelin made herself meet his stare, her gauntlet-covered fingers pressing into the iron slab beneath her. One last chance. She’d seen the stars overhead. It was as great a gift as any she’d received, greater than the jewels and gowns and art she’d once coveted and amassed in Rifthold. The last gift she would receive, if she played the hand she’d been dealt. If she played him right. To end this, end her. Before Maeve could put the Wyrdstone collar around her neck.