Slowly, deeply, Aelin bowed to them. Rowan could have sworn all those tiny heads lowered in answer. A pair of bony grayish hands rose above a nearby rock, something glittering held between them, and set the object on the stone. Rowan went still. A crown of silver and pearl and diamond gleamed there, fashioned into upswept swan’s wings. “The Crown of Mab,” Gavriel breathed. But Fenrys looked away, toward the looming dark, his tail curling around him.
LAUREN CALLED IT!!
