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“From tears to sass in a few minutes. I’m glad the month apart hasn’t dimmed your usual good spirits.”
“When you shift, will your hawk form be plucked, then?” His nostrils flared, and she clamped her lips together to keep from laughing.
Aelin tried not to look too jolted by the sight of him with the towel wrapped around his hips, at the tan and muscled body that gleamed with the oils of the bath, at the scars crisscrossing it like the stripes of a great cat. Even Common Sense was at a loss for words.
“So curious about my negligees, Prince. Whatever would the others say? Maybe you should issue a decree to clarify.” He growled, and she grinned into her pillow. “Yes, I have more, don’t worry. If Lorcan is going to murder me in my sleep, I might as well look good.” “Vain until the bitter end.”
“No,” Manon said, her voice like death and bloodshed.
Aedion said, “I think she finds everyone but Aelin boring. Biggest disappointment of my life.” A lie, and he didn’t know why he said it. But Rowan smiled a bit. “I’m glad she found a female friend.” Aedion marveled for a heartbeat at the softness in the warrior’s face.
She strode to Rowan, taking the heavy arm from him, and waved at the prince with the creature’s stiff fingers.
Such a creature of luxury, his queen.
“I never told you—how I felt. But I loved you, and I think a part of me might always love you. Maybe you were my mate, and I never knew it. Maybe I’ll spend the rest of my life wondering about that. Maybe I’ll see you again in the Afterworld, and then I’ll know for sure. But until then … until then I’ll miss you, and I’ll wish you were here.”
He took in her face, her hair, the combs. “You look like—” “A queen?” “The fire-breathing bitch-queen those bastards claim you are.”
The hidden dagger Aelin had drawn clattered to the wooden floor the moment the cool black stone slid against her skin. She blinked at the ring, at the line of blood that had appeared on her hand beneath Arobynn’s sharp thumbnail as he raised her hand to his mouth and brushed his tongue along the back of her palm. Her blood was on his lips as he straightened.
YOU ARE FUCKING LYING. Oh lawd.. Help.
“I’m thinking that the next time I want to unsettle you, all I need to do is tell you how rarely I wear undergarments.” His pupils flared. “Is there a reason you do that, Princess?” “Is there any reason not to?”
and she was … She was young and inexperienced and his carranam and queen, and he wanted nothing more than that.
Might as well add lover to that list
At dinner, she’d seen the expression flash across his face when he caught Aelin and Rowan smiling at each other. All of Arobynn’s jabs and stories had failed to find their mark tonight because Aelin had been too lost in Rowan to hear.
She wondered whether the queen knew. Rowan did. Aedion did. And Arobynn did. He had understood that with Rowan, she was no longer afraid of him; with Rowan, Arobynn was now utterly unnecessary. Irrelevant.
Lightning gleamed on the blade, a flicker of quicksilver. For Wesley. For Sam. For Aelin. And for herself. For the child she’d been, for the seventeen-year-old on her Bidding night, for the woman she’d become, her heart in shreds, her invisible wound still bleeding. It was so very easy to sit up and slice the knife across Arobynn’s throat.
the Master opened a sealed envelope and cleared his throat. He spouted some legal jargon and offered his condolences again, which gods-damned Clarisse had the audacity to accept as though she were Arobynn’s widow.
“You can’t just toss us out. What will we do? Where will we go?” “I hear hell is particularly nice at this time of year.”
Rowan didn’t know what to make of it. A whirlwind of hate and rage and violence, that was what she’d become. And none of these piss-poor assassins had been surprised—not even a blink at her behavior. From Aedion’s pale face, he knew the general was thinking the same thing, contemplating the years she’d spent as that unyielding and vicious creature. Celaena Sardothien—that was who she’d been then, and who she’d become today.
“I hope the dark god finds a special place for you in his realm,” she said, and a shiver went down Rowan’s spine at the midnight caress in her tone.
His Fireheart, shut in the dark.
Lorcan chuckled. “I don’t want to hear the princess yapping. What I have to say applies to both of you.”
I read 'apples' at first and was SO confused
“I kept thinking about how you might never know that I missed you with only an ocean between us. But if it was death separating us … I would find you. I don’t care how many rules it would break. Even if I had to get all three keys myself and open a gate, I would find you again. Always.”
“I want to take my time with you—to learn … every inch of you. And this apartment has very, very thin walls. I don’t want to have an audience,” he added as he leaned down again, brushing his mouth over the cut at the base of her throat, “when I make you moan, Aelin.”
“Hello, princeling,” she purred.
“I think not, Prince,” she said in her midnight voice. She sniffed again, her nose crinkling slightly. “But would you bleed red, or black?” “I’ll bleed whatever color you tell me to.”
“You’re too good a fighter to kill,” Aelin breathed, hooking an arm under Manon’s shoulders and hauling her up. The rock swayed to the left—but held. Oh, gods. “If I die because of you, I’ll beat the shit out of you in hell.”
“So you’re going to ask Ress and Brullo to just leave a back door open so you can sneak in?” “Don’t be so simpleminded. I’m going to walk in through the front door.”
...Obviously
He was going to slaughter that witch. He said as much, and Aelin smiled. “If you’re in the mood for violence, then I suppose you’re just fine.” But the words were thick, and her eyes gleamed. He reached out with his good arm to grip one of her hands and squeezed tightly. “Please don’t ever do that again,” she breathed. “Next time, I’ll ask them not to fire arrows at you—or me.”
“How can I take away somebody who means the world to someone else? Even if she’s my enemy.” A little shrug. “I thought you were dying. It seemed like bad luck to let her die out of spite. And …” she snorted. “Falling into a ravine seemed like a pretty shitty way to die for someone who fights that spectacularly.”
“Och,” Aelin said, even as her own eyes filled. “I hate you for being so beautiful, even when you cry.”
“Shut up, Aelin,” Lysandra said through her hands. “Just—shut up.” She lowered her hands, her face now puffy and splotchy. Aelin sighed. “Oh, thank the gods. You can look hideous when you cry.” Lysandra burst out laughing.
Aelin leaned against the closet doorway, clad in a nightgown of gold. Metallic gold—as he’d requested.
She said softly, “You make me want to live, Rowan. Not survive; not exist. Live.” He didn’t have the words. Not when what she said hit him harder and deeper than any kiss.
Then she smiled with every last shred of courage, of desperation, of hope for the glimmer of that glorious future. “Let’s go rattle the stars.”
“To a better future,” she said. “You came back,” he said, as if that were an answer. They joined hands. So the world ended. And the next one began.
Kaltain flowed into the room, spreading her arms wide, and became shadowfire, became freedom and triumph, became a promise hissed in a dungeon beneath a glass castle: Punish them all.
“You make me want to live, too, Aelin Galathynius,” he said. “Not exist—but live.” He cupped her cheek, and took a steadying breath—as if he’d thought about every word these past three days, over and over again. “I spent centuries wandering the world, from empires to kingdoms to wastelands, never settling, never stopping—not for one moment. I was always looking toward the horizon, always wondering what waited across the next ocean, over the next mountain. But I think … I think that whole time, all those centuries, I was just looking for you.”
Changing winds—a changing world. Perhaps a changing Thirteen, too. And herself. She didn’t know what to make of it. But Manon hoped they’d all survive it. She hoped.
Empire of storm
“I would sooner die tomorrow than live for a thousand years with a coward’s shame.”
so that Elide might repay the life debt she owed to Kaltain Rompier.
Why does EVERYONE have life debt?
She’d likely been out here for a while, struggling to find food. And the knife she palmed shook enough to suggest she likely had no idea what to do with it.
Why ya need to talk about our girl like that?
And so Lorcan began his hunt.
Oh brother... Here we go
“You could use a haircut,” she said. Indeed, his hair had grown longer than he usually kept it. “It’s almost the same length as mine.” She frowned. “It makes us look like we coordinated it.” Aedion snorted, stroking the dog’s head. “So what if we did?” Aelin shrugged. “If you want to start wearing matching outfits as well, I’m in.”
Evangeline, as they had taught her, crept to the fire. The flames pulled apart like drawn curtains to allow her and Fleetfoot, sensing the child’s fear and pressing close, passage to an inner ring that would not burn her. But would melt the bones of their enemies.
How dope
Death, cruel and cunning, waited in that gold-flecked onyx stare.
Manon assessed the tall, reedy man. Two gifts he had offered them: respect to her grandmother, and the knowledge of the duke’s true name. Erawan.
I’m kind of surprised Erawan or the Valg in general aren’t the type to keep their names to themselves unless given. Seems like a little power lost to have all your enemies know? … Maybe I just read too much fantasy lol
Manon was out of the room before he’d turned back to Vernon. It did not occur to her until she was long gone that she should have remained to protect the Matron.
Fuk'er. She dead to us at this point
And perhaps put an end to Iskra as well. Accidents happened all the time in battle.
