What will you stand for? Or will you only stand for yourself?
Elena had said that she was a warrior, too. But her armor was nowhere to be seen. Where had it gone? It was probably lying forgotten in a castle somewhere in the kingdoms. Forgotten. The same way legend had reduced the fierce warrior-princess to nothing more than a damsel in a tower, whom Gavin had rescued.
She was babbling. She should stop. Actually, she should just stop talking. Forever.
She’d hardly known where she was going while the gloriella tore through her; all she’d known was that she had to get someplace safe. And somehow, she had wound up exactly where she knew she’d be safest.
It was enough. One more word out of the courtesan’s mouth, and Celaena was fairly certain she’d punch Lysandra’s teeth down her throat. Celaena angled her head, her fingers curling into a fist. Sam saw the familiar gesture and pried Lysandra’s hand off his arm. “Go back to the luncheon,” he told her.
Aedion stepped in front of Rowan, useless as it would be. They’d kill Rowan once he was dead, anyway. But at least he’d go down fighting, defending his brother. At least he would have that.
Arobynn might be a bastard, and he might associate with Lysandra, but he had damn good taste. Oh, it was so nice to be back in civilization, with her beautiful clothes and shoes and jewels and cosmetics and all the luxuries she’d had to spend the summer without!
Hello, Feyre darling.
Aedion and Rowan were backed up against the cave-in, their faces bloody and gaping as she leaped upon the back of a sentry and shredded his spine clean out of his skin. Oh, she liked this body.
War would linger with me long after it had ended, some invisible scar that would perhaps fade, but never wholly vanish.
The Mycenians abandoned Terrasen so they would not die in a war they did not believe in.” “And they disbanded and vanished soon after that, never to be seen again,” Aedion countered. “What’s your point? You think liberating Ilium will summon them again? They’re long gone, Aelin, their sea dragons with them.
The captain said I could stay here for a while. Sorry for trying to kill you this winter. I was the one with the twin swords. Nothing personal. – Ren.
If I were to give you a piece of Spidersilk, could you incorporate it into one of these uniforms? It’s small, so I’d just want it placed around the heart.
I must do something, Elentiya,” Nehemia said, using the name she’d given her on the night Celaena admitted that she was an assassin. “I must find a way to help my people. When does gathering information become a stalemate? When do we act?” Celaena.
Aelin is my heart. I taught her what I knew, and it worked because our magics understood each other deep down – just as our souls did.
I must find a way to help my people. When does gathering information become a stalemate? When do we act?” Celaena.
Rowan was screaming as the creature pulled her into its arms. As she stopped fighting. As her flames winked out and darkness swallowed her whole.
And when Lorcan walked right into that den of Valg commanders and the Wyrdhound that had come to retrieve their reports, when the clash of weapons and roar of dying filled her ears, Aelin merely sauntered down the street, whistling to herself.
His old commander was waiting, arms crossed over his broad chest. He surveyed Rowan with a frown, noting the bandages and his bare torso. “Should I thank you for putting on pants?” Lorcan said, his voice barely more than a midnight wind. “I didn’t want you to feel inadequate,” Rowan replied, leaning against the roof door.
I couldn’t save you before. I couldn’t protect you from them. And when you said that, about... about me drowning you... Am I any better than they were?