Chaol took one step toward her, though. One step, then he said, “I love you.
Rowan was watching Chaol as if he might be dinner.
What are you planning?” “Something very stupid, I think.
If Rhysand was Night Triumphant, I was the star that only glowed thanks to his darkness, the light only visible because of him. I.
You do not fear... You do not falter. You do not yield.
Aelin slumbered beside him, her breathing deep and even, yet again wearing one of his shirts. Some primal part of him snarled in satisfaction at the sight, at knowing she was covered in his scent.
But I lived in that moment – my life became beautiful again for those few seconds when our hands grazed.
Did you mean it? What you said.” He held her stare. Let some inner wall within him come crumbling down. Only for her. For this sharp-eyed, cunning little liar who had slipped through every defense and ironclad rule he’d ever made for himself. He let her see that in his face. Let her see all of it, as no one had ever done before. “Yes.” Her mouth tightened, but not in displeasure. So Lorcan said softly, “I meant every word.
Having Aelin help him the first time had been awkward enough that he couldn’t even go until she started singing a bawdy tune at the top of her lungs and turned on the sink faucet, all the while helping him stand over the toilet.
Where are our allies, Aelin? Where are our armies?
Daggers and blades, quivers and bows. I scratched my head at the heavy, wicked-looking mace that Rhys had somehow dumped beside the desk without my noticing. I didn’t even want to know. Though I had no doubt Cassian was somehow behind it.
For him, that’s what battle is. A Symphony.
His pupils flared. “Is there a reason you do that, Princess?” “Is there any reason not to?
I want them to hear your story. And know that there is a special strength... ” As I spoke I realized I needed to hear it, know it, too. “A special strength in enduring such dark trials and hardships... And still remaining warm, and kind. Still willing to trust – and reach out.
I wonder if the gods have weighed the costs of that storm. And deemed the casualties worth it.
She yawned, and Rowan rubbed his eyes, his other hand still in hers. But he didn’t let go. And when she awoke before dawn, warm and safe and rested, Rowan was still holding her hand, clasped to his chest. Something molten rushed through her, pouring over every crack and fracture still left gaping and open. Not to hurt or mar – but to weld. To forge.
She had always been drawn to the untamed, wild things of the world.
Do not mistake my silence for lack of feeling. I have good reason to keep my thoughts to myself.
She could forgive the girl who had needed a captain of the guard to offer stability after a year in hell; forgive the girl who had needed a captain to be her champion. But she was her own champion now.
Mother hold you. May you pass through the gates; may you smell that immortal land of milk and honey. Fear no evil. Feel no pain. May you enter enternity.