Rowan considered for a moment, and then said, “I have known many kings in my life, Dorian Havilliard. And it was a rare man indeed who asked for help when he needed it, who would put aside pride.
I don’t make threats. Only promises.
If you don’t marry her, you stupid prick, I will.
You deserve to be happy,” he said. And meant it. She deserved the joy he so often glimpsed on her face when Rowan was near – deserved the wicked laughter she shared with Aedion, the comfort and teasing with Lysandra. She deserved happiness, perhaps more than anyone.
I was a dreamer born into the Court of Nightmares,” Mor said. “So I got out.
You do not yield.
What a shame that the current owner of the Vaults, a former underling of Rourke Farran and a dealer of flesh and opiates, had accidentally run into her knives. Repeatedly.
Feyre!” someone roared. No, not someone – Rhysand.
Dorian, we get to come back from this loss – from this darkness. We get to come back, and I came back for you.
It is a new world, and we must decide how we are to end this old one and begin it anew.
One by one, like shadows emerging from the mist, they appeared. The faces of the people she had loved with her heart of wildfire.
My goal was bigger than revenge. My purpose greater than personal retribution.
But this is war. We don’t have the luxury of good ideas – only picking between the bad ones.
And she wondered if it were possible to love someone enough to die from it. If it were possible to love someone enough that time and distance and death were of no concern.
I heard you begging someone, anyone, to rescue you, to get you out. I heard you say no.
The male I fell in love with was you. It was you, who knew pain as I did, and who walked me through it, back to the light. Maeve didn’t understand that. That even if she could create this perfect world, it wouldn’t be you with me. And I’d never trade that, trade this. Not for anything.
To whatever end?” she breathed. Rowan followed her, as he had his entire life, long before they had ever met, before their souls had sparked into existence. “To whatever end, Fireheart.
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.
Yet the songs would mention this – that the Lion fell before the western gate of Orynth, defending the city and his son.
My name is Aelin Ashryver Galathynius. And I am the Queen of Terrasen.