But Aelin murmured to Dorian, “I’m sorry. About Rifthold.” The king’s summer-tanned face tightened. “Thank you – for the help.” Aelin shrugged. “Rowan’s always looking for an excuse to show off. Dramatic rescues give him purpose and fulfillment in his dull, immortal life.” There was a pointed cough from the open balcony doors above them, sharp enough to inform her that Rowan had heard and wouldn’t forget that little quip when they were alone.