ForAlexBracken—Forthesixyearsofe-mails,Forthethousandsofpages

critiqued,Foryourtigerheartandyour

Jediwisdom,Andforjustbeingyou.

I’msogladIe-mailedyou

thatday.Andsogratefulyouwrote

back.

ALSOBYSARAHJ.MAAS

TheThroneofGlassseries

ThroneofGlassCrownofMidnight

HeirofFire

•

TheAssassin’sBlade

ACourtofThornsandRoses

Contents

MapPartOneLadyofShadowsChapter1Chapter2Chapter3Chapter4Chapter5Chapter6Chapter7

Chapter8Chapter9Chapter10Chapter11Chapter12Chapter13Chapter14Chapter15Chapter16Chapter17Chapter18Chapter19Chapter20Chapter21

Chapter22Chapter23Chapter24Chapter25Chapter26Chapter27Chapter28Chapter29Chapter30Chapter31Chapter32Chapter33Chapter34Chapter35

Chapter36Chapter37Chapter38Chapter39Chapter40Chapter41Chapter42Chapter43Chapter44Chapter45Chapter46Chapter47PartTwoQueenofLightChapter48

Chapter49Chapter50Chapter51Chapter52Chapter53Chapter54Chapter55Chapter56Chapter57Chapter58Chapter59Chapter60Chapter61Chapter62

Chapter63Chapter64Chapter65Chapter66Chapter67Chapter68Chapter69Chapter70Chapter71Chapter72Chapter73Chapter74Chapter75Chapter76

Chapter77Chapter78Chapter79Chapter80Chapter81Chapter82Chapter83Chapter84Chapter85Chapter86Chapter87Chapter88Chapter89

Acknowledgments

PARTONE

LADYOFSHADOWS

1

Therewas a thingwaiting inthedarkness.It was ancient, and cruel,

and paced in the shadowsleashinghismind. Itwasnotof his world, and had beenbrought here to fill himwithits primordial cold. Someinvisible barrier still

separated them, but the wallcrumbled a little more everytime the thing stalked alongitslength,testingitsstrength.Hecouldnotrememberhis

name.That was the first thing

he’d forgotten when thedarkness enveloped himweeksormonthsoreonsago.Then he’d forgotten thenamesof theotherswhohadmeant so much to him. Hecould recall horror and

despair—only because of thesolitary moment that keptinterruptingtheblacknesslikethe steady beat of a drum: afewminutesofscreamingandbloodandfrozenwind.Therehad been people he loved inthat room of red marble andglass;thewomanhadlostherhead—Lost, as if the beheading

wereherfault.A lovely woman with

delicate hands like golden

doves. It was not her fault,even if he could notremember her name. It wasthe fault of the man on theglassthrone,whohadorderedthat guard’s sword to severfleshandbone.There was nothing in the

darkness beyond themomentwhen that woman’s headthudded to theground.Therewasnothingbutthatmoment,again and again and again—and that thingpacingnearby,

waiting for him to break, toyield,toletitin.Aprince.He could not remember if

thethingwastheprince,orifhe himself had once been aprince. Not likely. A princewould not have allowed thatwoman’s head to be cut off.Aprincewouldhavestoppedthe blade. A prince wouldhavesavedher.Yet he had not saved her,

andheknewtherewasnoonecomingtosavehim.

Therewasstillarealworldbeyond the shadows.Hewasforced to participate in it bythemanwhohadorderedtheslaughter of that lovelywoman.Andwhenhedid,noone noticed that he hadbecome hardly more than amarionette, struggling tospeak,toactpasttheshackleson his mind. He hated themfornotnoticing.Thatwasoneoftheemotionshestillknew.Iwasnotsupposed to love

you.Thewomanhadsaidthat—and then she died. Sheshould not have loved him,andheshouldnothavedaredto love her.He deserved thisdarkness, and once theinvisible boundary shatteredand the waiting thingpounced, infiltrating andfilling him … he’d haveearnedit.So he remained bound in

night, witnessing the screamand thebloodand the impact

offleshonstone.Heknewheshouldstruggle,knewhehadstruggled in those finalseconds before the collar ofblack stone had clampedaroundhisneck.But there was a thing

waiting in the darkness, andhecouldnotbringhimself tofightitformuchlonger.

2

Aelin Ashryver Galathynius,heir of fire, beloved ofMalaLight-Bringer, and rightfulQueen of Terrasen, leanedagainst thewornoakbarandlistened carefully to thesounds of the pleasure hall,sorting through the cheersand moans and bawdy

singing. Though it hadchewed up and spat outseveral owners over the pastfew years, the subterraneanwarren of sin known as theVaults remained the same:uncomfortablyhot,reekingofstale ale and unwashedbodies, and packed to therafters with lowlifes andcareercriminals.More than a few young

lords and merchants’ sonshad swaggered down the

steps into the Vaults andnever seen daylight again.Sometimes it was becausethey flashed their gold andsilver in front of the wrongperson; sometimes it wasbecause they were vain ordrunk enough to think thatthey could jump into thefighting pits and walk outalive. Sometimes theymishandledoneofthewomenfor hire in the alcovesflanking the cavernous space

and learned the hard wayabout which people theowners of the Vaults reallyvalued.Aelinsippedfromthemug

of ale the sweating barkeephadslidhermomentsbefore.Wateryandcheap,butatleastitwascold.Abovethetangoffilthy bodies, the scent ofroasting meat and garlicfloated to her. Her stomachgrumbled, but she wasn’tstupid enough to order food.

One, the meat was usuallycourtesyofrats in thealleyalevel above; two, wealthierpatronsusuallyfounditlacedwithsomethingthatleftthemawakening in theaforementioned alley, purseempty.Iftheywokeupatall.Herclothesweredirty,but

fineenough tomarkher as athief’s target. So she’dcarefully examined her ale,sniffing and then sipping itbeforedeemingitsafe.She’d

stillhavetofindfoodatsomepoint soon, but not until shelearned what she needed tofromtheVaults:whatthehellhad happened in Rifthold inthemonthsshe’dbeengone.And what client Arobynn

Hamelwantedtoseesobadlythathewasriskingameetinghere—especiallywhenbrutal,black-uniformed guardswereroamingthecitylikepacksofwolves.She’dmanagedtoslippast

one such patrol during thechaos of docking, but notbefore noting the onyxwyvern embroidered on theiruniforms. Black on black—perhaps the King of Adarlanhadgrowntiredofpretendinghewasanythingbutamenaceandhadissuedaroyaldecreeto abandon the traditionalcrimson and gold of hisempire. Black for death;black for his twoWyrdkeys;blackfortheValgdemonshe

was now using to buildhimselfanunstoppablearmy.A shudder crawled along

herspine,andshedrainedtherest of her ale. As she setdown the mug, her auburnhair shifted and caught thelight of the wrought-ironchandeliers.She’d hurried from the

dockstotheriversideShadowMarket—whereanyonecouldfind anything they wanted,rare or contraband or

commonplace—andpurchased a brick of dye.She’d paid the merchant anextrapieceofsilvertousethesmallroominthebackoftheshop to dye her hair, stillshort enough to brush justbelow her collarbones. Ifthose guards had beenmonitoringthedocksandhadsomehow seen her, theywould be looking for agolden-haired young woman.Everyone would be looking

for a golden-haired youngwoman,oncewordarrivedina few weeks that the King’sChampion had failed in hertasktoassassinateWendlyn’sroyal family and steal itsnavaldefenseplans.She’dsentawarningtothe

King and Queen of Eyllwemonthsago,andknewthey’dtake the proper precautions.But that still left one personatriskbeforeshecouldfulfillthe first steps of her plan—

the same person who mightbe able to explain the newguards by the docks. Andwhy the city was noticeablyquieter,tenser.Hushed.If she were to overhear

anything regarding theCaptain of the Guard andwhetherhewassafe,itwouldbehere. Itwasonlyamatterof listening to the rightconversation or sitting withthe right card partners.Whata fortunatecoincidence, then,

that she’d spotted Tern—oneof Arobynn’s favoredassassins—buying the latestdose of his preferred poisonattheShadowMarket.She’dfollowedhimherein

time to spy several more ofArobynn’s assassinsconverging on the pleasurehall.Theyneverdidthat—notunless their master waspresent. Usually only whenArobynn was taking ameeting with someone very,

veryimportant.Ordangerous.After Tern and the others

hadslippedinsidetheVaults,she’dwaitedonthestreetfora few minutes, lingering inthe shadows to see whetherArobynnarrived,butnosuchluck. He must have alreadybeenwithin.So she’d come in on the

heels of a group of drunkenmerchants’ sons, spottedwhere Arobynn was holdingcourt, and done her best to

remain unnoticed andunremarkable while shelurked at the bar—andobserved.With her hood and dark

clothes, she blended in wellenough not to garner muchattention.Shesupposedthatifanyonewasfoolishenoughtoattempt to rob her, it madethem fair game to be robbedright back. She was runninglowonmoney.She sighed through her

nose.Ifherpeoplecouldonlyseeher:AelinoftheWildfire,assassin and pickpocket. Herparents and uncle wereprobably thrashing in theirgraves.Still. Some things were

worth it. Aelin crooked agloved finger at the baldbarkeep,signalingforanotherale.“I’d mind how much you

drink, girl,” sneered a voicebesideher.

Sheglancedsidelongattheaverage-sized man who hadslipped up beside her at thebar. She would have knownhim for his ancient cutlass ifshe hadn’t recognized thedisarmingly common face.The ruddy skin, the beadyeyes and thick brows—all abland mask to hide thehungrykillerbeneath.Aelin braced her forearms

onthebar,crossingoneankleovertheother.“Hello,Tern.”

Arobynn’s second incommand—or he had beentwo years ago. A vicious,calculating little prick whohad always been more thaneager to do Arobynn’s dirtywork.“Ifigureditwasonlyamatter of time before one ofArobynn’s dogs sniffed meout.”Ternleanedagainstthebar,

flashing her a too-brightsmile. “If memory serves,youwere always his favorite

bitch.”She chuckled, facing him

fully.Theywerenearlyequalinheight—andwithhisslimbuild, Tern had beenunnervingly good at gettinginto even the most well-guarded places.The barkeep,spotting Tern, kept wellaway.Terninclinedhisheadover

a shoulder, gesturing to theshadowy back of thecavernous space. “Last

banquette against the wall.He’s finishing up with aclient.”Sheflickedhergazeinthe

directionTernindicated.BothsidesoftheVaultswerelinedwith alcoves teeming withwhores, barely curtained offfromthecrowds.Sheskippedoverthewrithingbodies,overthe gaunt-faced, hollow-eyedwomen waiting to earn theirkeep in this festering shit-hole, over the people who

monitored the proceedingsfrom the nearest tables—guards and voyeurs andfleshmongers. But there,tucked into thewall adjacentto the alcoves, were severalwoodenbooths.Exactly the ones she’d

been discreetly monitoringsinceherarrival.And in the one farthest

fromthelights…agleamofpolished leather bootsstretched out beneath the

table.Asecondpairofboots,worn and muddy, werebraced on the floor acrossfrom the first, as if theclientwere ready to bolt. Or, if heweretrulystupid,tofight.He was certainly stupid

enough to have let hispersonalguard stayvisible, abeacon alerting anyone whocaredtonoticethatsomethingrather important washappeninginthatlastbooth.The client’s guard—a

slender, hooded youngwoman armed to the teeth—wasleaningagainstawoodenpillar nearby, her silky,shoulder-length dark hairshining in the light as shecarefully monitored thepleasurehall.Toostifftobeacasualpatron.Nouniform,nohouse colors or sigils. Notsurprising, given the client’sneedforsecrecy.The client probably

thought it was safer to meet

here, when these sorts ofmeetingswereusuallyheldattheAssassins’Keeporoneofthe shadowy inns owned byArobynn himself. He had noidea thatArobynnwasalsoamajor investor in the Vaults,and itwould takeonlyanodfrom Aelin’s former masterfor themetaldoors to lock—andtheclientandhisguardtoneverwalkoutagain.It still left the question of

why Arobynn had agreed to

meethere.AndstillleftAelinlooking

across the hall toward theman who had shattered herlifeinsomanyways.Herstomachtightened,but

she smiled at Tern. “I knewthe leash wouldn’t stretchfar.”Aelin pushed off the bar,

slipping through the crowdbefore the assassin could sayanything else. She could feelTern’s stare fixed right

between her shoulder blades,and knew he was aching toplungehiscutlassthere.Without bothering to

glanceback,shegavehimanobscene gesture over hershoulder.Hisbarkedstringofcurses

wasfarbetterthanthebawdymusicbeingplayedacrosstheroom.She noted each face she

passed,each tableof revelersand criminals and workers.

The client’s personal guardnow watched her, a glovedhand slipping to the ordinaryswordatherside.Notyourconcern,butnice

try.Aelin was half tempted to

smirk at the woman. Mighthavedoneso,actually, ifshewasn’tfocusedontheKingofthe Assassins. On whatwaitedforherinthatbooth.But she was ready—or as

ready as she could ever be.

She’d spent long enoughplanning.Aelin had given herself a

dayatseatorestandtomissRowan. With the blood oathnow eternally binding her tothe Fae Prince—and him toher—his absence was like aphantom limb. She still feltthatway, evenwhen shehadso much to do, even thoughmissing her carranam wasuseless and he’d no doubtkickherassforit.

The second day they’dbeen apart, she’d offered theship’scaptainasilvercoinfora pen and a stack of paper.And after locking herself inhercrampedstateroom,she’dbegunwriting.Thereweretwomeninthis

city responsible fordestroying her life and thepeople she’d loved. ShewouldnotleaveRiftholduntilshe’dburiedthemboth.Soshe’dwrittenpageafter

pageofnotesandideas,untilshe had a list of names andplaces and targets. She’dmemorized every step andcalculation, and then she’dburned the pages with thepower smoldering in herveins,making sureevery lastscrapwas nothingmore thanash floating out the portholewindow and across the vast,night-darkenedocean.Though she had braced

herself, it had still been a

shock weeks later when theshiphadpassedsomeunseenmarker just off the coast andher magic vanished. All thatfire she’d spent so manymonths carefully mastering… gone as if it had neverexisted, not even an emberleftflickeringinherveins.Anew sort of emptiness—different from the holeRowan’sabsenceleftinher.Stranded in her human

skin, she’d curled up on her

cot and recalled how tobreathe,howtothink,howtomoveherdamnbodywithoutthe immortal grace she’dbecomesodependenton.Shewas a useless fool for lettingthose gifts become a crutch,for being caught unguardedwhen theywere again rippedfrom her. Rowan definitelywouldhavekickedherassforthat—once he’d recoveredhimself. It was enough tomake her glad she’d asked

himtostaybehind.Soshehadbreathed in the

brine and the wood, andreminded herself that she’dbeen trained to kill with herbare hands long before she’dever learned to melt boneswith her fire. She did notneed the extra strength,speed, and agility of her Faeform to bring down herenemies.The man responsible for

that initial brutal training—

themanwhohadbeensaviorand tormentor, but neverdeclared himself father orbrother or lover—was nowsteps away, still speakingwith his oh-so-importantclient.Aelin pushed against the

tensionthreateningtolockupher limbs and kept hermovements feline-smooth asshe closed the final twentyfeetbetweenthem.UntilArobynn’sclientrose

to his feet, snappingsomething at theKing of theAssassins, and stormedtowardhisguard.Even with the hood, she

knewthewayhemoved.Sheknew the shape of the chinpoking from the shadows ofthe cowl, the way his lefthand tended to brush againsthisscabbard.But the sword with the

eagle-shapedpommelwasnothangingathisside.

And there was no blackuniform—only brown,nondescript clothes, spottedwithdirtandblood.She grabbed an empty

chair and pulled it up to atable of card players beforetheclienthadtakentwosteps.She slid into the seat andfocused on breathing, onlistening, even as the threepeopleatthetablefrownedather.Shedidn’tcare.

Fromthecornerofhereye,she saw the guard jerk herchintowardher.“Deal me in,” Aelin

muttered to the man besideher.“Rightnow.”“We’re in the middle of a

game.”“Next round, then,” she

said,relaxingherpostureandslumping her shoulders asChaolWestfall cast his gazeinherdirection.

3

ChaolwasArobynn’sclient.Or he wanted something

fromherformermasterbadlyenoughtoriskmeetinghere.What the hell had

happened while she wasaway?She watched the cards

being slapped down on the

ale-damp table, even as thecaptain’s attention fixed onher back. She wished shecould see his face, seeanything in the gloomunderneaththathood.Despitethesplatteringofbloodonhisclothes, he moved as thoughnoinjuriesplaguedhim.Something that had been

coiled tightly inherchest formonthsslowlyloosened.Alive—but where had the

bloodcomefrom?

Hemust have deemed hernonthreatening, because hemerely motioned to hiscompanion to go, and theybothstrolledtowardthebar—no, toward the stairs beyond.Hemovedatasteady,casualpace, though the woman athissidewastootensetopassfor unconcerned. Fortunatelyfor them all, no one lookedhis way as he left, and thecaptain didn’t glance in herdirectionagain.

She’d moved fast enoughthathelikelyhadn’tbeenableto detect that it was her.Good. Good, even if shewould have known himmoving or still, cloaked orbare.There he went, up the

stairs, not even glancingdown, though his companioncontinuedwatchingher.Whothe hell was that? Therehadn’t been any femaleguards at the palace when

she’d left, and she had beenfairlycertain thekinghadanabsurdno-womenrule.Seeing Chaol changed

nothing—notrightnow.Shecurledherhand into a

fist,keenlyawareof thebarefinger on her right hand. Ithadn’tfeltnakeduntilnow.A card landed before her.

“Three silvers to join,” thebald, tattooedmanbesidehersaid as he dealt the cards,inclininghishead toward the

tidy pile of coins in thecenter.Meeting with Arobynn—

she’d never thought Chaolwas stupid,but this…Aelinrose from the chair, coolingthe wrath that had started toboil in her veins. “I’m deadbroke,” she said. “Enjoy thegame.”The door atop the stone

stairswasalreadyshut,Chaolandhiscompaniongone.She gave herself a second

to wipe any expressionbeyond mild amusement offherface.Odds were, Arobynn had

planned the whole thing tocoincide with her arrival.He’d probably sent Tern tothe Shadow Market just tocatch her eye, to draw herhere. Maybe he knew whatthe captainwasup to,whoseside theyoung lordwasnowon;maybehe’djustluredherheretowormhiswayintoher

mind,toshakeherupabit.Getting answers from

Arobynn would come at aprice,but itwassmarter thanrunning after Chaol into thenight,thoughtheurgehadhermuscles locking up. Months—months and months sinceshe’d seen him, since she’dleft Adarlan, broken andhollow.Butnomore.Aelin swaggered the last

fewstepstothebanquetteand

pausedinfrontofit,crossingher arms as she beheldArobynnHamel, theKing oftheAssassins and her formermaster,smilingupather.

Lounging in the shadows ofthewoodenbanquette,aglassofwinebeforehim,Arobynnlooked exactly as he had thelast time she’d seen him: afine-boned aristo face, silky

auburn hair that grazed hisshoulders, and a deep-bluetunic of exquisite make,unbuttoned with an assumedcasualnessatthetoptorevealthe toned chest beneath. Nosign at all of a necklace orchain.Hislong,muscledarmwasdrapedacrossthebackofthe bench, and his tanned,scar-fleckedfingersdrummeda beat in time with the hallmusic.“Hello,darling,”hepurred,

his silver eyesbright even inthedimness.No weapons save for a

beautifulrapierathisside,itsornate, twistingguards like aswirlingwindbound in gold.The only overt sign of thewealth that rivaled the richesofkingsandempresses.Aelin slid onto the bench

acrossfromhim,tooawareofthe wood still warm fromChaol. Her own daggerspressed against her with

every movement. Goldrynwas a heavy weight at herside, the massive ruby in itshilthiddenbyherdarkcloak—the legendary blade utterlyuselessinsuchtightquarters.No doubt why he’d pickedtheboothforthismeeting.“Youlookmoreorlessthe

same,” she said, leaningagainst the hard bench andtugging back her hood.“Rifthold continues to treatyouwell.”

It was true. In his latethirties, Arobynn remainedhandsome, and as calm andcollected as he’d been at theAssassins’ Keep during thedark blur of days after Samhaddied.There were many, many

debts to be paid for whathappenedbackthen.Arobynnlookedherupand

down—a slow, deliberateexamination. “I think Ipreferred your natural hair

color.”“Precautions,” she said,

crossing her legs andsurveyinghimjustasslowly.No indication that he waswearing the Amulet ofOrynth, the royal heirloomhe’dstolenfromherwhenhefound her half-dead on thebanks of the Florine. He’dallowed her to believe theamuletthatsecretlycontainedthe third and final Wyrdkeyhadbeenlosttotheriver.For

a thousand years, herancestors had unwittinglyworn the amulet, and it hadmade their kingdom—herkingdom—a powerhouse:prosperousandsafe,theidealtowhichallcourtsinalllandswere held. Still, she’d neverseen Arobynn wear any sortof chain aroundhisneck.Heprobably had it squirreledawaysomewhereattheKeep.“Iwouldn’twant towind upbackinEndovier.”

Thosesilvereyessparkled.Itwasaneffort tokeep fromreaching for a dagger andthrowingithard.But too much was

dependentonhimtokillhimrightaway.She’dhadalong,longwhile to think this over—what she wanted to do,how she wanted to do it.Endingithereandnowwouldbe a waste. Especially whenhe andChaolwere somehowtangledup.

Perhapsthatwaswhyhe’dluredherhere—soshewouldspy Chaol with him … andhesitate.“Indeed,” Arobynn said,

“I’d hate to see you back inEndovier, too. Though I willsaythesepasttwoyearshavemadeyouevenmorestriking.Womanhood suits you.” Hecocked his head, and sheknewitwascomingbeforeheamended, “Or should I sayqueen-hood?”

It hadbeenadecade sincethey’d spoken baldly of herheritage,orofthetitlehehadhelped her walk away from,had taught her to hate andfear. Sometimes he’dmentioned it in veiled terms,usuallyasathreattokeepherbound to him. But he hadneveroncesaidhertruename—not even when he’d foundheron that icy riverbankandcarried her into his house ofkillers.

“What makes you think Ihaveanyinterestinthat?”shesaidcasually.Arobynn shrugged his

broad shoulders. “One can’tputmuch faith in gossip, butword arrived about a monthagofromWendlyn.Itclaimedthat a certain lost queen puton a rather spectacular showfor an invading legion fromAdarlan. Actually, I believethe titleouresteemed friendsintheempirenowliketouse

is ‘fire-breathing bitch-queen.’”Honestly,shealmostfound

it funny—flattering, even.She’d known word wouldspread about what she haddone to General Narrok andthe three other Valg princessquatting like toads insidehumanbodies.Shejusthadn’trealizedeveryonewouldlearnof it soquickly. “Peoplewillbelieve anything they hearthesedays.”

“True,” Arobynn said. AttheotherendoftheVaults,afrenzied crowd roared at thefightersslugging itout in thepits. The King of theAssassins looked toward it,smilingfaintly.It had been almost two

yearssinceshe’dstoodinthatcrowd,watchingSamtakeonvastly inferior fighters,hustling to raise enoughmoney to get them out ofRifthold and away from

Arobynn. A few days later,she’d wound up in a prisonwagon bound for Endovier,butSam…She’d never discovered

where they’d buried Samafter Rourke Farran—secondin command to Ioan Jayne,theCrimeLordofRifthold—had tortured and killed him.She’d killed Jayne herself,with adaggerhurled intohismeaty face. And Farran …She’d later learned that

FarranhadbeenmurderedbyArobynn’s own bodyguard,Wesley, as retribution forwhat had been done to Sam.But that wasn’t her concern,even if Arobynn had killedWesley to mend the bondbetween theAssassins’Guildand the new Crime Lord.Anotherdebt.She could wait; she could

be patient. She merely said,“So you’re doing businessherenow?Whathappened to

theKeep?”“Some clients,” Arobynn

drawled, “prefer publicmeetings.TheKeepcanmakepeopleedgy.”“Your client must be new

tothegame,ifhedidn’tinsistonaprivateroom.”“He didn’t trust me that

much, either. He thought themainfloorwouldbesafer.”“He must not know the

Vaults, then.”No,Chaol hadneverbeenhere,asfarasshe

knew. She’d usually avoidedtelling him about the timeshe’d spent in this festeringplace. Like she’d avoidedtelling him a good manythings.“Why don’t you just ask

meabouthim?”She kept her face neutral,

disinterested. “I don’tparticularly care about yourclients.Tellmeordon’t.”Arobynnshruggedagain,a

beautiful, casual gesture. A

game, then. A bit ofinformation to hold againsther, to keep fromher until itwasuseful.Itdidn’tmatterifitwasvaluableinformationornot; it was the withholding,thepowerofit,thatheloved.Arobynn sighed. “There is

somuchIwant toaskyou—toknow.”“I’m surprised you’re

admitting that you don’talreadyknoweverything.”He rested his head against

thebackofthebooth,hisredhair gleaming like freshblood. As an investor in theVaults, she supposed hedidn’t need to bother hidinghis face here. No one—noteven the King of Adarlan—wouldbestupidenoughtogoafterhim.“Things have been

wretched since you left,”Arobynnsaidquietly.Left. As if she’d willingly

gone to Endovier; as if he

hadn’tbeenresponsibleforit;as if she had just been awayonholiday.Butsheknewhimtoowell.Hewas still feelingher out, despite having luredherhere.Perfect.Heglancedatthethickscar

acrossherpalm—proofofthevow she’dmade to Nehemiato free Eyllwe. Arobynnclicked his tongue. “It hurtsmyhearttoseesomanynewscarsonyou.”“Iratherlikethem.”Itwas

thetruth.Arobynnshiftedinhisseat

—a deliberate movement, asallhismovementswere—andthelightfellonawickedscarstretching fromhis ear tohiscollarbone.“I rather like that scar,

too,”shesaidwithamidnightsmile. That explained whyhe’dleftthetunicunbuttoned,then.Arobynn waved a hand

withfluidgrace.“Courtesyof

Wesley.”Acasual reminderofwhat

he was capable of doing,whathecouldendure.Wesleyhad been one of the finestwarriors she’d everencountered. If he hadn’tsurvived the fight withArobynn, few existed whowould.“FirstSam,”shesaid,“thenme,thenWesley—whata tyrant you’ve become. Isthereanyoneatall left in theKeepbesidesdarlingTern,or

have you put down everypersonwho displeased you?”SheglancedatTern,loiteringat the bar, and then at theother two assassins seated atseparatetableshalfwayacrossthe room, trying to pretendthey weren’t monitoringevery movement she made.“AtleastHardingandMullinare alive, too. But they’vealways been so good atkissingyourass thatIhaveahardtimeimaginingyouever

bringing yourself to killthem.”A low laugh. “And here I

was, thinking my men weredoing a good job of keepinghidden in the crowd.” Hesipped from his wine.“Perhaps you’ll come homeandteachthemafewthings.”Home. Another test,

another game. “You knowI’m always happy to teachyour sycophants a lesson—but I have other lodgings

preparedwhileI’mhere.”“And how long will your

visitbe,exactly?”“Aslongasnecessary.”To

destroyhimandgetwhatsheneeded.“Well,I’mgladtohearit,”

he said, drinking again. Nodoubtfromabottlebroughtinjust for him, as therewas nowayinthedarkgod’sburningrealm that Arobynn woulddrink the watered-down rat’sblood they served at the bar.

“You’llhave tobehere forafew weeks at least, givenwhathappened.”Ice coated her veins. She

gave Arobynn a lazy grin,evenas shebeganpraying toMala, to Deanna, the sister-goddesses who had watchedoverherforsomanyyears.“You do know what

happened, don’t you?” hesaid, swirling thewine inhisglass.Bastard—bastard for

making her confirm shedidn’tknow.“Doesitexplainwhytheroyalguardhassuchspectacular new uniforms?”Not Chaol or Dorian, notChaol or Dorian, not Chaolor—“Oh, no. Those men are

merely a delightful newaddition to our city. Myacolytes have such funtormentingthem.”Hedrainedhis glass. “Though I’d betgood money that the king’s

new guard was present thedayithappened.”She kept her hands from

shaking, despite the panicdevouringevery lastshredofcommonsense.“No one knows what,

exactly, went on that day inthe glass castle,” Arobynnbegan.After all that she had

endured, after what she hadovercome in Wendlyn, toreturn to this… She wished

Rowan were beside her,wished she could smell hispine-and-snow scent andknow that no matter whatnews Arobynn bore, nomatter how it shattered her,the Fae warrior would bethere to help put the piecesbacktogether.But Rowan was across an

ocean—and she prayed he’dnever get within a hundredmilesofArobynn.“Whydon’t youget to the

point,” she said. “I want tohave a few hours of sleeptonight.” Not a lie. Withevery breath, exhaustionwrapped tighter around herbones.“I would have thought,”

Arobynn said, “given howcloseyoutwowere,andyourabilities,thatyou’dsomehowbeabletosenseit.Oratleasthear of it, considering whathewasaccusedof.”The prick was enjoying

every second of this. IfDorianwasdeadorhurt—“Your cousin Aedion has

been imprisoned for treason—for conspiring with therebels here in Rifthold todepose the king and put youbackonthethrone.”Theworldstopped.Stopped, and started, then

stoppedagain.“But,” Arobynn went on,

“it seems you had no ideaabout that little plot of his,

which makes me wonderwhether the kingwasmerelylooking for an excuse to lureacertain fire-breathingbitch-queen back to these shores.Aedion is to be executed inthree days at the prince’sbirthday party as the mainentertainment. Practicallyscreams trap, doesn’t it? I’dbe a little more subtle if I’dplanned it, but you can’tblame the king for sending aloudmessage.”

Aedion. She mastered theswarm of thoughts thatclouded her mind—batted itaside and focused on theassassin in front of her. Hewouldn’t tell her aboutAedionwithoutadamngoodreason.“Whywarnmeatall?”she

said.Aedionwascapturedbythe king; Aedion wasdestined for the gallows—asatrapforher.Everyplanshehadwasruined.

No—she could still seethose plans through to theend, stilldowhat shehad to.ButAedion…Aedionhadtocome first. Even if he laterhated her, even if he spat inher face and called her atraitor and a whore and alying murderer. Even if heresented what she had doneand become, she would savehim.“Consider the tip a favor,”

Arobynnsaid,risingfromthe

bench. “A token of goodfaith.”She’d bet there was more

—perhaps tied to a certaincaptain whose warmthlingeredinthewoodenbenchbeneathher.She stood as well, sliding

out of the booth. She knewthat more spies thanArobynn’s lackeysmonitoredthem—had seen her arrive,waitatthebar,andthenheadto this banquette. She

wondered if her old masterknew,too.Arobynn only smiled at

her, taller by a head. Andwhen he reached out, sheallowed him to brush hisknuckles down her cheek.The calluses on his fingerssaid enough about howoftenhe still practiced. “I do notexpect you to trust me; I donotexpectyoutoloveme.”Only once, during those

days of hell and heartbreak,

hadArobynneversaidthatheloved her in any capacity.She’d been about to leavewithSam,andhehadcometoher warehouse apartment,beggingher to stay, claimingthathewasangrywithherforleaving and that everythinghe’d done, every twistedscheme,hadbeenenactedoutofspiteforhermovingoutoftheKeep.She’dneverknowninwhatwayhe’dmeantthosethreewords—Iloveyou—but

she’d been inclined toconsider them another lie inthe days that followed, afterRourke Farran had druggedher and put his filthy handsall over her. After she’drottedawayinthatdungeon.Arobynn’s eyes softened.

“Imissedyou.”She stepped out of his

reach. “Funny—I was inRifthold this fall and winter,and you never tried to seeme.”

“How could I dare? Ithought you’d kill me onsight.ButthenIgotwordthiseveningthatyouhadreturnedat last—and I hoped youmight have changed yourmind. You’ll forgive me ifmy methods of getting youherewere…roundabout.”Another move and

countermove, to admit to thehowbutnottherealwhy.Shesaid, “I have better things todo than care about whether

youliveordie.”“Indeed. But you would

care a great deal if yourbeloved Aedion died.” Herheartbeat thundered throughher, and she braced herself.Arobynn continued, “Myresourcesareyours.Aedionisintheroyaldungeon,guardedday and night.Any help youneed,anysupport—youknowwheretofindme.”“Atwhatcost?”Arobynn looked her over

once more, and somethinglowinherabdomentwistedatthe gaze that was anythingbutthatofabrotherorfather.“A favor—just one favor.”Warning bells pealed in herhead. She’d be better offmakingabargainwithoneofthe Valg princes. “There arecreatureslurkinginmycity,”hesaid.“Creatureswhowearthe bodies of men likeclothing.Iwanttoknowwhattheyare.”

Too many threads werenowpoisedtotangle.She said carefully, “What

doyoumean?”“Theking’snewguardhas

a few of them among itscommanders. They’reroundinguppeoplesuspectedof being sympathetic tomagic—or those who oncepossessed it. Executionsevery day, at sunrise andsunset. These things seem tothriveon them.I’msurprised

you didn’t notice themlurkingaboutthedocks.”“They’re all monsters to

me.”ButChaolhadn’tlookedor felt like them. A smallmercy.Hewaited.Sodidshe.She let herself break first.

“Is this my favor, then?Telling you what I know?”There was little use indenyingshewasawareofthetruth—or asking how he’d

become aware that she knewit.“Partofit.”She snorted. “Two favors

for the price of one? Howtypical.”“Two sides of the same

coin.”She stared flatly at him,

andthensaid,“Throughyearsof stealing knowledge andsome strange, archaic power,the king has been able tostifle magic, while also

summoning ancient demonstoinfiltratehumanbodiesforhis growing army. He usesringsorcollarsofblackstonetoallowthedemonstoinvadetheir hosts, and he’s beentargeting former magic-wielders,astheirgiftsmakeiteasierforthedemonstolatchon.” Truth, truth, truth—butnotthewholetruth.NotabouttheWyrdmarks orWyrdkeys—nevertoArobynn.“WhenIwas in the castle, I

encounteredsomeofthemenhe’d corrupted,menwho fedoff that power and becamestronger.Andwhen Iwas inWendlyn, I faced one of hisgenerals, who had beenseized by a demon prince ofunimaginablepower.”“Narrok,”Arobynnmused.

Ifhewashorrified, ifhewasshocked, his face revealednoneofit.Shenodded. “Theydevour

life. A prince like that can

suckthesoulrightoutofyou,feedonyou.”Sheswallowed,and real fear coated hertongue. “Do the men you’veseen—these commanders—have collars or rings?”Chaol’shandshadbeenbare.“Justrings,”Arobynnsaid.

“Isthereadifference?”“I think only a collar can

hold a prince; the rings areforlesserdemons.”“Howdoyoukillthem?”“Fire,” she said. “I killed

theprinceswithfire.”“Ah. Not the usual sort, I

takeit.”Shenodded.“Andiftheyweararing?”“I’ve seen one of them

killed with a sword throughthe heart.” Chaol had killedCain that easily. A smallrelief, but … “Beheadingmightworkfor theoneswithcollars.”“And thepeoplewhoused

toownthosebodies—they’regone?”

Narrok’spleading,relievedface flashed before her. “Itwouldseemso.”“Iwantyoutocaptureone

andbringittotheKeep.”She started. “Absolutely

not.Andwhy?”“Perhaps itwill be able to

tellmesomethinguseful.”“Go capture it yourself,”

she snapped. “Find meanotherfavortofulfill.”“You’re the only one who

has faced these things and

lived.” There was nothingmercifulinhisgaze.“Captureone for me at your earliestconvenience—and I’ll assistyouwithyourcousin.”To face one of the Valg,

evenalesserValg…“Aedion comes first,” she

said.“WerescueAedion,andthenI’llriskmyneckgettingoneofthedemonsforyou.”Gods help them all if

Arobynneverrealizedthathemight control that demon

withtheamulethehadhiddenaway.“Ofcourse,”hesaid.She knew it was foolish,

butshecouldn’thelpthenextquestion.“Towhatend?”“This is my city,” he

purred. “And I don’tparticularly care for thedirection in which it’sheaded. It’s bad for myinvestments, and I’m sick ofhearing the crows feastingdayandnight.”

Well, at least they agreedon something. “Abusinessman through andthrough,aren’tyou?”Arobynn continued to pin

her with that lover’s gaze.“Nothing iswithout a price.”Hebrushedakissagainsthercheekbone, his lips soft andwarm.Shefoughttheshudderthat trembled through her,and made herself lean intohim as he brought hismouthagainst her ear and

whispered, “Tell me what Imust do to atone; tell me tocrawloverhotcoals,tosleeponabedofnails,tocarveupmyflesh.Saytheword,anditis done. But let me care foryou as I once did, before…beforethatmadnesspoisonedmy heart. Punish me, tortureme, wreck me, but let mehelpyou.Dothissmall thingfor me—and let me lay theworldatyourfeet.”Her throat went dry, and

shepulledbackfarenoughtolook into that handsome,aristocratic face, the eyesshining with a grief and apredatory intent she couldalmost taste. If Arobynnknew about her history withChaol, and had summonedthe captain here … Had itbeen for information, to testher,orsomegrotesquewaytoassure himself of hisdominance?“Thereisnothing—”

“No—not yet,” he said,stepping away. “Don’t say ityet. Sleep on it. Though,beforeyoudo—perhapspayavisit to the southeasternsectionofthetunnelstonight.You might find the personyou’relookingfor.”Shekepther face still—bored, even—as she tucked away theinformation. Arobynn movedtoward the crowded room,where his three assassinswerealertandready,andthen

looked back at her. “If youare allowed to change sogreatly in two years, may Inot be permitted to havechangedaswell?”With that,hesaunteredoff

between the tables. Tern,Harding, andMullin fell intostep behind him—and Ternglanced in her direction justonce, to give her the exactsame obscene gesture she’dgivenhimearlier.ButAelinstaredonlyatthe

King of theAssassins, at hiselegant,powerfulsteps,atthewarrior’s body disguised innobleman’sclothes.Liar.Trained,cunningliar.Therewere toomany eyes

in theVaults forher toscrubat her cheek, where thephantom imprint ofArobynn’s lips stillwhispered, or at her ear,where his warm breathlingered.Bastard.Sheglancedatthe

fightingpitsacrossthehall,atthe prostitutes clawing out aliving, at the men who ranthis place, who had profitedfor too long from so muchblood and sorrow and pain.She could almost see Samthere—almost picture himfighting, young and strongandglorious.She tugged on her gloves.

Thereweremany,manydebtsto be paid before she leftRifthold and took back her

throne. Starting now.Fortunate that she was in akillingsortofmood.Itwasonlyamatteroftime

before either Arobynnshowedhishandor theKingof Adarlan’s men found thetrailshe’dcarefullylaidfromthedocks.Someonewouldbecoming for her—withinmoments, actually, if theshouts followed by uttersilencebehindthemetaldooratop the stairs were any

indication.Atleastthatmuchof her plan remained oncourse.She’ddealwithChaollater.With a gloved hand, she

pluckeduponeofthecoppersArobynnhadleftonthetable.She stuck out her tongue atthe brutish, unforgivingprofileofthekingstampedonone side—thenat the roaringwyvern gracing the other.Heads,Arobynnhadbetrayedher again. Tails, the king’s

men.Theirondooratthetopof the stairs groaned open,coolnightairpouringin.With a half smile, she

flipped the coin with herthumb.The coin was still rotating

when four men in blackuniforms appeared atop thestone stairs, an assortment ofvicious weapons strapped totheir bodies. By the time thecopper thudded on the table,the wyvern glinting in the

dim light, Aelin Galathyniuswasreadyforbloodshed.

4

Aedion Ashryver knew hewasgoingtodie—andsoon.He didn’t bother trying to

bargainwiththegods.They’dnever answered his pleas,anyway.In the years he’d been a

warrior and a general, he’dalways known that he would

die some way or another—preferablyonabattlefield, ina way that would be worthyof a song or a tale around afire.Thiswouldnotbethatsort

ofdeath.He would either be

executed at whatever grandeventthekinghadplannedtomakethemostofhisdemise¸orhewoulddiedownhereinthis rotting, damp cell, fromthe infection thatwas slowly

and surely destroying hisbody.Ithadstartedoffasasmall

woundinhisside,courtesyofthe fight he’d put up threeweeks ago when thatbutchering monster hadmurdered Sorscha. He’dhiddentheslicealonghisribsfrom the guards who lookedhim over, hoping that he’deither bleed out or that it’dfesterandkillhimbefore theking could use him against

Aelin.Aelin.Hisexecutionwasto

beatrapforher,awaytolureher intoriskinganattempt tosavehim.He’ddiebeforehewouldallowit.He just hadn’t expected it

tohurtsodamnmuch.He concealed the fever

fromthesneeringguardswhofed andwatered him twice aday,pretendingtoslowlyfallinto sullen silence, feigningthat the prowling, cursing

animal had broken. Thecowards wouldn’t get closeenough forhim to reach,andthey hadn’t noticed that he’dgiven up trying to snap thechains that allowed him tostand and walk a few paces,but not much else. Theyhadn’tnoticedthathewasnolongerstandingverymuchatall,excepttoseetohisbody’sneeds. The degradation ofthatwasnothingnew.At least he hadn’t been

forced into one of thosecollars, thoughhe’dseenonebeside the king’s throne thatnighteverythingwenttoshit.He would bet good moneythattheWyrdstonecollarwasfor the king’s own son—andheprayed that theprincehaddied before he’d allowed hisfathertoleashhimlikeadog.Aedionshiftedonhispallet

ofmoldyhayandbitbackhisbark of agony at the painexploding along his ribs.

Worse—worse by the day.HisdilutedFaebloodwastheonly thing that had kept himalive this long, tryingdesperately to heal him, butsooneventheimmortalgraceinhisveinswouldbowtotheinfection.Itwouldbesucharelief—

suchablessedrelief toknowhe couldn’t be used againsther, and that he would soonsee those he had secretlyharbored in his shredded

heartalltheseyears.Soheboredownonevery

spike of fever, every roilingfit of nausea and pain. Soon—soonDeathwouldcometogreethim.Aedion just hoped Death

arrivedbeforeAelindid.

5

The night might very wellend inher blood being shed,Aelin realized as she hurtleddown the crooked streets ofthe slums, sheathing herbloodied fighting knives tokeep from dripping a trailbehindher.Thanks to months of

running through theCambrian Mountains withRowan, her breathingremained steady, her headclear.Shesupposedthatafterfacing skinwalkers, afterescapingancientcreaturesthesize of small cottages, andafter incinerating fourdemonprinces, twenty men inpursuit wasn’t all thathorrific.But still a giant, raging

pain inherass.Andone that

would not likely endpleasantlyforher.NosignofChaol—no whisper of hisname on the lips of themenwho had surged into theVaults.Shehadn’trecognizedanyofthem,butshe’dfelttheoffness that marked most ofthosewhohadbeenincontactwith Wyrdstone, or beencorruptedbyit.Theyworenocollars or rings, butsomething inside these menhadrottednonetheless.

At least Arobynn hadn’tbetrayed her—though howconvenient thathe’dleftonlyminutes before the king’snewguardshadfinallyfoundthe winding trail she’d leftfrom the docks. Perhaps itwasatest,toseewhetherherabilities remained up toArobynn’s standards, shouldsheaccepttheirlittlebargain.As she’d hacked her waythrough body after body, shewondered if he’d even

realized that this entireevening had been a test forhim as well, and that she’dbroughtthosemenrighttotheVaults. She wondered howfurioushewouldbewhenhediscovered what was left ofthe pleasure hall that hadbroughthimsomuchmoney.Ithadalsofilledthecoffers

of the people who hadslaughtered Sam—and whohadenjoyedeverymomentofit. What a shame that the

currentowneroftheVaults,aformer underling of RourkeFarran and a dealer of fleshand opiates, had accidentallyrun into her knives.Repeatedly.She’d left the Vaults in

bloody splinters, which shesupposed was merciful. Ifshe’d had her magic, sheprobably would have burnedit toash.Butshedidn’thavemagic, and her mortal body,despite months of hard

training, was starting to feelheavy and cumbersome asshecontinuedhersprintdownthe alley. The broad street atits other end was too bright,tooopen.She veered toward a stack

of broken crates and rubbishheaped against the wall of abrick building, high enoughthat if she timed it right, shecould jump for thewindowsillafewfeetabove.Behind her, closer now,

rushing footsteps and shoutssounded.Theyhad tobe fastas hell to have kept up withherallthisway.Well,damn.She leapedonto thecrates,

thepile shakingandswayingas she scaled it, eachmovement concise, swift,balanced.Onewrongstepandshe would go shootingthrough the rotten wood, ortopple thewhole thing to theground. The crates groaned,

but she kept moving up andup and up, until she reachedthe pinnacle and jumped fortheoverhangingwindowsill.Herfingersbarkedinpain,

diggingintothebricksohardthathernailsbrokeinsidehergloves. She gritted her teethand pulled, hauling herselfonto the ledge and thenthroughtheopenwindow.She allowed herself two

heartbeats to take in thecramped kitchen: dark and

clean, a candle burning fromthe narrow hall beyond.Palming her knives, theshouting coming closer fromthealleybelow,sheracedforthehall.Someone’s home—this

wassomeone’shome,andshewas leading those menthroughit.Shechargeddownthe hall, the wooden floorsshuddering under her boots,scanning. There were twobedrooms, both occupied.

Shit.Shit.Threeadultsweresprawled

ondirtymattressesinthefirstroom. And two more adultsslept in the other bedroom,oneof themshootinguprightas she thundered past. “Staydown,” she hissed, the onlywarning she could givebeforereachingtheremainingdoor in the hall, barricadedwith a chair wedged beneaththe knob. It was about asmuchprotectionastheycould

findintheslums.Shehurled the chair aside,

sending it clattering againstthe walls of the narrowhallway,whereitwouldslowher pursuers for a fewseconds at least. She yankedthe apartment door open, thefeeble locksplinteringwithasnap. Half a movement hadher hurling a silver coinbehind her to pay for thedamage—andabetterlock.A communal stairwell lay

beyond, the wooden stepsstained and rotted.Completelydark.Male voices echoed too

close behind, and bangingbegan at the bottom of thestairwell.Aelin raced for the

ascending stairs. Around andaround,herbreathnowshardsofglassinherlungs,untilshepassed the third level—untilthestairsnarrowed,and—Aelin didn’t bother being

quietassheslammedintotheroof door. The men alreadyknewwhere she was. Balmynight air smothered her, andshe gulped it down as shescanned the roof and thestreets below. The alleybehind was too wide; thebroadstreettoherleftwasn’tan option, but—there. Downthealley.Thatsewergrate.Perhaps pay a visit to the

southeastern section of thetunnels tonight. You might

find the person you’relookingfor.She knew who he meant.

Another little present of his,then—apieceintheirgame.With feline ease, she

shimmieddownthedrainpipeanchored to the side of thebuilding. Far above, theshouts grew. They’d reachedthe roof. She dropped into apuddle of what smelledundoubtedly like piss, andwas running before the

impact had fully shudderedthroughherbones.She hurtled toward the

grate, dropping onto herkneesandslidingthelastfewfeet until her fingers latchedontothelid,andshehauleditopen.Silent,swift,efficient.The sewers below were

mercifully empty. She bitback a gag against the reekalreadyrisinguptomeether.By the time the guards

peeredovertheroofedge,she

wasgone.

Aelinloathedthesewers.Not because they were

filthy, reeking, and full ofvermin.TheywereactuallyaconvenientwaytogetaroundRifthold unseen andundisturbed, if you knew theway.She’d hated them ever

since she’d been bound up

and left to die, courtesy of abodyguard who hadn’t takensowelltoherplanstokillhismaster. The sewers hadflooded, and after freeingherself from her bonds, shehad swum—actually swum—through the festering water.But the exit hadbeen sealed.Sam,bypureluck,hadsavedher, but not before she’dnearly drowned, swallowinghalftheseweralongtheway.It had taken her days and

countless baths to feel clean.Andendlessvomiting.So climbing into that

sewer, then sealing the grateabove her … For the firsttime that night, her handsshook.Butsheforcedherselfpast the echo of fear andbegan creeping through thedim,moonlittunnels.Listening.Heading southeast, she

took a large, ancient tunnel,oneofthemainarteriesofthe

system. It had probably beenhere from themomentGavinHavilliard decided toestablishhiscapitalalongtheAvery. She paused every sooftentolisten,buttherewereno signs of her pursuersbehindher.An intersection of four

different tunnels loomedahead, and she slowed hersteps, palming her fightingknives. The first two wereclear; the third—the one that

would take her right into thepath of the captain if hewasheaded to the castle—darker,but wide. And the fourth…Southeast.She didn’t need her Fae

senses to know that thedarkness leaking from thesoutheastern tunnelwasn’toftheusualsort.Themoonlightfrom the grates above didn’tpierceit.Nonoiseissued,noteventhescamperingofrats.AnothertrickofArobynn’s

—oragift?The faint soundsshe’d been following hadcomefromthisdirection.Butanytraildiedhere.Shepacedwithfelinequiet

in frontof the linewhere themurky light faded intoimpenetrable blackness.Silently,shepluckedupabitoffallenstoneandchuckeditintothegloomahead.There was no answering

sound when it should havelanded.

“I wouldn’t do that if Iwereyou.”Aelin turned toward the

cool female voice, casuallyanglingherknives.Thehoodedguardfromthe

Vaults was leaning againstthe tunnel wall not twentypacesbehindher.Well, at least one of them

washere.AsforChaol…Aelin held up a knife as

shestalked toward theguard,gobbling down every detail.

“Sneaking up on strangers inthe sewers is also somethingI’dadviseagainst.”When Aelin got within a

fewfeet,thewomanliftedherhands—delicate but scarred,her skin tan even in the paleglow from the streetlights inthe avenue above. If she’dmanaged to sneak up thisclose,shehadtobetrained—in combat or stealth or both.Of course shewas skilled, ifChaol had her watching his

backattheVaults.Butwherehadhegonenow?“Disreputable pleasure

hallsandsewers,”Aelinsaid,keepingherknivesout.“Youcertainly live the good life,don’tyou?”The young woman pushed

off the wall, her curtain ofinky hair swaying in theshadowsofherhood.“Notallofusareblessedenoughtobeon the king’s payroll,Champion.”

She recognized her, then.The real question waswhether she’d told Chaol—andwherehenowwas.“DareI ask why I shouldn’t throwstonesdownthattunnel?”The guard pointed toward

the tunnel closest behind her—bright, open air. “Comewithme.”Aelin chuckled. “You’ll

havetodobetterthanthat.”The slender woman

steppednearer,themoonlight

illuminatingherhoodedface.Pretty, if grave, and perhapstwoorthreeyearsolder.The stranger said a bit

flatly, “You’ve got twentyguards on your ass, andthey’re cunning enough tostart looking down here verysoon. I’d suggest you comealong.”Aelin was half tempted to

suggest she go to hell, butsmiled instead. “How’d youfind me?” She didn’t care;

shejustneededtofeelheroutabitmore.“Luck. I’m on scouting

duty, and popped onto thestreet to discover that you’dmade new friends. Usually,we have a strike-first, ask-questions-later policy aboutpeople wandering thesewers.”“And who is this ‘we’?”

Aelinsaidsweetly.The woman just began

walking down the bright

tunnel, completelyunconcerned with the knivesAelinstillheld.Arrogantandstupid, then. “You can comewith me, Champion, andlearn some things youprobably want to know, oryoucanstayhereandwaittosee what answers that rockyouthrew.”Aelinweighedthewords—

and what she’d heard andseensofarthatnight.Despitethe shiver down her spine,

she fell into step beside theguard,sheathingherknivesatherthighs.With each block they

trudged through the sewermuck,Aelinusedthequiettogatherherstrength.The woman strode swiftly

but smoothly down anothertunnel, and then another.Aelinmarkedeachturn,eachunique feature, each grate,formingamentalmapastheymoved.

“How did you recognizeme?”Aelinsaidatlast.“I’ve seen you around the

city—months ago. The redhair was why I didn’timmediately identify you attheVaults.”Aelinwatchedherfromthe

corner of her eye. ThestrangermightnotknowwhoChaol really was. He couldhave used a different name,despite what the womanclaimed to know about

whatever it was she thoughtAelinwasseeking.The woman said in that

cool, calm voice, “Are theguards chasing you becausethey recognized you, orbecause you picked the fightyouweresodesperatetohaveattheVaults?”Point for the stranger.

“Whydon’t you tellme?Dothe guards work for CaptainWestfall?”Thewoman laughed under

her breath. “No—thoseguardsdon’t answer tohim.”Aelin bit back her sigh ofrelief, even as a thousandmore questions rattled in herskull.Her boots squished

something too soft forcomfort, and she repressed ashudder as the womanstoppedbeforetheentrancetoanother long tunnel, the firsthalfilluminatedbymoonlightstreaming in through the

scattered grates. Unnaturaldarknessdriftedout from thefar end.Apredatory stillnesscreptoverAelinasshepeeredintothegloom.Silence.Uttersilence.“Here,” the stranger said,

approachinganelevatedstonewalkwaybuiltintothesideofthe tunnel. Fool—fool forexposing her back like that.She didn’t even see Aelinslidefreeaknife.They’dgonefarenough.

The woman stepped ontothe small, slick staircaseleading to the walkway, hermovements long-limbed andgraceful.Aelincalculated thedistance to the nearest exits,the depth of the little streamof filth running through thetunnel’s center.Deepenoughtodumpabody,ifneedbe.Aelinangledherknifeand

slippedupbehindthewoman,as close as a lover, andpressed the blade against her

throat.

6

“You get one sentence,”Aelin breathed in thewoman’s ear as she pressedthedaggerharderagainstherneck. “One sentence toconvincemenottospillyourthroatontheground.”Thewomansteppedoffthe

stairs and, to her credit,

wasn’t stupid enough to gofor theconcealedweaponsather side. With her backagainst Aelin’s chest, herweapons were beyond reach,anyway. She swallowed, herthroat bobbing against thedagger Aelin held along hersmoothskin.“I’mtakingyoutothecaptain.”Aelindugtheknifeinabit

more. “Not all thatcompellingtosomeonewithabladeatyourthroat.”

“Three weeks ago, heabandonedhispositionat thecastle and fled. To join ourcause.Therebelcause.”Aelin’skneesthreatenedto

buckle.She supposed she should

haveincludedthreepartiesinherplans: theking,Arobynn,and the rebels—who mightvery well have a score tosettle with her after she’dgutted Archer Finn lastwinter. Even if Chaol was

workingwiththem.Sheshut the thoughtdown

before its full impact hit her.“Andtheprince?”“Alive, but still at the

castle,” the rebel hissed. “Isthatenoughforyoutoputtheknifedown?”Yes.No.IfChaolwasnow

working with the rebels …Aelin lowered her knife andstepped back into a pool ofmoonlight trickling in fromanoverheadgrate.

The rebel whirled andreachedforoneofherknives.Aelinclickedhertongue.Thewoman’s fingers paused onthewell-polishedhilt.“Idecidetospareyou,and

that’s how you repay me?”Aelin said, tugging back herhood. “I don’t particularlyknowwhyI’msurprised.”The rebel let go of her

knife and pulled off her ownhood, revealing her pretty,tanned face—solemn and

wholly unafraid. Her darkeyes fixed on Aelin,scanning.Allyorenemy?“Tell me why you came

here,” the rebel said quietly.“The captain says you’re onour side. Yet you hid fromhimattheVaultstonight.”Aelincrossedherarmsand

leanedagainstthedampstonewall behind her. “Let’s startwith you telling me yourname.”“My name is not your

concern.”Aelin lifted a brow. “You

demandanswersbutrefusetogive me any in return. Nowonder the captain had yousit out the meeting. Hard toplay the game when youdon’tknowtherules.”“I heard what happened

thiswinter.Thatyouwent tothe warehouse and killed somany of us.You slaughteredrebels—my friends.” Thatcool, calm mask didn’t so

muchasflinch.“AndyetI’mnowsupposed tobelieveyouwere on our side all along.Forgive me if I’m notforthrightwithyou.”“Should I not kill the

people who kidnap and beatmy friends?” Aelin saidsoftly.“AmInotsupposedtoreact with violence when Ireceive notes threatening tokill my friends? Am I notsupposed to gut the self-serving prick who had my

beloved friend assassinated?”She pushed off the wall,stalking toward the woman.“Would you like me toapologize?ShouldIgrovelonmy knees for any of that?”The rebel’s face showednothing—either fromtrainingor genuine iciness. Aelinsnorted. “I thought so. Sowhydon’tyoutakemetothecaptain and save the self-righteousbullshitforlater?”The woman glanced

toward the darkness againand shook her head slightly.“If youhadn’t put a blade tomy throat, Iwould have toldyou that we’d arrived.” Shepointed to the tunnel ahead.“You’rewelcome.”Aelin debated slamming

thewomanintothefilthy,wetwall just to remind her who,exactly,theKing’sChampionwas, but then raggedbreathing scraped past herears, coming from that

darkness.Humanbreathing—andwhispers.Bootsslidingandthumping

against stone, more whispers—hushed demands fromvoicesshedidn’trecognizetohurry,andquietnow,and—Aelin’s muscles locked up

as one male voice hissed,“We’ve got twenty minutesuntilthatshipleaves.Move.”Sheknewthatvoice.Butshestillcouldn’tbrace

herself for the full impact of

ChaolWestfallstaggeringoutof the darkness at the end ofthe tunnel, holding a limp,too-thinmanbetweenhimselfand a companion, anotherarmed man guarding theirbacks.Evenfromthedistance,the

captain’s eyes locked ontoAelin’s.Hedidn’tsmile.

7

There were two injuredpeople in total, one heldbetween Chaol and hiscompanion,theothersaggingbetween two men she didn’trecognize.Threeothers—twomen and another woman—guardedtherear.The rebel they dismissed

withaglance.Afriend.Aelin held each of their

gazes as they hurried towardher,theirweaponsout.Bloodwas splattered on them all—red blood and black bloodthat she knew too well. Andthe two nearly unconsciouspeople…She also knew that

emaciated, dried-out look.The hollowness on theirfaces. She’d been too latewith the ones in Wendlyn.

But somehow Chaol and hisallies had gotten these twoout. Her stomach flipped.Scouting—the young womanbeside her had been scoutingthe path ahead, tomake sureitwassafeforthisrescue.The guards in this city

weren’t corrupted just byordinary Valg, as Arobynnhadsuggested.No, there was at least one

Valg prince here. In thesetunnels, if the darkness was

any indicator. Shit. AndChaolhadbeen—Chaol paused long enough

foracompanion tostep in tohelp carry the injured manaway. Then he was stridingahead. Twenty feet awaynow. Fifteen. Ten. Bloodleakedfromthecornerofhismouth, and his bottom lipwassplitopen.They’dfoughttheirwayout—“Explain,” she breathed to

thewomanatherside.

“It’s not my place,” wasthewoman’sresponse.She didn’t bother to push

it. Not with Chaol now infront of her, his bronze eyeswide as he took in the bloodonAelinherself.“Are you hurt?”His voice

washoarse.Aelin silently shook her

head. Gods. Gods. Withoutthathood,nowthatshecouldsee his features … He wasexactlyassheremembered—

that ruggedly handsome, tanfaceperhapsabitmoregauntand stubbly, but still Chaol.Still the man she’d come tolove, before … beforeeverythinghadchanged.Thereweresomanythings

shehadthoughtshe’dsay,ordo,orfeel.A slender white scar

slashed down his cheek.She’d given him that. Thenight Nehemia had died,she’d given him that, and

triedtokillhim.Would have killed him. If

Dorianhadn’tstoppedher.Even then, she’d

understood that what Chaolhad done, whom he hadchosen, had forever cleavedwhat was between them. Itwas the one thing she couldnotforget,couldnotforgive.Her silent answer seemed

enough for the captain. Helooked to the woman besideAelin—tohisscout.Hisscout

—who reported to him. Asthoughhewere leading themall.“The path ahead is clear.

Stick to the eastern tunnels,”shesaid.Chaol nodded. “Keep

moving,” he said to theothers,whohadnowreachedhis side. “I’ll catch up in amoment.”Nohesitation—andnosoftness,either.Asifhe’ddonethisahundredtimes.Theywordlessly continued

on through the tunnels,casting glances Aelin’s wayas they swept past. Only theyoung woman lingered.Watching.“Nesryn,” Chaol said, the

nameanorderinitself.Nesryn stared at Aelin—

analyzing,calculating.Aelingaveheralazygrin.“Faliq,” Chaol growled,

and the woman slid hermidnighteyes towardhim. IfNesryn’s family name didn’t

giveawayherheritage,itwasthoseeyes,slightlyuptiltedatthe corners and lightly linedwith kohl, that revealed atleast one of her parents wasfrom theSouthernContinent.Interesting that the womandidn’t try to hide it, that shechose to wear the kohl evenwhile on a mission, despiteRifthold’s less-than-pleasantpolicies toward immigrants.Chaol jerked his chin towardtheir vanishing companions.

“Gettothedocks.”“It’ssafertohaveoneofus

remainhere.”Againthatcoolvoice—steady.“Help them get to the

docks, then get the hell backtothecraftsmandistrict.Yourgarrison commander willnoticeifyou’relate.”Nesryn looked Aelin up

and down, those gravefeaturesnevershifting.“Howdoweknowshedidn’tcomehereonhisorders?”

Aelinknewverywellwhoshemeant.Shewinkedattheyoung woman. “If I’d comehere on the king’s orders,Nesryn Faliq, you’d havebeendeadminutesago.”No flicker of amusement,

no hint of fear. The womancould give Rowan a run forhismoneyforsheericiness.“Sunset tomorrow,” Chaol

said sharply to Nesryn. Theyoung woman stared himdown, her shoulders tight,

before she headed into thetunnel.Shemovedlikewater,Aelinthought.“Go,”Aelin said toChaol,

her voice a thin rasp. “Youshould go—help them.” Orwhateverhewasdoing.Chaol’s bloodied mouth

formeda thin line.“Iwill. Inamoment.”No invitation for her to

join.Maybe she should haveoffered.“Youcameback,”hesaid.

Hishairwas longer,shaggierthanit’dbeenmonthsago.“It—Aedion—it’satrap—”“I know about Aedion.”

Gods, what could she evensay?Chaol nodded distantly,

blinking. “You … You lookdifferent.”She fingered her red hair.

“Obviously.”“No,” he said, taking one

step closer, but only one.“Your face. The way you

stand.You…”He shookhishead, glancing toward thedarkness they’d just fled.“Walkwithme.”Shedid.Well, itwasmore

like walking-as-fast-as-they-could-without-running.Ahead, she could just makeout the sounds of hiscompanionshurrying throughthetunnels.Allthewordsshe’dwanted

to say rushed around in herhead, fighting to get out, but

shepushedbackagainstthemforamomentlonger.I love you—that’s what

he’d said to her the day sheleft.Shehadn’tgivenhimananswerotherthanI’msorry.“A rescue mission?” she

said, glancing behind them.Nowhisperofpursuit.Chaol grunted in

confirmation.“Formermagic-wieldersarebeinghuntedandexecuted again. The king’snew guards bring them into

the tunnels to hold until it’stimeforthebutcheringblock.Theylikethedarkness—seemtothriveonit.”“Why not the prisons?”

They were plenty darkenough,evenfortheValg.“Too public. At least for

what they do to them beforethey’reexecuted.”A chill snaked down her

spine. “Do they wear blackrings?” A nod. Her heartnearly stopped. “I don’t care

how many people they takeinto the tunnels. Don’t go inagain.”Chaol gave a short laugh.

“Not an option. We go inbecause we’re the only oneswhocan.”The sewers began to reek

of brine. They had to benearing the Avery, if she’dcorrectly counted the turns.“Explain.”“They don’t notice or

reallycareaboutthepresence

of ordinary humans—onlypeople with magic in theirbloodline. Even dormantcarriers.” He glancedsidelong at her. “It’s why IsentRentotheNorth—togetoutofthecity.”She almost tripped over a

loose stone. “Ren …Allsbrook?”Chaolnoddedslowly.Thegroundrockedbeneath

her. Ren Allsbrook. Anotherchild of Terrasen. Still alive.

Alive.“Ren’s the reason we

learned about it in the firstplace,”Chaolsaid.“Wewentinto one of their nests. Theylooked right at him. IgnoredNesryn and me entirely. Webarely got out. I sent him toTerrasen—torallytherebelsthere—the day after. Hewasn’t too happy about it,believeme.”Interesting.Interesting,and

utterly insane. “Those things

are demons. The Valg. Andthey—”“Drain the life out of you,

feed on you, until theymakeashowofexecutingyou?”“It’s not a joke,” she

snapped. Her dreams werehauntedbytheroaminghandsof thoseValgprincesas theyfed on her. And every timeshe would awaken with ascream on her lips, reachingforaFaewarriorwhowasn’tthere to remind her that

they’d made it, they’dsurvived.“I know it’s not,” Chaol

said. His eyes flicked towhere Goldryn peeked overhershoulder.“Newsword?”She nodded. There were

perhaps only three feetbetween them now—threefeet and months and monthsof missing and hating him.Months of crawling out ofthat abyss he’d shoved herinto. But now that she was

here … Everything was aneffort not to say she wassorry. Sorry not for whatshe’ddonetohisface,butforthe fact that her heart washealed—still fractured inspots, but healed—andhe…hewasnot in it.Not ashe’doncebeen.“You figured out who I

am,”shesaid,mindfulofhowfar ahead his companionswere.“Thedayyouleft.”

Shemonitoredthedarknessbehind them for a moment.Allclear.He didn’t move closer—

didn’t seemat all inclined tohold her or kiss her or eventouch her. Ahead, the rebelsveered into a smaller tunnel,one she knew led directlytoward the ramshackle docksintheslums.“I grabbed Fleetfoot,” he

said after a moment ofsilence.

She triednot toexhale tooloudly.“Whereisshe?”“Safe. Nesryn’s father

owns a few popular bakeriesinRifthold,andhasdonewellenough that he’s got acountryhouseinthefoothillsoutside the city. He said hisstaff therewouldcareforherin secret. She seemed morethan happy to torture thesheep, so—I’m sorry Icouldn’t keep her here, butwiththebarking—”

“I understand,” shebreathed. “Thank you.” Shecocked her head. “A land-owning man’s daughter is arebel?”“Nesryn is in the city

guard, despite her father’swishes. I’ve known her foryears.”That didn’t answer her

question. “She can betrusted?”“As you said, we’d all be

dead already if she was here

ontheking’sorders.”“Right.” She swallowed

hard, sheathing her knivesandtuggingoffhergloves,ifonly because it gave hersomething to do with herhands.ButthenChaollooked—to the empty finger wherehis amethyst ring had oncebeen. The skin was soakedwith the blood that hadseeped in through the fabric,some red, some black andreeking.

Chaol gazed at that emptyspot—andwhenhiseyesrosetohers again, it becamehardto breathe.He stopped at theentrancetothenarrowtunnel.Far enough, she realized.He’d taken her as far as hewas willing to allow her tofollow.“I have a lot to tell you,”

she said before he couldspeak.“But I think I’d ratherhear your story first. Howyou got here;what happened

toDorian.AndAedion.Allofit.” Why you were meetingwithArobynntonight.Thattentativetendernessin

hisfacehardenedintoacold,grim resolve—and her heartcrackedabitatthesightofit.Whatever he had to saywasn’tgoingtobepleasant.Buthejustsaid,“Meetme

infortyminutes,”andnamedan address in the slums. “Ihavetodealwiththisfirst.”He didn’t wait for a

responsebeforejoggingdownthe tunnel after hiscompanions.Aelinfollowedanyway.

Aelin watched from arooftop,monitoringthedocksoftheslumsasChaolandhiscompanions approached thesmall boat. The crew didn’tdare lay anchor—only tyingthe boat to the rotted posts

longenough for the rebels topass the sagging victims intothe arms of the waitingsailors. Then they wererowinghard,outintothedarkcurve of the Avery andhopefully to a larger ship atitsmouth.She observed Chaol speak

quickly to the rebels,Nesrynlingeringwhenhe’dfinished.A short, clipped fight aboutsomething she couldn’t hear,and then the captain was

walking alone, Nesryn andthe others headed off in theopposite directionwithout somuchasabackwardglance.Chaol made it a block

beforeAelin silentlydroppeddown beside him. He didn’tflinch. “I shouldhaveknownbetter.”“Youreallyshouldhave.”Chaol’s jaw tightened, but

he kept walking farther intotheslums.Aelin examined the night-

dark, sleeping streets. A fewferal urchins dartedpast, andshe eyed them from beneathher hood, wondering whichwere on Arobynn’s payrollandmight report to him thatshe’d been spotted blocksaway from her old home.Therewas no point in tryingto hide her movements—shehadn’twantedto,anyway.The houses here were

ramshackle but not wrecked.Whatever working-class

families dwelled within triedtheir best to keep them inshape. Given their proximityto the river, theywere likelyoccupied by fishermen,dockworkers, and maybe theoccasionalslaveonloanfromhisorhermaster.Butnosignof trouble, no vagrants orpimps or would-be thieveslurkingabout.Almost charming, for the

slums.“The story isn’t a pleasant

one,” the captain began atlast.

Aelin let Chaol talk as theystrodethroughtheslums,anditbrokeherheart.Shekepthermouthshutas

he told her how he’d metAedionandworkedwithhim,and then how the king hadcaptured Aedion andinterrogated Dorian. It took

considerable effort to keepfrom shaking the captain todemand how he could havebeen so reckless and stupidandtakensolongtoact.ThenChaolgot to thepart

whereSorschawasbeheaded,each word quieter and moreclippedthanthelast.She had never learned the

healer’s name, not in all thetimesthewomanhadpatchedand sewnher up. ForDorianto lose her … Aelin

swallowedhard.Itgotworse.So much worse, as Chaol

explained what Dorian haddone to get him out of thecastle. He’d sacrificedhimself, revealing his powerto the king. Shewas shakingso badly that she tucked herhands into her pockets andclamped her lips together tolockupthewords.But they danced in her

skull anyway, around and

around.You should have gotten

Dorian and Sorscha out theday the king butchered thoseslaves.Didyoulearnnothingfrom Nehemia’s death? Didyousomehowthinkyoucouldwin with your honor intact,without sacrificingsomething? You shouldn’thave lefthim;howcouldyoulet him face the king alone?How could you, how couldyou,howcouldyou?

The grief in Chaol’s eyeskeptherfromspeaking.Shetookabreathashefell

silent, mastering the angerand the disappointment andtheshock.Ittookthreeblocksbefore she could thinkstraight.Herwrathand tearswould

donogood.Herplanswouldchange again—but not bymuch. Free Aedion, retrievethe Wyrdkey … she couldstill do it. She squared her

shoulders. They were mereblocks away from her oldapartment.At least she could have a

place to lie low, if Arobynnhadn’t sold the property. Heprobablywould have tauntedher about it if he had—orperhapslefthertofindithada new owner. He lovedsurpriseslikethat.“So now you’re working

with the rebels,” she said toChaol. “Or leading them,

fromthelookofit.”“There are a few of us in

charge. My territory coversthe slums and docks—thereare others responsible fordifferent sections of the city.Wemeetasoftenaswedare.Nesryn and some of the cityguards have been able to getin contact with a few of mymen.RessandBrullo,mostly.They’ve been looking forways to getDorian out.AndAedion. But that dungeon is

impenetrable, and they’rewatching the secret tunnels.We onlywent into their nestin the sewer tonight becausewe’d received word fromRess that therewassomebigmeeting at the palace. Turnsout they’d left more sentriesbehind than we’danticipated.”The castle was impossible

to get into—unless sheaccepted Arobynn’s help.Another decision. For

tomorrow. “What have youheardaboutDoriansinceyoufled?”Aflickerofshameshonein

hisbronzeeyes.Hehad fled,though. He’d left Dorian inhisfather’shands.She clenched her fingers

into fists to keep fromslamming his head into thesideofabrickbuilding.Howcould he have served thatmonster? How could he nothaveseenit,nothavetriedto

kill the king anytime he gotwithinstrikingrange?She hoped that whatever

Dorian’s father had done tohim, however he’d beenpunished, theprinceknewhewas not the only onegrieving. And after sheretrieved Dorian, she wouldlet him know, when he wasready to listen, that sheunderstood—and that itwould be hard and long andpainful, but he might come

back from it, the loss.Whenhedid,withthatrawmagicofhis, free when hers was not… It could be critical indefeatingtheValg.“The king hasn’t publicly

punishedDorian,”Chaolsaid.“Hasn’t even locked him up.Asfaraswecantell,he’sstillattending events, andwill beat this execution–birthdaypartyofhis.”Aedion—oh, Aedion. He

knewwhoshewas,whatshe

hadbecome,butChaolhadn’tsuggestedwhetherhercousinmight spit in her face themoment he laid eyes on her.She wouldn’t care about ituntil Aedion was safe, untilhewasfree.“So, we’ve got Ress and

Brulloinside,andeyesonthecastlewalls,”Chaolwenton.“They say thatDorian seemsto be behaving normally, buthis demeanor is off. Colder,moredistant—butthat’stobe

expected after Sorscha was—”“Did they report him

wearingablackring?”Chaol shuddered. “No—

not a ring.” There wassomethingabouthistonethatmade her look at him andwish she didn’t have to hearhis next words. Chaol said,“Butoneofthespiesclaimedthat Dorian has a torque ofblackstonearoundhisneck.”AWyrdstonecollar.

For a moment, all Aelincouldmanagetodowasstareat Chaol. The surroundingbuildings pressed on her, agiantpitopeningbeneath thecobblestones she walkedupon, threatening to swallowherwhole.“You’re pale,” Chaol said,

but he made no move totouchher.Good. She wasn’t entirely

certain she could handlebeingtouchedwithoutripping

hisfaceoff.But she took a breath,

refusingtolettheenormityofwhathadhappenedtoDorianhit her—for now at least.“Chaol,Idon’tknowwhattosay—about Dorian, andSorscha, and Aedion. Aboutyoubeinghere.”Shegesturedtotheslumsaroundthem.“Just tell me what

happened to you all thesemonths.”Shetoldhim.Shetoldhim

what had happened inTerrasen ten years ago, andwhat had happened to her inWendlyn. When she got totheValg princes, she did nottell him about those collars,because—because he alreadylooked sick.And she did nottellhimofthethirdWyrdkey—only that Arobynn hadstolen theAmulet ofOrynth,and she wanted it back. “SonowyouknowwhyI’mhere,and what I did, and what I

plantodo.”Chaol didn’t reply for an

entireblock.He’dbeensilentthroughout. He had notsmiled.There was so little left of

theguardshe’dcome tocareforasheatlastmethergaze,his lips a thin line. He said,“Soyou’reherealone.”“I toldRowan itwould be

safer for him to remain inWendlyn.”“No,”hesaidabitsharply,

facing the street ahead. “Imean—you came back, butwithout an army. Withoutallies.Youcamebackempty-handed.”Empty-handed. “I don’t

know what you expected.You—you sent me toWendlyn.Ifyou’dwantedmeto bring back an army, youshouldhavebeenalittlemorespecific.”“I sent you there for your

safety,soyoucouldgetaway

fromtheking.AndassoonasIrealizedwhoyouwere,howcouldInotassumeyou’druntoyourcousins,toMaeve—”“Have you not been

listening to anything I said?About what Maeve is like?TheAshryversareatherbeckand call, and if Maeve doesnot send aid, they will notsendaid.”“You didn’t even try.” He

paused on a deserted corner.“If your cousin Galan is a

blockaderunner—”“My cousin Galan is none

ofyourconcern.DoyouevenunderstandwhatIfaced?”“Doyouunderstandwhatit

was like for us here? Whileyou were off playing withmagic, off gallivanting withyour faerie prince, do youunderstandwhat happened tome—to Dorian? Do youunderstand what’s happeningevery day in this city?Because your antics in

Wendlyn might very wellhave been the cause of allthis.”Eachwordwaslikeastone

to the head. Yes—yes,maybe,but…“Myantics?”“If you hadn’t been so

dramatic about it, hadn’tflaunted your defeat ofNarrok and practicallyshouted at the king that youwere back, he would neverhave called us to that room—”

“You do not get to blameme for that. Forhisactions.”She clenched her fists as shelooked at him—really lookedathim,atthescarthatwouldforever remind her of whathe’ddone,whatshecouldnotforgive.“SowhatdoIgettoblame

youfor?”hedemandedasshestarted walking again, hersteps swift and precise.“Anything?”He couldn’t mean that—

couldn’t possibly mean it.“Areyoulookingforthingstoblamemefor?Howaboutthefall of the kingdoms? Thelossofmagic?”“The second one,” he said

through his teeth, “at least Iknow without a doubt is notyourdoing.”She paused again. “What

didyousay?”His shoulders tightened.

That was all she needed tosee to know he’d planned to

keep it from her. Not fromCelaena, his former friendand lover, but from Aelin—Queen of Terrasen. A threat.Whatever this informationabout magic was, he hadn’tplannedtotellher.“What, exactly, did you

learn about magic, Chaol?”shesaidtooquietly.Hedidn’treply.“Tellme.”Heshookhishead,agapin

thestreetlightsshadowinghis

face.“No.Notachance.Notwithyousounpredictable.”Unpredictable. It was a

mercy, she supposed, thatmagic was indeed stifledhere, or else she might haveturned the street to cindersaround them, just to showhimhowverypredictableshewas.“You found a way to free

it, didn’t you. You knowhow.”He didn’t try to pretend

otherwise. “Having magicfree would result only inchaos—itwouldmake thingsworse.Perhapsmakeiteasierfor thosedemons to find andfeedonmagic-wielders.”“You might very well

regret thosewordswhen youheartherestofwhatIhavetosay,” she hissed, raging androaring inside. She kept hervoicelowenoughthatnoonenearbymightoverhearasshecontinued. “That collar

Dorian is wearing—let metellyouwhatitdoes,andlet’ssee if you refuse to tell methen,ifyoudismisswhatI’vebeen doing these pastmonths.” With every word,his face further drained ofcolor.Asmall,wickedpartofherreveledinit.“Theytargetmagic-wielders, feeding offthe power in their blood.Theydrainthelifefromthosethataren’tcompatibletotakein a Valg demon. Or,

considering Rifthold’s newfavoritepastime, just executethem to drum up fear. Theyfeed on it—fear, misery,despair. It’s like wine tothem. The lesser Valg, theycan seize a mortal’s bodythroughthoseblackrings.Buttheir civilization—a wholedamn civilization,” she said,“is split into hierarchies likeour own. And their princeswant to come to our worldvery,verybadly.So theking

uses collars. BlackWyrdstone collars.” Shedidn’t think Chaol wasbreathing. “The collars arestronger, capable of helpingthedemonsstayinsidehumanbodieswhile they devour theperson and power inside.Narrok had one inside him.Hebegged me at the end tokillhim.Nothingelsecould.Iwitnessed monsters youcannot begin to imagine takeononeofthemandfail.Only

flame,orbeheading,endsit.“Soyousee,”shefinished,

“considering thegifts I have,you’ll find that you want totell me what you know. Imight be the only personcapable of freeingDorian, orat leastgivinghimthemercyofkillinghim.Ifhe’seveninthere.” The last words tastedashorribleastheysounded.Chaol shook his head.

Once. Twice.And shemighthave felt bad for the panic,

for the grief and despair onhisface.Untilhesaid,“Diditevenoccurtoyoutosendusawarning? To let any of usknow about the king’scollars?”It was like a bucket of

water had been dumped onher. She blinked. She couldhave warned them—couldhavetried.Later—she’dthinkaboutthatlater.“That doesn’t matter,” she

said.“Rightnow,weneed to

helpAedionandDorian.”“There is no we.” He

unfastened the Eye of Elenafrom around his neck andchucked it at her. Itglimmered in the streetlightsas it flewbetween them.Shecaught it with one hand, themetalwarm against her skin.She didn’t look at it beforesliding it into her pocket.Hewenton.“Therehasn’tbeenaweforawhile,Celaena—”“It’s Aelin now,” she

snapped as loudly as shedared. “Celaena Sardothiendoesn’texistanymore.”“You’re still the same

assassin who walked away.Youcamebackonlywhen itwasusefulforyou.”It was an effort to keep

fromsendingher fist intohisnose. Instead she pulled thesilveramethystringoutofherpocketandgrabbedhishand,slamming it into his glovedpalm. “Why were you

meetingwithArobynnHameltonight?”“How—”“Itdoesn’tmatter.Tellme

why.”“I wanted his help to kill

theking.”Aelin started. “Are you

insane? Did you tell himthat?”“No,butheguessed it. I’d

been trying tomeetwithhimfor a week now, and tonighthesummonedme.”

“You’re a fool for going.”She began walking again.Staying inone spot,howeverdeserted,wasn’twise.Chaol fell into step beside

her. “I didn’t see any otherassassins offering theirservices.”She opened her mouth,

then shut it. She curled herfingers, then straightenedthem one by one. “The pricewon’t be gold or favors.Theprice will be the last thing

you see coming. Likely thedeath or suffering of thepeopleyoucareabout.”“You think I didn’t know

that?”“So you want to have

Arobynn kill the king, andwhat? Put Dorian on thethrone? With a Valg demoninsidehim?”“I didn’t know that until

now.Butitchangesnothing.”“It changes everything.

Evenifyougetthatcollaroff,

there’snoguaranteetheValghasn’t taken root inside him.You might replace onemonsterwithanother.”“Why don’t you say

whatever it is you’re gettingat, Aelin?” He hissed hername barely loud enough forhertohear.“Can you kill the king?

When it comes down to it,couldyoukillyourking?”“Dorianismyking.”It was an effort not to

flinch.“Semantics.”“HekilledSorscha.”“He killed millions before

her.” Perhaps a challenge,perhapsanotherquestion.His eyes flared. “I need to

go. I’mmeetingBrullo in anhour.”“I’ll come with you,” she

said, glancing toward theglasscastletoweringoverthenortheastern quarter of thecity.Perhapsshe’dlearnabitmore about what the

WeaponsMaster knew aboutDorian. And how she mightbe able to put down herfriend. Her blood turned icy,sluggish.“No, you won’t,” Chaol

said. Her head snappedtoward him. “If you’re there,I have to answer too manyquestions. Iwon’t jeopardizeDorian to satisfy yourcuriosity.”He kept walking straight,

butsheturnedthecornerwith

a tight shrug. “Do what youwant.”Noticing she was heading

away, he halted. “And whatareyougoingtobedoing?”Toomuchsuspicioninthat

voice. She paused her stepsand arched an eyebrow.“Many things. Wickedthings.”“If you give us away,

Dorianwill—”She cut him off with a

snort. “You refused to share

your information, Captain. Idon’t think it’s unreasonablefor me to withhold mine.”She made to walk down thestreet, toward her oldapartment.“Notcaptain,”hesaid.She looked over her

shoulder and studied himagain. “What happened toyoursword?”His eyes were hollow. “I

lostit.”Ah. “So is it Lord Chaol,

then?”“JustChaol.”For a heartbeat, she pitied

him, and part of her wishedshecould say itmorekindly,more compassionately.“There’s no getting Dorianout.There’snosavinghim.”“Likehellthereisn’t.”“You’d be better off

considering other contenderstoputonthethrone—”“Do not finish that

sentence.” His eyes were

wide,hisbreathinguneven.She’d said enough. She

rolledhershoulders, leashinghertemper.“Withmymagic,Icouldhelphim—Icouldtrytofindawaytofreehim.”But most likely kill him.

She wouldn’t admit thataloud.Notuntilshecouldseehimforherself.“And what then?” Chaol

asked. “Will you hold all ofRiftholdhostagethewayyoudid Doranelle? Burn anyone

who doesn’t agreewith you?Orwillyoujustincinerateourkingdom from spite? Andwhat of others like you,whofeel that theyhavea score tosettle with Adarlan?” Hehuffed a bitter laugh.“Perhaps we’re better offwithout magic. Perhapsmagic doesn’t exactly makethings fair amongst us meremortals.”“Fair? You think that any

partofthisisfair?”

“Magic makes peopledangerous.”“Magichassavedyourlife

a few times now, if I recallcorrectly.”“Yes,” he breathed, “you

and Dorian both—and I’mgrateful, I am.Butwherearethechecksagainstyourkind?Iron? Not much of adeterrent,isit?Oncemagicisfree, who is to stop themonsters from coming outagain?Whoistostopyou?”

Aspearoficeshotthroughherheart.Monster.Ittrulyhadbeenhorrorand

revulsion that she’d seen onhisfacethatdaysherevealedher Fae form in the otherworld—thedayshe’dcleavedtheearthandcalleddownfiretosavehim,tosaveFleetfoot.Yes,therewouldalwaysneedtobe checks against any sortofpower,but…Monster.Shewishedhe’dstruckher

instead. “So Dorian isallowed to have magic. Youcan come to terms with hispower, and yet my power isanabominationtoyou?”“Dorian has never killed

anyone. Dorian didn’t gutArcherFinn in the tunnelsortorture and kill Grave andthenchophimupintopieces.Doriandidn’t goon akillingspree at Endovier that leftdozensdead.”It was an effort to put up

that old, familiar wall of iceand steel. Everything behinditwascrumblingandshaking.“I’ve made my peace withthat.” She sucked on herteeth,tryingsodamnhardnottogo forherweaponsas shemightoncehavedone,asshestill ached to do, and said,“I’ll be atmy old apartment,should you decide to takeyour head out of your ass.Goodnight.”She didn’t give him a

chance to reply before shestalkeddownthestreet.

Chaol stood in the smallbedroom of the ramshacklehouse that had been hissquadron’s primaryheadquarters for the pastthreeweeks,staringatadesklittered with maps and plansand notes regarding thepalace, the guards’ rotations,

and Dorian’s habits. Brullohad nothing to offer duringtheir meeting an hour earlier—just grim reassurance thatChaol had done the rightthing in leaving the king’sservice and walking awayfrom everything he’d everworked for. The older manstill insisted on calling himcaptain, despite Chaol’sprotests.Brullo had been the one

who’d found Chaol and

offered to be his eyes insidethecastle,notthreedaysafterhe’d run. Fled, Aelin hadsaid. She’d known exactlywhatwordshewielded.Aqueen—ragingand fiery

andperhapsmorethanalittlecruel—had found himtonight.He’dseenitfromthemomenthe’dstaggeredoutofthe Valg’s darkness to findherstandingwithapredator’sstillness beside Nesryn.Despite thedirtandbloodon

her,Aelin’sfacewastanandflushed with color, and—different. Older, as if thestillness and power sheradiated had honed not justher soul but also the veryshape of her. And when hehadseenherbarefinger…Chaol took out the ring

he’d tucked into his pocketand glanced at the unlithearth. It would be a matterof minutes to light a blazeandchucktheringintoit.

He turned the ring overbetween his fingers. Thesilver was dull and marredwithcountlessscratches.No, Celaena Sardothien

certainly did not existanymore. That woman—thewoman he had loved …Perhapsshe’ddrownedinthevast, ruthless sea betweenhere and Wendlyn. Perhapsshe’ddiedatthehandsoftheValgprinces.Ormaybehe’dbeen a fool all this time, a

fooltolookatthelivesshe’dtaken and blood she’d soirreverently spilled, and notbedisgusted.There had been blood on

her tonight—she’d killedmany men before findinghim. She hadn’t evenbothered to wash it off,hadn’tevenseemed tonoticeshewaswearingthebloodofherenemies.A city—she’d encircled a

city with her flames, and

made a Fae Queen tremble.No one should possess thatsort of power. If she couldmake an entire city burn asretribution for a Fae Queenwhippingher friend…Whatwould she do to the empirethat had enslaved andbutcheredherpeople?Hewouldnot tell herhow

to free magic—not until heknew for certain that shewouldn’t turn Rifthold intocindersonthewind.

There was a knock on hisdoor—two efficient beats.“Youshouldbeonyourshift,Nesryn,” he said by way ofgreeting.Sheslippedin,smoothasa

cat. In the three years he’dknownher, she’dalwayshadthat quiet, sleek way ofmoving. A year ago, a bitshattered and reckless fromLithaen’s betrayal, it hadintrigued him enough thathe’d spent the summer

sharingherbed.“My commander’s drunk

with his hand up the shirt ofwhatevernewbarmaidwasinhis lap. He won’t notice myabsence for a while yet.” Afaintsortofamusementshonein her dark eyes. The samesort of amusement that hadbeentherelastyearwhenevertheywouldmeet,atinnsorinrooms above taverns orsometimes even up againstthewallofanalley.

He’d needed it—thedistraction and release—afterLithaen had left him for thecharms ofRolandHavilliard.Nesryn had just been bored,apparently. She’d neversought him out, never askedwhen she would see himagain,sotheirencountershadalwaysbeeninitiatedbyhim.Afewmonthslater,hehadn’tfelt particularly bad whenhe’d gone to Endovier andstopped seeing her. He’d

never toldDorian—orAelin.And when he’d run intoNesryn three weeks ago atone of the rebel gatherings,she hadn’t seemed to beholdingagrudge.“You look likeamanwho

gotpunchedintheballs,”shesaidatlast.He cut a glare in her

direction.Andbecausehedidindeedfeel thatway,becausemaybehewasagainfeelingabit shattered and reckless, he

told her what had happened.Whoithadhappenedwith.He trusted her, though. In

the three weeks they’d beenfighting and plotting andsurviving together, he’d hadnochoicebuttotrusther.Renhad trusted her. Yet Chaolstill hadn’t told Ren whoCelaenatrulywasbeforehe’dleft. Perhaps he should have.Ifhe’dknownthatshewouldcome back like this, act thisway,hesupposedRenshould

have learned who he wasrisking his life for. HesupposedNesryn deserved toknow,too.Nesryn cocked her head,

her hair shimmering likeblack silk. “The King’sChampion—and AelinGalathynius. Impressive.”Hedidn’t need to bother to askher to keep it to herself. Sheknew exactly how preciousthat information was. Hehadn’t asked her to be his

second in command fornothing.“Ishouldbeflatteredshe held a knife to mythroat.”Chaolglancedagainat the

ring. He should melt it, butmoney was scarce. He’dalreadyusedupmuchofwhathe’dsnatchedfromthetomb.Andhewouldneed itnow

more than ever. Now thatDorianwas…Was…Dorianwasgone.

Celaena—Aelin had liedabout many things, but shewouldn’t have lied aboutDorian.Andshemightbetheonlypersonabletosavehim.But if she tried to kill himinstead…He sank into the desk

chair, staring blankly at themaps and plans he’d beencultivating. Everything—everything was for Dorian,forhisfriend.Forhimself,hehad nothing left to lose. He

was nothing more than anamelessoath-breaker, a liar,atraitor.Nesryn took a step toward

him.Therewas littleconcernin her face, but he’d neverexpected coddling from her.Never wanted it. Perhapsbecauseshealoneunderstoodit—what itwas like to faceafather’sdisapprovaltofollowthepaththatcalled.ButwhileNesryn’s father hadeventually accepted her

choice,Chaol’sownfather…Hedidn’twanttothinkabouthis father right now, not asNesryn said, “What sheclaimedabouttheprince—”“Itchangesnothing.”“It sounds like it changes

everything. Including thefutureofthiskingdom.”“Justdropit.”Nesryn crossed her thin

arms.Shewasslenderenoughthat most opponentsunderestimated her—to their

own misfortune. Tonight,he’d seen her rip into one ofthose Valg soldiers like shewas filleting a fish. “I thinkyou’re letting your personalhistory get in the way ofconsideringeveryroute.”He opened his mouth to

object. Nesryn lifted agroomedbrowandwaited.Maybe he’d been

hotheadedjustnow.Maybe it had been a

mistaketorefusetotellAelin

howtofreemagic.And if it cost him Dorian

intheprocess—He swore softly, the rush

ofbreathgutteringthecandleonthedesk.Thecaptainhe’doncebeen

would have refused to tellher. Aelin was an enemy ofhiskingdom.But that captain was no

more. That captain had diedalongside Sorscha in thattower room. “You fought

well tonight,” he said, as ifthatwereananswer.Nesrynclickedher tongue.

“I came back because Ireceivedareportthatthreeofthecitygarrisonswerecalledto the Vaults not thirtyminutes after we left. HerMajesty,” Nesryn said drily,“killedagreatnumberof theking’s men, the owners andinvestorsofthehall,andtookit upon herself to wreck theplace. They won’t be open

againanytimesoon.”Gods above. “Do they

know it was the King’sChampion?”“No.ButIthoughtIshould

warn you. I bet she had areasonfordoingit.”Maybe. Maybe not.

“You’llfindthatshetendstodowhatshewants,whenshewants, and doesn’t ask forpermission first.” Aelinprobably had just been in apissy mood and decided to

unleash her temper on thepleasurehall.Nesryn said, “You should

haveknownbetterthantogettangledupwithawomanlikethat.”“AndIsupposeyouwould

know everything aboutgetting tangled up withpeople, given how manysuitors are lined up outsideyour father’s bakeries.” Acheapshot,maybe,butthey’dalways been blunt with each

other.Shehadn’teverseemedbotheredbyit,anyway.That faint gleam of

amusement returned to hereyesasNesrynputherhandsin her pockets and turnedaway. “This is why I nevergettooinvolved.Toomessy.”Why she didn’t let anyone

in. Ever. He debated askingwhy—pushing about it. Butlimiting the questions abouttheir pasts was part of theirdeal, and had been from the

start.Honestly, he didn’t know

whathe’dexpectedwhen thequeenreturned.Notthis.Youdonotget topickand

choosewhich parts of her tolove,Dorianhadoncesaidtohim. He’d been right. Sopainfullyright.Nesrynletherselfout.Atfirstlight,Chaolwentto

the nearest jeweler andpawnedtheringforahandful

ofsilver.

Exhausted and miserable,Aelintrudgedbacktoheroldapartment above theunremarkablewarehouse.Shedidn’t dare linger outside thelarge, two-level woodenbuilding thatshe’dpurchasedwhen she’d at last paid offher debts to Arobynn—purchased for herself, to get

out of the Keep. But it hadonly started to feel like ahome once she’d paid offSam’sdebtsaswell,andhe’dcometoliveherewithher.Afew weeks—that was allshe’dbeenabletosharewithhim.Thenhewasdead.The lock on the large,

rolling door was new, andinside the warehouse, thetowering stacks of crates fullof ink remained in prime

condition.Nodustcoatedthestairs in the back. EitherArobynnoranotherfacefromherpastwouldbeinside.Good. She was ready for

anotherfight.Whensheopenedthegreen

door, a knife angled behindher, the apartment was dark.Empty.Butitsmelledfresh.It was a matter of a few

moments to check theapartment—the great room,

thekitchen(afewoldapples,but no other signs of anoccupant), her bedroom(untouched), and the guestroom. It was there thatsomeone’sscentlingered;thebed was not quite perfectlymade, and a note lay on thehighdresserbesidethedoor.The captain said I could

stay here for a while. Sorryfor trying to kill you thiswinter.Iwastheonewiththetwin swords. Nothing

personal.—RenShe swore. Ren had been

staying here? And—and hestill thought she was theKing’s Champion. The nightthe rebels had kept Chaolhostage in a warehouse, shehadtriedtokillhim,andhadbeen surprised when he’dheld his ground. Oh, sherememberedhim.At leasthewassafe in the

North.She knew herself well

enoughtoadmitthatthereliefwaspartiallythatofacoward—thatshedidn’thavetofaceRen and see how he mightreact to who she was, whatshe’d done with Marion’ssacrifice.GivenChaol’s ownreaction, “not well” seemedlikeafairguess.She walked back into the

darkenedgreatroom,lightingcandles as she went. Thelarge dining table occupyingonehalfofthespacewasstill

set with her elegant plates.Thecouchandtworedvelvetarmchairs before the ornatemantel were a bit rumpled,butclean.For a few moments, she

just stared at the mantel. Abeautiful clock had once satthere—until the day she’dlearned Sam had beentorturedandkilledbyRourkeFarran. That the torture hadgoneonforhourswhileshe’dsat on her ass in this

apartment, packing trunksthatwerenownowhere tobeseen.AndwhenArobynnhadcome to deliver the news,she’d taken that beautifulclockandhurleditacrosstheroom, where it had shatteredagainstthewall.She hadn’t been back here

since then, though someonehad cleaned up the glass.EitherRenorArobynn.A lookatoneof themany

bookshelves gave her the

answer.Every book she’d packed

for that one-way trip to theSouthern Continent, for thatnew lifewith Sam, had beenput back in place. Exactlywhereshe’doncekeptthem.And there was only one

person who would knowthosedetails—whowouldusetheunpackedtrunksasatauntand a gift and a quietreminderofwhatleavinghimwouldcosther.Whichmeant

Arobynnhadnodoubtknownshe would return here. Atsomepoint.She padded into her

bedroom. She didn’t dare tocheckwhether Sam’s clotheshad been unpacked into thedrawers—orthrownout.A bath—that’s what she

needed.Along,hotbath.She hardly noticed the

room that had once been hersanctuary.She lit thecandlesin the white-tiled bathroom,

casting the chamber inflickeringgold.After turning the brass

knobs on the oversizedporcelain bathtub to start thewaterflowing,sheunstrappedeach of her weapons. Shepeeled off her filthy, bloodyclothes layer by layer, untilshe stood in her own scarredskinandgazedathertattooedback in themirror above thesink.A month ago, Rowan had

covered her scars fromEndovier with a stunning,scrollingtattoo,writtenintheOld Language of the Fae—the stories of her loved onesandhowthey’ddied.ShewouldnothaveRowan

ink another name on herflesh.She climbed into the tub,

moaningatthedeliciousheat,and thought of the emptyplaceonthemantelwheretheclock should have been. The

place that had never quitebeen filled again since thatdayshe’dshatteredtheclock.Maybe—maybe she’d alsostoppedinthatmoment.Stopped living and started

just…surviving.Raging.And maybe it had taken

until this spring, when shehad been sprawled on theground while three Valgprinces fed on her,when shehad at last burned throughthatpainanddarkness,forthe

clocktostartagain.No, she would not add

another name of her beloveddeadtoherflesh.She yanked a washcloth

from beside the tub andscrubbed at her face, bits ofmud and blood clouding thewater.Unpredictable. The

arrogance, the sheer single-mindedselfishness…Chaol had run. He’d run,

and Dorian had been left to

beenslavedbythecollar.Dorian. She’d come back

—buttoolate.Toolate.She dunked the washcloth

again and covered her facewith it, hoping it wouldsomehoweasethestinginginher eyes. Maybe she’d senttoo strong a message fromWendlyn by destroyingNarrok; maybe it was herfault that Aedion had beencaptured, Sorscha killed, andDorianenslaved.

Monster.Andyet…For her friends, for her

family,shewouldgladlybeamonster. For Rowan, forDorian, for Nehemia, shewould debase and degradeand ruin herself. She knewthey would have done thesame for her. She slung thewashcloth into thewater andsatup.Monsterorno,neverinten

thousand years would she

haveletDorianfacehisfatheralone. Even if Dorian hadtoldher to go.Amonth ago,sheandRowanhadchosentofacetheValgprincestogether—todie together, if needbe,ratherthandosoalone.Youremindmeofwhatthe

world ought to be; what theworldcanbe,she’doncesaidtoChaol.Herfaceburned.Agirlhad

said those things; a girl sodesperate tosurvive, tomake

it through each day, that shehadn’t questioned why heserved the true monster oftheirworld.Aelin slipped back under

the water, scrubbing at herhair, her face, her bloodybody.She could forgive the girl

whohad needed a captain ofthe guard to offer stabilityafter a year in hell; forgivethe girl who had needed acaptaintobeherchampion.

But she was her ownchampion now. And shewould not add another nameof her beloved dead to herflesh.So when she awoke the

next morning, Aelin wrote aletter to Arobynn, acceptinghisoffer.OneValg demon, owed to

theKingoftheAssassins.In exchange for his

assistance in the rescue andsafe return of Aedion

Ashryver, the Wolf of theNorth.

8

ManonBlackbeak,heiroftheBlackbeak Witch-Clan,bearer of the blade Wind-Cleaver, rider of the wyvernAbraxos,andWingLeaderofthe King of Adarlan’s aerialhost,staredat theportlymansitting across the black glasstable and kept her temper on

atightleash.In the weeks that Manon

and half the Ironteeth legionhadbeenstationedinMorath,the mountain stronghold ofDukePerrington,shehadnotwarmed to him. Neither hadany of her Thirteen. Whichwas why Asterin’s handswerewithineasyreachofhertwin blades as she leanedagainst the dark stone wall,why Sorrel was posted nearthedoors,andwhyVestaand

Linstoodguardoutsidethem.The duke either didn’t

notice or didn’t care. Heshowed interest in Manononly when giving ordersabout her host’s training.Other than that, he appearedrelentlessly focused on thearmyofstrange-smellingmenthatwaitedinthecampatthefoot of the mountain. Or onwhatever dwelled under thesurrounding mountains—whatever screamed and

roaredandmoanedwithinthelabyrinthofcatacombscarvedinto the heart of the ancientrock.Manonhadneveraskedwhatwaskeptordoneinsidethose mountains, though herShadows had reportedwhispers of stone altarsstained with blood anddungeons blacker than theDarkness itself. If it didn’tinterfere with the Ironteethlegion, Manon didn’tparticularly care. Let these

menplayatbeinggods.Usually though, especially

in these wretched meetings,theduke’sattentionwasfixedupon the beautiful, raven-hairedwomanwhowasneverfar from his side, as thoughtethered to him by aninvisiblechain.It was to her that Manon

now looked while the dukepointed out the areas on themap he wanted Ironteethscouts to survey. Kaltain—

thatwashername.She never said anything,

never looked at anyone. Adark collar was claspedaround her moon-whitethroat, a collar that madeManon keep her distance.Suchawrongscentaroundallthesepeople.Human,butalsonot human. And on thiswoman, the scent wasstrongest and strangest. Likethe dark, forgotten places oftheworld.Liketilledsoilina

graveyard.“By next week I want

reportsonwhatthewildmenof the Fangs are up to,” theduke said. His well-groomedrust-colored mustacheseemed so at odds with hisdark, brutal armor. A manequally comfortable battlingincouncilroomsoronkillingfields.“Anything in particular to

look for?”Manonsaid flatly,already bored. It was an

honortobeWingLeader,sheremindedherself;anhonortolead the Ironteeth host. Evenif being here felt like apunishment, and even if shehadn’t yet received wordfrom her grandmother, theHighWitchoftheBlackbeakClan, about what their nextmove was to be. They wereallies with Adarlan—notlackeysattheking’sbeckandcall.The duke stroked an idle

hand down Kaltain’s thinarm, its white flesh marredwith too many bruises to beaccidental.And then there was the

thick red scar just before thedip of her elbow, two incheslong,slightlyraised.Ithadtoberecent.But the woman didn’t

flinch at the duke’s intimatetouch, didn’t show a flickerof pain as his thick fingerscaressed the violent scar. “I

want an up-to-date list oftheir settlements,” the dukesaid. “Their numbers, themajorpaths theyuse tocrossthemountains.Stayinvisible,anddonotengage.”Manon might have

tolerated everything aboutbeing stuck in Morath—except for that last order.Donot engage. No killing, nofighting,nobleedingmen.The council chamber had

onlyonetall,narrowwindow,

itsviewcutoffbyoneofthemanystonetowersofMorath.Notenoughopenspaceinthisroom, not with the duke andhis broken woman besidehim. Manon lifted her chinandstood.“Asyouwillit.”“Your Grace,” the duke

said.Manon paused, half

turning.The duke’s dark eyes

weren’twhollyhuman. “Youwill address me as ‘Your

Grace,’WingLeader.”Itwasanefforttokeepher

iron teeth from snappingdown from the slits in hergums.“You’renotmyduke,”she said. “Nor are you mygrace.”Asterinhadgonestill.Duke Perrington boomed

out a laugh. Kaltain showednoindicationthatshe’dheardany of it. “The WhiteDemon,” the duke mused,looking Manon over with

eyes that roved too freely.Hadhebeenanyoneelse,shewould have gouged thoseeyesoutwithherironnails—and let him scream for a bitbefore she ripped out histhroat with her iron teeth. “Iwonderifyouwon’tseizethehost for yourself and snatchupmyempire.”“I have no use for human

lands.”Itwasthetruth.Only the Western Wastes,

home of the once-glorious

Witch Kingdom. But untilthey fought in the King ofAdarlan’s war, until hisenemies were defeated, theywould not be allowed toreclaim it. Besides, theCrochan curse that deniedthem true possession of theland held firm—and theywere no closer to breaking itthanManon’seldershadbeenfivehundredyearsago,whenthe last Crochan Queendamned themwith her dying

breath.“And for that, I thank the

godseveryday.”Hewavedahand.“Dismissed.”Manon stared him down,

again debating the merits ofslaughtering him right at thetable, if only to see howKaltain would react to that,but Asterin shifted her footagainstthestone—asgoodasapointedcough.SoManon turned from the

dukeandhis silentbride and

walkedout.

Manon stalked down thenarrowhallsofMorathKeep,Asterin flankingher,Sorrelastep behind, Vesta and Linbringinguptherear.Through every slitted

window they passed, roarsandwingsandshoutsburstinalong with the final rays ofthe setting sun—and beyond

them, the relentless strikingofhammersonsteelandiron.They passed a cluster of

guardsoutsidetheentrancetothe duke’s private tower—one of the few places wherethey weren’t allowed. Thesmells that leaked frombehind the door of dark,glittering stone raked clawsdownManon’sspine,andsheand her Second and Thirdkeptawarydistance.Asterineven went so far as to bare

herteethattheguardspostedin front of that door, hergolden hair and the roughleather band shewore acrossher brow glinting in thetorchlight.Themendidn’tsomuchas

blink, and their breathingdidn’t hitch. She knew theirtraining had nothing to dowith it—they had a reek tothem,too.Manon glanced over her

shoulder at Vesta, who was

smirking at every guard andtrembling servant theypassed. Her red hair, creamyskin,andblack-and-goldeyeswere enough to stop mostmen in their tracks—to keepthem distracted while sheused them for pleasure, andthen let them bleed out foramusement.But theseguardsyielded no reaction to her,either.Vesta noticed Manon’s

attention and lifted her

auburnbrows.“Get the others,” Manon

ordered her. “It’s time for ahunt.” Vesta nodded andpeeledawaydownadarkenedhallway. She jerked her chinat Lin, who gave Manon awicked little grin and fadedinto the shadows on Vesta’sheels.ManonandherSecondand

Third were silent as theyascended the half-crumblingtower that housed the

Thirteen’s private aerie. Byday,theirwyvernsperchedonthe massive posts jutting outfrom the tower’s side to getsome fresh air and to watchthewar camp far, far below;by night, they hauledthemselves into the aerie tosleep, chained in theirassignedareas.It was far easier than

locking them in the reekingcells in the belly of themountainwith the restof the

host’s wyverns, where theywould only rip each other toshredsandgetcrampsintheirwings. They’d tried housingthem there—just once, uponarriving. Abraxos had goneberserkandtakenouthalfhispen,rousingtheothermountsuntil they, too,were buckingandroaringandthreateningtobring the Keep down aroundthem. An hour later, Manonhadcommandeeredthistowerfor the Thirteen. It seemed

that the strange scent riledAbraxos,too.Butintheaerie,thereekof

the animals was familiar,welcoming. Blood and shitandhayandleather.Hardlyawhiff of that off smell—perhapsbecausetheyweresohighup that thewindblewitaway.The straw-coated floor

crunchedbeneath theirboots,a cool breeze sweeping infromwheretheroofhadbeen

ripped half off thanks toSorrel’s bull. To keep thewyverns from feeling lesscaged—andsoAbraxoscouldwatchthestars,ashelikedtodo.Manonrananeyeoverthe

feeding troughs in the centerof the chamber. None of themountstouchedthemeatandgrain provided by themortalmen who maintained theaerie.One of thosemenwaslayingdown freshhay,anda

flash of Manon’s iron teethhad him scurrying down thestairs, the tang of his fearlingering in the air like asmearofoil.“Fourweeks,”Asterinsaid,

glancing at her pale-bluewyvern, visible on her perchthroughoneofthemanyopenarchways. “Four weeks, andno action.What arewe evendoing here? When will wemove?”Indeed, the restrictions

were grating on them all.Limiting flying to nighttimeto keep the host mostlyundetected, the stench ofthese men, the stone, theforges, the winding passagesof the endless Keep—theytook little bites out ofManon’s patience every day.Even the small mountainrange inwhich theKeepwasnestledwasdense,madeonlyof bare rock, with few signsof the spring that had now

blanketedmostoftheland.Adead,festeringplace.“Wemovewhenwe’retold

to move,” Manon said toAsterin, gazing toward thesettingsun.Soon—assoonasthat sun vanished over thosejagged black peaks—theycould take to the skies. Herstomach grumbled. “And ifyou’re going to questionorders, Asterin, then I’ll behappytoreplaceyou.”“I’m not questioning,”

Asterin said, holdingManon’sgazeforlongerthanmostwitchesdared. “But it’sa waste of our skills to besitting here like hens in acoop, at the duke’s bidding.I’d like to rip open thatworm’sbelly.”Sorrelmurmured,“Iwould

advise you, Asterin, to resistthe urge.” Manon’s tan-skinned Third, built like abattering ram, kept herattention solelyon thequick,

lethal movements of herSecond. The stone toAsterin’s flame, ever sincethey’dbeenwitchlings.“TheKingofAdarlancan’t

stealourmountsfromus.Notnow,” Asterin said. “Perhapswe should move deeper intothe mountains and campthere,whereatleasttheairisclean. There’s no pointsquattinghere.”Sorrel let out a warning

growl, butManon jerked her

chin, a silent order to standdown as she herself steppedcloser to her Second. “Thelast thing I need,” ManonbreathedinAsterin’sface,“isto have that mortal swinequestionthesuitabilityofmyThirteen. Keep yourself inline.AndifIhearyoutellingyourscoutsanyofthis—”“You think I would speak

ill of you to inferiors?” Asnapofironteeth.“Ithinkyou—andallofus

—are sick of being confinedtothisshit-hole,andyouhavea tendency to say what youthink and consider theconsequenceslater.”Asterin had always been

that way—and that wildnesswas exactly whyManon hadchosen her as her Second acentury ago. The flame toSorrel’s stone … and toManon’sice.The rest of the Thirteen

began filing in as the sun

vanished. They took oneglance atManon andAsterinand wisely kept away, theireyes averted. Vesta evenmuttered a prayer to theThree-FacedGoddess.“I want only for the

Thirteen—for all theBlackbeaks—towingloryonthe battlefield,” Asterin said,refusing to break Manon’sstare.“We will,” Manon

promised,loudenoughforthe

others to hear. “But untilthen, keep yourself in check,orI’llgroundyouuntilyou’reworthy of riding with usagain.”Asterin lowered her eyes.

“Your will is mine, WingLeader.”Coming from anyone else,

even Sorrel, the honorificwould have been normal,expected. Because none ofthem would ever have daredtocastthattonetoit.

Manon lashed out, so fastthat even Asterin couldn’tretreat.Manon’s hand closedaround her cousin’s throat,herironnailsdiggingintothesoft skin beneath her ears.“You step one foot out ofline, Asterin, and these”—Manon dug her nails indeeper as blue blood begansliding down Asterin’sgolden-tan neck—“find theirmark.”Manon didn’t care that

they’d been fighting at eachother’s sides for a century,that Asterin was her closestrelative, or that Asterin hadgone to the mat again andagain to defend Manon’sposition as heir. She’d putAsterindownthemomentshebecame a useless nuisance.Manon let Asterin see all ofthatinhereyes.Asterin’s gaze flicked to

the bloodred cloak Manonwore—the cloak Manon’s

grandmother had ordered herto take from that Crochanafter Manon slit her throat,afterthewitchbledoutontheflooroftheOmega.Asterin’sbeautiful,wildfacewentcoldasshesaid,“Understood.”Manon releasedher throat,

flicking Asterin’s blood offhernails as she turned to theThirteen, now standing bytheirmounts,stiff-backedandsilent.“Weride.Now.”

Abraxos shifted and bobbedbeneath Manon as sheclimbed into the saddle,wellawarethatonemisstepoffthewooden beam on which hewas perchedwould lead to avery long, very permanentdrop.Below and to the south,

countless army campfiresflickered, and the smoke ofthe forges among them rose

high in plumes that marredthe starry, moonlit sky.Abraxosgrowled.“I know, I know, I’m

hungry, too,” Manon said,blinkingthelidabovehereyeinto place as she secured theharnessesthatkeptherfirmlyin thesaddle.Toher leftandright, Asterin and Sorrelmounted their wyverns andturned to her. Her cousin’swoundshadalreadyclotted.Manon gazed at the

unforgiving plunge straightdown the side of the tower,past the jagged rocks of themountain, and into the openair beyond. Perhaps thatwaswhy these mortal fools hadinsisted that every wyvernand rider make the Crossingat theOmega—sotheycouldcometoMorathandnotbalkat the sheer drop, even fromthelowestlevelsoftheKeep.A chill, reeking wind

brushed her face, clogging

her nose. A pleading, hoarsescreambrokefrominsideoneof those hollowed-outmountains—then went silent.Time togo—ifnot to fillherbelly, then to get away fromtherotofthisplaceforafewhours.Manon dug her legs into

Abraxos’s scarred, leatheryside, and his Spidersilk-reinforcedwingsglitteredlikegold in the light of the firesfar below. “Fly, Abraxos,”

shebreathed.Abraxos sucked in a great

breath, tucked his wings intight, and fell off the side ofthepost.He liked to do that—just

tumble off as though he’dbeenstruckdead.Herwyvern,itseemed,had

awickedsenseofhumor.Thefirsttimehe’ddoneit,

she’d roared at him.Now hedid it just toshowoff,as thewyverns of the rest of the

Thirteen had to jump up andout and then plunge, theirbodies too big to nimblynavigatethenarrowdrop.Manonkept her eyes open

as they tumbled down, thewindbatteringthem,Abraxosa warm mass beneath her.She liked to watch everystunned and terrified mortalface, liked to see how closeAbraxos got to the stones ofthetower,tothejagged,blackmountainrockbefore—

Abraxos flung out hiswings and banked hard, theworld tilting and thenshootingbehind.He letoutafierce cry that reverberatedover every stone of Morath,echoed by the shrieks of theThirteen’s mounts. On atower’s exterior stairs, aservant hauling a basket ofapples cried out and droppedhis burden. The applestumbled one by one by onedown the steps winding

around the tower, a cascadeofredandgreenintimetothepoundingoftheforges.ThenAbraxoswasflapping

up and away over the darkarmy, over the sharp peaks,theThirteen falling smoothlyintorankbehindhim.It was a strange sort of

thrill, to ride like this, withjust her coven—a unitcapable of sacking wholecitiesbythemselves.Abraxosflew hard and fast, he and

Manon both scanning theearthas theybrokefreefromthe mountains and cruisedover the flat farmland beforetheAcanthusRiver.Mosthumanshad fled this

region,orhadbeenbutcheredfor war or sport. But therewerestill a few, ifyouknewwheretolook.On and on they flew, the

sliver of a crescent moonrising higher: the Crone’sSickle. A good night for

hunting,iftheunkindfaceofthe Goddess now watchedover them, even though thedark of the new moon—theCrone’s Shadow—wasalwayspreferred.AtleasttheSicklegaveoff

enough light to see by asManon scanned the earth.Water—mortals liked to livenear water, so she headedtoward a lake she’d spottedweeks ago but hadn’t yetexplored.

Fastandsleekasshadows,the Thirteen soared over thenight-shroudedland.At last, moonlight dimly

glinted over a small body ofwater,andAbraxosglidedforit, down and down, untilManon could see theirreflection on the flat surface,see her red cape flutteringbehind her like a trail ofblood.Behind, Asterin whooped,

and Manon turned to watch

herSecondflingherarmsoutand lean back in her saddleuntilshewaslyingflatonhermount’s spine, her goldenhair unbound and streaming.Suchwildecstasy—therewasalways a fierce, untamed joywhenAsterinflew.Manon occasionally

wondered if her Secondsometimessnuckoutatnightto ride in nothing but herskin,forgoingevenasaddle.Manon faced forward,

frowning. Thank theDarkness that the BlackbeakMatron wasn’t here to seethis, or more than Asterinwouldbethreatened.Itwouldbe Manon’s own neck, too,forallowingsuchwildnesstobloom. And being unwillingtostompitoutentirely.Manon spied a small

cottagewithafencedfield.Alight flickered in thewindow—perfect.Beyond the house,tufts of solid white gleamed,

brightassnow.Evenbetter.Manon steered Abraxos

toward the farm, toward thefamily that—if they weresmart—had heard thebooming wings and takencover.No children. It was an

unspoken rule among theThirteen,even if someof theother Clans had no qualmsabout it, especially theYellowlegs. But men andwomen were fair game, if

therewasfuntobehad.And after her earlier

encounters with the duke,with Asterin, Manon wastruly in the mood for someamusement.

9

After Aelin wrote thedamning letter to Arobynnandsentitviaoneofhisferalstreet urchins, hungerdragged her from theapartment into the graymorning. Bone-tired, shehunted down breakfast, alsobuying enough for lunch and

dinner, and returned to thewarehouse an hour later tofind a large, flat boxwaitingonthediningtable.Nosignof thelockhaving

been tampered with, none ofthewindowsopenanyfartherthan they’d been when shecracked them to let in theriverbreezethatmorning.But she expected no less

from Arobynn—no less thana reminder that he might beKing of the Assassins, but

he’d clawed and slaughteredhis way onto that self-madethrone.It seemed fitting,

somehow, that the skiesopenedupjustthen,thepatterand clink of the downpourwashing away the too-heavysilenceoftheroom.Aelin tugged at the

emerald silk ribbon aroundthecream-coloredboxuntilitdropped away. Setting asidethe lid, she stared at the

foldedclothwithinforalongmoment. The note placedatopitread,Itookthelibertyofhavingsomeimprovementsmade since the last time.Goplay.Her throat tightened, but

she pulled out the full-bodysuit of black cloth—tight,thick, and flexible likeleather,butwithoutthesheenand suffocation. Beneath thefoldedsuitlayapairofboots.They’d been cleaned since

thelasttimeshe’dwornthemyears ago, the black leatherstill supple and pliable, thespecial grooves and hiddenbladesaspreciseasever.Sheliftedtheheavysleeve

ofthesuittorevealthebuilt-in gauntlets that concealedthin, vicious swords as longasherforearm.She hadn’t seen this suit,

hadn’t worn it, since… Sheglancedat the empty spotonthe mantel. Another test—a

quiet one, to see just howmuch she would forgive andforget, howmuch she wouldstomachtoworkwithhim.Arobynn had paid for the

suit years ago, an exorbitantfee demanded by a mastertinkerer fromMelisandewhohad crafted it by hand, builtexactly to hermeasurements.He’d insisted his two bestassassins be outfitted in thestealthy, lethal suits, so hershadbeenagift,oneofmany

he’d heaped on her asreparation for beating her tohell and thenpackingherofftotheRedDeserttotrain.Sheand Sam had both takenbrutal beatings for theirdisobedience—and yetArobynn had made Sam payfor his suit. And then givenhim second-rate jobs to keephim from swiftly paying offthedebt.Shesetthesuitbackinthe

box and began undressing,

breathing in the scentof rainon stone that wafted inthroughtheopenwindows.Oh, she could play the

devoted protégée again. Shecould go alongwith the planshe’dlethimcreate—theplanshe’d modify slightly, justenough. She’d kill whoeverwas needed, whore herself,wreck herself, if it meantgettingAediontosafety.Two days—just two days

—until she could see him

again, until she could seewith her own eyes that he’dmadeit,thathe’dsurvivedalltheseyearsthey’dbeenapart.And even if Aedion hatedher,spatonherasChaolhadpractically done … it wouldbeworthit.Naked,shesteppedintothe

suit, the smooth, slickmaterial whispering againsther skin.TypicalofArobynnnot to mention whatmodifications he’d made—to

makeitalethalpuzzleforherto sort out, if shewas cleverenoughtosurvive.She shimmied into it,

carefultoavoidtriggeringthemechanismthatbroughtforththose hidden blades, feelingfor any other concealedweapons or tricks. Itwas thework of another momentbefore the suit envelopedhercompletely, and she buckledherfeetintotheboots.As she headed for the

bedroom, she could alreadysense the reinforcementaddedtoeveryweakspotshepossessed. The specificationsmust have been sent monthsbeforethesuitarrived,bytheman who did indeed knowabout the knee thatsometimestwanged,thebodyparts she favored in combat,the speed with which shemoved. All of Arobynn’sknowledge of her, wrappedaround her in cloth and steel

and darkness. She pausedbefore the standing mirroragainst the far wall of thebedroom.A second skin. Perhaps

made less scandalous by theexquisite detailing, the extrapadding, thepockets, thebitsof armored decoration—buttherewasnotoneinchlefttotheimagination.Sheletoutalowwhistle.Verywell,then.She could be Celaena

Sardothien again—for a little

longer, until this game wasfinished.She might have brooded

over it more had splashinghooves and wheels haltingoutside the warehouse notechoed through the openwindows.She doubted Arobynn

would show up so soon togloat—no, he’dwait until helearned whether she actuallywenttoplaywiththesuit.That left one other person

who’d bother to come by,though she doubted Chaolwould waste money on acarriage, even in the rain.Keepingawayfromsight,shepeered out the windowthroughthedownpour,takingin the details of thenondescript carriage. No oneon therainystreet toobserveit—andnosignofwhomightbewithin.Headingforthedoor,Aelin

flicked her wrist, releasing

the blade on her left arm. Itmadenosoundasitshotfreefrom the hidden slot in thegauntlet, the metal gleamingintherain-dimlight.Gods, the suit was as

wondrous as it’d been thatfirst day she tried it on; theblade cutting as smoothlythroughtheairasithadwhenshe’d plunged it into hertargets.Her footsteps and the

drumming of the rain on the

warehouseroofweretheonlysounds as she descended thestairs, then padded betweenthe crates piled high on themainfloor.Leftarmangledtohidethe

bladewithin the folds of hercloak, she hauled open thegiant rolling warehouse doorto reveal the veils of rainbillowingpast.A cloaked woman waited

under the narrow awning, anunmarked hansom cab for

hire loitering behind her onthe curb. The driver waswatching carefully, raindrippingoff thebroad rimofhis hat. Not a trained eye—just looking out for thewoman who’d hired him.Even in the rain, her cloakwas a deep, rich gray, thefabric clean and heavyenough to suggest lots ofmoney,despitethecarriage.The heavy hood concealed

thestranger’sfaceinshadow,

but Aelin glimpsed ivoryskin, dark hair, and finevelvet gloves reaching intohercloak—foraweapon?“Start explaining,” Aelin

said, leaningagainst thedoorframe,“oryou’reratmeat.”The woman stepped back

into the rain—not back,exactly, but toward thecarriage, where Aelin notedthe small form of a childwaitinginside.Cowering.The woman said, “I came

towarnyou,”andpulledbackher hood just enough torevealherface.Large, slightly uptilted

green eyes, sensuous lips,sharp cheekbones, and a pertnose combined to create arare, staggering beauty thatcaused men to lose allcommonsense.Aelin stepped under the

narrow awning and drawled,“Asfarasmemoryservesme,Lysandra,Iwarnedyouthatif

Ieversawyouagain,I’dkillyou.”

“Please,”Lysandrabegged.That word—and the

desperation behind it—madeAelin slide her blade backintoitssheath.Inthenineyearsthatshe’d

known the courtesan, neveroncehad sheheardLysandrasay please—or sound

desperate for anything at all.Phrases like “thank you,”“may I,” or even “lovely tosee you” had never beenuttered by Lysandra withinAelin’shearing.They could have been

friendsaseasilyasenemies—both of them orphaned, bothfound by Arobynn aschildren. But Arobynn hadhanded Lysandra over toClarisse, his good friend anda successful brothel madam.

And though Aelin had beentrained for killing fields andLysandra for bedrooms,they’d somehow grown uprivals,clawingforArobynn’sfavor.When Lysandra turned

seventeen and had herBidding,itwasArobynnwhohad won, using the moneyAelin had given him to payoff her own debts. Thecourtesan had then thrownwhatArobynnhaddonewith

Aelin’s blood money in herface.So Aelin had thrown

something back at her: adagger. They hadn’t seeneachothersince.Aelin figured she was

perfectly justified in tuggingback her hood to reveal herown face and saying, “Itwould take me less than aminute to kill you and yourdriver,andtomakesureyourlittle protégée in the carriage

doesn’t say a peep about it.She’d probably be happy toseeyoudead.”Lysandrastiffened.“Sheis

not my protégée, and she isnotintraining.”“So she’s to be used as a

shield against me?” Aelin’ssmilewasrazor-sharp.“Please—please,”

Lysandra said over the rain,“Ineedtotalktoyou,justfora few minutes, where it’ssafe.”

Aelin took in the fineclothes,thehiredcab,therainsplashing on thecobblestones. So typical ofArobynntothrowthisather.But she’d let him play thishand;seewhereitgother.Aelin squeezed the bridge

ofhernosewith two fingers,then lifted her head. “Youknow I have to kill yourdriver.”“No, you don’t!” the man

cried, scrambling to grab the

reins. “I swear—swear Iwon’t breathe a word aboutthisplace.”Aelin stalked to the

hansomcab,theraininstantlysoakinghercloak.Thedrivercould report the location ofthe warehouse, couldendangereverything,but—Aelin peered at the rain-

fleckedcabpermitframedbythe door, illuminated by thelittle lantern hanging above.“Well,KellanOppelofsixty-

threeBakerStreet, apartmenttwo,Isupposeyouwon’t tellanyone.”White as death, the driver

nodded.Aelin yanked open the

carriage door, saying to thechild within, “Get out. Bothofyouinside,now.”“Evangeline can wait

here,”Lysandrawhispered.Aelin looked over her

shoulder, rain splattering herface as her lips pulled back

from her teeth. “If you thinkfor one moment that I’mleaving a child alone in ahired carriage in the slums,you can go right back to thecesspit you came from.” Shepeeredintothecarriageagainandsaidtothecoweringgirl,“Comeon,you.Iwon’tbite.”That seemed to be enough

assurance for Evangeline,who scooted closer, thelantern light gilding her tinyporcelain hand before she

gripped Aelin’s arm to hopfrom the cab. No more thaneleven, she was delicatelybuilt, her red-gold hairbraidedback to revealcitrineeyes that gobbled up thedrenched street and womenbeforeher.Asstunningashermistress—or would havebeen,wereitnotforthedeep,jagged scars on both cheeks.Scars that explained thehideous, branded-out tattooon the inside of the girl’s

wrist. She’d been one ofClarisse’s acolytes—untilshe’dbeenmarredandlostallvalue.Aelin winked at

Evangeline and said with aconspirator’s grin as she ledher through the rain, “Youlooklikemysortofperson.”

Aelin propped open the restofthewindowstolettherain-

cooled river breeze into thestuffy apartment. Thankfully,noonehadbeenonthestreetin the minutes they’d beenoutside, but if Lysandra washere, she had no doubt itwouldgetbacktoArobynn.Aelin patted the armchair

beforethewindow,smilingatthebrutallyscarred littlegirl.“This ismy favorite place tosit in the whole apartmentwhen there’s a nice breezecomingthrough.Ifyouwant,

I have a book or two that Ithink you’d like. Or”—shegesturedtothekitchentoherright—“youmight be able tofind something delicious onthe kitchen table—blueberrytart, I think.” Lysandra wasstiff, but Aelin didn’tparticularly give a damn asshe added to Evangeline,“Yourchoice.”As a child in a high-end

brothel, Evangeline hadprobablyhadtoofewchoices

in her short life. Lysandra’sgreeneyesseemedtosoftenabit, and Evangeline said, hervoice barely audible abovethe patter of the rain on theroof and windows, “I wouldlikeatart,please.”Amomentlater, she was gone. Smartgirl—to know to stay out ofhermistress’sway.WithEvangelineoccupied,

Aelin slung off her soakedcloak and used the smallremainingdrysectiontowipe

her wet face. Keeping herwrist angled in case sheneeded to draw the hiddenblade, Aelin pointed to thecouchbeforetheunlitfireandtoldLysandra,“Sit.”Tohersurprise,thewoman

obeyed—but then said, “Oryou’ll threaten to kill meagain?”“Idon’tmakethreats.Only

promises.”The courtesan slumped

against the couch cushions.

“Please.Howcan Iever takeanything that comes out ofthatbigmouthseriously?”“You took it seriously

whenIthrewadaggeratyourhead.”Lysandra gave her a little

smile.“Youmissed.”True—but she’d still

grazedthecourtesan’sear.Asfar as she’d been concerned,ithadbeendeserved.Butitwasawomansitting

before her—they were both

women now, not the girlsthey’d been at seventeen.Lysandra looked her up anddown. “I prefer you as ablonde.”“I’dpreferyougetthehell

out of my house, but thatdoesn’tseemlikelytohappenanytime soon.” She glancedat the street below; the cablingered, as ordered.“Arobynn couldn’t send youin one of his carriages? Ithought he was paying you

handsomely.”Lysandra waved her hand,

the candlelight catching on agolden bracelet that barelycovered a snakelike tattoostampedonherslenderwrist.“I refused his carriage. Ithought it’d set the wrongtone.”Too late for that. “So he

did send you, then. To warnmeaboutwhat,exactly?”“Hesentmetotellyouhis

plan. He doesn’t trust

messengers these days. Butthewarningcomesfromme.”Anutter lie,nodoubt.But

that tattoo—the sigil ofClarisse’s brothel, etched onthefleshofallhercourtesansfrom the moment they weresold into her house … Thegirl in the kitchen, the driverbelow—they could makeeverythingvery,verydifficultif she gutted Lysandra. Butthe dagger was tempting asshebeheldthattattoo.

Not the sword—no, shewanted the intimacy of aknife,wanted to share breathwith the courtesan as sheended her. Aelin asked tooquietly, “Why do you stillhave Clarisse’s sigil tattooedonyou?”Do not trust Archer,

Nehemia had tried to warnher, drawing a perfectrenderingof the snake inhercoded message. But whatabout anyone else with that

sigil? The Lysandra thatAelin had known years ago… Two-faced, lying, andconniving were among thenicerwordsAelinhadusedtodescribeher.Lysandra frowneddownat

it. “We don’t get it stampedout until we’ve paid off ourdebts.”“The last time I saw your

whoring carcass, you wereweeks away from payingthem off.” Indeed, Arobynn

had paid so much at theBidding two years ago thatLysandra should have beenfreealmostimmediately.The courtesan’s eyes

flickered. “Do you have aproblemwiththetattoo?”“That piece of shit Archer

Finn had one.” They’dbelonged to the same house,the same madam. Maybethey’d worked together inotherregards,too.Lysandra held her gaze.

“Archer’sdead.”“Because I gutted him,”

Aelinsaidsweetly.Lysandrabracedahandon

the back of the couch. “You—” she breathed. But thenshe shook her head and saidsoftly,“Good.Good thatyoukilled him. He was a self-servingpig.”Itcouldbealietowinher

over. “Say your piece, andthengetout.”Lysandra’s sensuous

mouthtightened.Butshelaidout Arobynn’s plan to freeAedion.Itwasbrilliant,ifAelinfelt

likebeinghonest—cleveranddramatic and bold. If theKing of Adarlan wanted tomakeaspectacleofAedion’sexecution, then they wouldmake a spectacle of hisrescue.ButtotellherthroughLysandra, to draw in anotherpersonwhomight betray heror stand witness against her

… One more reminder ofhow easily Aedion’s fatecould be sealed, shouldArobynn decide to makeAelin’slifealivinghell.“I know, I know,” the

courtesan said, taking in thecold gleam in Aelin’s eyes.“Youneedn’tremindmethatyou’ll skin me alive if Ibetrayyou.”Aelin felt a muscle flicker

in her cheek. “And thewarning you came to give

me?”Lysandra shifted on the

couch. “Arobynn wanted meto tellyou theplansso that Imight checkuponyou—testyou,seehowmuchyou’reonhisside,seeifyou’regoingtobetrayhim.”“I’d be disappointed if he

didn’t.”“I think… I think he also

sentmehereasanoffering.”Aelin knew what she

meant, but she said,

“Unfortunately for you, Idon’t have any interest inwomen. Even when they’repaidfor.”Lysandra’s nostrils flared

delicately.“Ithinkhesentmeheresoyoucouldkillme.Asapresent.”“Andyoucame tobegme

to reconsider?” No wondershe’dbroughtthechild, then.Theselfish,spinelesscoward,touseEvangelineasashield.To bring a child into this

worldoftheirs.Lysandra glanced at the

knife strapped to Aelin’sthigh. “Kill me if you want.Evangeline already knowswhatIsuspect,andwon’tsayaword.”Aelinwilledherfaceintoa

maskoficycalm.“But I did come to warn

you,”Lysandrawenton.“Hemight offer you presents,might help you with thisrescue, but he is having you

watched—andhehashisownagenda. That favor youoffered him—he didn’t tellmewhatitis,butit’slikelytobe a trap, in one way oranother. I’dconsiderwhetherhishelpisworthit,andseeifyoucangetoutofit.”She wouldn’t—couldn’t.

Not for about a dozendifferentreasons.When Aelin didn’t

respond, Lysandra took asharp breath. “I also came to

giveyouthis.”Shereachedahandintothefoldsofherrichindigo gown, and Aelinsubtlyshiftedintoadefensiveposition.Lysandramerelypulledout

a worn, faded envelope andgingerly set it on the lowtable before the couch. Itshookthewholewaydown.“This is for you. Please

readit.”“So you’re Arobynn’s

whoreandcouriernow?”

The courtesan took theverbal slap. “This isn’t fromArobynn. It’s fromWesley.”Lysandraseemedtosinkintothecouch,andtherewassuchan unspeakable grief in hereyesthatforamoment,Aelinbelievedit.“Wesley,” Aelin said.

“Arobynn’s bodyguard. Theone who spent most of histime hating me, and the restof it contemplating ways tokill me.” The courtesan

nodded. “Arobynn murderedWesley for killing RourkeFarran.”Lysandraflinched.Aelin glanced at the old

envelope. Lysandra droppedher gaze to her hands,clutched together so tightlythat her knuckleswere bone-white.Worn lines marred the

envelope,butthechippedsealhad yet to be broken. “Whyhave you been carrying a

letter tome fromWesley foralmosttwoyears?”Lysandra wouldn’t look

up,andhervoicebrokeasshesaid, “Because I loved himverymuch.”Well, of all the things

she’d expected Lysandra tosay.“Itstartedoffasamistake.

Arobynnwouldsendmebackto Clarisse’s with him in thecarriage as an escort, and atfirst we were just—just

friends. We talked, and heexpectednothing.Butthen…then Sam died, and you—”Lysandra jerked her chin attheletter,stilllyingunopenedbetween them. “It’s all inthere. Everything Arobynndid, everything he planned.WhatheaskedFarrantodotoSam, and what he ordereddonetoyou.Allofit.Wesleywantedyoutoknow,becausehewanted you to understand—he needed you to

understand, Celaena, that hedidn’t know until it was toolate. He tried to stop it, anddid the best he could toavenge Sam. If Arobynnhadn’t killed him…Wesleywas planning to go toEndovier to get you out. Heeven went to the ShadowMarket to find someonewhoknewthelayoutofthemines,andgotamapofthem.Istillhaveit.Asproof.I—Icangogetit…”

The words slammed intoher like a barrage of arrows,but she shut out the sorrowforamanshehadnevertakenthe time to consider asanything but one ofArobynn’s dogs. Shewouldn’tput itpastArobynnto use Lysandra, tomake upthis entire story to get her totrust the woman. TheLysandrashe’dknownwouldhavebeenmorethanhappytodo it. And Aelin could have

played along just to learnwhereitwouldtakeher,whatArobynn was up to andwhether he’d trip up enoughtorevealhishand,but…What he asked Farran to

dotoSam.She’d always assumed

Farran had just tortured Saminthewayhesolovedtohurtand break people. But forArobynn to request specificthings be done to Sam… Itwasgoodshedidn’thaveher

magic.Gooditwasstifled.Because she might have

erupted into flames andburned and burned for days,cocoonedinherfire.“Soyoucamehere,”Aelin

said, as Lysandra discreetlywiped at her eyes with ahandkerchief, “to warn methat Arobynn might bemanipulating me, becauseyou finally realized what amonster Arobynn truly isafterhekilledyourlover?”

“I promised Wesley Iwould personally give youthatletter—”“Well, you gave it to me,

sogetout.”Light footsteps sounded,

and Evangeline burst fromthe kitchen, rushing to hermistresswith a quiet, nimblegrace. With surprisingtenderness, Lysandra slippeda reassuring arm aroundEvangelineassherosetoherfeet.“Iunderstand,Celaena,I

do. But I am begging you:readthatletter.Forhim.”Aelinbaredherteeth.“Get

out.”Lysandra walked to the

door, keeping herself andEvangelineahealthydistancefromAelin.Shepausedinthedoorway. “Sam was myfriend, too. He and Wesleywere my only friends. AndArobynn took them bothaway.”Aelinjustraisedherbrows.

Lysandra didn’t botherwith a good-bye as shevanisheddownthestairs.ButEvangelinelingeredon

the threshold, glancingbetween her disappearingmistressandAelin,herlovelyhair glimmering like liquidcopper.Then the girl gestured to

her scarred face and said,“Shedidthistome.”It was an effort to keep

seated, to keep from leaping

down the stairs to slitLysandra’sthroat.ButEvangelinewenton,“I

cried when my mother soldme to Clarisse. Cried andcried. And I think Lysandrahadannoyedthemistressthatday,becausetheygavemetoher as an acolyte, eventhough she was weeks awayfrom paying her debts. Thatnight, I was supposed tobegin training, and I cried sohard Imademyself sick.But

Lysandra—she cleaned meup.Shetoldmethattherewasawayout, but itwouldhurt,andIwouldnotbethesame.I couldn’t run, because shehadtriedrunningafewtimeswhen she was my age, andthey had found her and beatherwherenoonecouldsee.”She had never known—

never wondered. All thosetimes she had sneered at andmocked Lysandra whilethey’dgrownup…

Evangeline continued, “IsaidI’ddoanythingtogetoutof what the other girls hadtoldmeabout.Soshetoldmeto trust her—and then gaveme these. She startedshouting loud enough for theotherstocomerunning.Theythought she cut me out ofanger, and said she’d done itto keep me from being athreat. And she let thembelieve it. Clarisse was somadthatshebeatLysandrain

the courtyard, but Lysandradidn’t cry—not once. Andwhenthehealersaidmyfacecouldn’t be fixed, Clarissemade Lysandra buy me fortheamountIwouldhavecostifIhadbeenafullcourtesan,likeher.”Aelinhadnowords.Evangeline said, “That’s

why she’s still working forClarisse, why she’s still notfreeandwon’tbeforawhile.Ithoughtyoushouldknow.”

Aelinwantedtotellherselfnot to trust the girl, that thiscouldbepartofLysandraandArobynn’s plan, but … buttherewasavoiceinherhead,in her bones, that whisperedto her, over and over andover, each time clearer andlouder:Nehemia would have done

thesame.Evangeline curtsied and

wentdownthestairs, leavingAelin staring at the worn

envelope.Ifsheherselfcouldchange

so much in two years,perhapssocouldLysandra.And for a moment, she

wonderedhowanotheryoungwoman’s life would havebeen different if she hadstoppedtotalktoher—reallytalk to Kaltain Rompier,insteadofdismissingherasavapid courtier. What wouldhave happened if NehemiahadtriedtoseepastKaltain’s

mask,too.Evangeline was climbing

into the rain-gleamingcarriage beside Lysandrawhen Aelin appeared at thewarehouse door and said,“Wait.”

10

Aedion’s vision wasswimming, his every breathgloriouslydifficult.Soon.He could feelDeath

squatting in the cornerofhiscell, counting down the lastof his breaths, a lionwaitingto pounce. Every so often,Aedion would smile toward

thosegatheredshadows.The infection had spread,

and with two days until thespectacle atwhich hewas tobe executed, his death wascoming none too soon. Theguards assumed he wassleepingtopassthetime.Aedionwaswaitingforhis

food, watching the smallbarred window in the top ofthe cell door for any sign ofthe guards’ arrival. But hewas fairly sure he was

hallucinating when the dooropenedandtheCrownPrincestrolledin.There were no guards

behind him, no sign of anyescort as the prince staredfromthedoorway.The prince’s unmoving

face told him immediatelywhatheneededtoknow:thiswasnotarescueattempt.Andthe black stone collar aroundthe prince’s throat told himeverything else: things had

notgonewellthedaySorschahadbeenmurdered.Hemanagedtogrin.“Good

toseeyou,princeling.”Theprincerananeyeover

Aedion’sdirtyhair,thebeardthat had grown during thepastfewweeks,andthenoverto the pile of vomit in thecorner from when he hadn’tbeen able to make it to thebucketanhourago.Aedion drawled as best he

could, “The least you could

doistakemetodinnerbeforelookingatmelikethat.”The prince’s sapphire eyes

flicked to his, and Aedionblinked past the hazecovering his vision. Whatstudied him was cold,predatory, and not quitehuman.Quietly, Aedion said,

“Dorian.”Thethingthatwasnowthe

prince smiled a little. Thecaptain had said those rings

of Wyrdstone enslaved themind—the soul. He’d seenthe collar waiting beside theking’s throne, and hadwondered if itwas the same.Worse.“Tellmewhathappenedin

the throne room, Dorian,”Aedion wheezed, his headpounding.Theprinceblinked slowly.

“Nothinghappened.”“Why are you here,

Dorian?” Aedion had never

addressed the prince by hisgiven name, but using it,reminding him, somehowseemed important. Even if itonlyprovokedtheprinceintokillinghim.“I came to look at the

infamous general before theyexecuteyoulikeananimal.”No chance of being killed

today,then.“The same way they

executedyourSorscha?”Though the prince didn’t

move, Aedion could havesworn he recoiled, as ifsomeone yanked on a leash,as if there was still someoneinneedofleashing.“Idon’tknowwhatyou’re

talking about,” the thinginsidetheprincesaid.But itsnostrilsflared.“Sorscha,” Aedion

breathed, his lungs aching.“Sorscha—your woman, thehealer. Iwas standing besideyou when they cut off her

head. I heard you screamingas you dove for her body.”The thing went a bit rigid,and Aedion pressed, “Wheredid they bury her, Dorian?What did they do with herbody,thebodyofthewomanyouloved?”“Idon’tknowwhatyou’re

talkingabout,”itsaidagain.“Sorscha,” Aedion panted,

his breathing uneven. “Hername was Sorscha, and sheloved you—and they killed

her. The man who put thatcollararoundyourneckkilledher.”The thingwas quiet. Then

it tilted itshead.Thesmile itgavehimwashorrifyinginitsbeauty. “I shall enjoywatchingyoudie,General.”Aedion coughed out a

laugh. The prince—the thinghe’d become—turnedsmoothlyandstrodeout.AndAedion might have laughedagain, for spite and defiance,

had he not heard the princesay to someone in the hall,“Thegeneralissick.Seetoitthat he’s attended toimmediately.”No.The thing must have

smelleditonhim.Aedioncoulddonothingas

a healer was summoned—anolder woman named Amithy—andhewashelddown,tooweak to fight back as sheattended his wounds. She

shoved a tonic down histhroat that made him choke;his wound was washed andbound,andhisshackleswereshortened until he couldn’tmovehishandsenoughtoripout the stitching. The tonicskept coming, every hour, nomatter how hard he bit, nomatterhowforcefullyhetriedtoclamphismouthshut.So they saved him, and

Aedion cursed and swore atDeathforfailinghim,evenas

he silently prayed to MalaLight-Bringer to keep Aelinaway from the party, awayfrom the prince, and awayfrom the king and hisWyrdstonecollars.

The thing inside him left thedungeonsandheadedintotheglasscastle,steeringhisbodylikeaship.Andnowitforcedhim to be still as they stood

before theman he often sawinthosemomentsthatpiercedthroughthedarkness.The man was seated on a

glass throne, smiling faintlyashesaid,“Bow.”The thing inside him

yanked hard on their bond,lightning spearing hismuscles, ordering them toobey. It was how he’d beenforced to descend into thosedungeons,wherethatgolden-haired warrior had said her

name—said her name somany times that he beganscreaming, even if he madeno sound. He was stillscreaming as his musclesbetrayed him yet again,bringinghimtohisknees,thetendons on his neck lashingwithpain,forcinghimtobowhishead.“Still resisting?” the man

said,glancingatthedarkringon his finger as though itpossessedtheansweralready.

“I can feel both of you inthere.Interesting.”Yes—that thing in the

darkness was growingstronger, now able to reachthrough the invisible wallbetween them and puppethim, speak through him. Butnot entirely, not for longamounts of time.He patcheduptheholesasbesthecould,butitkeptbreakingthrough.Demon.Ademonprince.Andhesawthatmoment—

over and over and over—when the woman he’d lovedhadlostherhead.Hearinghername on the general’s raspytongue had made him startwhaling on the other wall inhismind,thebarrierthatkepthim locked in the dark. Butthedarkness inhismindwasasealedtomb.The man on the throne

said,“Report.”The command shuddered

through him, and he spit out

the details of his encounter,every word and action. Andthe thing—the demon—delightedinhishorroratit.“CleverofAediontotryto

quietly die on me,” the mansaid. “He must think hiscousin has a good chance ofarrivingatyourparty,then,ifhe’ssodesperatetorobusofourentertainment.”He kept silent, as he had

not been instructed to speak.The man looked him over,

those black eyes full ofdelight. “I should have donethis years ago. I don’t knowwhy I wasted so much timewaiting to seewhetheryou’dhave any power. Foolish ofme.”He tried to speak, tried to

move, tried to do anythingwith thatmortal body of his.But the demon gripped hismind like a fist, and themusclesofhisfaceslidintoasmile as he said, “It is my

pleasuretoserve,Majesty.”

11

The Shadow Market hadoperated along the banks ofthe Avery for as long asRifthold had existed. Maybelonger.Legendclaimedithadbeenbuiltonthebonesofthegod of truth so that it wouldkeep the vendors andwould-be thieves honest. Chaol

supposed it was ironic,consideringtherewasnogodof truth. As far as he knew.Contraband,illicitsubstances,spices, clothes, flesh: themarketcatered toanyandallclientele, if they were braveor foolish or desperateenoughtoventureinside.Whenhe’dfirstcomehere

weeks ago, Chaol had beenall of those things as heclimbed down the half-rottedwooden stairs from a

crumbling section of thedocks into the embankmentitself, where alcoves andtunnels and shops weretunneledintotheriverbank.Cloaked, armed figures

patrolledthelong,broadquaythatservedastheonlypathtothe market. During rainyperiods, the Avery wouldoften rise high enough toflood the quay, andsometimes unluckymerchants and shoppers

drowned inside the labyrinthof the Shadow Market.During drier months, youneverknewwhatorwhoyoumightfindsellingtheirwaresor meandering through thedirty,damptunnels.The market was packed

tonight, even after a day ofrain. A small relief. Andanother small relief asthunder reverberated throughthe subterranean warren,setting everyone murmuring.

The vendors and lowlifeswould be too busy preparingforthestormtotakenoticeofChaol and Nesryn as theystrode downone of themainpassageways.The thunder rattled the

hanging lanterns of coloredglass—strangely beautiful, asif someone had once beendetermined to give this placesome loveliness—that servedas the main lights in thebrowncaverns,castingplenty

of those shadows the marketwas so notorious for.Shadows for dark dealings,shadows to slip a knifebetween the ribs or to spiritsomeoneaway.Orforconspiratorstomeet.Noonehadbothered them

asthey’dslippedthroughoneoftheroughholesthatservedasanentrancetotheShadowMarket’s tunnels. Theyconnected to the sewerssomewhere—and he would

bet that themore establishedvendors possessed their ownsecret exits beneath theirstalls or shops. Vendor aftervendor had set up stalls ofwood or stone, with somewares displayed on tables orcratesor inbaskets,butmostvaluable goods hidden. Aspice dealer offeredeverything from saffron tocinnamon—buteventhemostfragrant spices couldn’tconceal the cloyingly sweet

stench of the opium stashedbeneathhisdisplays.Once, long ago, Chaol

might have cared about theillegal substances, about thevendorssellingwhatevertheypleased. He might havebothered to try to shut thisplacedown.Now, they were nothing

but resources. As a cityguard, Nesryn probably feltthesameway.Evenif,justbybeing in here, she was

jeopardizing her own safety.Thiswasaneutralzone—butitsdenizensdidn’ttakekindlytoauthority.Hedidn’tblamethem.The

ShadowMarkethadbeenoneofthefirstplacestheKingofAdarlan had purged aftermagic vanished, seeking outvendorswhoclaimedtohavebannedbooksorstill-workingcharms and potions, as wellas magic-wielders desperatefor a cure or a glimmer of

magic. The punishmentshadn’tbeenpretty.Chaolalmostheavedasigh

of reliefwhen he spotted thetwo cloaked figures with aspreadofknives for saleatamakeshiftstandtuckedintoadark corner. Exactly wherethey’d planned, and they’ddoneahellofajobmakingitlookauthentic.Nesryn slowed her steps,

pausing at various vendors,nomorethanaboredshopper

killing time until the rainceased. Chaol kept close toher, his weapons andprowlinggaitenoughtodeterany foolish pickpockets fromtrying their luck. The punchhe’d taken to his ribs earlierthat night made maintaininghis crawling pace and scowlalltheeasier.He and a few others had

interrupted a Valgcommander in the midst ofdragging a young man into

the tunnels. And Chaol hadbeen so damn distracted byDorian, by what Aelin hadsaidanddone,thathe’dbeensloppy. So he’d earned thatblow to the ribs, and thepainful reminder of it eachtime he drew breath. Nodistractions; no slip-ups. Notwhen there was so much todo.At last, Chaol and Nesryn

paused by the little stall,staring down at the dozen

knives and short swordsdisplayed across thethreadbareblanket.“This place is even more

depraved than the rumorssuggested,” Brullo said fromthe shadows of his hood. “Ifeel like I should cover poorRess’s eyes in half thesechambers.”Ress chuckled. “I’m

nineteen, old man. Nothinghere surprises me.” Ressglanced at Nesryn, who was

fingering one of the curvedblades.“Apologies,Lady—”“I’mtwenty-two,”shesaid

flatly. “And I think we cityguards see a great dealmorethanyoupalaceprincesses.”What Chaol could see of

Ress’sfaceflushed.Hecouldhave sworn even Brullo wassmiling. And for a moment,hecouldn’tbreatheunderthecrushing weight that pushedin on him. There had been atime when this teasing was

normal, when he’d sat inpublic with his men andlaughed. When he hadn’tbeen two days away fromunleashing hell on the castlethathadoncebeenhishome.“Any news?” he managed

to say to Brullo, who waswatching him too closely, asif his old mentor could seethe agony ripping throughhim.“We got the layout of the

party this morning,” Brullo

said tightly.Chaol picked upabladeasBrulloreachedintothe pocket of his cloak. Hemade a good show ofexamining the dagger, thenholdingupafewfingersasifhaggling for it. Brullo wenton, “The newCaptain of theGuard spread us all out—none of us in theGreat Hallitself.” The Weapons Masterheld up his own fingers,leaning forward, and Chaolshrugged, reaching into his

cloakforthecoins.“You think he suspects

anything?” Chaol said,handing over the coins.Nesryn closed in, blockingany outside view as Chaol’shand met Brullo’s andcoppers crunched againstpaper. The small, foldedmapswere inChaol’spocketbeforeanyonenoticed.“No,”Ressanswered.“The

bastard justwants to demeanus. He probably thinks some

of us are loyal to you, butwe’dbedead ifhe suspectedanyofusinparticular.”“Becareful,”Chaolsaid.HesensedNesryntensinga

heartbeat before anotherfemalevoicedrawled,“ThreecoppersforaXandrianblade.IfI’dknowntherewasasalehappening, I would havebroughtmoremoney.”Every muscle in Chaol’s

body locked up as hediscovered Aelin now

standingatNesryn’s side.Ofcourse. Of course she’dtrackedthemhere.“Holy gods,” Ress

breathed.Beneaththeshadowsofher

dark hood, Aelin’s grin wasnothing short of wicked.“Hello,Ress.Brullo.Sorrytosee your palace jobs aren’tpaying you enough thesedays.”The Weapons Master was

glancingbetweenherandthe

passageways.“Youdidn’tsayshe was back,” he said toChaol.Aelin clicked her tongue.

“Chaol, it seems, likes tokeepinformationtohimself.”Heclenchedhisfistsathis

sides. “You’re drawing toomuchattentiontous.”“Am I?” Aelin lifted a

dagger, weighing it in herhands with expert ease. “IneedtotalktoBrulloandmyold friend Ress. Since you

refused to let me come theothernight, thiswastheonlyway.”So typical of her. Nesryn

hadtakenacasualstepaway,monitoring the carvedtunnels. Or avoiding thequeen.Queen. The word struck

him again. A queen of therealm was in the ShadowMarket, in head-to-toe black,andlookingmorethanhappyto start slitting throats. He

hadn’tbeenwrongtofearherreunion with Aedion—whatthey might do together. Andifshehadhermagic…“Take off your hood,”

Brullo said quietly. Aelinlookedup.“Why,andno.”“Iwanttoseeyourface.”Aelinwentstill.But Nesryn turned back

and leaned a hand on thetable. “I saw her face lastnight, Brullo, and it’s as

pretty as before. Don’t youhave a wife to ogle,anyway?”Aelin snorted. “I think I

rather like you, NesrynFaliq.”Nesryn gave Aelin a half

smile. Practically beaming,comingfromher.Chaol wondered whether

Aelin would like Nesryn ifsheknewabout their history.Or whether the queen wouldevencare.

Aelin tugged back herhoodonly far enough for thelight to hit her face. ShewinkedatRess,whogrinned.“I missed you, friend,” shesaid. Color stained Ress’scheeks.Brullo’s mouth tightened

asAelinlookedathimagain.For a moment, the WeaponsMaster studied her. Then hemurmured, “I see.” Thequeen stiffened almostimperceptibly. Brullo bowed

his head, ever so slightly.“You’re going to rescueAedion.”Aelin pulled her hood into

placeandinclinedherheadinconfirmation, the swaggeringassassinincarnate.“Iam.”Ress swore filthily under

hisbreath.Aelin leaned closer to

Brullo.“IknowI’maskingagreatdealofyou—”“Thendon’t ask it,”Chaol

snapped. “Don’t endanger

them.Theyriskenough.”“That’s not your call to

make,”shesaid.Like hell it wasn’t. “If

they’re discovered, we loseour inside source ofinformation. Not to mentiontheir lives.Whatdoyouplanto do about Dorian? Or is itonlyAedionyoucareabout?”Theywereallwatchingfar

tooclosely.Her nostrils flared. But

Brullo said, “What is it you

requireofus,Lady?”Oh, the Weapons Master

definitely knew, then. Hemust have seen Aedionrecently enough to haverecognized those eyes, thatface and coloring, themoment she pulled back herhood. Perhaps he hadsuspected it formonths now.Aelin said softly, “Don’t letyourmen be stationed at thesouthernwallofthegardens.”Chaol blinked. Not a

request or an order—but awarning.Brullo’svoicewas slightly

hoarseashesaid,“Anywhereelseweshouldavoid?”She was already backing

away, shaking her head as ifshe were a disinterestedbuyer. “Just tell yourmen topin a red flower on theiruniforms.Ifanyoneasks,sayit’stohonortheprinceonhisbirthday. But wear themwhere they can easily be

seen.”Chaolglancedatherhands.

Her dark gloves were clean.Howmuchbloodwouldstainthem in a few days? Ressloosed a breath and said toher,“Thankyou.”It wasn’t until she’d

vanished into thecrowdwitha jaunty swagger that Chaolrealized thanks were indeedinorder.Aelin Galathynius was

about toturntheglasspalace

intoakilling field,andRess,Brullo, and his men had allbeenspared.She still hadn’t said

anythingaboutDorian.Aboutwhether he would be spared.Orsaved.

Aelin had known she hadeyesonherfromthemomentshe’dlefttheShadowMarketafterfinishingsomeshopping

of her own. She strode rightinto the Royal Bank ofAdarlananyway.Shehadbusiness to attend

to, and though they’d beenminutes away from closingfortheday,theMasteroftheBank had been more thanhappy to assist her with herinquiries. He never oncequestionedthefakenameheraccountswereunder.AstheMastertalkedabout

her various accounts and the

interest they’d gathered overthe years, she took in thedetails of his office: thick,oak-paneled walls, picturesthat had revealed no hidey-holesinthebareminuteshe’dhad to snoop while hesummoned his secretary tobring in tea, and ornatefurniture that cost more thanmost citizens of Riftholdmade in a lifetime, includinga gorgeous mahoganyarmoire where many of his

wealthiest clients’ files—including hers—were kept,locked up with a little goldkeyhekeptonhisdesk.She’d risen as he again

scuttled through the doubledoors of his office towithdraw the sum of moneyshewould takewith her thatnight. While he was in theanteroom,giving theorder tohis secretary, Aelin hadcasually made her way overto his desk, surveying the

papers stacked and strewnabout, the various gifts fromclients, keys, and a littleportrait of a woman whocould be either a wife or adaughter.Withmenlikehim,itwasimpossibletotell.He’d returned just as she

casually slid a hand into thepocket of her cloak. Shemade small talk about theweather until the secretaryappeared,alittleboxinhand.Dumping the contents into

her coin purse with as muchgrace as she could muster,Aelin had thanked thesecretary and theMaster andbreezedoutoftheoffice.She took side streets and

alleys, ignoring the stenchofrottingfleshthateventheraincouldn’t conceal. Two—she’dcounted twobutcheringblocks in once-pleasant citysquares.The bodies left for the

crows had been mere

shadows against the palestone walls where they’dbeennailed.Aelin wouldn’t risk

capturing one of the Valguntil after Aedion was saved—if she made it out alive—but that didn’t mean shecouldn’tgetaheadstartonit.

Achillfoghadblanketedtheworld the night before,

seeping in through everynook and cranny. Nestledunder layers of quilts anddown blankets, Aelin rolledover in bed and stretched ahand across the mattress,reaching lazily for the warmmalebodybesidehers.Cold, silken sheets slid

againstherfingers.Sheopenedaneye.Thiswasn’tWendlyn.The

luxurious bed bedecked inshades of cream and beige

belonged to her apartment inRifthold. And the other halfof the bed was neatly made,its pillows and blanketsundisturbed.Empty.For a moment, she could

seeRowan there—thatharsh,unforgivingfacesoftenedintohandsomeness by sleep, hissilver hair glimmering in themorning light, so starkagainst the tattoo stretchingfromhislefttempledownhisneck, over his shoulder, all

thewaytohisfingertips.Aelinloosedatightbreath,

rubbing her eyes. Dreamingwas bad enough. She wouldnot waste energy missinghim,wishinghewereheretotalkeverythingthrough,ortojust have the comfort ofwaking up beside him andknowingheexisted.She swallowed hard, her

body too heavy as she rosefromthebed.She had told herself once

that it wasn’t a weakness toneed Rowan’s help, to wanthis help, and that perhapsthere was a kind of strengthinacknowledgingthat,but…He wasn’t a crutch, and sheneverwanted him to becomeone.Still, as she downed her

cold breakfast, she wishedshe hadn’t felt such a strongneed to prove that to herselfweeksago.Especially when word

arrivedviaurchinbangingonthewarehousedoorthatshe’dbeen summoned to theAssassins’ Keep.Immediately.

12

An emotionless guarddelivered the duke’ssummons, and Manon—whohad been about to takeAbraxos for a solo ride—ground her teeth for a goodfiveminutesasshepacedtheaeriefloor.She was not a dog to be

called for, and neither wereherwitches.Humanswereforsport and blood and theoccasional,veryraresiringofwitchlings. Nevercommanders;neversuperiors.Manonstormeddownfrom

the aerie, and as she hit thebase of the tower stairs,Asterin fell into step behindher.“Iwasjustcomingtogetyou,” her Secondmurmured,her golden braid bouncing.“Theduke—”

“I know what the dukewants,” Manon snapped, herironteethout.Asterin lifted an eyebrow,

butkeptsilent.Manon checked her

growing inclination to starteviscerating. The dukesummoned her endlessly formeetings with the tall, thinman who called himselfVernon and who looked atManon with not nearlyenough fear and respect. She

could hardly get in a fewhours of training with theThirteen,letalonebeairbornefor long periods of time,withoutbeingcalledfor.She breathed in through

her nose and out her mouth,again and again, until shecould retract her teeth andnails.Not adog,butnot abrash

fool, either. She was WingLeader, and had been heir oftheClanforahundredyears.

She could handle thismortalpigwhowouldbewormfoodin a few decades—and thenshe could return to herglorious, wicked, immortalexistence.Manon flung open the

doors to the duke’s councilroom, earning her a glancefrom the guards postedoutside—a glance that heldno reaction, no emotion.Human in shape, but nothingmore.

The duke was studying agiant map spread across histable, his companion oradvisor or jester, LordVernon Lochan, standing athis side. Down a few seats,staring at the dark glasssurface, sat Kaltain,unmovingsavefor theflutterof her white throat as shebreathed. The brutal scar onher arm had somehowdarkened into a purplish red.Fascinating.

“What do you want?”Manondemanded.Asterin took up her place

bythedoor,armscrossed.The duke pointed to the

chair across from him. “Wehavematterstodiscuss.”Manon remained standing.

“Mymountishungry,andsoam I. I suggest telling meswiftly, so I can get onwithmyhunt.”Lord Vernon, dark-haired,

slimasareed,andclothedin

a bright-blue tunic that wasfar too clean, looked Manonover. Manon bared her teethat him in silent warning.Vernon just smiled and said,“What’swrongwiththefoodweprovide,Lady?”Manon’s iron teeth slid

down.“Idon’teatfoodmadebymortals.Andneither doesmymount.”The duke at last lifted his

head. “Had I known youwould be so picky, I would

have asked for theYellowlegs heir to be madeWingLeader.”Manoncasuallyflickedher

nailsout. “I thinkyouwouldfindIskraYellowlegstobeanundisciplined, difficult, anduselessWingLeader.”Vernon slid into a chair.

“I’ve heard about the rivalrybetween Witch Clans. Gotsomething against theYellowlegs,Manon?”Asterinletoutalowgrowl

attheinformaladdress.“You mortals have your

rabble,” Manon said. “WehavetheYellowlegs.”“What an elitist,” Vernon

muttered to the duke, whosnorted.A line of cold flame went

down Manon’s spine. “Youhavefiveminutes,duke.”Perrington rapped his

knuckles on the glass table.“We are to begin …experimenting.Aswelookto

thefuture,weneedtoexpandournumbers—toimprovethesoldierswealreadyhave.Youwitches, with your history,allowusthechancetodojustthat.”“Explain.”“Iamnotinthebusinessof

explainingeverylastdetailofmyplans,”thedukesaid.“AllIneedyoutodoisgivemeaBlackbeak coven under yourcommandtotest.”“Testhow?”

“To determine whetherthey are compatible forbreedingwithourallies fromanotherrealm—theValg.”Everything stopped. The

manhadtobemad,but—“Not breed as humans do,

of course. It would be aneasy, relatively painlessprocedure—a bit of stonesewn just beneath the bellybutton.Thestoneallowsthemin,yousee.AndachildbornofValgandwitchbloodlines

…You can understand whatan investment thatwould be.You witches value youroffspringsoardently.”Both men were smiling

blandly, waiting for heracceptance.TheValg—thedemonsthat

had bred with the Fae tocreatethewitches—somehowreturned, and in contactwiththedukeandtheking…Sheshut down the questions.“You have thousands of

humanshere.Usethem.”“Most are not innately

gifted with magic andcompatiblewith theValg, asyou witches are. And onlywitches have Valg bloodalready flowing in theirveins.”Didhergrandmotherknow

of this? “We are to be yourarmy, not your whores,”Manonsaidwith lethalquiet.Asterin came up to her side,herfacetightandpale.

“Pick a coven ofBlackbeaks,” was the duke’sonly reply. “I want themready in a week. Interferewith this, Wing Leader, andI’ll make dog meat of yourprecious mount. Perhaps dothesameforyourThirteen.”“You touch Abraxos, and

I’ll peel the skin from yourbones.”Thedukewentback tohis

map and waved a hand.“Dismissed. Oh—and go

downtotheaerialblacksmith.Hesentword thatyour latestbatch of blades are ready forinspection.”Manon stood there,

calculating the weight of theblack glass table—if shecould flip itoveranduse theshards to slowly, deeply cutupbothmen.Vernon flicked his brows

upinasilent, tauntingmove,and it was enough to sendManonturningaway—outthe

door before she could dosomethingtrulystupid.They were halfway to her

room when Asterin said,“Whatareyougoingtodo?”Manon didn’t know. And

she couldn’t ask hergrandmother, not withoutlooking unsure or incapableof following orders. “I’llfigureitout.”“But you’re not going to

giveaBlackbeakCovenoverto him for this—this

breeding.”“I don’t know.” Maybe it

wouldn’t be bad—to jointheirbloodlinewiththeValg.Maybe it’dmake their forcesstronger. Maybe the ValgwouldknowhowtobreaktheCrochancurse.Asteringrabbedherby the

elbow, nails digging in.Manon blinked at the touch,at the outright demand in it.Never before had Asterinevencomecloseto—

“You cannot allow this tohappen,”Asterinsaid.“I’vehadenoughoforders

for one day. You give meanother, and you’ll find yourtongueonthefloor.”Asterin’s face went

splotchy. “Witchlings aresacred—sacred, Manon. Wedo not give them away, noteventootherClans.”It was true. Witchlings

wereso rare,andallof themfemale, as a gift from the

Three-Faced Goddess. Theyweresacredfromthemomentthe mother showed the firstsigns of pregnancy to whenthey came of age at sixteen.Toharmapregnantwitch, toharmherunbornwitchlingorherdaughter,wasabreachofcode so profound that therewas no amount of sufferingthat could be inflicted uponthe perpetrator to match theheinousness of the crime.Manon herself had

participated in the long, longexecutionstwicenow,andthepunishmenthadneverseemedenough.Human children didn’t

count—human children wereasgoodasvealtosomeoftheClans. Especially theYellowlegs. But witchlings…therewasnogreaterpridethantobearawitch-childforyour Clan; and no greatershamethantoloseone.Asterin said, “What coven

wouldyoupick?”“I haven’t decided.”

Perhaps she’d pick a lessercoven—just in case—beforeallowingamorepowerfuloneto joinwith theValg.Maybethe demons would give theirdyingracetheshotofvitalitythey had so desperatelyneeded for the past fewdecades.Centuries.“Andiftheyobject?”Manonhit the stairs toher

personal tower. “The only

person who objects toanything these days, Asterin,isyou.”“It’snotright—”Manon sliced out with a

hand, tearing through thefabric and skin right aboveAsterin’s breasts. “I’mreplacingyouwithSorrel.”Asterin didn’t touch the

bloodpoolingdownhertunic.Manon began walking

again. “I warned you theotherday tostanddown,and

sinceyou’vechosentoignoreme, I havenouse foryou inthose meetings, or at myback.” Never—not once inthe past hundred years—hadshe changed their rankings.“As of right now, you areThird. Should you proveyourselftopossessashredofcontrol,I’llreconsider.”“Lady,”Asterinsaidsoftly.Manonpointedtothestairs

behind. “You get to be theonetotelltheothers.Now.”

“Manon,” Asterin said, aplea inhervoice thatManonhadneverheardbefore.Manon kept walking, her

red cloak stifling in thestairwell. She did notparticularlycaretohearwhatAsterinhadtosay—notwhenher grandmother hadmade itclearthatanystepoutofline,anydisobedience,wouldearnthem all a brutal and swiftexecution. The cloak aroundherwouldneverallowher to

forgetit.“I’llseeyouattheaeriein

an hour,” Manon said, notbotheringtolookbackassheenteredhertower.And smelled a human

inside.

The young servant kneltbefore the fireplace, a brushanddustpaninherhands.Shewas trembling only slightly,

but the tang of her fear hadalready coated the room.She’d likely been panickedfrom the moment she’d setfootinsidethechamber.The girl ducked her head,

her sheet of midnight hairsliding over her pale face—butnotbeforeManoncaughttheflashofassessmentinherdarkeyes.“What are you doing in

here?”Manonsaidflatly,heriron nails clicking against

each other—just to see whatthegirlwoulddo.“C-c-cleaning,” the girl

stammered—too brokenly,too perfectly. Subservient,docile, and terrified, exactlythewaythewitchespreferred.Only the scent of fear wasreal.Manon retracted her iron

teeth.The servant eased to her

feet, wincing in pain. Sheshifted enough that the

threadbare, homespun skirtsof her dress swayed,revealing a thick chainbetweenherankles.Therightankle was mangled, her foottwisted on its side, glossywithscartissue.Manon hid her predator’s

smile.“Whywouldtheygivemeacrippleforaservant?”“I-I only follow orders.”

The voice was watery,unremarkable.Manonsnortedandheaded

for the nightstand, her braidand bloodred cloak flowingbehindher.Slowly, listening,she poured herself somewater.The servant gathered her

suppliesquicklyanddeftly.“Icancomebackwhenitwon’tdisturbyou,Lady.”“Do your work, mortal,

and then be gone.” Manonturned to watch the girlfinish.Theservantlimpedthrough

theroom,meekandbreakableand unworthy of a secondglance.“Who did that to your

leg?” Manon asked, leaningagainstthebedpost.Theservantdidn’tevenlift

her head. “It was anaccident.” She gathered theashes into the pail she’dluggeduphere.“Ifelldownaflight of stairs when I waseight, and there was nothingto be done. My uncle didn’t

trust healers enough to letthem into our home. I wasluckytokeepit.”“Whythechains?”Another

flat,boredquestion.“So I couldn’t ever run

away.”“You would never have

gottenfarinthesemountains,anyway.”There—the slight

stiffening in her thinshoulders,thevaliantefforttohideit.

“Yes,” thegirl said, “but Igrew up in Perranth, nothere.” She stacked the logsshe must have hauled in,limpingmorewitheverystep.The trek down—hauling theheavy pail of ashes—wouldbe anothermisery, no doubt.“Ifyouhaveneedofme,justcallforElide.Theguardswillknowwheretofindme.”Manon watched every

single limping step she tooktowardthedoor.

Manon almost let her out,let her think she was free,beforeshesaid,“Nooneeverpunished your uncle for hisstupidityabouthealers?”Elide looked over her

shoulder. “He’s Lord ofPerranth.Noonecould.”“Vernon Lochan is your

uncle.”Elidenodded.Manoncocked her head, assessingthat gentle demeanor, socarefully constructed. “Whydidyourunclecomehere?”

“I don’t know,” Elidebreathed.“Whybringyouhere?”“I don’t know,” she said

again, setting down the pail.She shifted, leaning herweightontohergoodleg.Manon said too softly,

“And who assigned you tothisroom?”She almost laughed when

thegirl’sshoulderscurvedin,when she lowered her headfarther.“I’mnot—notaspy.I

swearitonmylife.”“Your life means nothing

tome,”Manon said, pushingoff the bedpost and prowlingcloser. The servant held herground, so convincing in herrole of submissive human.Manon poked an iron-tippednail beneath Elide’s chin,tiltingherheadup.“IfIcatchyou spying on me, ElideLochan, you’ll find yourselfwithtwouselesslegs.”The stench of her fear

stuffed itself down Manon’snose. “My lady, I—I swear Iwon’tt-touch—”“Leave.”Manonslicedher

nail underneath Elide’s chin,leaving a trickle of blood inits wake. And just because,Manon pulled back andsucked Elide’s blood off herironnail.Itwasanefforttokeepher

face blank as she tasted theblood.Thetruthittold.ButElidehadseenenough,

itseemed,andthefirstroundof their game was over.Manon let the girl limp out,that heavy chain clinkingafterher.Manonstaredat theempty

doorway.It had been amusing, at

first, to let the girl thinkManon had been fooled byher cowering, sweet-tongued,harmless act. Then Elide’sheritage had been revealed—andManon’severypredatory

instinct had kicked in as shemonitored the way the girlhid her face so her reactionswouldbeveiled, thewayshetoldManonwhat shewantedto hear. As though she wasfeelingoutapotentialenemy.The girl might still be a

spy, Manon told herself,turning toward the desk,where Elide’s scent wasstrongest.Sureenough,thesprawling

map of the continent held

traces of Elide’s cinnamon-and-elderberries scent inconcentrated spots.Fingerprints.A spy for Vernon, or one

withherownagenda?Manonhadnoidea.But anyone with witch-

blood in their veins wasworthkeepinganeyeon.OrThirteen.

The smoke of countlessforges stung Manon’s eyesenough that she blinked herclear eyelid into place uponlandingintheheartofthewarcamp to the sound ofpounding hammers andcrackling flames. Abraxoshissed,pacinginatightcirclethat set the dark-armoredsoldiers who’d spotted herlanding on edge. They foundanother place to be whenSorrel landed in the mud

beside Manon a momentlater, her bull snarling at thenearestgroupofonlookers.Abraxos let out a snarl of

his own, directed at Sorrel’smount, andManon gave hima sharp nudgewith her heelsbefore dismounting. “Nofighting,”shegrowledathim,taking in the little clearingamid the roughly builtshelters for the blacksmiths.Theclearingwasreservedforthe wyvern riders, complete

with deeply rooted postsaround its perimeter to tietheir mounts. Manon didn’tbother, thoughSorrel tied uphers,nottrustingthecreature.Having Sorrel in Asterin’s

positionwas…strange.Asifthe balance of theworld hadshiftedtooneside.Evennow,their wyverns were skittisharound each other, thoughneithermalehadyetlaunchedintooutrightcombat.Abraxosusually made space for

Asterin’s sky-blue female—evenbrushedupagainsther.Manon didn’t wait for

Sorrel to wrangle her bullbefore striding into theblacksmith’slair,thebuildinglittle more than a sprawl ofwoodenpostsandamakeshiftroof. The forges—sleepinggiantsofstone—providedthelight, and around them menhammered and heaved andshoveledandhoned.The aerial blacksmith was

already waiting just past thefirst post, gesturing to themwith a scarred, red hand. Onthe table before themuscled,middle-agedmanlayanarrayof blades—Adarlanian steel,glossy frompolishing. Sorrelremained beside Manon asshepausedbeforethespread,picked up a dagger, andweigheditinherhands.“Lighter,” Manon said to

the blacksmith,whowatchedherwithdark,keeneyes.She

plucked up another dagger,then a sword,weighing themas well. “I need lighterweaponsforthecovens.”The blacksmith’s eyes

narrowed slightly, but hepickeduptheswordshe’dsetdown and weighed it as shehad. He cocked his head,tapping at the decorated hiltandshakinghishead.“I don’t care whether it’s

pretty,”Manonsaid.“There’sonly one end that matters to

me. Cut down on the frillsand maybe you’ll shave offsomeweight.”HeglancedtowhereWind-

Cleaver peeked over herback, its hilt dull andordinary.But she’d seenhimadmire the blade itself—thereal masterpiece—when theymettheotherweek.“Only you mortals care

whether the blade looksgood,” she said. His eyesflashed, and she wondered

whether he would have toldher off—if he’d had thetongue to do so. Asterin,through whatever way shecharmed or terrified peopleintoyieldinginformation,hadlearnedthattheman’stonguehadbeencutoutbyoneofthegenerals here, to keep himfromspillingtheirsecrets.Hemust not be able to write orread, then. Manon wonderedwhat other things they heldagainsthim—maybeafamily

—tokeepsuchaskilledmantheirprisoner.Perhaps it was because of

that, but she said, “Thewyverns will be bearingenough weight during battle.Betweenourarmor,weapons,supplies, and the wyverns’armor,weneedtofindplacesto lighten the load. Or elsethey won’t stay airborne forlong.”The blacksmith braced his

hands on his hips, studying

the weapons he’d made, andheldupahand tomotionherto wait while he hurrieddeeper into the maze of fireandmoltenoreandanvils.The strike and clang of

metal on metal was the onlysound as Sorrelweighed oneof the blades herself. “Youknow I support any decisionyoumake,”shesaid.Sorrel’sbrownhairwaspulledtightlyback, her tan face—probablypretty for mortals—steady

and solid as ever. “ButAsterin…”Manon stifled a sigh. The

Thirteen hadn’t dared showany reaction when ManonhadtakenSorrelfor thisvisitbefore the hunt. Vesta hadkept close to Asterin in theaerie, though—out ofsolidarity or silent outrage,Manon didn’t know. ButAsterin had met Manon’sstare and nodded—gravely,butshehadnodded.

“Do you not want to beSecond?”Manonsaid.“It is an honor to be your

Second,” Sorrel said, herrough voice cutting throughthehammersandfires.“Butitwasalsoanhonor tobeyourThird.YouknowAsterintoesafinelinewithwildnessonagood day. Stuff her in thiscastle,tellhershecan’tkillormaimorhunt,tellhertokeepaway from themen…She’sboundtobeonedge.”

“We’re all on edge.”Manon had told the ThirteenaboutElide—andwonderedifthe girl’s keen eyes wouldnotice that she now had acoven of witches sniffingafterher.Sorrelheavedabreath,her

powerful shoulders lifting.Shesetdownthedagger.“Atthe Omega, we knew ourplaceandwhatwasexpectedof us.We had a routine; wehad purpose. Before that, we

hunted the Crochans. Here,wearenomorethanweaponswaiting to be used.” Shegesturedtotheuselessbladeson the table. “Here, yourgrandmother isnotaround to… influence things. Toprovide strict rules; to instillfear. She would make thatduke’slifealivinghell.”“AreyousayingthatI’ma

poor leader, Sorrel?” A too-quietquestion.“I’m saying the Thirteen

knowwhy your grandmothermadeyoukilltheCrochanforthatcloak.”Dangerous—suchdangerousground.“I think you sometimes

forget what my grandmothercando.”“Trust me, Manon, we

don’t,” Sorrel said softly astheblacksmithappeared,asetof blades in his powerfularms.“Andmorethananyofus, Asterin has never for asecond forgotten what your

grandmotheriscapableof.”Manon knew she could

demand more answers—butshealsoknewthatSorrelwasstone, and stone would notbreak. So she faced theapproachingblacksmithashelaidhisotherexamplesonthetable,herstomachtight.With hunger, she told

herself.Withhunger.

13

Aelin didn’t know whethershe should be comforted bythe fact that despite thechanges two years hadheaped upon her life, despitethe hells she’d walkedthrough, theAssassins’Keephadn’t altered. The hedgesflanking the towering

wrought-iron fence aroundthe property were the exactsame height, still trimmedwith masterful precision; thecurving gravel drive beyondstill bore the same graystones; and the sweepingmanor home was still paleand elegant, its polished oakdoors gleaming in themidmorningsunlight.No one on the quiet

residential street paused tolook at the house that held

someofthefiercestassassinsinErilea. For years now, theAssassins’ Keep hadremained anonymous,unremarkable, one of manypalatial homes in a wealthysouthwestern district ofRifthold. Right under theKingofAdarlan’snose.The iron gates were open,

andtheassassinsdisguisedascommon watchmen wereunfamiliar to her as shestrolled down the drive. But

they didn’t stop her, despitethe suit and weapons shewore, despite the hoodcoveringherfeatures.Night would have been

betterforsneakingacrossthecity. Another test—to see ifshe could make it here indaylight without attractingtoo much attention.Thankfully, most of the citywas preoccupied withpreparations for the prince’sbirthdaycelebrationsthenext

day: vendors were alreadyout, selling everything fromlittle cakes to flags bearingthe Adarlanian wyvern toblue ribbons (to match theprince’s eyes, of course). Itmadeherstomachturn.Getting here undetected

hadbeenaminortest,though,comparedtotheoneloomingbefore her. And the onewaitingtomorrow.Aedion—every breath she

took seemed to echo his

name. Aedion, Aedion,Aedion.But she shoved away the

thought of him—of whatmighthavealreadybeendonetohiminthosedungeons—asshe strode up the expansivefrontstepsoftheKeep.She hadn’t been in this

house since the nighteverythinghadgonetohell.There, to her right, were

the stables where she’dknockedWesleyunconscious

ashe tried towarnher aboutthetrapthathadbeenlaidforher. And there, a level up,looking out over the frontgarden, were the threewindowsofheroldbedroom.They were open, the heavyvelvetcurtainsblowinginthecool spring breeze, as if theroomwerebeingairedoutforher. Unless Arobynn hadgivenherquarterstosomeoneelse.The carved oak doors

swungopenasshehitthetopstep, revealing a butler she’dnever seen before, whobowed nonetheless andgesturedbehindhim.Justpastthe grand marble foyer, thedouble doors of Arobynn’sstudywereopenwide.She didn’t glance at the

threshold as she passed overit, sweeping into the housethat had been a haven and aprisonandahellhole.Gods, this house. Beneath

thevaultedceilingsandglasschandeliers of the entry hall,the marble floors werepolished so brightly that shecould see her own darkreflectionasshewalked.Not a soul in sight, not

even wretched Tern. Theywere either out or underorders to stayawayuntil thismeetingwasdone—asthoughArobynn didn’t want to beoverheard.The smell of the Keep

wrapped around her, tuggingat her memory. Fresh-cutflowers and baking breadbarely masked the tang ofmetal, or the lightning-crispfeeling of violencethroughout.Every step toward that

ornate study had her bracingherself.Therehewas,seatedatthe

massivedesk,hisauburnhairlike molten steel in thesunlight pouring in from the

floor-to-ceiling windowsflanking one side of thewood-paneledroom.Sheshutout the information she’dlearnedinWesley’sletterandkeptherpostureloose,casual.But she couldn’t help

glancingattherugbeforethedesk—a movement Arobynneither noted or expected. “Anewrug,”hesaid,lookingupfrom the papers before him.“Thebloodstainsontheotheroneneverreallycameout.”

“Pity,” she said, slumpinginto one of the chairs beforehisdesk,tryingnottolookatthe chair beside hers, whereSam had usually sat. “Theotherrugwasprettier.”Untilherbloodhadsoaked

it when Arobynn had beatenherforruininghisslavetradeagreement, making Samwatch the entire time. Andwhen she was unconscious,he’d beaten Sam intooblivion,too.

Shewonderedwhichofthescars on Arobynn’s knuckleswerefromthosebeatings.She heard the butler

approach, but didn’t deign tolookathimasArobynnsaid,“We’re not to be disturbed.”The butler murmured hisunderstanding, and the studydoorsclickedshut.Aelin slung a leg over the

armofherchair.“TowhatdoIowethissummoning?”Arobynn rose, a fluid

movement limned withrestrained power, and camearound the desk to leanagainst its edge. “I merelywanted to see how youweredoing the day before yourgrand event.”His silver eyesflickered. “I wanted to wishyouluck.”“And tosee if Iwasgoing

tobetrayyou?”“Why would I ever think

that?”“I don’t think youwant to

get into a conversation abouttrustrightnow.”“Certainly not. Not when

you need all your focus fortomorrow. So many littlethings that could go wrong.Especiallyifyou’recaught.”She felt the dagger of the

implied threat slide betweenher ribs. “You know I don’tbreakeasilyundertorture.”Arobynn crossed his arms

over his broad chest. “Ofcourse not. I expect nothing

lessfrommyprotégéethantoshieldme if the king catchesyou.”So that explained the

summons.“I never asked,” Arobynn

went on. “Will you be doingthisasCelaena?”As good a time as any to

cast a bored glance aroundthe study, ever the irreverentprotégée. Nothing on thedesk, nothingon the shelves,not even a box that might

containtheAmuletofOrynth.She allowed herself onesweepbeforeturningindolenteyes on him. “I hadn’tplanned on leaving a callingcard.”“Andwhatexplanationwill

you give your cousin whenyou are reunited? The sameyougave thenoblecaptain?”Shedidn’twanttoknowhowhewasawareofthatdisaster.She hadn’t told Lysandra—since Lysandra still had no

idea who she was. She’dthinkaboutitlater.“I’lltellAedionthetruth.”“Well, let’s hope that’s

excuseenoughforhim.”It was a physical effort to

clamp down on her retort.“I’m tiredanddon’t feel likehaving a verbal sparringmatch today. Just tell mewhat you want so I can gosoak in my tub.” Not a lie.Her muscles ached fromtracking Valg foot soldiers

across Rifthold the nightbefore.“You know my facilities

are at your disposal.”Arobynn pinned his attentionon her right leg, slung overthearmofthechair,asifhe’dsomehow figured out that itwas giving her trouble.As ifhe knew that the fight at theVaults had somehowaggravated the old woundshe’d received during herduel with Cain. “My healer

could rub down that leg foryou. I wouldn’t want you tobe in pain. Or handicappedfortomorrow.”Training kept her features

bored. “You truly do likehearing yourself talk, don’tyou?”A sensual laugh. “Fine—

noverbalsparring.”She waited, still lounging

inthechair.Arobynn ran an eye down

the suit, and when his gaze

met hers, there was only acold,cruelkillerstaringoutather. “I have it on goodauthority that you’ve beenmonitoring patrols of theking’s guard—but leavingthem undisturbed. Have youforgottenourlittlebargain?”She smiled a little. “Of

coursenot.”“Thenwhyismypromised

demonnotinmydungeon?”“BecauseI’mnotcapturing

one until after Aedion is

freed.”Ablink.“These things might lead

the king right to you. To us.I’m not jeopardizingAedion’s safety to satisfyyour morbid curiosity. Andwho’stosayyouwon’tforgettohelpmewhenyou’rebusyplayingwithyournewtoy?”Arobynn pushed off the

desk and approached,bending over her chair closeenough to share breath. “I’m

amanofmyword,Celaena.”Again,thatname.He took a step back and

cocked his head. “Thoughyou, on the other hand … Irecall you promising to killLysandra years ago. I wassurprised when she returnedunharmed.”“You did your best to

ensure that we hated eachother. I figured why not gothe opposite way for once?Turnsout she’snotnearlyas

spoiled and selfish as youmade me believe.” Ever thepetulant protégée, ever thesmart-ass. “Though if youwantmetokillher,I’llgladlyturn my attention to thatinsteadoftheValg.”A soft laugh. “No need.

She serves me well enough.Replaceable, though, shouldyou decide you’d like toupholdyourpromise.”“Was that the test, then?

ToseeifIfollowthroughon

my promises?” Beneath hergloves,themarkshe’dcarvedinto her palm burned like abrand.“Itwasapresent.”“Stick with jewelry and

clothes.” She rose andglanceddownathersuit.“Orusefulthings.”Hiseyesfollowedhersand

lingered. “You fill it outbetter than you did atseventeen.”Andthatwasquiteenough.

She clicked her tongue andturned away, but he grippedher arm—right where thoseinvisible blades would snapout.Heknew it, too.Adare;achallenge.“You will need to lie low

with your cousin once heescapes tomorrow,” Arobynnsaid. “Should you decide notto fulfill your end of thebargain … you’ll find outveryquickly,Celaenadarling,how deadly this city can be

for those on the run—evenfire-breathingbitch-queens.”“No more declarations of

love or offers to walk overcoalsforme?”A sensual laugh. “You

were always my favoritedance partner.” He camecloseenoughtograzehislipsagainst hers if she shouldswayafractionofaninch.“Ifyou want me to whispersweet nothings intoyour ear,Majesty, I’lldo just that.But

you’ll still get me what Ineed.”She didn’t dare pull back.

There was always such agleaming inhissilvereyes—like the cold light beforedawn. She’d never been abletolookawayfromit.Heangledhishead,thesun

catching in his auburn hair.“What about the prince,though?”“Which prince?” she said

carefully.

Arobynn gave a knowingsmile,retreatingafewinches.“There are three princes, Isuppose. Your cousin, andthen the two that now shareDorian Havilliard’s body.Does thebravecaptainknowthat his friend is currentlybeing devoured by one ofthosedemons?”“Yes.”“Does he know that you

might decide to do the smartthing and put the king’s son

downbeforehecanbecomeathreat?”She held his stare. “Why

don’tyoutellme?You’retheonewho’sbeenmeetingwithhim.”Hisansweringchucklesent

ice skitteringover her bones.“So the captain has a hardtime sharing with you. Heseemstoshareeverythingjustfine with his former lover—thatFaliqgirl.Didyouknowthatherfathermakesthebest

peartartsintheentirecapital?He’sevensupplyingsomeforthe prince’s birthday. Ironic,isn’tit?”It was her turn to blink.

She’d known Chaol had atleast one lover other thanLithaen,but…Nesryn?Andhow convenient for him notto tell her, especially whenhe’d thrown whatevernonsense he believed abouther and Rowan in her face.Your faerie prince, he’d

snapped. She doubted Chaolhad done anything with theyoungwomansinceshe’dleftforWendlyn, but…But shewas feeling exactly whatArobynnwantedhertofeel.“Whydon’tyoustayoutof

ourbusiness,Arobynn?”“Don’t you want to know

why the captain came to meagainlastnight?”Bastards, both of them.

She’d warned Chaol not totangle with Arobynn. To

revealthatshedidn’tknoworto conceal that vulnerability…Chaolwouldn’tjeopardizeher safety or her plans fortomorrow, regardlessofwhatinformationhekeptfromher.She smirked at Arobynn.“No. Iwas the onewho senthim there.” She saunteredtowardthestudydoors.“Youmust truly be bored if yousummoned me merely totauntme.”A glimmer of amusement.

“Goodlucktomorrow.Alltheplansareinplace,incaseyouwereworried.”“Of course they are. I’d

expect nothing less fromyou.” She flung open one ofthedoorsandwavedherhandin lazy dismissal. “See youaround,Master.”

Aelin visited at the RoyalBankagainonherwayhome,

andwhenshereturned toherapartment, Lysandra waswaiting,asthey’dplanned.Even better, Lysandra had

broughtfood.Lotsoffood.Aelinplunkeddownat the

kitchen tablewhereLysandracurrentlylounged.The courtesan was gazing

toward the wide windowabove thekitchen sink. “Youdo realize you’ve got ashadowontheroofnextdoor,don’tyou?”

“He’s harmless.” Anduseful. Chaol had menwatchingtheKeep,thepalacegates, and theapartment—allto monitor Arobynn. Aelincocked her head. “Keeneyes?”“Your master taught me a

few tricks over the years.Toprotectmyself,ofcourse.”Toprotect his investment, waswhat she didn’t need to say.“You read the letter, I takeit?”

“Everydamnword.”Indeed, she’d read through

Wesley’s letter again andagain, until she hadmemorized the dates andnamesandaccounts,untilshehadseensomuchfirethatshewas glad her magic wascurrently stifled. It changedlittle of her plans, but ithelped. Now she knew shewasn’twrong,that thenamesonher own listwere correct.“I’msorryIcouldn’tkeepit,”

Aelin said. “Burning it wastheonlywaytostaysafe.”Lysandra just nodded,

picking at a piece of lint onthebodiceofherrust-coloredgown. The red sleeves wereloose and billowing, withtight black velvet cuffs andgold buttons that glinted inthe morning light as shereached for one of thehothouse grapes Aelin hadboughtyesterday.Anelegantgown,butmodest.

“TheLysandraIknewusedto wear far less clothing,”Aelinsaid.Lysandra’s green eyes

flickered.“TheLysandrayouknewdiedalongtimeago.”SohadCelaenaSardothien.

“I asked you to meet metodaysowecould…talk.”“AboutArobynn?”“Aboutyou.”Elegant brows narrowed.

“Andwhendoweget to talkaboutyou?”

“What do you want toknow?”“What are you doing in

Rifthold? Aside fromrescuing the generaltomorrow.”Aelin said, “I don’t know

you well enough to answerthatquestion.”Lysandra merely cocked

herhead.“WhyAedion?”“He’s more useful to me

alivethandead.”Notalie.Lysandra tapped a

manicured nail on the worntable. After a moment shesaid,“Iused tobeso jealousofyou.NotonlydidyouhaveSam but also Arobynn … Iwas such a fool, believingthat he gave you everythingand denied you nothing,hating you because I alwaysknew, deep down, that Iwasjust a pawn for him to useagainst you—a way to makeyou fight forhisaffection, tokeepyouonyourtoes,tohurt

you. And I enjoyed it,because I thought it wasbetter to be someone’s pawnthannothingatall.”Herhandshookassheraisedittobrushback a strand of her hair. “IthinkIwouldhavecontinuedon that way for my wholelife.But then—thenArobynnkilled Sam and arranged foryour capture, and … andsummoned me the night youwere hauled to Endovier.Afterward, on the carriage

ride home, I just cried. Ididn’tknowwhy.ButWesleywas in the carriagewithme.That was the night thateverything changed betweenus.” Lysandra glanced at thescars around Aelin’s wrists,thenat thetattoomarringherown.Aelin said, “The other

night,youdidn’tjustcometowarnmeaboutArobynn.”When Lysandra raised her

head, her eyes were frozen.

“No,” she said with softsavagery.“Icametohelpyoudestroyhim.”“Youmusttrustmeagreat

dealtohavesaidthat.”“YouwreckedtheVaults,”

Lysandra said. “It was forSam, wasn’t it? Becausethose people—they allworked for Rourke Farran,andweretherewhen…”Sheshook her head. “It’s all forSam, whatever you haveplanned for Arobynn.

Besides, if you betray me,there’s little thatcanhurtmemore than what I’ve alreadyendured.”Aelin leaned back in her

chair and crossed her legs,trying not to think about thedarkness the woman acrossfrom her had survived. “Iwent too long withoutdemandingretribution.Ihavenointerestinforgiveness.”Lysandra smiled—and

therewasno joy in it.“After

he murdered Wesley, I layawakeinhisbedandthoughtabout killing him right there.But it didn’t seem likeenough, and the debt didn’tbelongonlytome.”For a moment, Aelin

couldn’t say anything. Thenshe shook her head. “Youhonestly mean to imply thatyou’ve been waiting for methiswholetime?”“You loved Sam as much

asIlovedWesley.”

Herchesthollowedout,butshenodded.Yes,she’dlovedSam—more than she’d everloved anyone. Even Chaol.And reading in Wesley’sletter exactly what ArobynnhadorderedRourkeFarrantodo to Sam had left a ragingwound in the core of her.Sam’sclotheswerestillinthetwo bottom drawers of herdresser, where Arobynn hadindeedunpackedthem.She’dwornoneofhis shirts tobed

thesepasttwonights.Arobynnwouldpay.“I’m sorry,” Aelin said.

“FortheyearsIspentbeingamonster toward you, forwhateverpartIplayedinyoursuffering.IwishI’dbeenableto see myself better. I wishI’d seen everything better.I’msorry.”Lysandra blinked. “We

were both young and stupid,and should have seen eachother as allies. But there’s

nothing to prevent us fromseeing each other that waynow.” Lysandra gave her agrin that was more wolfishthan refined. “If you’re in,I’min.”That fast—that easily—the

offeroffriendshipwastossedher way. Rowan might havebeen her dearest friend, hercarranam, but…shemissedfemale companionship.Deeply.Thoughanoldpanicrose up at the thought of

Nehemia not being thereanymore to provide it— andpart of her wanted to throwthe offer back in Lysandra’sface just because shewasn’tNehemia—she forced herselftostaredownthatfear.Aelin said hoarsely, “I’m

in.”Lysandra heaved a sigh.

“Oh, thank the gods. Now Ican talk to someone aboutclothes without being askedhowso-and-sowouldapprove

ofit,orgobbledownaboxofchocolates without someonetelling me I’d better watchmy figure—tell me you likechocolates. You do, right? Irememberstealingaboxfromyour room once when youwere out killing someone.Theyweredelicious.”Aelinwavedahandtoward

the boxes of goodies on thetable.“Youbroughtchocolate—as far as I’m concerned,you’re my new favorite

person.”Lysandra chuckled, a

surprisingly deep, wickedsound—probably a laugh shenever let Arobynn or herclients hear. “Some nightsoon, I’ll sneak back in hereand we can eat chocolatesuntilwevomit.”“We’re such refined,

genteelladies.”“Please,” Lysandra said,

waving a manicured hand,“you and I are nothing but

wild beasts wearing humanskins.Don’teventrytodenyit.”The courtesan had no idea

how close she was to thetruth. Aelin wondered howthewomanwouldreacttoherother form—to the elongatedcanines. Somehow, shedoubted Lysandrawould callher a monster for it—or fortheflamesathercommand.Lysandra’ssmileflickered.

“Everything’s set for

tomorrow?”“IsthatworryIdetect?”“You’rejustgoingtowaltz

into the palace and think adifferent hair colorwill keepyoufrombeingnoticed?YoutrustArobynnthatmuch?”“Do you have a better

idea?”Lysandra’s shrug was the

definition of nonchalance. “Ihappen to know a thing ortwo about playing differentroles.Howtoturneyesaway

when you don’t want to beseen.”“I do know how to be

stealthy, Lysandra. The planis sound. Even if it wasArobynn’sidea.”“What if we killed two

birdswithonestone?”She might have dismissed

it,mighthaveshutherdown,but therewas suchawicked,feralgleaminthecourtesan’seyes.So Aelin rested her

forearms on the table. “I’mlistening.”

14

For every person Chaol andthe rebels saved, it seemedthere were always severalmore who made it to thebutcheringblock.The sun was setting as he

and Nesryn crouched on arooftop flanking the smallsquare. The only people

who’d bothered to watchwere the typical lowlifes,content to breathe in themisery of others. That didn’tbother him half as much asthedecorations thathadbeenput up in honor of Dorian’sbirthday tomorrow: red andgold streamers and ribbonshungacross the square likeanet,whilebasketsofblueandwhite flowers bordered itsouter edges.A charnel housebedeckedinlate-springcheer.

Nesryn’s bowstringgroanedasshepulled itbackfarther.“Steady,”hewarnedher.“She knows what she’s

doing,” Aelin muttered fromafewfeetaway.Chaol cut her a glance.

“Remind me why you’rehere?”“I wanted to help—or is

this an Adarlanians-onlyrebellion?”Chaolstifledhis retortand

turned his glare onto thesquarebelow.Tomorrow, everything he

caredaboutdependedonher.Antagonizingherwouldn’tbesmart,evenifitkilledhimtoleave Dorian in her hands.But—“Abouttomorrow,”hesaid

tightly, not taking hisattention off the executionabout to unfold. “You don’ttouchDorian.”“Me? Never,” Aelin

purred.“It’s not a joke. You.

Don’t.Hurt.Him.”Nesryn ignored them and

angledherbowtotheleft.“Ican’tgetaclearshotatanyofthem.”Three men now stood

before the block, a dozenguards around them. Theboards of the woodenplatformwerealreadydeeplystained with red from weeksof use. Gatherers monitored

the massive clock above theexecution platform, waitingfortheironhandtohitthesixo’clock evening marker.They’d even tied gold andcrimson ribbons to theclock’s lower rim. Sevenminutesnow.Chaolmadehimselflookat

Aelin. “Do you think you’llbeabletosavehim?”“Maybe. I’ll try.” No

reaction in her eyes, in herposture.

Maybe. Maybe. He said,“DoesDorianactuallymatter,or is he a pawn forTerrasen?”“Don’t even start with

that.” For a moment hethought she was done, butthen she spat, “Killing him,Chaol, would be a mercy.Killinghimwouldbeagift.”“I can’t make the shot,”

Nesryn said again—a bitmoresharply.“Touch him,” Chaol said,

“and I’ll make sure thosebastards down there findAedion.”Nesryn silently turned to

them, slackening her bow. Itwas the only card he had toplay, even if it made him abastardaswell.The wrath Chaol found in

Aelin’s eyes was world-ending.“You bring my court into

this, Chaol,” Aelin said withlethal softness, “and I don’t

carewhatyouweretome,orwhat you have done to helpme. You betray them, youhurt them, and I don’t carehowlongit takes,orhowfaryou go: I’ll burn you andyour gods-damned kingdomtoash.Thenyou’ll learn justhowmuchofamonsterIcanbe.”Toofar.He’dgonetoofar.“We’re not enemies,”

Nesryn said, and though herface was calm, her eyes

darted between them. “Wehave enough shit to worryabout tomorrow. And rightnow.” She pointed with herarrow toward the square.“Five minutes until six. Dowegodownthere?”“Too public,” Aelin said.

“Don’t risk exposingyourself. There’s anotherpatrol a quarter mile away,headedinthisdirection.”Of course she knew about

it.“Again,”Chaolsaid,“why

are you here?” She’d just…snuck up on them. With fartoomuchease.Aelin studiedNesryn a bit

too thoughtfully. “Howgood’syouraccuracy,Faliq?”“I don’t miss,” Nesryn

said.Aelin’s teeth gleamed.

“My kind of woman.” ShegaveChaolaknowingsmile.And he knew—he knew

that she was aware of thehistory between them. And

she didn’t particularly care.He couldn’t tell whether ornotitwasarelief.“I’m debating ordering

Arobynn’s men off themission tomorrow,” Aelinsaid, those turquoise eyesfixed on Nesryn’s face, onher hands, on her bow. “Iwant Faliq on wall dutyinstead.”“No,”Chaolsaid.“Are you her keeper?” He

didn’tdeigntorespond.Aelin

crooned,“Ithoughtso.”ButNesrynwouldn’tbeon

wallduty—andneitherwouldhe. He was too recognizableto risk being close to thepalace, and Aelin and herpiece-of-shit master hadapparently decided he’d bebetteroffrunninginterferencealongtheborderoftheslums,making sure the coast wasclear. “Nesrynhasherordersalready.”Inthesquare,peoplebegan

swearing at the three menwhowerewatchingtheclockwith pale, gaunt faces. Someof the onlookers even threwbits of spoiled food at them.Maybe this city did deserveAelin Galathynius’s flames.Maybe Chaol deserved toburn,too.He turned back to the

women.“Shit,”Aelinswore,andhe

lookedbehindhimin time tosee theguardsshove thefirst

victim—a sobbing, middle-agedman—towardtheblock,using the pommels of theirswordstoknockhiskneesoutfrom under him. Theyweren’t waiting until six.Another prisoner, alsomiddle-aged, began shaking,andadarkstainspreadacrossthefrontofhispants.Gods.Chaol’s muscles were

locked, and even Nesryncouldn’t draw her bow fastenoughastheaxrose.

A thud silenced the citysquare. People applauded—applauded. The soundcovered the second thud ofthe man’s head falling androllingaway.ThenChaolwasinanother

room, in the castle that hadoncebeenhishome,listeningto the thudof fleshandboneon marble, red mist coatingtheair,Dorianscreaming—Oath-breaker.Liar.Traitor.

Chaolwasallof those things

now,butnottoDorian.Nevertohistrueking.“Take out the clock tower

in the garden,” he said, thewordsbarelyaudible.He feltAelin turn towardhim. “Andmagic will be free. It was aspell—three towers, all builtofWyrdstone. Take out one,andmagicisfree.”She glanced northward

withoutsomuchasablinkofsurprise, as though she couldsee all the way to the glass

castle. “Thank you,” shemurmured.Thatwasit.“It’s for Dorian’s sake.”

Perhaps cruel, perhapsselfish,but true.“Thekingisexpectingyou tomorrow,”hewent on. “What if he stopscaring about the publicknowing and unleashes hismagic on you? You knowwhathappenedwithDorian.”She scanned the roof tiles

as if reading hermentalmapof the celebration—the map

he’d given her. Then sheswore.“Hecouldlaytrapsforme—and Aedion. With theWyrdmarks, he could writeout spells on the floor or inthe doors, keyed to me orAedion, and we would behelpless—theexactsamewayI trapped that thing in thelibrary. Shit,” she breathed.“Shit.”Gripping her slackened

bow, Nesryn said, “Brullotold us the king has his best

men escorting Aedion fromthe dungeons to the hall—perhaps spelling those areas,too.Ifhespellsthem.”“If is too big a gamble to

make. And it’s too late tochangeourplans,”Aelinsaid.“If I had those gods-damnedbooks, I could maybe findsome sort of protection forme and Aedion, some spell,butIwon’thaveenoughtimetomorrow to grab them frommy old rooms. The gods

know if they’re even stillthere.”“They’re not,” Chaol said.

Aelin’s brows flicked up.“Because I have them. Igrabbed themwhen I left thecastle.”Aelin pursed her lips in

what he could have swornwas reluctant appreciation.“We don’t havemuch time.”She began climbing over theroof and out of sight. “Thereare two prisoners left,” she

clarified. “And I think thosestreamers would look betterwith some Valg blood onthem,anyway.”

Nesryn remained on therooftop while Aelin went toanother across the square—fasterthanChaolhadthoughtpossible. That left him onstreetlevel.Hehurriedasswiftlyashe

could through the crowd,spotting his three mengathered near the other edgeoftheplatform—ready.Theclockstrucksixjustas

Chaol positioned himself,after making sure two moreof his men were waitingdown a narrow alley. Just asthe guards finally clearedaway the body of the firstprisoneranddraggedforwardthe second. The man wassobbing, begging them as he

was forced to kneel in thepuddleofhisfriend’sblood.The executioner lifted his

ax.And a dagger, courtesy of

Aelin Galathynius, wentclean through theexecutioner’sthroat.Black blood sprayed—

some onto the streamers, asAelin had promised. Beforethe guards could shout,Nesryn opened fire from theother direction. That was all

the distraction Chaol neededas he and his men surgedtoward theplatformamid thepanicking, fleeing crowd.Nesryn and Aelin had bothfiredagainbythetimehehitthe stage, the woodtreacherously slick withblood. He grabbed the twoprisoners and roared at themtorun,run,run!His men were blade-to-

blade with the guards as herushed the stumbling

prisoners down the steps andinto the safety of the alley—and the rebels waitingbeyond.Blockafterblocktheyfled,

leaving the chaos of thesquare behind, until they hitthe Avery, and Chaol setaboutattainingthemaboat.Nesryn found him leaving

the docks an hour later,unharmed but splatteredwithdark blood. “Whathappened?”

“Pandemonium,” Nesrynsaid,scanningtheriverunderthe setting sun. “Everythingfine?”Henodded.“Andyou?”“Both of us are fine.” A

kindness, he thought with aflicker of shame, that sheknew he couldn’t bringhimself to ask about Aelin.Nesryn turnedaway,headingback in the direction she’dcome.“Whereareyougoing?”he

asked.“Towashandchange—and

thengo tell the familyof themanwhodied.”It was protocol, even if it

was horrible. Better to havethe familiesgenuinelymournthanriskbeinglookedonanylonger as rebel sympathizers.“You don’t have to do that,”he said. “I’ll send one of themen.”“I’macityguard,”shesaid

plainly. “My presence won’t

beunexpected.Andbesides,”she said, her eyes glintingwith her usual faintamusement, “you yourselfsaid I don’t exactly have alineofsuitorswaitingoutsidemy father’s house, so whatelse do I have to do withmyselftonight?”“Tomorrow’s an important

day,” he said, even as hecursed himself for the wordshe’d spat the other night.Anass—that’s what he’d been,

evenifshe’dneverletonthatitbotheredher.“Iwasjustfinebeforeyou

camealong,Chaol,” she said—tired, possibly bored. “Iknowmy limits. I’ll see youtomorrow.”But he said, “Why go to

thefamiliesyourself?”Nesryn’s dark eyes shifted

toward the river. “Because itreminds me what I have tolose if I’m caught—or if wefail.”

Night fell, and Aelin knewshewasbeingfollowedasshestalked from rooftop torooftop. Right now, evenhours later, hitting the streetwasthemostdangerousthingshe could possibly do, givenhow pissed off the guardswere after she and the rebelshad stolen their prisonersrightoutfromunderthem.Andsheknewthatbecause

she’d been listening to themcurse and hiss for the pasthourasshetrailedapatrolofblack-uniformed guards onthe route she’d noted thenightbefore:alongthedocks,then keeping to the shadowsoff the main drag of tavernsandbrothelsintheslums,andthen near—but keeping ahealthy distance from—theriverside Shadow Market.Interesting to learnhow theirroute did or didn’t change

when chaos erupted—whathidey-holes they rushed to,what sort of formations theyused.What streets were left

unmonitored when all hellbrokeloose.As it would tomorrow,

withAedion.But Arobynn’s claims had

been right—matching themaps Chaol and Nesryn hadmade,too.She’d known that if she

told Chaol why she’d shownupattheexecution,hewouldget in the way somehow—send Nesryn to follow her,perhaps.She’dneeded to seehow skilled they were—allthe parties that would be socrucial in tomorrow’s events—andthenseethis.Just as Arobynn had told

her, each guardwore a thickblack ring, and they movedwith jerks and twitches thatmade her wonder how well

the demons squatting insidetheir bodies were adjusting.Theirleader,apalemanwithnight-dark hair, moved themost fluidly, like ink inwater,shethought.She had left them to stalk

toward another part of thecity while she continued ontoward where the craftsmandistrict jutted out into thecurve of the Avery, until allwassilentaroundherandthescentof thoserottingcorpses

fadedaway.Atop the roof of a glass-

blowing warehouse, the tilesstill warm from the heat ofthe day or the massivefurnaces inside, Aelinsurveyed the empty alleybelow.The infernal spring rain

began again, tinkling on thesloped roof, the manychimneys.Magic—Chaolhadtoldher

how to free it. So easy, and

yet—a monumental task. Inneed of careful planning.After tomorrow, though—ifshesurvived—she’dsetaboutdoingit.She shimmied down a

drainpipe on the side of acrumbling brick building,splashing down a bit tooloudly in a puddle of whatshe hoped was rain. Shewhistledasshestrolleddowntheemptyalley,ajauntylittletune she’d overheard at one

oftheslums’manytaverns.Still, she was honestly a

little surprised that she gotnearly halfway down thealley before a patrol of theking’sguardssteppedintoherpath, their swords likequicksilverinthedark.The commander of the

patrol—thedemoninsidehim—lookedatherandsmiledasthough it already knew whatherbloodtastedlike.Aelingrinnedrightbackat

him, flicking her wrists andsending the blades shootingout of her suit. “Hello,gorgeous.”Then she was upon them,

slicing and twirling andducking.Five guards were dead

before the others could evenmove.The blood they leaked

wasn’t red, though. It wasblack,andsliddownthesidesof her blades, dense and

shining as oil. The stench,likecurdledmilkandvinegar,hitherashardastheclashingoftheirswords.The reek grew,

overpowering the lingeringsmoke from the glassfactories around them,worsening as Aelin dodgedthedemon’sblowandswipedlow. The man’s stomachopened up like a festeringwound, and black blood andthe gods knew what else

sloshedontothestreet.Disgusting. Almost as bad

as what wafted from thesewer grate at the other endof the alley—already open.Already oozing that too-familiardarkness.The rest of the patrol

closed in. Her wrath becamea song in her blood as sheendedthem.Whenbloodandrainlayin

puddles on the brokencobblestones, when Aelin

stoodinafieldoffallenmen,shebeganslicing.Head after head tumbled

away.Thensheleanedagainstthe

wall,waiting.Counting.Theydidnotrise.Aelin stalked from the

alley, kicking shut the sewergrate, and vanished into therainynight.

Dawn broke, the day clearandwarm.Aelinhadbeenuphalf the night scouring thebooks Chaol had saved,including her old friend TheWalkingDead.Reciting what she’d

learned in the quiet of herapartment, Aelin donned theclothes Arobynn had sentover, checking andrecheckingthattherewerenosurprises and everything waswhere she needed it to be.

She let each step, eachreminder of her plan anchorher, keep her from dwellingtoolongonwhatwouldcomewhenthefestivitiesbegan.And thenshewent to save

hercousin.

15

Aedion Ashryver was readytodie.Against his will, he’d

recovered over the past twodays, thefeverbreakingaftersunset last night. He wasstrong enough to walk—albeit slowly—as theyescortedhimtothedungeon’s

washroom, where theychained him down to washand scrub him, and evenrisked shaving him, despitehisbesteffortstoslithisownthroatontherazor.It appeared that they

wanted him presentable forthe court when they cut offhis headwith his own blade,theSwordofOrynth.Aftercleaninghiswounds,

they shoved him into pantsand a loose white shirt,

yanked back his hair, anddragged him up the stairs.Guards with dark uniformsflanked him three deep onboth sides, four in front andbehind, and every door andexit had one of the bastardspostedbyit.He was too drained from

dressingtoprovokethemintoputtinga sword throughhim,so he let them lead himthrough the towering doorsinto the ballroom. Red and

gold banners hung from therafters, springtime blossomscovered every table, and anarchway of hothouse roseshadbeencraftedoverthedaisfrom which the royal familywould watch the festivitiesbefore his execution. Thewindows and doors beyondthe platformwhere hewouldbe killed opened onto one ofthegardens,aguardstationedevery other foot, otherspositioned in the garden

itself. If the king wanted toset a trap for Aelin, hecertainly hadn’t bothered tobeverysubtleaboutit.It was civilized of them,

Aedion realized as he wasshoved up the wooden stepsoftheplatform,togivehimastool to sit on. At least hewouldn’t have to lounge onthe floor like a dogwhile hewatchedthemallpretendthatthey weren’t here just to seehisheadroll.Andastool,he

realized with grimsatisfaction, would make agood-enough weapon whenthetimecame.So Aedion let them chain

him in the shacklesanchoredto the floor of the platform.Let them put the Sword ofOrynth on display a few feetbehind him, its scarred bonepommel glinting in themorninglight.It was just a matter of

finding the right moment to

meet the end of his ownchoosing.

16

Thedemonmadehimsitonadais, on a throne beside acrownedwomanwhohadnotnoticed that the thing usinghis mouth wasn’t the personwho had been born of herflesh. To his other sidelounged the man whocontrolled the demon inside

him.Andinfrontofhim,theballroomwas full of titteringnobility who could not seethat hewas still in here, stillscreaming.The demon had broken a

little farther through thebarrier today, and it nowlooked throughhis eyeswithan ancient, glittering malice.Itwasstarvedforthisworld.Perhapstheworlddeserved

tobedevouredbythething.Maybe it was that

traitorous thought alone thathadcausedsuchahole toripin the barrier between them.Maybe it was winning.Maybeithadalreadywon.Sohewas forced to sit on

that throne, and speak withwords thatwerenothisown,and share his eyes withsomething from anotherrealm, who gazed at hissunny world with ravenous,eternalhunger.

The costume itched likehell.The paint all over her didn’thelp.Most of the important

guestshadarrivedinthedaysprecedingtheparty,butthosewhodwelledinsidethecityorin the outlying foothills nowformed a glittering linestretching through themassive front doors. Guardswere posted there, checking

invitations, asking questions,peering into faces none tookeen to be interrogated. Theentertainers, vendors, andhelp, however, were orderedto use one of the sideentrances.ThatwaswhereAelin had

foundMadamFlorineandhertroupe of dancers, clad incostumes of black tulle andsilkandlace,likeliquidnightinthemidmorningsun.Shoulders back, core tight,

armslooseathersides,Aelineased into the middle of theflock. With her hair dyed aruddyshadeofbrownandherface coated in the heavycosmetics the dancers allwore, she blended in wellenough that none of theotherslookedherway.Shefocusedentirelyonher

role of trembling novice, onlooking more interested inhow the other dancersperceived her than in the six

guards stationed at the smallwooden door in the side ofthe stone wall. The castlehallway beyond was narrow—good for daggers, bad forswords, and deadly for thesedancers if she got intotrouble.If Arobynn had indeed

betrayedher.Head down, Aelin subtly

monitored the first test oftrust.The chestnut-haired

Florinewalkedalongherlineof dancers like an admiralaboardaship.Aging but beautiful,

Florine’s every movementwaslayeredwithagracethatAelin herself had never beenable to replicate, no matterhowmany lessons she’d hadwith her while growing up.The woman had been themostcelebrateddancerintheempire—and since herretirement, she remained its

most valued teacher.Instructor Overlord, Aelinhad called her in the yearsthat she’d trained under thewoman, learning the mostfashionable dances and waystomoveandhoneherbody.Florine’s hazel eyes were

on the guards ahead as shepausedbesideAelin, a frownon her thin lips. “You stillneed to work on yourposture,”thewomansaid.Aelin met Florine’s

sidelong gaze. “It’s an honorto be an understudy for you,Madam. I do hope Gillyansoon recovers from herillness.”The guardswaved through

whatlookedtobeatroupeofjugglers, and they inchedforward.“You look ingood-enough

spirits,”Florinemurmured.Aelin made a show of

ducking her head, curling inher shoulders, and willing a

blush to rise to her cheeks—the new understudy, bashfulat the compliments of hermistress. “ConsideringwhereIwastenmonthsago?”Florine sniffed, and her

gaze lingered on the thinbandsof scarsacrossAelin’swrists that even the paintedwhorls couldn’t conceal.They’d raised the top of thedancers’ open-backedcostumes, but even so, andevenwiththebodypaint, the

upper ends of her tattoo-covered scars peekedthrough.“If you think I had

anythingtodowiththeeventsthatleduptothat—”Aelin’s words were barely

louderthanthecrunchofsilkshoes on gravel as she said,“You’d already be dead ifyou had.” It wasn’t a bluff.Whenshe’dwrittenherplanson that ship, Florine’s namehad been one that she’d

written down—and thencrossed out, after carefulconsideration.Aelin continued, “I trust

you made the properadjustments?” Not just theslightchangeinthecostumestoaccommodate theweaponsand supplies Aelin wouldneed to smuggle in—all paidfor by Arobynn, of course.No, the big surprises wouldcomelater.“A bit late to be asking

that,isn’tit?”MadamFlorinepurred,thedarkjewelsatherneck and ears glimmering.“You must trust me a greatdealtohaveevenappeared.”“Itrustthatyoulikegetting

paid more than you like theking.” Arobynn had given amassive sum to pay offFlorine. She kept an eye onthe guards as she said, “Andsince the Royal Theater wasshut down by His ImperialMajesty,Itrustwebothagree

that what was done to thosemusicians was a crime asunforgivableasthemassacresof theslavesinEndovierandCalaculla.”She knew she’d gambled

correctlywhenshesawagonyflickerinFlorine’seyes.“Pytor was my friend,”

Florine whispered, the colorleechingfromhertancheeks.“There was no finerconductor,nogreaterear.Hemade my career. He helped

me establish all this.” Shewaved a hand to encompassthe dancers, the castle, theprestige she’d acquired. “Imisshim.”There was nothing

calculated, nothing cold,when Aelin put a hand overher own heart. “I will missgoingtohearhimconducttheStygianSuiteeveryautumn.Iwillspend therestofmy lifeknowing that I may neveragainhear finermusic,never

again experience a shred ofwhat I felt sitting in thattheaterwhileheconducted.”Madam Florine wrapped

her arms around herself.Despite the guards ahead,despite the task that nearedwitheverytickoftheclock,ittook Aelin a moment to beabletospeakagain.But that hadn’t been what

made Aelin agree toArobynn’s plan—to trustFlorine.

Twoyearsago,finallyfreeofArobynn’sleashbutnearlybeggaredthankstopayingherdebts,Aelinhadcontinuedtotake lessonswith Florine notonly tokeepcurrentwith thepopular dances for her workbut also to keep flexible andfit. Florine had refused totakehermoney.Moreover, after each

lesson Florine had allowedAelin to sit at the pianofortebythewindowandplayuntil

her fingers were sore, sinceshe had been forced to leaveherbeloved instrumentat theAssassins’Keep. Florine hadnever mentioned it, nevermade her feel like it wascharity. But it had been akindness when Aelin haddesperatelyneededone.Aelin said under her

breath, “You’ve memorizedthe preparations for you andyourgirls?”“Those who wish to flee

may come on the shipArobynn hired. I have madespace for all, just in case. Ifthey’re stupidenough to stayinRifthold,thentheydeservetheirfate.”Aelin hadn’t risked being

seen meeting with Florineuntilnow,andFlorinehadn’teven dared to pack herbelongings for fear of beingdiscovered. She would takeonly what she could carrywith her to the performance

—money,jewels—andfleetothe docks the moment chaoserupted. There was a goodchance she wouldn’t make itout of the palace—andneither would her girls,despite the escape plansprovidedbyChaolandBrulloand the cooperation of thekinderguards.Aelinfoundherselfsaying,

“Thankyou.”Florine’smouthquirked to

the side. “Now there’s

something you never learnedfromyourmaster.”Thedancersat thefrontof

the line reached the guards,andFlorinesighedloudlyandstrutted toward them,bracingherhandsonhernarrowhips,powerandgrace liningeverystep closer to the black-uniformed guard studying alonglist.Onebyone,helookedover

the dancers, comparing themwith the list he bore.

Checking rosters—detailedones.But thanks to Ress having

broken into the barracks lastnightandaddingafakenamealong with her description,Aelinwouldbeonthelist.They inched closer, Aelin

keeping toward the back ofthegrouptobuytimetonotedetails.Gods, this castle—the

same in every possible way,butdifferent.Ormaybeitwas

shewhowasdifferent.One by one the dancers

were allowed between theblank-faced guards andhurried down the narrowcastle hallway, giggling andwhisperingtooneanother.Aelinroseupontohertoes

to study the guards at thedoors, no more than thenovicescrunchingherfaceinimpatientcuriosity.Thenshesawthem.Written across the

thresholdstonesindarkpaintwere Wyrdmarks. They’dbeen beautifully rendered, asthoughmerelydecorative,but—They must be at every

door,everyentrance.Sure enough, even the

windows a level up hadsmall,darksymbolsonthem,no doubt keyed to AelinGalathynius, toalert thekingtoherpresenceor to trapherin place long enough to be

captured.AdancerelbowedAelinin

thestomachtogethertostopleaning on her shoulder topeer over their heads. Aelingaped at the girl—and thenletoutanoomphofpain.Thedancerglaredoverher

shoulder, mouthing to shutup.Aelinburstintotears.Loud, blubbering, hu-hu-

hu tears. The dancers froze,theoneaheadofherstepping

back,glancingtoeitherside.“T-that hurt,” Aelin said,

clutchingherstomach.“I didn’t do anything,” the

womanhissed.Aelinkeptcrying.Ahead,Florineorderedher

dancers to step aside, andthen her facewas inAelin’s.“What in the name of everygod in the realm is thisnonsenseabout?”Aelin pointed a shaking

finger at the dancer. “She h-

hitme.”Florine whirled on the

wide-eyed dancer who wasalready proclaiming herinnocence. Then followed aseries of accusations, insults,and more tears—now fromthedancer,weepingover hersurelyruinedcareer.“W-water,” Aelin

blubbered toFlorine. “I needa glass of waaater.” Theguards had begun pushingtoward them.Aelin squeezed

Florine’sarmhard.“N-now.”Florine’seyessparked,and

she faced the guards whoapproached, barking herdemands. Aelin held herbreath,waiting for the strike,theslap…buttherewasoneof Ress’s friends—one ofChaol’sfriends,wearingaredflowerpinnedtohisbreast,asshe’d asked—running off toget water. Exactly whereChaol had said he’d be, justin case something went

wrong.AelinclungtoFlorineuntil the water appeared—abucketandladle, thebest themancouldcomeupwith.Hewiselydidn’tmeethergaze.Withalittlesobof thanks,

Aelin grabbed both from hishands. They were shakingslightly.She gave Florine a subtle

nudge with her foot, urgingherforward.“Come with me,” seethed

Florine, dragging her to the

front of the line. “I’ve hadenough of this idiocy, andyou’ve nearly wrecked yourmakeup.”Careful not to spill the

water, Aelin allowed Florinetopull her to the stone-facedguard at the doors. “Myfoolish, useless understudy,Dianna,”shesaidtotheguardwith flawless steel in hervoice, unfazed by the black-eyed demon looking out ather.

Themanstudiedthelist inhishands,scanning,scanning—Andcrossedoffaname.Aelin took a shivering sip

of water from the ladle, andthen dunked it back into thebucket.The guard looked once

more at Aelin—and shewilled her lower lip towobble, the tears to wellagain as the demon insidedevoured her with his eyes.

Asifall these lovelydancersweredessert.“Get in,” themangrunted,

jerking his chin to the hallbehindhim.Witha silentprayer,Aelin

stepped toward theWyrdmarks written over thethresholdstones.And tripped, sending the

bucketofwatersprayingoverthemarks.She wailed as she hit the

ground, knees barking in

genuinepain,andFlorinewasinstantly upon her,demanding she stopbeing soclumsy and such a crybaby,and then shoving her in—shoving her over the ruinedmarks.Andintotheglasscastle.

17

Once Florine and the rest ofthe dancers were allowed in,theywere all stuffed down anarrow servants’ hallway. Inamatterofmoments,thedooratthefarendwouldopenintothe side of the ballroom andthey would flutter out likebutterflies. Black, glittering

butterflies, here to performthe “Handmaidens of Death”dance from one of the morepopularsymphonies.They weren’t stopped or

questioned by anyone else,though the guards in everyhall watched them likehawks. And not the shape-shiftingFaePrincekind.So few of Chaol’s men

werepresent.NosignofRessor Brullo. But everyone waswhere Chaol had promised

theywouldbe,basedonRessandBrullo’sinformation.A platter of honey-roasted

hamwith crackling sagewascarried past on a servant’sshoulder, andAelin tried notto appreciate it, to savor thescents of the food of herenemy. Even if it was damnfinefood.Platter after platter went

by, hauled by red-facedservants, no doubt windedfrom the trek up from the

kitchens. Trout withhazelnuts, crisped asparagus,tubs of freshly whippedcream,peartarts,meatpies—Aelin cocked her head,

watchingthelineofservants.A half smile grew on herface. She waited for theservantstoreturnwithemptyhands,ontheirreturnjourneyto the kitchens. Finally thedooropenedagain,andaslimservantinacrispwhiteapronfiled into the dim hall, the

loosestrandsofher inkyhairfallingoutofherbraidasshehurried to retrieve the nexttray of pear tarts from thekitchen.Aelin kept her face blank,

disinterested,asNesrynFaliqglancedherway.Those dark, upturned eyes

narrowed slightly—surpriseornerves,Aelincouldn’ttell.But before she could decidehowtodealwithit,oneoftheguards signaled to Florine

thatitwastime.Aelin kept her headdown,

even as she felt the demonwithin the man rake itsattention over her and theothers. Nesryn was gone—vanished down the stairs—whenAelinturnedback.Florine strode down the

lineofdancerswaitingbythedoor, her hands claspedbehind her. “Backs straight,shoulders back, necksuplifted. You are light, you

areair,youaregrace.Donotdisappointme.”Florine took up the basket

of black glass flowers she’dhadhersteadiestdancercarryin, each exquisite bloomflickering like an ebonydiamondinthedimhalllight.“If you break these before itis time to throw them down,you are finished. They costmore than you’re worth, andtherearenoextras.”Onebyone,shehandedthe

flowers down the line, eachof themsturdyenoughnot tosnapinthenextfewminutes.Florine reached Aelin, the

basket empty. “Watch them,and learn,” she said loudenough for the demon guardto hear, and put a hand onAelin’s shoulder, ever theconsoling teacher. The otherdancers,nowshiftingontheirfeet, rolling their heads andshoulders, didn’t look in herdirection.

Aelinnoddeddemurely,asiftryingtohidebittertearsofdisappointment, and duckedout of line to stand atFlorine’sside.Trumpets blasted in

throughthecracksaroundthedoor, and the crowd cheeredloudenoughtomakethefloorrumble.“I peeked into the Great

Hall,”Florine said soquietlyAelin could barely hear her.“To see how the general is

faring. He is gaunt and pale,butalert.Ready—foryou.”Aelinwentstill.“I alwayswonderedwhere

Arobynn foundyou,”Florinemurmured,staringatthedoorasifshecouldseethroughit.“Why he took such pains tobreakyoutohiswill,moresothan all the others.” Thewoman closed her eyes for amoment, and when sheopened them, steel gleamedthere. “When you shatter the

chainsofthisworldandforgethenext,rememberthatartisasvitalasfoodtoakingdom.Without it, a kingdom isnothing,andwillbeforgottenby time. I have amassedenough money in mymiserablelifetonotneedanymore—so you willunderstandmeclearlywhenIsay that wherever you setyour throne, no matter howlong it takes, I will come toyou, and I will bring music

anddancing.”Aelin swallowed hard.

Before she could sayanything, Florine left herstanding at the back of theline and strolled to the door.Shepausedbefore it, lookingdownthelineateachdancer.Shespokeonlywhenhereyesmet Aelin’s. “Give our kingthe performance hedeserves.”Florine opened the door,

flooding the hallway with

lightandmusicandthescentofroastedmeats.The other dancers sucked

in a collective breath andsprang forward, one by one,waving those dark glassflowersoverhead.As she watched them go,

Aelinwilled theblood inherveins into black fire. Aedion—her focus was on Aedion,notonthetyrantseatedatthefront of the room, the manwho had murdered her

family, murdered Marion,murderedherpeople.If thesewere her last moments, thenat least she would go downfighting, to the sound ofexquisitemusic.Itwastime.Onebreath—another.Shewastheheiroffire.Shewasfire,andlight,and

ash, and embers. She wasAelin Fireheart, and shebowed for no one andnothing, save the crown that

was hers by blood andsurvivalandtriumph.Aelin squared her

shouldersandslippedintothebejeweledcrowd.

Aedion had been watchingthe guards in the hours he’dbeenchainedtothestool,andhad figured out who best toattack first, who favored acertainsideorleg,whomight

hesitate when faced with theWolfof theNorth,and,mostimportantly, who wasimpulsive and stupid enoughto finally run him throughdespitetheking’scommand.The performances had

begun, drawing the attentionof the crowd that had beenshamelessly gawking at him,andas the twodozenwomenfloated and leaped andtwirled into the wide spacebetween the dais and his

execution platform, for amoment Aedion felt … badfor interrupting. Thesewomen had no cause to becaughtupinthebloodshedhewasabouttounleash.Itdidseemfitting, though,

that their sparkling costumeswere of darkest black,accented with silver—Death’s Handmaidens, herealized. That was who theyportrayed.It was as much a sign as

anything. Perhaps the dark-eyedSilbawouldofferhimakind death instead of a cruelone at the blood-drenchedhands of Hellas. Either way,he found himself smiling.Deathwasdeath.The dancers were tossing

fistfuls of black powder,coating the floor with it—representing ashes of thefallen,probably.Onebyone,they made pretty little spinsand bowed before the king

andhisson.Time to move. The king

wasdistractedbyauniformedguard whispering in his ear;the prince was watching thedancers with boreddisinterest,andthequeenwaschatting with whichevercourtiershefavoredthatday.The crowd clapped and

cooed over the unfoldingperformance. They’d allcome in their finery—suchcarelesswealth.Thebloodof

an empire had paid for thosejewelsandsilks.Thebloodofhispeople.An extra dancer was

moving through the crowd:some understudy, no doubttrying toget abetterviewofthe performance. And hemightnothavethoughttwiceabout it, had she not beentallerthantheothers—bigger,curvier, her shouldersbroader. She moved moreheavily,asifsomehowrooted

innately to the earth. Thelight hit her, shining throughthe lace of the costume’ssleeves to reveal swirls andwhorls of markings on herskin.Identicaltothepaintonthedancers’armsandchests,save for her back, where thepaint was a little darker, alittledifferent.Dancers like that didn’t

havetattoos.Before he could seemore,

between one breath and the

next, as a clusterof ladies inmassive ball gowns blockedher from sight, she vanishedbehind a curtained-offdoorway, walking right pastthe guards with a sheepishsmile,asifshewerelost.When she emerged again

not a minute later, he onlyknew it was her from thebuild,theheight.Themakeupwas gone, and her flowingtulleskirthaddisappeared—No—not disappeared, he

realized as she slipped backthrough the doorwaywithoutthe guards so much aslooking at her. The skirt hadbeen reversed into a silkencape, its hood covering herruddy brown hair, and shemoved … moved like aswaggeringman,paradingfortheladiesaroundhim.Moved closer to him. To

thestage.The dancers were still

tossing their black powder

everywhere, circling aroundandaround, flitting theirwayacrossthemarblefloor.Noneoftheguardsnoticed

the dancer-turned-nobleprowling towardhim.Oneofthe courtiers did—but not tocry an alarm. Instead, heshouted a name—a man’sname. And the dancer indisguiseturned,liftingahandin greeting toward the manwho’d called and giving acockygrin.

Shewasn’tjustindisguise.She’d become someone elsecompletely.Closer and closer she

strutted, the music from thegalleryorchestrarisingintoaclashing, vibrant finale, eachnote higher than the last asthe dancers raised their glassroses above their heads: atributetotheking,toDeath.The disguised dancer

stopped outside the ring ofguards flanking Aedion’s

stage,pattingherselfdownasifcheckingforahandkerchiefthat had gone missing,mutteringastringofcurses.An ordinary, believable

pause—no cause for alarm.The guards went back towatchingthedancers.Butthedancerlookedupat

Aedion beneath loweredbrows. Even disguised as anaristoman,therewaswicked,vicious triumph in herturquoise-and-goldeyes.

Behind them, across thehall, the dancers shatteredtheir roses on the floor, andAedion grinned at his queenas the entire world went tohell.

18

It wasn’t just the glassflowers that had been riggedwith a reactive powder,quietlypurchasedbyAelinattheShadowMarket.Everybitof sparkling dust the dancershad tossed about had beenfull of it. And it was worthevery damned silver she’d

spent as smoke eruptedthroughtheroom,ignitingthepowderthey’dbeenscatteringeverywhere.The smoke was so thick

she could barely see morethan a foot ahead, andblended perfectly with thegray cloak that had doubledas the skirt of her costume.Just as Arobynn hadsuggested.Screaming halted the

music. Aelin was already

moving for the nearby stageas the clock tower—thatclock tower that would saveor damn them all—strucknoon.There was no black collar

around Aedion’s neck, andthatwasallsheneededtosee,even as relief threatened towobbleherknees.Before theclock’s first strike finished,she had drawn the daggersbuilt into the bodice of hercostume—allthesilverthread

andbeadingmaskingthesteelon her—and slashed oneacross the throat of thenearestguard.Aelinspunandshovedhim

intothemanclosesttohimasshe plunged her other bladedeepintothegutofathird.Florine’s voice rose above

the crowd, ushering herdancersout-out-out.The second strike of the

clock tower sounded, andAelinyankedherdaggerfrom

the belly of the groaningguard, another surging at herfromthesmoke.The rest would go to

Aediononinstinct,butthey’dbeslowedbythecrowds,andshewasalreadycloseenough.The guard—one of those

black-uniformed nightmares—stabbed with his sword, adirect attack to her chest.Aelinparried the thrust asidewith one dagger, spinninginto his exposed torso. Hot,

reeking blood shot onto herhandas she shovedherotherbladeintohiseye.He was still falling as she

ran the last few feet to thewooden platform and hurledherself onto it, rolling,keeping low until she wasright up under two otherguards who were still tryingto wave away the veils ofsmoke.Theyscreamedasshedisemboweled them both intwoswipes.

The fourth strike of theclocksounded,andtherewasAedion, the three guardsaround him impaled byshardsofhisstool.Hewashuge—evenbigger

upclose.Aguardchargedforthem out of the smoke, andAelinshouted“Duck!”beforethrowing her dagger at theman’s approaching face.Aedion barely moved fastenough to avoid the blow,and the guard’s blood

splattered on the shoulder ofhercousin’stunic.She lunged for the chains

around Aedion’s ankles,sheathingherremainingbladeatherside.Ajoltshockedthroughher,

and blue light seared hervision as theEye flared. Shedidn’t dare pause, not evenfor a heartbeat. Whateverspell the king had put onAedion’s chains burned likeblue fire as she sliced open

her forearm with her daggerand used her blood to drawthesymbolsshe’dmemorizedonthechains:Unlock.The chains thudded to the

ground.Seventhstrikeoftheclock.The screaming shifted into

somethinglouder,wilder,andtheking’svoiceboomedoverthepanickingcrowd.Aguardrushedatthem,his

swordout.Anotherbenefitofthe smoke: too risky to start

firing arrows.But she’donlygiveArobynncreditifshegotoutofthisalive.She unsheathed another

blade,hidden in the liningofher gray cloak. The guardwent down clutching at histhroat, now split ear to ear.Then she whirled to Aedion,pulled the long chain of theEye from around her neck,and threw it over his head.Sheopenedhermouth,buthegaspedout,“Thesword.”

And that’s when shenoticed the blade displayedbehind his stool. The SwordofOrynth.Herfather’sblade.She’dbeen too focusedon

Aedion,ontheguardsandthedancers,torealizewhatbladeitwas.“Stay close,” was all she

saidasshegrabbedtheswordfrom the stand and shoved itinto his hands. She didn’t letherself think toomuch about

the weight of that blade, orabouthowithadevengottenthere. She just graspedAedionbythewristandracedacross the platform towardthepatiowindows,wherethecrowd was shrieking andguards were trying toestablishaline.The clock issued its ninth

strike.She’dunlockAedion’shands as soon as they got tothe garden; they didn’t haveanother second to spend in

thesuffocatingsmoke.Aedion staggered but kept

upright, close behind as sheleaped off the platform intothesmoke,rightwhereBrulloclaimed two guards wouldhold their position.One diedwithadaggertothespine,theotherablowtothesideoftheneck. She squeezed the hiltsof her daggers against theslippery blood now coatingthem—andeveryinchofher.His sword gripped in both

hands, Aedion jumped downbeside her, and his kneesbuckled.He was injured, but not

from any wound she couldsee.She’ddiscernedasmuchinthemomentsshe’dweavedthrough the crowd, alteringher demeanor as Lysandrahad instructed. The palenessofAedion’s facehadnothingto do with fear, nor did hisshallow breaths. They’d hurthim.

It made killing these menvery,veryeasy.The crowd was

bottlenecking by the patiodoors, just as she hadcalculated.Allittookwashershouting “Fire! Fire!” andthescreamingturnedfrantic.The crowd began

shattering the windows andtheglassdoors,tramplingoneanother and the guards.People grabbed buckets todouse the flames, water

spraying everywhere andsplashing away theWyrdmarksonthethresholds.The smoke billowed out

ahead, leading the way intothe garden. Aelin pushedAedion’s head down as sheshoved him into the mass offleeingcourtiersandservants.Thrashing, squeezing,shouting, ripping at herclothes, until—until thenoontimesunblindedher.Aedion hissed. Weeks in

the dungeons had probablywrecked his eyes. “Just holdon to me,” she said, puttinghis massive hand on hershoulder. He gripped herhard, his chains knockingagainst her as she wadedthrough the crowd and intoopen,clearairbeyond.The clock tower bellowed

its twelfth and final strike asAelin andAedion skidded toa halt before a line of sixguards blocking the entrance

tothegardenhedges.Aelin stepped out of

Aedion’sgrip,andhercousinswore as his eyes adjustedenough to see what now laybetween them and escape.“Don’t get in my way,” shesaid to him, then launchedherselfattheguards.

Rowan had taught her a fewnewtricks.

She was a whirling cloudofdeath,aqueenofshadows,and these men were alreadycarrion.Slashing and ducking and

twirling, Aelin gave herselfcompletely to that killingcalm, until the blood was amist around her and thegravelwasslickwithit.Fourof Chaol’s men came racingup—then ran the other way.Allies or just smart, shedidn’tcare.

Andwhenthelastofthoseblack-uniformed guards hadslumped to the bloodyground, she surged forAedion. He’d been gaping—but he let out a low, darklaugh as he stumbled into asprint beside her, into thehedges.Archers—theyhad toclear

the archerswhowere sure tobegin firing as soon as thesmokevanished.They dashed around and

between the hedges she’dtraversed dozens of timesduring her stay here, whenshe’druneverymorningwithChaol.“Faster, Aedion,” shebreathed, but he was alreadylagging. She paused andsliced into her blood-soakedwrist with a dagger beforesketching the unlockingWyrdmarks on each of hismanacles. Again, light flaredand burned. But then thecuffssprangopensilently.

“Nice trick,” he panted,andsheyankedthechainsoffhim.Shewas about to chuckthe metal aside when thegravelcrunchedbehindthem.Nottheguards,andnotthe

king.It was with no small

amount of horror that shefoundDorianstrollingtowardthem.

19

“Going somewhere?” Doriansaid,hishandsinthepocketsofhisblackpants.Themanwho spoke those

words was not her friend—she knew that before he’deven opened his mouth. Thecollarofhisebony tunicwasunbuttoned, revealing the

glimmering Wyrdstonetorque at the base of histhroat.“Unfortunately, Your

Highness, we have anotherparty to get to.” Shemarkedthe slender red maple to theright, the hedges, the glasspalacetoweringbeyondthem.They were too deep in thegardentobeshotat,buteverywastedsecondwasasgoodassigning her own deathsentence.AndAedion’s.

“Pity,”saidtheValgprinceinside Dorian. “It was justgettingexciting.”Hestruck.Awaveofblacklashedfor

her, and Aedion shouted inwarning. Blue flared beforeher, deflecting the assaultfrom Aedion, but she wasshovedbackastep,asifbyahard,darkwind.When the black cleared,

the prince stared. Then hegavealazy,cruelsmile.“You

warded yourself. Clever,lovelyhumanthing.”She’d spent all morning

painting every inch of herbodywithWyrdmarks in herownblood,mixedwithinktohidethecolor.“Aedion,runforthewall,”

she breathed, not daring totakehereyesofftheprince.Aedion did no such thing.

“He’s not the prince—notanymore.”“Iknow.Whichiswhyyou

needto—”“Such heroics,” said the

thing squatting in her friend.“Such foolish hope, to thinkyoucangetaway.”Like an asp, he struck

again with a wall of black-taintedpower.Itknockedherclean into Aedion, whogrunted in pain but set herupright. Her skin beganticklingbeneathhercostume,as if the blood-wards wereflakingoffwith each assault.

Useful, but short-lived.Precisely why she hadn’twasted them on getting intothecastle.Theyhadtogetoutofhere

—now.Sheshoved thechains into

Aedion’s hands, took theSword of Orynth from him,and stepped toward theprince.Slowly,sheunsheathedthe

blade. Its weight wasflawless, and the steel shone

as brightly as it had the lasttime she’d seen it. In herfather’shands.The Valg prince snapped

anotherwhipofpowerather,and she stumbled but keptwalking, even as the blood-wards beneath her costumecrumbledaway.“One sign, Dorian,” she

said. “Just give me one signthatyou’reinthere.”The Valg prince laughed

low and harsh, that beautiful

face twisted with ancientbrutality. His sapphire eyeswereemptyashesaid,“Iamgoing to destroy everythingyoulove.”She raised her father’s

sword in both hands,advancingstill.“You’d never do it,” the

thingsaid.“Dorian,”sherepeated,her

voice breaking. “You areDorian.” Seconds—she hadseconds left togivehim.Her

blooddrippedontothegravel,and she let it pool there, hereyes fixed on the prince asshe began tracing a symbolwithherfoot.Thedemonchuckledagain.

“Notanymore.”She gazed into those eyes,

at the mouth she’d oncekissed, at the friend she’doncecaredforsodeeply,andbegged, “Just one sign,Dorian.”But there was nothing of

her friend in that face, nohesitation or twinge ofmuscle against the attack astheprincelunged.Lunged, and then froze as

hepassedovertheWyrdmarkshe’d drawn on the groundwith her foot—a quick anddirty mark to hold him. Itwouldn’t lastformorethanafewmoments,butthatwasallshe needed as he was forcedto his knees, thrashing andpushing against the power.

Aedionquietlyswore.Aelin raised the Sword of

Orynth over Dorian’s head.Onestrike.Justonetocleavethrough flesh and bone, tosparehim.Thethingwasroaringwith

a voice that didn’t belong toDorian,inalanguagethatdidnotbelonginthisworld.Themark on the ground flared,butheld.Dorian looked up at her,

such hatred on his beautiful

face,suchmaliceandrage.For Terrasen, for their

future,shecoulddothis.Shecouldendthisthreathereandnow.Endhim,onhisbirthday—not adaypast twenty.Shewould suffer for it later,grievelater.Notonemorenamewould

she etch into her flesh, she’dpromisedherself.But for herkingdom…Thebladedippedasshedecided,and—Impact slammed into her

father’s sword, knocking heroff balance as Aedionshouted.The arrow ricocheted into

thegarden,hissingagainstthegravelasitlanded.Nesryn was already

approaching, another arrowdrawn, pointed at Aedion.“Strike the prince, and I’llshootthegeneral.”Dorian let out a lover’s

laugh.“You’re a shit spy,”Aelin

snapped at her. “You didn’teven try to remain hiddenwhen you watched meinside.”“Arobynn Hamel told the

captainyouweregoingtotryto kill the prince today,”Nesrynsaid.“Putyoursworddown.”Aelin ignored the

command. Nesryn’s fathermakes the best pear tarts inthe capital. She supposedArobynn had tried to warn

her—and she’d been toodistracted by everything elseto contemplate the veiledmessage. Stupid. Soprofoundlystupidofher.Only seconds left before

thewardsfailed.“You lied to us,” Nesryn

said. The arrow remainedpointed at Aedion, who wassizing up Nesryn, his handscurling as if he wereimagining his fingerswrappedaroundherthroat.

“YouandChaolarefools,”Aelin said, even as a part ofher heaved in relief, even asshewantedtoadmitthatwhatshe’dbeenabout todomadeher a fool as well. Aelinloweredtheswordtoherside.The thing inside Dorian

hissedather,“Youwillregretthismoment,girl.”Aelin just whispered, “I

know.”Aelin didn’t give a shit

what happened to Nesryn.

She sheathed the sword,grabbedAedion,andran.

Aedion’s breath was likeshards of glass in his lungs,buttheblood-coveredwoman—Aelin—was tugging himalong, cursing at him forbeing so slow. The gardenwas enormous, and shoutsrose over the hedges behindthem,closingin.

Then they were at a stonewall already Wyrdmarked inblood, and there were stronghands reaching down to helphimup and over.He tried totell her to go first, but shewas shoving at his back andthenhislegs,pushinghimupas the twomenatop thewallgruntedwith hisweight. Thewound in his ribs stretchedand burned in agony. Theworld grew bright and spunasthehoodedmeneasedhim

down to the quiet city streeton the other side. He had tobraceahandagainst thewallto keep from slipping in thepooled blood of the downedroyal guards beneath. Herecognized none of theirfaces, some still set in silentscreams.There was the hiss of a

body on stone, and then hiscousin swung down besidehim,wrappinghergraycloakaround her bloody costume,

slinging the hood over herblood-spatteredface.Shehadanother cloak in her hands,courtesy of the wall patrol.Hecouldhardlystanduprightasshewrappeditaroundhimandshovedthehoodoverhishead.“Run,” she said. The two

men atop the wall remainedthere, bows groaning as theywere drawn. No sign of theyoung archer from thegarden.

Aedion stumbled, andAelin swore, darting back towrap an arm around hismiddle. And damn hisstrength for failing him now,he put his arm around hershoulders, leaning on her asthey hurried down the too-quietresidentialstreet.Shouts were now erupting

behind, accentedby thewhizand thud of arrows and thebleatingofdyingmen.“Four blocks,” she panted.

“Justfourblocks.”Thatdidn’tseemnearlyfar

enough away to be safe, buthe had no breath to tell her.Keeping upright was taskenough. The stitches in hisside had split, but—holygods, they’d cleared thepalace grounds. Amiracle, amiracle,amir—“Hurry, you hulking ass!”

shebarked.Aedion forced himself to

focus and willed strength to

hislegs,tohisspine.They reached a street

corner bedecked in streamersand flowers, and Aelinglanced in either directionbefore rushing through theintersection. The clash ofsteelonsteelandthescreamsof wounded men shatteredthrough the city, setting thethrongs of merry-facedrevelers around them tomurmuring.But Aelin continued down

the street, and then downanother. At the third, sheslowed her steps and rockedintohim,beginning to sing abawdytuneinaveryoff-key,drunkenvoice.Andthustheybecame twoordinarycitizensout to celebrate the prince’sbirthday,staggeringfromonetavern to the next. No onepaid them any heed—notwhen all eyes were fixed onthe glass castle toweringbehindthem.

The swaying made hishead spin. If he fainted …“One more block,” shepromised.This was all some

hallucination.Ithadtobe.Noonewouldactuallyhavebeenstupidenoughtotrytorescuehim—and especially not hisownqueen.Evenifhe’dseenher cut down half a dozenmen like so many stalks ofwheat.“Come on, come on,” she

panted, scanning thedecoratedstreet,andheknewshe wasn’t talking to him.People were milling about,pausing to ask what thepalacecommotionwasabout.Aelin led them through thecrowd, mere cloaked andstumblingdrunks, rightup tothe black carriage-for-hirethat pulled along the curb asthough it had been waiting.Thedoorsprangopen.His cousin shoved him

inside, right onto the floor,andshutthedoorbehindher.

“They’re already stoppingevery carriage at the majorintersections,” Lysandra saidas Aelin pried open thehidden luggage compartmentbeneathoneofthebenches.Itwas big enough to fit a verytightly curled person, butAedion was absolutely

massive,and—“In. Get in, now,” she

ordered, and didn’t wait forAedion to move before sheheaved him into thecompartment. He groaned.Blood had started seepingfromhisside,but—he’dlive.That is, if any of them

lived through the next fewminutes.Aelinshut thepanelbeneath the cushion,wincingat the thudofwoodonflesh,and grabbed the wet rag

Lysandra had pulled from anoldhatbox.“Are you hurt?” Lysandra

asked as the carriage startedinto a leisurely pace throughthereveler-cloggedstreets.Aelin’sheartwaspounding

sowildlythatshethoughtshewould vomit, but she shookher head as she wiped herface. So much blood—thenthe remnants of hermakeup,thenmoreblood.Lysandra handed her a

second rag towipedownherchest, neck, and hands, andthenheldouttheloose,long-sleeved green dress she’dbrought. “Now, now, now,”Lysandrabreathed.Aelin ripped her bloodied

cloak away and tossed it toLysandra,who rose to shoveit into the compartmentbeneathherownseatasAelinshimmied into the dress.Lysandra’s fingers weresurprisingly steady as she

buttoned up the back, thenmade quick work of Aelin’shair, handed her a pair ofgloves, and slung a jewelednecklacearoundherthroat.Afan was pressed into herhands themoment thegloveswereon,concealinganytraceofblood.The carriage halted at the

sound of harsh male voices.Lysandra had just rolled upthe curtains when stompingsteps approached, followed

by four of the king’s guardpeeringintothecarriagewithsharp,mercilesseyes.Lysandra thrust open the

window. “Why arewe beingstopped?”Theguardyankedopenthe

door and stuck his head in.Aelin noticed a smudge ofbloodon the floor amomentbefore he did and flinchedback, covering it with herskirts.“Sir!”Lysandracried.“An

explanation is necessary atonce!”Aelinwavedherfanwitha

lady’shorror,prayingthathercousin kept quiet in his littlecompartment. On the streetbeyond, some revelers hadpaused to watch theinspection—wide-eyed,curious, and not at allinclined to help the twowomeninsidethecarriage.The guard looked them

over with a sneer, the

expression deepening as hiseyes alighted on Lysandra’stattooed wrist. “I owe younothing,whore.”He spat outanotherfilthywordatbothofthem, and then shouted,“Search the compartment intheback.”“We are on ourway to an

appointment,” Lysandrahissed, but he slammed thedoorinherface.Thecarriagejostledasthemenleapedontothebackandopened the rear

compartment. After amoment,someoneslammedahand onto the side of thecarriage and shouted, “Moveon!”They didn’t dare stop

lookingoffended,didn’tdarestop fanning themselves forthe next two blocks, or thetwoafterthat,untilthedriverthumped the top of thecarriagetwice.Allclear.Aelinjumpedoffthebench

and flung open the

compartment. Aedion hadvomited, but he was awakeand looking more than a bitput out as she beckoned himto emerge. “One more stop,andthenwe’rethere.”“Quick,” said Lysandra,

peering casually out thewindow. “The others arealmosthere.”The alleywas barelywide

enough to fit both of thecarriages that ambled towardeachother,nomorethantwo

large vehicles slowing toavoid colliding as theypassed. Lysandra flung openthe door just as they werealigned with the othercarriage, and Chaol’s tightfaceappearedacross thewayashedidthesame.“Go, go, go,” she said to

Aedion,shovinghimoverthesmall gap between thecoaches. He stumbled,gruntingashe landedagainstthe captain. Lysandra said

behind her, “I’ll be theresoon.Goodluck.”Aelin leaped into theother

carriage, shutting the doorbehind her, and theycontinuedondownthestreet.Shewas breathing so hard

that she thought she’d neverget enough air. Aedionslumped onto the floor,keepinglow.Chaolsaid,“Everythingall

right?”She could only manage a

nod, grateful he didn’t pushfor any other answers.But itwasn’tallright.Notatall.Thecarriage,drivenbyone

of Chaol’s men, took themanother few blocks, right tothe border of the slums,where they got out on adeserted, decrepit street. Shetrusted Chaol’s men—butonly so far. Taking Aedionrighttoherapartmentseemedlikeaskingfortrouble.With Aedion sagging

betweenthem,sheandChaolhurrieddownthenextseveralblocks, taking the long wayback to the warehouse tododge any tail, listening sohard they barely breathed.But then they were at thewarehouse, and Aedionmanaged to stand longenoughforChaol toslidethedooropenbeforetheyrushedinside, into the dark andsafetyatlast.ChaoltookAelin’splaceat

Aedion’ssideasshelingeredby the door. Grunting at theweight,hemanagedtogethercousinupthestairs.“He’sgotan injury alonghis ribs,” shesaid as she forced herself towait—to monitor thewarehousedoorforanysignsof pursuers. “It’s bleeding.”Chaol gave her a confirmingnodoverhisshoulder.When her cousin and the

captainwerealmosttothetopof the stairs,when it became

clear no one was about toburst in, she followed them.But pausing had cost her;pausing had let the razor-sharp focus slip, let everythought she’d kept at baycomesweepingin.Everystepshetookwasheavierthanthelast.Onefootup,thenthenext,

thenthenext.By the timeshemade it to

the second floor, Chaol hadtaken Aedion into the guest

bedroom. The sound ofrunning water gurgled out togreether.Aelin left the front door

unlocked for Lysandra, andfor amoment, she just stoodin her apartment, bracing ahand on the back of thecouch,staringatnothing.When she was certain she

couldmoveagain, she strodeinto her bedroom. She wasnakedbefore she reached thebathing chamber, and she sat

herself right in the cold, drytub before she turned on thewater.

Oncesheemerged,cleanandwearing one of Sam’s oldwhite shirts and a pair of hisundershorts, Chaol waswaiting forheron thecouch.She didn’t dare look at hisface—notyet.Lysandra popped her head

in from theguest room.“I’mjust finishing cleaning himup. He should be fine, if hedoesn’t burst the stitchesagain.Noinfection,thankthegods.”Aelin lifteda limphand in

thanks, also not daring tolook into the room behindLysandra to see the massivefigure lying on the bed, atowel around his waist. IfChaol and the courtesan hadbeen introduced, she didn’t

particularlycare.Therewasnogoodplaceto

have this talkwithChaol, soshejuststoodinthecenterofthe roomandwatched as thecaptainrosefromhisseat,hisshoulderstight.“What happened?” he

demanded.She swallowed once. “I

killed a lot of people today.I’m not in the mood toanalyzeit.”“That’sneverbotheredyou

before.”Shecouldn’tdredgeupthe

energy to even feel the stingof thewords. “Thenext timeyou decide you don’t trustme, try not to prove it at atime when my life orAedion’sisontheline.”A flash of his bronze eyes

told her he’d somehowalready seenNesryn.Chaol’svoice was hard and cold asice as he said, “You tried tokill him. You said you’d try

to get him out, to help him,andyoutriedtokillhim.”The bedroom where

Lysandra was working hadgonesilent.Aelin let out a low snarl.

“You want to know what Idid?Igavehimoneminute.Igave up one minute of myescape to him. Do youunderstand what can happenin one minute? Because Igave one to Dorian when heattacked Aedion and me

today—to capture us. I gavehim a minute, in which thefate of my entire kingdomcouldhavechangedforever.Ichosethesonofmyenemy.”Hegrippedthebackof the

sofa as though physicallyrestraininghimself.“You’realiar. You’ve always been aliar. And today was noexception. You had a swordoverhishead.”“I did,” she spat. “And

beforeFaliqarrived towreck

everything,Iwasgoingtodoit. I should have done it, asanyone with common sensewould have, because Dorianisgone.”Andtherewasherbreaking

heart, fracturing at themonster she’d seen living inDorian’seyes,thedemonthatwould hunt her and Aediondown, that would stalk herdreams.“I do not owe you an

apology,”shesaidtoChaol.

“Don’t talk down to melike you’re my queen,” hesnapped.“No, I’m not your queen.

Butyouaregoing tohave todecidesoonwhomyouserve,becausetheDorianyouknewis gone forever. Adarlan’sfuture does not depend onhimanymore.”Theagony inChaol’seyes

hit her like a physical blow.And she wished she hadmastered herself better when

explaining it, but … sheneededhimtounderstandtherisk she’d taken, and thedanger he’d let Arobynnmanipulate him into puttingher in. He had to know thattherewasahardlinethatshemust draw, and that shewould hold, to protect herownpeople.Soshesaid,“Gototheroof

andtakethefirstwatch.”Chaolblinked.“I’m not your queen, but

I’m going to attend to mycousinrightnow.AndsinceIhope Nesryn is lying low,someone needs to take thewatch. Unless you’d like forus all to be caught unawaresbytheking’smen.”Chaol didn’t bother

replying as he turned on hisheel and strode out. Shelistened to him storming upthe stairs and onto the roof,and itwasonly then that sheloosedabreathandscrubbed

atherface.When she lowered her

hands,Lysandrawasstandingin the guest bedroomdoorway, her eyes wide.“Whatdoyoumean,queen?”Aelin winced, swearing

underherbreath.“That’s exactly the word

I’d use,” Lysandra said, herfacepale.Aelinsaid,“Myname—”“Oh,Iknowwhatyourreal

nameis,Aelin.”

Shit.“YouunderstandwhyIhadtokeepitasecret.”“OfcourseIdo,”Lysandra

said, pursing her lips. “Youdon’t know me, and morelivesthanyoursareatstake.”“No—I do know you.”

Gods,whywerethewordssodamn hard to get out? Thelonger the hurt flickered inLysandra’s eyes, the widerthe gap across the room felt.Aelinswallowed.“UntilIhadAedion back, I wasn’t going

totakeanychances.IknewIwould have to tell you themomentyousawusinaroomtogether.”“And Arobynn knows.”

Those green eyes were hardaschipsofice.“He’s always known. This

—this changes nothingbetween us, you know.Nothing.”Lysandra glanced behind

her, to the bedroom whereAedionnowlayunconscious,

and loosed a long breath.“Theresemblanceisuncanny.Gods, the fact that youwentundiscovered for so manyyearsboggles themind.”Shestudied Aedion again. “Eventhough he’s a handsomebastard, it’d be like kissingyou.” Her eyes were stillhard, but—a flicker ofamusementgleamedthere.Aelin grimaced. “I could

have lived without knowingthat.”Sheshookherhead.“I

don’t know why I was evernervous you would startbowingandscraping.”Light and understanding

danced in Lysandra’s eyes.“Where would the fun be inthat?”

20

Several days after runninginto the Wing Leader, ElideLochan’sanklewas sore,herlower back a tight knot, andher shoulders aching as shetook the last step into theaerie. At least she’d made itwithout encountering anyhorrors in the halls—though

the climb had nearly killedher.She hadn’t grown

accustomed to the steep,endlessstepsofMorathinthetwomonths since she’d beendraggedtothishorribleplaceby Vernon. Just completingher daily tasks made herruined ankle throb with painshe hadn’t experienced inyears, and today was theworstyet.Shewouldhavetoscroungeupsomeherbsfrom

the kitchen tonight to soakher foot; maybe even someoils, if the ornery cook wasfeelinggenerousenough.Compared with some of

theotherdenizensofMorath,he was fairly mild. Hetolerated her presence in thekitchen, and her requests forherbs—especially when sheoh-so-sweetly offered tocleanafewdishesorpreparemeals.And he never blinkedtwice when she inquired

aboutwhenthenextshipmentof food and supplies wouldcome in, because Oh, she’dloved his whatever-fruit pie,and it would be so nice tohave itagain.Easy to flatter,easy to trick.Making peoplesee and hear what theywanted to: one of the manyweaponsinherarsenal.A gift from Anneith, the

LadyofWiseThings,Finnulahad claimed—the only gift,Elide often thought, that

she’d ever received, beyondher old nursemaid’s goodheartandwits.She’d never told Finnula

that she often prayed to theClever Goddess to bestowanother gift on those whomade the years in Perranth alivinghell:death,andnotthegentle sort. Not like Silba,whoofferedpeacefulends,orHellas, who offered violent,burning ones. No, deaths atAnneith’s hands—at the

hands of Hellas’s consort—were brutal, bloody, andslow.The kind of death Elide

expected to receive at anymoment thesedays, from thewitches who prowled thehalls or from the dark-eyedduke, his lethal soldiers, orthewhite-hairedWingLeaderwho’d tasted her blood likefine wine. She’d hadnightmares about it eversince.Thatis,whenshecould

sleepatall.Elide had needed to rest

twiceonherwaytotheaerie,andherlimpwasdeepbythetime she reached the top ofthe tower,bracingherself forthe beasts and the monsterswhorodethem.An urgent message had

come for the Wing LeaderwhileElidewas cleaning herroom—and when Elideexplained that the WingLeaderwasnotthere,theman

heaved a sigh of relief,shoved the letter in Elide’shand,andsaidtofindher.Andthenthemanhadrun.She should have suspected

it.Ithadtakentwoheartbeatstonoteandcatalogtheman’sdetails, his tells and ticks.Sweaty, his face pale, pupilsdiluted—he’d sagged at thesight of Elide when sheopened the door. Bastard.Most men, she’d decided,were bastards of varying

degrees. Most of them weremonsters. None worse thanVernon.Elide scanned the aerie.

Empty.Notevenahandlertobeseen.The hay floor was fresh,

the feeding troughs full ofmeat and grain.But the foodwas untouched by thewyverns whose massive,leathery bodies loomedbeyond the archways,perched on wooden beams

jutting over the plunge asthey surveyed the Keep andthe army below like thirteenmighty lords. Limping asclose as she dared to one ofthe massive openings, Elidepeeredoutattheview.Itwasexactlyas theWing

Leader’smaphaddepicted itin the spare moments whenshecouldsneakalook.They were surrounded by

ashy mountains, and thoughshe’dbeeninaprisonwagon

forthelongjourneyhere,shehad taken note of the forestshe spied in the distance andthe rushing of the massiveriver they had passed daysbefore they ascended thebroad, rocky mountain road.In the middle of nowhere—that’swhereMorathwas,andthe view before herconfirmed it: no cities, notowns, and an entire armysurrounding her. She shovedback the despair that crept

intoherveins.She had never seen an

army before coming here.Soldiers, yes, but she’d beeneight when her father passedher up onto Vernon’s horseand kissed her good-bye,promising to see her soon.Shehadn’tbeen inOrynth towitness the army that seizedits riches, its people. Andshe’dbeen locked in a toweratPerranthCastlebythetimethearmyreachedherfamily’s

lands and her uncle becamethe king’s ever-faithfulservant and stole her father’stitle.Her title.LadyofPerranth

—that’swhatsheshouldhavebeen. Not that it matterednow. There wasn’t much ofTerrasen’s court left tobelong to.None of themhadcome for her in those initialmonths of slaughter. And inthe years since, none hadremembered that she existed.

Perhaps they assumed shewas dead—like Aelin, thatwild queen-who-might-have-been. Perhaps they were alldeadthemselves.Andmaybe,given the dark army nowspread before her, thatwas amercy.Elide gazed across the

flickering lights of the warcamp, anda chillwentdownher spine. An army to crushwhatever resistance Finnulahad once whispered about

during the long nights theywere locked in that tower inPerranth. Perhaps the white-haired Wing Leader herselfwould lead that army, on thewyvern with shimmeringwings.A fierce, cool wind blew

into the aerie, and Elideleanedintoit,gulpingitdownas if it were fresh water.There had been so manynights in Perranthwhen onlythewailingwindhadkepther

company. When she couldhave sworn it sang ancientsongs to lull her into sleep.Here…here thewindwasacolder, sleeker thing—serpentine, almost.Entertaining such fancifulthings will only distract you,Finnula would have chided.She wished her nurse werehere.But wishing had done her

nogood thesepast tenyears,and Elide, Lady of Perranth,

hadnoonecomingforher.Soon,shereassuredherself

—soon the next caravan ofsupplies would crawl up themountain road, and when itwentbackdown,Elidewouldbestowedawayinoneofthewagons,freeatlonglast.Andthen she would runsomewhere far, far away,where they’d never heard ofTerrasen or Adarlan, andleave these people to theirmiserable continent. A few

weeks—then shemight standachanceofescaping.If she survived until then.

If Vernon didn’t decide hetruly did have some wickedpurposeindraggingherhere.If she didn’t wind up withthose poor people, cagedinside the surroundingmountains, screaming forsalvation every night. She’doverheard the other servantswhisper about the dark, fellthings that went on under

those mountains: peoplebeing splayed open on blackstone altars and then forgedinto something new,something other. For whatwretched purpose, Elide hadnot yet learned, andmercifully, beyond thescreaming, she’d neverencountered whatever wasbeing broken and piecedtogether beneath the earth.The witches were badenough.

Elide shuddered as shetookanotherstepintothevastchamber. The crunching ofhayunderhertoo-smallshoesand the clank of her chainswere the only sounds. “W-WingLea—”A roar blasted through the

air, the stones, the floor, soloud that herhead swamandshecriedout.Tumblingback,her chains tangled as sheslippedonthehay.Hard, iron-tipped hands

dug into her shoulders andkeptherupright.“If you are not a spy,” a

wicked voice purred in herear, “thenwhy are you here,ElideLochan?”Elidewasn’tfakingitwhen

her hand shook as she heldout the letter, not daring tomove.The Wing Leader stepped

aroundher,circlingElidelikeprey, her long white braidstark against her leather

flyinggear.The details hit Elide like

stones:eyeslikeburntgold;aface so impossibly beautifulthat Elide was struck dumbbyit;alean,honedbody;andasteady, fluidgrace ineverymovement, every breath, thatsuggested the Wing Leadercould easily use theassortment of blades on her.Human only in shape—immortal and predatory ineveryothersense.

Fortunately, the WingLeader was alone.Unfortunately, those goldeyesheldnothingbutdeath.Elide said, “Th-this came

for you.” The stammer—thatwas faked. People usuallycouldn’t wait to get awaywhen she stammered andstuttered. Though shedoubted the people who ranthis place would care aboutthe stammer if they decidedto have some fun with a

daughter of Terrasen. IfVernonhandedherover.The Wing Leader held

Elide’s gaze as she took theletter.“I’m surprised the seal

isn’t broken. Though if youwere a good spy, youwouldknow how to do it withoutbreakingthewax.”“If I were a good spy,”

Elide breathed, “I could alsoread.”Abitoftruthtotemperthe

witch’sdistrust.The witch blinked, and

then sniffed, as if trying todetect a lie. “You speakwellforamortal,andyouruncleisalord.Yetyoucannotread?”Elide nodded. More than

the leg, more than thedrudgery, it was thatmiserable shortcoming thathounded her. Her nurse,Finnula, couldn’t read—butFinnula had been the one toteachherhowtotakenoteof

things,tolisten,andtothink.During the long days whenthey’d had nothing to do butneedlepoint, her nurse hadtaught her to mark the littledetails—each stitch—whilealsonever losingsightof thelargerimage.TherewillcomeadaywhenIamgone,Elide,and you will need to haveeveryweaponinyourarsenalsharpandreadytostrike.Neither of them had

thought that Elide might be

theonewholeftfirst.Butshewould not look back, noteven for Finnula, once sheran.Andwhenshefoundthatnew life, that new place …she would never gazenorthward, to Terrasen, andwonder,either.She kept her eyes on the

ground. “I—I know basicletters, but my lessonsstoppedwhenIwaseight.”“At your uncle’s behest, I

assume.” The witch paused,

rotating the envelope andshowing the jumbleof lettersto her, tapping on themwithan iron nail. “This says‘ManonBlackbeak.’You seeanythinglikethisagain,bringittome.”Elide bowed her head.

Meek, submissive—just theway thesewitches liked theirhumans.“Of-ofcourse.”“And why don’t you stop

pretending to be astammering,coweringwretch

whileyou’reatit.”Elide kept her head bent

low enough that her hairhopefully covered anyglimmer of surprise. “I’vetriedtobepleasing—”“I smelled your human

fingers all over my map. Itwas careful, cunning work,not to put one thing out oforder, not to touch anythingbut the map … Thinking ofescapingafterall?”“Of course not, mistress.”

Oh, gods. She was so, sodead.“Lookatme.”Elide obeyed. The witch

hissed, and Elide flinched assheshovedElide’shairoutofhereyes.Afewstrandsfelltothe ground, sliced off by theironnails.“Idon’tknowwhatgame you’re playing—ifyou’reaspy,ifyou’reathief,if you’re just looking out foryourself. But do not pretendthat you are some meek,

pathetic littlegirlwhen Icanseethatviciousmindworkingbehindyoureyes.”Elide didn’t dare drop the

mask.“Was it your mother or

father who was related toVernon?”Strange question—but

Elide had known for awhileshe would do anything, sayanything, to stay alive andunharmed. “My father wasVernon’s elder brother,” she

said.“And where did your

mothercomefrom?”She didn’t give that old

grief an inch of room in herheart. “She was low-born. Alaundress.”“Where did she come

from?”Why did it matter? The

golden eyes were fixed onher, unyielding. “Her familywasoriginallyfromRosamel,inthenorthwestofTerrasen.”

“Iknowwhereitis.”Elidekept her shoulders bowed,waiting.“Getout.”Hiding her relief, Elide

opened her mouth to makeher good-byes,when anotherroar set the stones vibrating.She couldn’t conceal herflinch.“It’sjustAbraxos,”Manon

said,ahintofasmileformingon her cruel mouth, a bit oflight gleaming in thosegoldeneyes.Hermountmust

make her happy, then—ifwitches could be happy.“He’shungry.”Elide’smouthwentdry.Atthesoundofhisname,a

massive triangular head,scarredbadlyaroundoneeye,pokedintotheaerie.Elide’skneeswobbled,but

thewitchwentrightuptothebeast and placed her iron-tipped hands on his snout.“You swine,” thewitch said.“You need the whole

mountain to know you’rehungry?”Thewyvernhuffedintoher

hands, his giant teeth—oh,gods,someofthemwereiron—so close toManon’s arms.One bite, and the WingLeader would be dead. Onebite,andyet—The wyvern’s eyes lifted

and met Elide’s. Not lookedat,butmet,asif…Elide kept perfectly still,

even though every instinct

was roaring at her to run forthestairs.Thewyvernnudgedpast Manon, the floorshuddering beneath him, andsniffed in Elide’s direction.Then those giant, depthlesseyes moved down—to herlegs.No,tothechain.There were so many scars

alloverhim—somanybrutallines. She did not thinkManon had made them, notwith the way she spoke tohim. Abraxos was smaller

than the others, she realized.Far smaller. And yet theWingLeaderhadpickedhim.Elide tucked that informationaway, too. If Manon had asoft spot for broken things,perhaps she would spare heraswell.Abraxos lowered himself

to the ground, stretching outhisneckuntilhisheadrestedon the hay not ten feet fromElide.Thosegiantblackeyesstared up at her, almost

doglike.“Enough, Abraxos,”

Manon hissed, grabbing asaddle from the rack by thewall.“How do they—exist?”

Elide breathed. She’d heardstories of wyverns anddragons,andsherememberedglimpses of the Little FolkandtheFae,but…Manon hauled the leather

saddle over to her mount.“Thekingmadethem.Idon’t

know how, and it doesn’tmatter.”TheKingofAdarlanmade

them, like whatever wasbeing made inside thosemountains.Themanwhohadshattered her life, murderedher parents, doomed her tothis … Don’t be angry,Finnula had said, be smart.And soon the king and hismiserableempirewouldn’tbeherconcern,anyway.Elide said, “Your mount

doesn’tseemevil.”Abraxos’stail thumped on the ground,the iron spikes in it glinting.A giant, lethal dog. Withwings.Manonhuffedacoldlaugh,

strapping the saddle intoplace. “No. However he wasmade,somethingwentwrongwiththatpart.”Elide didn’t think that

constituted goingwrong, butkepthermouthshut.Abraxos was still staring

up at her, and the WingLeader said, “Let’s go hunt,Abraxos.”The beast perked up, and

Elide jumped back a step,wincingasshelandedhardonherankle.Thewyvern’seyesshottoher,asifawareofthepain. But the Wing Leaderwasalreadyfinishingwiththesaddle, and didn’t bother tolook inherdirectionasElidelimpedout.

“You soft-hearted worm,”Manon hissed at Abraxosoncethecunning,many-facedgirlwasgone.Thegirlmightbe hiding secrets, but herlineage wasn’t one of them.She had no idea that witch-blood flowed strong in hermortalveins. “Acrippled leganda fewchains, andyou’reinlove?”Abraxos nudged her with

his snout, and Manon gavehim a firm but gentle slapbefore leaning against hiswarm hide and ripping openthe letter addressed in hergrandmother’shandwriting.JustliketheHighWitchof

the Blackbeak Clan, it wasbrutal, to the point, andunforgiving.Do not disobey the duke’s

orders.Do not question him.IfthereisanotherletterfromMorath about your

disobedience, I will fly downtheremyselfandhangyoubyyour intestines, with yourThirteen and that runt of abeastbesideyou.Three Yellowlegs and two

Blueblood covens arearriving tomorrow. See to ittherearenofightsortrouble.I do not need the otherMatrons breathing down myneckabouttheirvermin.Manon turned the paper

over, but that was it.

Crunching it in a fist, shesighed.Abraxos nudged at her

again, and she idly strokedhishead.Made,made,made.ThatwaswhattheCrochan

had said before Manon slither throat. You were madeintomonsters.Shetriedtoforgetit—tried

to tell herself that theCrochan had been a fanaticand a preachy twat, but …

She ran a finger down thedeepredclothofhercloak.The thoughts opened up

likeaprecipicebeforeher,somany all at once that shesteppedback.Turnedaway.Made,made,made.Manon climbed into the

saddle and was glad to loseherselfinthesky.

“Tell me about the Valg,”

Manonsaid,shuttingthedoorto the small chamber behindher.Ghislaine didn’t look up

fromthebookshewasporingover. There was a stack ofthem on the desk before her,andanotherbesidethenarrowbed. Where the eldest andcleverest of her Thirteen hadgotten them from,who she’dlikely gutted to steal them,Manondidn’tcare.“Hello, and come right in,

why don’t you” was theresponse.Manon leaned against the

door and crossed her arms.Only with books, only whenreading, was Ghislaine sosnappish. On the battlefield,in the air, the dark-skinnedwitch was quiet, easy tocommand. A solid soldier,made more valuable by herrazor-sharp intelligence,whichhadearnedherthespotamongtheThirteen.

Ghislaine shut the bookand twisted in her seat. Herblack, curly hairwasbraidedback, but even the plaitcouldn’t keep it entirelycontained. She narrowed hersea-greeneyes—theshameofhermother, as therewasn’tatrace of gold in them. “Whywould you want to knowabouttheValg?”“Do you know about

them?”Ghislaine pivoted on her

chair until she was sittingbackward in it, her legsstraddling the sides. Shewasinherflyingleathers,asifshecouldn’t be bothered toremove them before fallinginto one of her books. “Ofcourse I know about theValg,” she said with a waveof her hand—an impatient,mortalgesture.Ithadbeenanexception—

an unprecedented exception—when Ghislaine’s mother

had convinced the HighWitchtosendherdaughtertoamortalschool inTerrasenahundred years ago. She hadlearned magic and book-things and whatever elsemortals were taught, andwhen Ghislaine had returnedtwelve years later, the witchhad been…different. Still aBlackbeak, still bloodthirsty,but somehow more human.Even now, a century later,evenafterwalkingonandoff

killing fields, that sense ofimpatience, of life clung toher.Manonhadneverknownwhattomakeofit.“Tellmeeverything.”“There’s too much to tell

youinonesitting,”Ghislainesaid. “But I’ll give you thebasics,andifyouwantmore,youcancomeback.”An order, but this was

Ghislaine’s space, and booksand knowledge were herdomain. Manon motioned

with an iron-tipped hand forhersentineltogoon.“Millennia ago, when the

Valg broke into our world,witches did not exist. It wasthe Valg, and the Fae, andhumans. But the Valg were… demons, I suppose. Theywanted our world for theirown,andtheythoughtagoodway to get it would be toensure that their offspringcould survive here. Thehumans weren’t compatible

—too breakable.But the Fae… The Valg kidnapped andstole whatever Fae theycould,andbecauseyoureyesare getting that glazed look,I’mjustgoing to jumpto theend and say the offspringbecame us. Witches. TheIronteeth took after ourValgancestors more, while theCrochansgotmoreoftheFaetraits. The people of theselandsdidn’twantushere,notafter the war, but the Fae

King Brannon didn’t think itwasrighttohuntusalldown.So he gave us the WesternWastes, and there we went,until thewitchwarsmadeusexilesagain.”Manonpickedathernails.

“And the Valg are …wicked?”“We are wicked,”

Ghislaine said. “The Valg?Legendhasitthatthey’retheorigin of evil. They areblackness and despair

incarnate.”“Sounds like our kind of

people.” And maybe goodones indeed to ally with, tobreedwith.But Ghislaine’s smile

faded. “No,” she said softly.“No, I do not think theywould be our kind of peopleatall.Theyhaveno laws,nocodes. They would see theThirteen as weak for ourbonds and rules—assomething to break for

amusement.”Manon stiffened slightly.

“AndiftheValgwereevertoreturnhere?”“Brannon and the Fae

QueenMaeve foundways todefeat them—to send themback. I would hope thatsomeonewouldfindawaytodosoagain.”Moretothinkabout.She turned, but Ghislaine

said, “That’s the smell, isn’tit? The smell here, around

someofthesoldiers—likeit’swrong, from another world.Theking found someway tobring them here and stuffthemintohumanbodies.”Shehadn’tthoughtthatfar,

but … “The duke describedthemasallies.”“That word does not exist

for the Valg. They find theallianceuseful,butwillhonorit only as long as it remainsthatway.”Manon debated the merits

of ending the conversationthere, but said, “The dukeaskedmetopickaBlackbeakcoven for him to experimenton. To allow him to insertsome sort of stone in theirbelliesthatwillcreateaValg-Ironteethchild.”Slowly, Ghislaine

straightened, her ink-splattered hands hangingslack on either side of thechair. “And do you plan toobey,Lady?”

Not a question from ascholar to a curious student,but from a sentinel to herheir.“TheHighWitchhasgiven

meorders toobey theduke’severycommand.”Butmaybe…maybeshewouldwritehergrandmotheranotherletter.“Whowillyoupick?”Manonopenedthedoor.“I

don’t know. My decision isdueintwodays.”Ghislaine—whom Manon

had seen glut herself on theblood ofmen—had paled bythetimeManonshutthedoor.

Manon didn’t know how,didn’t know if the guards orthe duke or Vernon or someeavesdropping human filthsaid something, but the nextmorning, the witches allknew. She knew better thantosuspectGhislaine.Noneof

theThirteentalked.Ever.But everyone knew about

theValg, andaboutManon’schoice.She strode into the dining

hall, its black arches glintingin the rare morning sun.Already, the pounding of theforgeswas ringingout in thevalleybelow,madelouderbythe silence that fell as shestrode between the tables,headed for her seat at thefrontoftheroom.

Coven after covenwatched, and she met theirgazes, teeth out and nailsdrawn, Sorrel a steady forceof nature at her back. Itwasn’t until Manon slid intoherplacebesideAsterin—andrealizeditwasnowthewrongplace, but didn’t move—thatchatterresumedinthehall.Shepulledahunkofbread

towardherbutdidn’ttouchit.None of them ate the food.Breakfast and dinner were

always for show, to have apresencehere.The Thirteen didn’t say a

word.Manon stared each and

everyoneofthemdown,untilthey dropped their eyes. ButwhenhergazemetAsterin’s,the witch held it. “Do youhave something you want tosay,”Manon said to her, “ordo you just want to startswinging?”Asterin’s eyes flickedover

Manon’s shoulder. “Wehaveguests.”Manonfound the leaderof

one of the newly arrivedYellowlegs covens standingat the foot of the table, eyesdowncast, postureunthreatening—completesubmission.“What?” Manon

demanded.The coven leader kept her

headlow.“Wewouldrequestyour consideration for the

duke’stask,WingLeader.”Asterin stiffened, along

with many of the Thirteen.The nearby tables had alsogone silent. “And why,”Manon asked, “would youwanttodothat?”“You will force us to do

your drudgery work, to keepus from glory on the killingfields.That is thewayofourClans. But we might win adifferent sort of glory in thisway.”

Manon held in her sigh,weighing, contemplating. “Iwillconsiderit.”The coven leader bowed

and backed away. Manoncouldn’t decide whether shewas a fool or cunning orbrave.NoneoftheThirteenspoke

fortherestofbreakfast.

“And what coven, Wing

Leader,haveyouselectedforme?”Manon met the duke’s

stare.“AcovenofYellowlegsunder a witch named Ninyaarrivedearlier thisweek.Usethem.”“IwantedBlackbeaks.”“You’re getting

Yellowlegs,” Manonsnapped. Down the table,Kaltain did not react. “Theyvolunteered.”Better than Blackbeaks,

she told herself. Better thatthe Yellowlegs had offeredthemselves.Even ifManoncouldhave

refusedthem.ShedoubtedGhislainewas

wrongaboutthenatureoftheValg, but … Maybe thiscould work to theiradvantage,dependingonhowtheYellowlegsfared.The duke flashed his

yellowing teeth. “You toe adangerous line, Wing

Leader.”“All witches have to, in

ordertoflywyverns.”Vernon leaned forward.

“Thesewild, immortal thingsare so diverting, YourGrace.”Manon gave him a long,

long look that told Vernonthat one day, in a shadowyhallway, he would findhimselfwiththeclawsofthiswild, immortal thing in hisbelly.

Manonturnedtogo.Sorrel—not Asterin—stood stone-faced by the door. Anotherjarringsight.Then Manon turned back

to the duke, the questionforming even as she willedherselfnottosayit.“Towhatend?Whydoallofthis—whyallywith theValg,why raisethis army … Why?” Shecould not understand it. Thecontinentalreadybelongedtothem.Itmadenosense.

“Because we can,” theduke said simply. “Andbecause this world has toolong dwelled in ignoranceand archaic tradition. It istime to see what might beimproved.”Manon made a show of

contemplating and thennoddingasshestrodeout.Butshehadnotmissedthe

words—this world. Not thisland,notthiscontinent.Thisworld.

Shewonderedwhether hergrandmother had consideredthe idea that they might onedayhave to fight tokeep theWastes—fight the very menwho had helped them takebacktheirhome.Andwonderedwhatwould

become of these Valg-Ironteeth witchlings in thatworld.

21

Hehadtried.When the blood-soaked

woman had spoken to him,when those turquoise eyeshad seemed so familiar, hehad tried to wrest awaycontrol of his body, histongue.Butthedemonprincein him had held firm,

delightinginhisstruggle.He had sobbed with relief

when she trapped it andraised an ancient blade overhis head. Then she hadhesitated—andthenthatotherwoman had fired an arrow,and she had put down theswordandleft.Left him still trappedwith

thedemon.Hecouldnotrememberher

name—refused to rememberhername,evenasthemanon

the throne questioned himabouttheincident.Evenashereturned to the exact spot inthe garden and prodded thediscarded shackles lying inthe gravel. She had left him,and with good reason. Thedemon prince had wanted tofeed on her, and then handherover.But he wished she had

killed him. He hated her fornotkillinghim.

22

Chaol left his watch on theroofofAelin’sapartment themoment the hooded head ofone of the rebels appearedand signaled that he wouldtakeover.Thankthegods.He didn’t bother stopping

in the apartment to see howAedionwasholdingup.Each

of his pounding steps on thewooden stairs accented theraging,thunderousbeatofhisheart,untilitwasallhecouldhear,allhecouldfeel.Withtheotherrebelslying

low or monitoring the cityand Nesryn gone to makesure her father wasn’t indanger, Chaol found himselfalone as he stalked throughthecitystreets.Everyonehadtheir orders; everyone waswhere theywere supposed to

be. Nesryn had already toldhim Ress and Brullo hadgiven her the signal that allwas clear on their end—andnow…Liar. Aelin was and had

always been a gods-damnedliar. She was as much anoath-breaker as he was.Worse.Dorian wasn’t gone. He

wasn’t.And he didn’t give ashit how much Aelintrumpeted about mercy for

Dorian,orthatshesaiditwasa weakness not to kill him.Theweaknesslayinhisdeath—that’swhatheshouldhavesaid. The weakness lay ingivingup.Hestormeddownanalley.

He should have been hidingaswell,buttheroaringinhisblood and bones wasunrelenting. A sewer graterang beneath his feet. Hepaused, and peered into theblacknessbelow.

There were still things todo—somanythingstodo,somany people to keep fromharm. And now that Aelinhad yet again humiliated theking,hehadnodoubtthattheValg would round up morepeople as punishment, as astatement. With the city stillin an uproar, perhaps it wasthe perfect time for him tostrike. To even the oddsbetweenthem.Noone sawashe climbed

intothesewer,closingthelidoverhead.Tunnel after tunnel, his

sword gleaming in theafternoon light streaming inthrough the grates, Chaolhunted those Valg pieces offilth, his steps near-silent.They usually kept to theirnests of darkness, but everynow and then, stragglersprowledthetunnels.Someoftheir nests were small—onlythree or four of them

guarding their prisoners—ormeals, he supposed. Easyenoughforhimtoambush.And wouldn’t it be

wonderfultoseethosedemonheadsroll.Gone.Dorianisgone.Aelin didn’t know

everything.Fireorbeheadingcouldn’t be the only choices.Maybehewouldkeeponeofthe Valg commanders alive,seejusthowfargonethemaninside of the demon truly

was. Maybe there wasanotherway—therehadtobeanotherway…Tunnel after tunnel after

tunnel, all the usual haunts,andnosignofthem.Notone.Chaol hurried into a near-

run as he headed for thelargest nest he knew of,where they’d always beenable to find civilians in needof rescuing, if they werelucky enough to catch the

guards unawares. He wouldsave them—because theydeserved it, and because hehad to keep at it, or else hewouldcrumbleand—Chaol stared at the gaping

mouthofthemainnest.Watery sunlight filtering

from above illuminated thegraystonesandthelittleriverat thebottom.Nosignof thetelltale darkness that usuallysmothereditlikeadensefog.Empty.

The Valg soldiers hadvanished. And taken theirprisonerswiththem.He didn’t think they’d

goneintohidingfromfear.They’d moved on,

concealing themselves andtheir prisoners, as a giant,laughing go-to-hell to everyrebel who’d actually thoughttheywerewinningthissecretwar.ToChaol.Heshouldhave thoughtof

pitfalls like this, should have

considered what mighthappen when AelinGalathynius made a fool ofthekingandhismen.Heshouldhaveconsidered

thecost.Maybehewasthefool.There was a numbness in

hisbloodasheemergedfromthesewersontoaquietstreet.Itwasthethoughtofsittinginhis ramshackle apartment,utterly alone with thatnumbness, that sent him

southward,tryingtoavoidthestreets that still teemed withpanicked people. Everyonedemanded to knowwhat hadhappened, who had beenkilled, who had done it. Thedecorations and baubles andfood vendors had beenentirelyforgotten.Thesoundseventuallydied

away, the streetsclearingoutas he reached a residentialdistrictwherethehomeswereof modest size but elegant,

well kept. Little streams andfountains of water from theAvery flowed throughout,lending themselves to thesurplus of blooming springflowers at every gate,windowsill,andtinylawn.He knew the house from

the smell alone: fresh-bakedbread, cinnamon, and someotherspicehecouldn’tname.Taking the alley between thetwo pale-stoned houses, hekept to the shadows as he

approached the back door,peering through the pane ofglass to the kitchen within.Flour coated a largeworktable, alongwithbakingsheets,variousmixingbowls,and—Thedoor swungopen,and

Nesryn’s slim form filled theentryway. “What are youdoinghere?”She was back in her

guard’s uniform, a knifetucked behind her thigh.

She’d no doubt spotted anintruder approaching herfather’s house and readiedherself.Chaol tried to ignore the

weight pushing down on hisback,threateningtosnaphimin two. Aedion was free—they’d accomplished thatmuch. But how many otherinnocents had they doomedtoday?Nesryn didn’t wait for his

replybefore she said, “Come

in.”

“The guards came andwent.My father sent themon theirwaywithpastries.”Chaolglancedup fromhis

ownpeartartandscannedthekitchen.Bright tiles accentedthewallsbehind thecountersin pretty shades of blue,orange, and turquoise. He’dnever been to Sayed Faliq’s

housebefore,buthe’dknownwhereitwas—justincase.He’d never let himself

consider what that “just incase” might entail. Showinguplikeastraydogatthebackdoorhadn’tbeenit.“Theydidn’tsuspecthim?”“No. They just wanted to

know whether he or hisworkers saw anyone wholooked suspicious beforeAedion’s rescue.” Nesrynpushed another pastry—this

one almond and sugar—toward him. “Is the generalallright?”“AsfarasIknow.”He told her about the

tunnels,theValg.Nesrynonlysaid,“Sowe’ll

findthemagain.Tomorrow.”Hewaited for her to pace,

to shout and swear, but sheremained steady—calm.Some tight part of himuncoiled.She tappeda fingeron the

wooden table—lovinglyworn,as if thekneadingofathousand loavesofbreadhadsmoothed it out. “Why didyoucomehere?”“For distraction.” There

was a suspicious gleam inthosemidnighteyesofhers—enough so that he said, “Notforthat.”She didn’t even blush,

though his own cheeksburned.Ifshehadoffered,heprobably would have said

yes.Andhatedhimselfforit.“You’re welcome here,”

she said, “but surely yourfriends at the apartment—thegeneral, at least—wouldprovidebettercompany.”“Aretheymyfriends?”“You and Her Majesty

have done a great job tryingtobeanythingbut.”“It’s hard to be friends

withouttrust.”“Youaretheonewhowent

toArobynn again, even after

shewarnedyounotto.”“Andhewas right,”Chaol

said. “He said she wouldpromise not to touchDorian,and then do the opposite.”And he would be forevergrateful for the warning shotNesrynhadfired.Nesrynshookherhead,her

dark hair glimmering. “Let’sjust imagine that Aelin isright. That Dorian is gone.Whatthen?”“She’snotright.”

“Let’sjustimagine—”Heslammedhisfistonthe

tablehardenoughtorattlehisglass of water. “She’s notright!”Nesryn pursed her lips,

even as her eyes softened.“Why?”He scrubbed at his face.

“Because then it’s all fornothing. Everything thathappened … it’s all fornothing. You wouldn’tunderstand.”

“I wouldn’t?” A coldquestion. “You think that Idon’t understand what’s atstake?Idon’tcareaboutyourprince—notthewayyoudo.Icareaboutwhatherepresentsfor the future of thiskingdom, and for the futureof people like my family. Iwon’t allow anotherimmigrantpurge tohappen. Idon’t ever want my sister’schildren coming home withbroken noses again because

of their foreign blood. YoutoldmeDorianwouldfixtheworld, make it better. But ifhe’s gone, if we made themistaketodayinkeepinghimalive,thenIwillfindanotherwaytoattainthatfuture.Andanother one after that, if Ihave to. I will keep gettingbackup,nomatterhowmanytimes those butchers shovemedown.”He’d never heard somany

words from her at once, had

never … never even knownshe had a sister. Or that shewasanaunt.Nesryn said, “Stop feeling

sorry for yourself. Stay thecourse, but also plot anotherone.Adapt.”His mouth had gone dry.

“Were you ever hurt? Foryourheritage?”Nesrynglanced toward the

roaring hearth, her face likeice. “I became a city guardbecause not a single one of

themcametomyaidthedaythe other schoolchildrensurroundedmewithstonesintheir hands. Not one, eventhough they could hear myscreaming.”Shemethisstareagain. “Dorian Havilliardoffers a better future, but theresponsibility also lies withus.Withhowcommonpeoplechoosetoact.”True—sotrue,buthesaid,

“Iwon’tabandonhim.”She sighed. “You’re even

more hardheaded than thequeen.”“Would you expect me to

beanythingelse?”Ahalfsmile.“Idon’tthink

Iwould likeyou ifyouwereanythingbutastubbornass.”“You actually admit to

likingme?”“Did last summer not tell

youenough?”Despite himself, Chaol

laughed.“Tomorrow,” Nesryn said.

“Tomorrow,wecontinueon.”He swallowed. “Stay the

course, butplot anewpath.”Hecoulddothat;hecouldtryit,atleast.“See you in the sewers

brightandearly.”

23

Aedionrosetoconsciousnessand took in every detail thathecouldwithoutopeninghiseyes. A briny breeze from anearby open window tickledhis face; fishermen wereshouting their catches a fewblocks away; and—andsomeone was breathing

evenly, deeply, nearby.Sleeping.He opened an eye to find

thathewasinasmall,wood-paneled room decoratedwithcare and a penchant for theluxurious. He knew thisroom.Knewthisapartment.The door across from his

bed was open, revealing thegreat room beyond—cleanand empty and bathed insunshine.The sheets he sleptbetween were crisp and

silken, the pillows plush, themattress impossibly soft.Exhaustion coated his bones,and pain splintered throughhis side, but dully. And hisheadwas infinitelyclearerashe looked toward the sourceof that even, deep breathingandbeheldthewomanasleepinthecream-coloredarmchairbesidethebed.Her long, bare legs were

sprawled over one of therolled arms, scars of every

shapeandsizeadorningthem.She rested her head againstthewing,hershoulder-lengthgoldenhair—theendsstainedareddishbrown,asifacheapdyehadbeenroughlywashedout—strewn across her face.Hermouthwas slightly openas she dozed, comfortable inan oversized white shirt andwhat looked to be a pair ofmen’s undershorts. Safe.Alive.Foramoment,hecouldn’t

breathe.Aelin.Hemouthedhername.As if she heard it, she

opened her eyes—comingfullyalert as she scanned thedoorway, the room beyond,then the bedroom itself foranydanger.Andthenfinally,finallyshelookedathimandwentutterly still, evenasherhair shifted in the gentlebreeze.Thepillowbeneathhisface

hadbecomedamp.She just stretched out her

legs likeacatandsaid,“I’mready to accept your thanksfor my spectacular rescue atanytime,youknow.”He couldn’t stop the tears

leaking down his face, evenas he rasped, “Remind menever to get on your badside.”Asmile tuggedather lips,

and her eyes—their eyes—sparkled.“Hello,Aedion.”

Hearing his name on hertongue snapped somethingloose,andhehadtoclosehiseyes,hisbodybarkinginpainas it shookwith the force ofthe tears trying to get out ofhim. When he’d masteredhimself, he said hoarsely,“Thank you for yourspectacular rescue. Let’sneverdoitagain.”Shesnorted,hereyeslined

with silver. “You’re exactlythewayIdreamedyou’dbe.”

Something in her smiletold him that she alreadyknew—thatRenorChaolhadtold her about him, aboutbeing Adarlan’s Whore,about the Bane. So all hecould say was, “You’re alittletaller thanI’dimagined,butnoone’sperfect.”“It’s a miracle the king

managed to resist executingyouuntilyesterday.”“Tellmehe’sinaragethe

likes of which have never

beenseenbefore.”“Ifyoulistenhardenough,

you can actually hear himshriekingfromthepalace.”Aedion laughed, and it

madehiswoundache.Butthelaugh died as he looked herover from head to toe. “I’mgoing to throttleRenand thecaptain for letting you savemealone.”“And here we go.” She

looked at the ceiling andsighed loudly. “A minute of

pleasant conversation, andthen the territorial Faebullshitcomesragingout.”“I waited an extra thirty

seconds.”Her mouth quirked to the

side. “I honestly thoughtyou’dlastten.”He laughed again, and

realized that though he’dlovedherbefore,he’dmerelyloved the memory—theprincess taken away fromhim. But the woman, the

queen—the last shred offamilyhehad…“It was worth it,” he said,

his smile fading. “You wereworth it. All these years, allthewaiting.You’reworthit.”He’d known themoment shehad looked up at him as shestood before his executionblock,defiantandwickedandwild.“I think that’s the healing

tonic talking,” she said, buther throat bobbed as she

wiped at her eyes. Shelowered her feet to the floor.“Chaol said you’re evenmeanerthanIammostofthetime.”“Chaol is already on his

way to being throttled, andyou’renothelping.”She gave that half smile

again.“Ren’sintheNorth—Ididn’t get to see him beforeChaol convinced him to gothereforhisownsafety.”“Good,” he managed to

say,andpattedthebedbesidehim. Someone had stuffedhim into a clean shirt, so hewas decent enough, but hemanaged to haul himselfhalfway into a sittingposition.“Comehere.”She glanced at the bed, at

his hand, and he wonderedwhether he’d crossed someline, assumed some bondbetween them that no longerexisted—until her shouldersslumped and she uncoiled

from the chair in a smooth,felinemotionbeforeploppingdownonthemattress.Her scent hit him. For a

second,hecouldonlybreatheitdeepintohislungs,hisFaeinstinctsroaringthat thiswashisfamily,thiswashisqueen,this was Aelin. He wouldhave known her even if hewereblind.Even if there was another

scent entwined with hers.Staggeringly powerful and

ancient and—male.Interesting.She plumped up the

pillows, and he wondered ifsheknewhowmuchitmeantto him, as a demi-Fae male,to have her lean over tostraighten his blankets, too,then run a sharp, critical eyedown his face. To fuss overhim.He stared right back,

scanningforanywounds,anysignthatthebloodonherthe

other day hadn’t belongedonly to those men. But savefor a few shallow, scabbedcuts on her left forearm, shewasunharmed.When she seemed assured

that he wasn’t about to die,andwhenhewasassured thewounds on her arm weren’tinfected, she leaned back onthe pillows and folded herhandsoverherabdomen.“Doyouwanttogofirst,orshouldI?”

Outside, gulls were cryingto each other, and that soft,briny breeze kissed his face.“You,” he whispered. “Tellmeeverything.”Soshedid.

They talked and talked, untilAedion’s voice becamehoarse,andthenAelinbulliedhim into drinking a glass ofwater. And then she decided

thathewaslookingpeaky,soshepaddedtothekitchenanddug up some beef broth andbread. Lysandra, Chaol, andNesryn were nowhere to beseen, so they had theapartment to themselves.Good. Aelin didn’t feel likesharinghercousinrightnow.As Aedion devoured his

food, he told her theunabridged truthofwhathadhappened to him these pastten years, just as she’d done

forhim.Andwhentheywereboth finished telling theirstories,whentheirsoulsweredrained and grieving—butgildedwithgrowingjoy—shenestled down across fromAedion, her cousin, herfriend.They’d been forged of the

same ore, two sides of thesamegolden,scarredcoin.She’d known it when she

spied him atop the executionplatform. She couldn’t

explain it. No one couldunderstand that instant bond,that soul-deep assurance andrightness, unless they, too,had experienced it. But sheowed no explanations toanyone—notaboutAedion.They were still sprawled

on the bed, the sun nowsettling into late afternoon,andAedionwasjuststaringather,blinking,asifhecouldn’tquitebelieveit.“Areyouashamedofwhat

I’vedone?”shedaredtoask.His brow creased. “Why

wouldyoueverthinkthat?”She couldn’t quite look

him in the eye as she ran afingerdowntheblanket.“Areyou?”Aedion was silent long

enough that she lifted herhead—but found him gazingtowardthedoor,asthoughhecould see through it, acrossthecity,tothecaptain.Whenhe turned to her, his

handsome face was open—soft in a way she doubtedmany ever saw. “Never,” hesaid. “I could never beashamedofyou.”Shedoubtedthat,andwhen

she twisted away, he gentlygrabbedherchin, forcinghereyestohim.“You survived; I survived.

We’re together again. I oncebeggedthegodstoletmeseeyou—if only for a moment.To see you and know you’d

made it. Just once; that wasallIeverhopedfor.”Shecouldn’t stop the tears

thatbeganslippingdownherface.“Whateveryouhadtodoto

survive, whatever you didfrom spite or rage orselfishness… I don’t give adamn. You’re here—andyou’re perfect. You alwayswere, and you always willbe.”She hadn’t realized how

muchsheneededtohearthat.She flungherarmsaround

him, careful of his injuries,and squeezed him as tightlyas she dared.Hewrapped anarm around her, the otherbracing them, and buried hisfaceinherneck.“I missed you,” she

whispered onto him,breathing in his scent—thatmalewarrior’s scent shewasjust learning, remembering.“Everyday,Imissedyou.”

Her skin grew dampbeneath his face. “Neveragain,”hepromised.

It was honestly no surprisethat after Aelin had trashedthe Vaults, a new warren ofsin and debauchery hadimmediatelysprungupintheslums.The owners weren’t even

trying to pretend it wasn’t a

complete imitation of theoriginal—not with a namelike the Pits. But while itspredecessor had at leastprovided a tavern-likeatmosphere, the Pits didn’tbother. In an undergroundchamber hewn from roughstone, you paid for youralcohol with your covercharge—andifyouwantedtodrink, you had to brave thecasks in the back and serveyourself. Aelin found herself

somewhatinclinedtoliketheowners: they operated by adifferentsetofrules.But some things remained

thesame.The floors were slick and

reeking of ale and piss andworse, but Aelin hadanticipated that. What shehadn’texpected,exactly,wasthedeafeningnoise.Therockwalls and close quartersmagnified the wild cheersfrom the fighting pits the

place had been named after,whereonlookerswerebettingonthebrawlswithin.Brawls like the one she

wasabouttoparticipatein.Besideher,Chaol, cloaked

and masked, shifted on hisfeet.“This isa terrible idea,”hemurmured.“You said you couldn’t

findtheValgnests,anyway,”she said with equal quiet,tucking a loose strand of herhair—dyed red once more—

back under her hood. “Well,here are some lovelycommanders and minions,just waiting for you to trackthem home. Consider itArobynn’s form of anapology.” Because he knewthat she would bring Chaolwith her tonight. She’dguessedasmuch,debatednotbringing the captain, but intheendsheneededhimhere,needed to be here herself,more than she needed to

upendArobynn’splans.Chaol sliced aglare inher

direction,but thenshiftedhisattentiontothecrowdaroundthem,andsaidagain,“Thisisaterribleidea.”She followed his stare

toward Arobynn, who stoodacross thesandypit inwhichtwo men were fighting, nowso bloodied up she couldn’ttellwhowas inworse shape.“Hesummons, Ianswer.Justkeepyoureyesopen.”

Itwasthemostthey’dsaidto each other all night. Butshehadotherthingstoworryabout.It had taken just one

minute in this place tounderstandwhyArobynnhadsummonedher.TheValgguardsflockedto

the Pits—not to arrest andtorture, but to watch. Theywere interspersed among thecrowd,hooded,smiling,cold.As if the blood and rage

fueledthem.Beneath her black mask,

Aelin focused on herbreathing.Threedaysafterhisrescue,

Aedionwasstillinjuredbadlyenough that he remainedbedridden, one of Chaol’smost trusted rebels watchingover the apartment. But sheneeded someone at her backtonight,soshe’daskedChaolandNesryn to come.Even ifshe knew it would play into

Arobynn’splans.She’d tracked them down

at a covert rebel meeting, tonoone’sdelight.Especially when,

apparently, the Valg hadvanished with their victimsandcouldn’tbefounddespitedays of tracking them. Onelook at Chaol’s pursed lipshad told her exactly whoseantics he thought were toblameforit.Soshewasgladto talk to Nesryn instead, if

only to takehermindoff thenew task pressing on her, itschiming now a mockinginvitation from the glasscastle. But destroying theclock tower—freeing magic—hadtowait.At least she’d been right

about Arobynn wantingChaol here, the Valg clearlyan offering meant to enticethe captain to continuetrustingandconfidinginhim.Aelin sensed Arobynn’s

arrival at her side momentsbefore his red hair slid intoherperipheralvision.“Any plans to wreck this

establishment,too?”A dark head appeared at

hisother side,alongwith thewide-eyed male stares thatfollowediteverywhere.Aelinwasgratefulforthemaskthathid the tightness in her faceasLysandrainclinedherheadin greeting. Aelin made agood show of looking

Lysandra up and down, andthen turned to Arobynn,dismissingthecourtesanasifshe were no more than a bitofornamentation.“I just cleaned the suit,”

Aelin drawled to Arobynn.“Wrecking this shit-holewouldonlymessitupagain.”Arobynn chuckled. “In

case you were wondering, acertaincelebrateddancerwasona shipheading southwithallherdancersbeforewordof

your escapades even reachedthe docks.” The roar of thecrowdnearlydrownedouthiswords.Lysandrafrownedatarevelerwhonearlyspilledhisale on the skirts of hermint-and-creamgown.“Thank you,” Aelin said,

andmeantit.Shedidn’tbringup Arobynn’s little game ofplayingherandChaolagainsteach other—not when thatwas precisely what hewanted. Arobynn gave her a

smile smug enough to makeherask,“Is thereaparticularreason that my services arenecessary here tonight, or isthis another present ofyours?”“After you so gleefully

wrecked theVaults, I’mnowin the market for a newinvestment. The owners ofthe Pits, despite being publicaboutwantinganinvestor,arehesitant to accept my offer.Participatingtonightwillgoa

long way toward convincingthem of my considerableassets and … what I mightbringtothetable.”Andmakea threat to the owners, toshowoffhisdeadlyarsenalofassassins—and how theymight help turn an evenhigherprofitwithfixedfightsagainst trained killers. Sheknew exactly what he wouldsay next. “Alas, my fighterfell through,” Arobynn wenton.“Ineededareplacement.”

“AndwhoamIfightingas,exactly?”“I told the owners you

were trained by the SilentAssassins of the RedDesert.You remember them, don’tyou? Give the pit-lordwhatevernameyouwant.”Prick. She’d never forget

those months in the RedDesert. Or who had sent herthere.She jerked her chin at

Lysandra.“Aren’tyoualittle

fussyforthissortofplace?”“And here I was thinking

you and Lysandra hadbecome friends after yourdramaticrescue.”“Arobynn, let’s go watch

somewhere else,” Lysandramurmured. “The fight’sending.”Shewonderedwhat it was

like to have to endure theman who had slaughteredyour lover. But Lysandra’sface was a mask of worried,

wary mindlessness—anotherskin she wore as she idlycooled herself with agorgeous fan of lace andivory.Sooutofplace in thiscesspit.“Pretty, isn’t it? Arobynn

gaveittome,”Lysandrasaid,noticingherattention.“Asmall trinketforsucha

tremendously talented lady,”Arobynn said, leaning downtokissLysandra’sbareneck.Aelin clamped down on

her disgust so hard that shechokedonit.Arobynnsaunteredoffinto

the crowd like a snakethrough the grass, catchingthe eye of the willowy pit-lord. When he was deepenough into thecrowd,Aelinstepped closer to Lysandra.The courtesan glanced awayfrom her, and Aelin knew itwasn’tanact.So softly no one could

hear,Aelin said, “Thank you

—fortheotherday.”Lysandra kept her eyes on

the crowd and the bloodiedfighters around them. Theylanded on the Valg, and shequicklylookedatAelinagain,shifting so that the crowdformed a wall between herandthedemonsacrossthepit.“Isheallright?”“Yes—just resting and

eating as much as he can,”Aelin said. And now thatAedion was safe … she

would soon have to beginfulfilling her little favor toArobynn. Though shedoubted her former masterhad long to liveonceAedionrecoveredandfoundoutwhatsort of danger Arobynn wasputtingherin.Letalonewhathe’d done to her throughouttheyears.“Good,”Lysandrasaid,the

crowd keeping themcocooned.Arobynn clapped the pit-

lord on the shoulder andstalked back toward them.AelintappedherfootuntiltheKing of the Assassins wasbetweenthemagain.Chaolsubtlymovedwithin

earshot,ahandonhissword.Aelinjustbracedherhands

on her hips. “Who shall myopponentbe?”Arobynn inclined his head

toward a pack of the Valgguards. “Whichever one ofthem you desire. I just hope

you choose one in less timethan it’s taken you to decidewhich one to hand over tome.”So that was what this was

about. Who had the upperhand.Andifsherefused,withthe debt unpaid…He coulddoworse.Somuchworse.“You’re insane,” Chaol

said to Arobynn, followinghislineofsight.“So he speaks,” Arobynn

purred. “You’rewelcome,by

the way—for the little tip.”He flicked his gaze towardthe gathered Valg. So theywere a gift for the captain,then.Chaolglared.“Idon’tneed

youtodomywork—”“Stay out of it,” Aelin

snapped,hopingChaolwouldunderstand the irewasn’t forhim. He turned back towardthe blood-splattered sand,shakinghishead.Lethimbemad;shehadplentytorageat

himforanyway.Thecrowddieddown,and

thepit-lordcalledforthenextfighter.“You’re up,” Arobynn

said,smiling.“Let’sseewhatthosethingsarecapableof.”Lysandra squeezed his

arm,asifpleadingforhimtoletitgo.“Iwouldkeepback,”Aelin said to her, crackingher neck. “You wouldn’twant to get blood on thatprettydress.”

Arobynnchuckled.“Putona good show, would you? Iwanttheownersimpressed—andpissingthemselves.”Oh, she would put on a

show. After days cooped upin the apartment at Aedion’sside,shehadenergytospare.And she didn’t mind

spillingsomeValgblood.She shoved through the

crowd, not daring to drawmore attention to Chaol bysayinggood-bye.Peopletook

one look at her and backedaway. With the suit, theboots, and the mask, sheknew she was Deathincarnate.Aelin dropped into a

swagger, her hips shiftingwith each step, rolling hershoulders as if looseningthem. The crowd grewlouder,restless.She sidled up to the

willowypit-lord,who lookedher over and said, “No

weapons.”She merely cocked her

head and lifted her arms,turning in a circle, and evenallowed the pit-lord’s littleminion to pat her downwithhissweatyhandstoprovethatshewasunarmed.Asfarastheycouldtell.“Name,” the pit-lord

demanded. Around her, goldwasalreadyflashing.“Ansel of Briarcliff,” she

said, the mask distorting her

voicetoagravellyrasp.“Opponent.”Aelinlookedacrossthepit,

to the crowd gathered, andpointed.“Him.”The Valg commander was

alreadygrinningather.

24

Chaol didn’t know what thehell to think as Aelin leapedinto the pit, landing on herhaunches.But the crowdhadseen whom she’d pointed toand was already in a frenzy,shoving to the front, passinggoldas last-minutebetsweremade.

Hehadtoplanthisheelstokeep from being knockedover the open lip of the pit.No ropes or railings here. Ifyou fell in, you were fairgame. A small part of himwas glad Nesryn was onwatch in the back. And asmaller part of himwas gladfor a night without morefruitless hunting for the newValg nests. Even if it meantdealingwith Aelin for a fewhours. Even if Arobynn

Hamel had given him thislittlegift.Agiftthat,hehatedto admit, he sorely neededand did appreciate. But thatwas no doubt how Arobynnoperated.Chaol wondered what the

price would be. Or whetherhis fear of a potential pricewas payment enough for theKingoftheAssassins.Dressed head to toe in

black, Aelin was a livingshadow, pacing like a jungle

cat on her side of the pit astheValg commander jumpedin. He could have sworn thegroundshuddered.They were both insane—

Aelin and her master.Arobynn had said to chooseany one of the Valg. She’dpickedtheirleader.They’dbarelyspokensince

their fight after Aedion’srescue. Frankly, she didn’tdeserve a word out of him,but when she’d hunted him

down an hour ago,interrupting a meeting thatwas so secret that they’ddisclosed the location to therebel leaders only an hourbefore … Maybe he was afool, but he couldn’t in goodconscience say no. If onlybecause Aedion would haveslaughteredhimforit.But since the Valg were

here … Yes, this night hadbeenusefulafterall.The pit-lord began

shouting the rules. Simply:therewere none, save for noblades. Just hands and feetandwits.Godsabove.Aelin stilled her pacing,

and Chaol had to elbow anovereagermaninthestomachto keep from being shovedintothepit.TheQueenofTerrasenwas

in a fighting pit in the slumsofRifthold.Noonehere,he’dwager, would believe it. He

was hardly able to believe ithimself.The pit-lord roared for the

matchtobegin,andthen—Theymoved.The commander lunged

with a punch so swift mostmen would have had theirheadsspunaround.ButAelindodgedandcaughthisarminone hand, locking it into ahold he knew was bone-snapping. As thecommander’s face twisted

withpain,shedroveherkneeupintothesideofhishead.It was so fast, so brutal,

even the crowd didn’t knowwhat the hell had happeneduntil the commander wasstaggering back, and Aelinwasdancingonhertoes.The commander laughed,

straightening. Itwas theonlybreak Aelin gave him beforeshewentontheoffensive.Shemovedlikeamidnight

storm. Whatever training

she’d had in Wendlyn,whatever that prince hadtaughther…Godshelpthemall.Punch after punch, block,

lunge, duck, spin … Thecrowd was a writhing thing,foaming at the mouth at theswiftness,theskill.Chaol had seen her kill. It

had been a while since he’dseen her fight for theenjoymentofit.And she was enjoying the

helloutofthis.An opponent worthy of

her, he supposed as shelocked her legs around thecommander’s head androlled,flippinghim.Sandsprayedaroundthem.

Shewoundupontop,drivingher fist down into the man’scold,handsomeface—Only tobehurledoffwith

a twist so swift that Chaolcould hardly follow themovement. Aelin hit the

bloodiedsandanduncoiledtoher feet just as thecommander attacked oncemore.Then they were again a

blur of limbs and blows anddarkness.Across the pit, Arobynn

was wide-eyed, grinning, astarving man before a feast.Lysandra clung to his side,her knuckles white as shegripped his arm. Men werewhispering inArobynn’s ear,

their eyes locked on the pit,ashungryasArobynn.Eitherthe owners of the Pits orprospective clients,bargaining for the use of thewoman fighting with suchwild wrath and wickeddelight.Aelin landed a kick to the

commander’s stomach thatsent him slamming into therock wall. He slumped,gasping for air. The crowdcheered, and Aelin flung out

her arms, turning in a slowcircle,Deathtriumphant.The crowd’s answering

roar made Chaol wonder ifthe ceiling would comecrashingdown.Thecommanderhurtledfor

her, and Aelin whirled,catching him and locking hisarmsandneckintoaholdnoteasily broken. She looked atArobynn,asifinquestion.Her master glanced at the

wide-eyed, ravenous men

beside him—then nodded toher.Chaol’s stomach turned

over. Arobynn had seenenough.Provedenough.It hadn’t even been a fair

fight. Aelin had let it go onbecauseArobynnhadwantedittogoon.Andonceshetookout that clock tower and hermagic was back … Whatcheckswouldtherebeagainsther?AgainstAedion,andthatFaePrinceofhers,andallthe

warriors like them? A newworld, yes. But a world inwhich the ordinary humanvoicewouldbenothingmorethanawhisper.Aelin twisted the

commander’s arms, and thedemon shrieked in pain, andthen—ThenAelinwas staggering

back, clutching at herforearm, at theblood shiningbright through the shred inhersuit.

It was only when thecommander whirled, bloodslipping down his chin, hiseyes pitch black, that Chaolunderstood. He’d bitten her.Chaol hissed through histeeth.The commander licked his

lips,hisbloodygringrowing.Even with the crowd, Chaolcould hear the Valg demonsay, “I know what you arenow,youhalf-breedbitch.”Aelin lowered the hand

she’d clapped on her arm,blood shining on her darkglove. “Good thing I knowwhatyouare,too,prick.”End it. She had to end it

now.“What’s your name?” she

said, circling the demoncommander.The demon inside the

man’s body chuckled. “Youcannot pronounce it in yourhuman tongue.” The voiceskittereddownChaol’sveins,

icingthem.“So condescending for a

meregrunt,”shecrooned.“I should bring you down

toMorathmyself,half-breed,and see how much you talkthen. See what you make ofallthedeliciousthingswedotoyourkind.”Morath—Duke

Perrington’s Keep. Chaol’sstomach turned leaden. Thatwas where they brought theprisoners who weren’t

executed. The ones whovanished in the night. To dothe gods knew what withthem.Aelindidn’tgivehimtime

to say anything more, andChaol againwished he couldseeher face, ifonly toknowwhatthehellwasgoingoninher head as she tackled thecommander.Sheslammedhisconsiderable weight into thesandandgrabbedhishead.Crack went the

commander’sneck.Her hands lingering on

either side of the demon’sface, Aelin stared at theempty eyes, at the openmouth. The crowd screameditstriumph.Aelinpanted,hershoulders

hunched, and then shestraightened, brushing thesandoffthekneesofhersuit.She gazed up at the pit-

lord.“Callit.”The man blanched.

“Victoryisyours.”She didn’t bother looking

up again as she knocked herboot against the stone wall,freeingathin,horribleblade.Chaol was grateful for the

screams of the crowd as shestomped it down through theneck of the commander.Again.Again.Inthedimlighting,noone

elsecouldtellthestaininthesandwasn’ttherightcolor.Noonebutthestone-faced

demons gathered aroundthem, marking Aelin,watching each movement ofher leg as she severed thecommander’s head from hisbody and then left it in thesand.

Aelin’s arms were tremblingas she took Arobynn’s handandwashauledoutofthepit.Her master crushed her

fingers in a lethal grip,pulling her close in whatanyone else would havethought was an embrace.“That’s twice now, darling,you haven’t delivered. I saidunconscious.”“Bloodlustgotthebetterof

me, it seems.” She easedback, her left arm achingfromtheviciousbitethethinghad given her. Bastard. Shecould almost feel its bloodseeping through the thick

leather of her boot, feel theweight of the gore clingingontothetoe.“I expect results, Ansel—

andsoon.”“Don’t worry, Master.”

Chaol was making his waytoward a darkened corner,Nesrynashadowbehindhim,nodoubtreadyingtotracktheValg once they left. “You’llget what’s owed to you.”Aelin looked towardLysandra, whose attention

wasn’t on the corpse beinghauled out of the pit by thegrunts, but fixed—withpredatoryfocus—ontheotherValgguardssneakingout.Aelin cleared her throat,

and Lysandra blinked, herexpression smoothing intouneaseandrepulsion.Aelinmadetoslipout,but

Arobynn said, “Aren’t youtheleastbitcuriouswhereweburiedSam?”He’d known his words

would register like a blow.He’dhadtheupperhand, thesure-killshot,theentiretime.EvenLysandrarecoiledabit.Aelin slowly turned. “Is

thereapricefor learningthatinformation?”A flick of his attention to

thepit.“Youjustpaidit.”“Iwouldn’tput itpastyou

togivemeafakelocationandhave me bring stones to thewronggrave.”Not flowers—never

flowers in Terrasen. Instead,they carried small stones togravestomarktheirvisits,totell the dead that they stillremembered.Stones were eternal—

flowerswerenot.“Youwoundmewithsuch

accusations.” Arobynn’selegant face told anotherstory.He closed the distancebetween them, and said soquietlythatLysandracouldn’thear, “Doyou thinkyouwill

not have to pay up at somepoint?”She bared her teeth. “Is

thatathreat?”“Itisasuggestion,”hesaid

smoothly, “that youremember what myconsiderable influences are,and what I might have tooffer you and yours during atimewhen you are desperatefor so many things: money,fighters …” A glance at thevanishing captain and

Nesryn. “Thingsyour friendsneed,too.”For a price—always for a

price.“JusttellmewhereyouburiedSamandletmeleave.Ineedtocleanmyshoes.”He smiled, satisfied that

he’dwonandshe’dacceptedhis little offering—no doubtsoontomakeanotherbargain,and then another, forwhatever she needed fromhim.Henamedthelocation,asmallgraveyardbytheriver’s

edge.NotinthecryptsoftheAssassins’Keep,wheremostof them were entombed.Likely meant as an insult toSam—not realizing Samwouldn’t have wanted to beburiedintheKeepanyway.Still, she choked out,

“Thank you.” And then shemade herself look atLysandra and drawl, “I hopehe’spayingyouenough.”Lysandra’s attention,

however, was on the long

scarmarringArobynn’s neck—the scar Wesley had left.But Arobynn was too busysmiling at Aelin to notice.“We’ll be seeing each otheragainsoon,”hesaid.Anotherthreat. “Hopefully whenyou’veupheldyourendofthebargain.”The hard-faced men who

had been at Arobynn’s sideduring the fight still lingeredseveral feet away. TheownersofthePits.Theygave

her a slight nod that shedidn’t return. “Tell your newpartners I’m officiallyretired,” she said by way offarewell.It was an effort of will to

leave Lysandra with him inthathellhole.She could feel the Valg

sentries monitoring her, feeltheir indecision and malice,and hoped that Chaol andNesryndidn’trunintotroubleasshevanishedintotheopen,

coolnightair.She hadn’t asked them to

come just towatch her back,but to make them realizeprecisely how stupid they’dbeen in trusting a man likeArobynn Hamel. Even ifArobynn’sgiftwasthereasonthey were now able to trackthe Valg back to wherevertheyweresquatting.Shejusthopedthatdespite

herformermaster’sgift, theyat last understood that she

should have killed Dorianthatday.

25

Elide was washing dishes,carefullylisteningtothecookcomplain about the nextscheduled shipment ofsupplies. A few wagonswouldarriveintwoweeks,itseemed, carrying wine andvegetables and perhaps, iftheywere lucky,saltedmeat.

Yet it wasn’t what wascoming that interested her,but how itwas carried,whatsort ofwagonsmightbear it.And where Elide might besthideinone.That was when one of the

witcheswalkedin.Not Manon, but the one

namedAsterin,golden-hairedwith eyes like a star-fleckednight and a wildness in hervery breath. Elide had longagonotedhowquickshewas

to grin, and had marked themoments when Asterinthought no one was lookingandgazedacrossthehorizon,her face tight. Secrets—Asterin was a witch withsecrets. And secrets madepeopledeadly.Elide kept her head down,

shoulders tucked in, as thekitchenquietedintheThird’spresence. Asterin justswaggered right up to thecook, who had gone pale as

death. He was a loud, kindmanmostdays,butacowardatheart.“Lady Asterin,” he said,

and everyone—Elideincluded—bowed.The witch smiled—with

white,normalteeth,thankthegods.“IwasthinkingImighthelpwiththedishes.”Elide’s blood chilled. She

felt the eyes of everyone inthekitchenfixonher.“Asmuchasweappreciate

it,Lady—”“Are you rejecting my

offer, mortal?” Elide didn’tdare to turn around. Beneaththe soapy water, her prunyhandsshook.Shefistedthem.Fearwasuseless;feargotyoukilled.“N-no. Of course, Lady.

We—andElide—willbegladforthehelp.”Andthatwasthat.Theclatterandchaosofthe

kitchen slowly resumed, but

conversation remainedhushed. They were allwatching,waiting—either forElide’s blood to spill on thegray stones, or to overhearanythingjuicyfromtheever-smiling lips of AsterinBlackbeak.Shefelteachstepthewitch

took toward her—unhurried,butpowerful.“You wash. I’ll dry,” the

sentinelsaidatherside.Elide peeked out from

behindthecurtainofherhair.Asterin’sblack-and-goldeyesglittered.“Th-thank you,” she made

herselfstammer.The amusement in those

immortal eyes grew. Not agoodsign.But Elide continued her

work, passing the witch thepotsandplates.“An interesting task, for a

lord’s daughter,” Asterinobserved,quietlyenoughthat

no one else in the bustlingkitchencouldhear.“I’mhappytohelp.”“That chain says

otherwise.”Elidedidn’t falterwith the

washing;didn’t let thepot inher hands slip an inch. Fiveminutes, and then she couldmurmur some explanationandrun.“No one else in this place

is chained up like a slave.What makes you so

dangerous,ElideLochan?”Elide gave a little shrug.

Aninterrogation—that’swhatthis was. Manon had calledher a spy. It seemed hersentinelhaddecidedtoassesswhat level of threat sheposed.“You know, men have

always hated and feared ourkind,” Asterin went on. “It’srare for them to catch us, tokill us, but when they do…Oh, they delight in such

horriblethings.IntheWastes,they’ve made machines tobreak us apart. The foolsnever realized that all theyneeded to do to torture ourkind, to make us beg”—sheglanced down at Elide’s legs—“was to chain us.Keep ustiedtotheearth.”“I’msorrytohearthat.”Two of the fowl-pluckers

had hooked their hair behindtheirearsinafutileattempttooverhear them. But Asterin

knew how to keep her voicelow.“You’re, what—fifteen?

Sixteen?”“Eighteen.”“Small for your age.”

Asterin gave her a look thatmade Elide wonder if shecould see through thehomespun dress to thebandage she used to flattenher full breasts into anunnoticeable chest. “Youmusthavebeeneightornine

whenmagicfell.”Elide scrubbed at the pot.

She’d finish it and go.Talking about magic aroundthese people, so many ofthem eager to sell any bit ofinformationtothedread-lordswho ruled this place … Itwould earn her a trip to thegallows.“The witchlings who were

your age at the time,” thesentinelwenton,“neverevenhad a chance to fly. The

power doesn’t set in untiltheir first bleeding. At leastnow they have the wyverns.Butit’snotthesame,isit?”“Iwouldn’tknow.”Asterin leaned in close, an

ironskilletinherlong,deadlyhands. “But your uncle does,doesn’the?”Elidemade herself smaller

and bought herself a fewmore seconds of time as shepretended to consider. “Idon’tunderstand.”

“You’ve never heard thewindcallingyourname,ElideLochan? Never felt it tug atyou?You’veneverlistenedtoit and yearned to fly towardthe horizon, to foreignlands?”She’dspentmostofherlife

locked in a tower, but therehad been nights,wild storms…Elide managed to get the

last bit of burnt food off thepotandrinsedit,handingitto

the witch before wiping herhands on her apron. “No,Lady. I don’t see why Iwould.”Evenifshedidwanttoflee

—wanted to run to the otherend of the world and washher hands of these peopleforever.Butithadnothingtodowiththewhisperingwind.Asterin’s black eyes

seemed to devour herwhole.“You would hear that wind,girl,” she said with expert

quiet, “because anyone withIronteeth blood does. I’msurprised your mother nevertold you. It’s passed onthroughthematernalline.”Witch-blood. Ironteeth

blood. In her veins—in hermother’slineage.It wasn’t possible. Her

bloodflowedred;shehadnoiron teeth or nails. Hermotherhadbeenthesame.Iftherewas ancestry, itwas sooldthatithadbeenforgotten,

but…“My mother died when I

wasachild,”shesaid,turningaway and nodding herfarewell to the head cook.“She never told meanything.”“Pity,”Asterinsaid.Theservantsallgawkedat

Elideasshelimpedout,theirquestioning eyes telling herenough: theyhadn’theard.Asmallrelief,then.Gods—oh, gods. Witch-

blood.Elide took the stairs up,

each movement sendingshooting pains through herleg. Was that why Vernonhad kept her chained? Tokeep her from flying off ifshe ever showed a lick ofpower? Was that why thewindows in that tower inPerranthhadbeenbarred?No—no. She was human.

Fullyhuman.But at the very moment

these witches had gathered,when she’d heard thoserumors about the demonswho wanted to … to …breed, Vernon had broughther here. And had becomevery, very close with DukePerrington.SheprayedtoAnneithwith

every stepupward, prayed totheLadyofWiseThingsthatshewaswrong,thattheThirdwaswrong.Itwasn’tuntilshereached the footof theWing

Leader’s tower that Eliderealized she had no ideawhereshewasgoing.She had nowhere to go at

all.Noonetorunto.The delivery wagons

wouldn’t arrive for anotherfew weeks. Vernon couldhand her over whenever hewished.Why hadn’t he donesoimmediately?Whatwashewaitingfor?Toseeifthefirstof the experiments workedbefore offering her as a

bargaining chip for morepower?If shewas suchavaluable

commodity, she’dhave togofarther than she’d suspectedtoescapeVernon.Notjusttothe Southern Continent, butbeyond, to lands she’d neverheardof.Butwithnomoney,howwouldshe?Nomoney—except for the bags of coinstheWingLeaderleftscatteredaroundher room.Shepeeredup the stairs stretching into

the gloom.Maybe she coulduse the money to bribesomeone—a guard, a lower-covenwitch—to get her out.Immediately.Heranklebarkedinpainas

she hurried up the staircase.She wouldn’t take an entirebag, but rather a few coinsfrom each, so the WingLeaderwouldn’tnotice.Mercifully, the witch’s

room was empty. And thevarious bags of coins had

been left out with acarelessnessonlyanimmortalwitch more interested inbloodshedcouldachieve.Elide carefully set about

stuffingcoinsintoherpocket,the binding around herbreasts, and her shoe so thatthey wouldn’t be discoveredall at once, so theywouldn’tjingle.“Are you out of your

mind?”Elidefroze.

Asterinwasleaningagainstthewall,herarmscrossed.

The Third was smiling, eachofthoserazor-sharpironteethglintingintheafternoonlight.“Bold, mad little thing,”

thewitchsaid,circlingElide.“Notasdocileasyoupretend,eh?”Oh,gods.“To steal from our Wing

Leader…”“Please,” Elide whispered.

Begging—maybe that wouldwork. “Please—I need toleavethisplace.”“Why?” A glance at the

pouch of money clenched inElide’shands.“Iheardwhatthey’redoing

with the Yellowlegs. Myuncle—if I have… if I haveyourblood,Ican’tlethimusemelikethat.”“Runningawaybecauseof

Vernon … At least now weknow you’re not his spy,witchling.” The witchgrinned,anditwasalmostasterrifying as one ofManon’ssmiles.That was why she’d

ambushed her with theknowledge: to see whereElidewouldruntoafter.“Don’tcallmethat,”Elide

breathed.“Isitsobadtobeawitch?”

Asterin spread her fingers,

appreciating her iron nails inthedimlight.“I’mnotawitch.”“Whatareyou,then?”“Nothing—I’m nobody.

I’mnothing.”The witch clicked her

tongue. “Everybody issomething. Even the mostcommonwitchhashercoven.Butwhohasyourback,ElideLochan?”“No one.” Only Anneith,

and Elide sometimes thought

even that could be herimagination.“There is no such thing as

awitchbeingalone.”“I’mnotawitch,”shesaid

again. And once she gotaway, once she left thisfesteringempire, she’dbenooneatall.“No, she’s certainly not a

witch,”Manon snapped fromthe doorway, gold eyes cold.“Starttalking.Now.”

Manon had endured a fairlyshitty day,whichwas sayingsomething, given her centuryofexistence.TheYellowlegs coven had

been implanted in asubterranean chamber of theKeep, the room carved intothe mountain rock itself.Manonhadtakenonesniffofthat bed-lined room andwalked right back out again.

The Yellowlegs didn’t wantherthere,anyway,whiletheywerecutopenbymen,whilethat bit of stone was sewninsidethem.No,aBlackbeakhadnoplaceinaroomwhereYellowlegs were vulnerable,and she’d likely make themviciousandlethalasaresult.So she’d gone to training,

where Sorrel had kicked herass in hand-to-hand combat.Thentherehadbeennotone,not two, but three different

fights tobreakapartbetweenthevariouscovens, includingthe Bluebloods, who weresomehow excited about theValg. They had gotten theirnosesbrokenbysuggestingtoaBlackbeakcoventhatitwastheirdivinedutynotjusttogothroughwiththeimplantationbut also to go so far as tophysically mate with theValg.Manon didn’t blame her

Blackbeaksforshuttingdown

thetalk.Butshe’dhadtodoleout equal punishmentbetweenthetwogroups.And then this.Asterin and

Elide in her rooms, the girlwide-eyed and reeking ofterror, her Third seeming totrytoconvincethegirltojointheirranks.“Starttalkingnow.”Temper—she knew she

shouldreinitin,buttheroomsmelled likehuman fear, andthiswasherspace.

Asterin stepped in front ofthe girl. “She’s not a spy forVernon,Manon.”Manondid themthehonor

of listening as Asterin toldher what had happened.When she finished, Manoncrossed her arms. Elide wascowering by the bathingchamber door, the bag ofcoins still gripped in herhands.“Where does the line get

drawn?”Asterinsaidquietly.

Manon flashed her teeth.“Humans are for eating andrutting and bleeding. Nothelping. If she’s got witch-blood inher, it’s adrop.Notenough to make her ourown.”Manon stalked towardher Third. “You are one oftheThirteen.Youhavedutiesand obligations, and yet thisishowyouspendyourtime?”Asterin held her ground.

“You said to keep an eye onher, and I did. I got to the

bottomofthings.She’sbarelypast being a witchling. YouwantVernonLochanbringingherdowntothatchamber?Orover to one of the othermountains?”“I don’t give a shit what

Vernon doeswith his humanpets.”But once the words were

out,theytastedfoul.“Ibroughtherhere soyou

couldknow—”“Youbroughtherhereasa

prize to win back yourposition.”Elide was still trying her

best to vanish through thewall.Manonsnappedherfingers

in the girl’s direction. “I’mescorting you back to yourroom.Keepthemoney,ifyouwant.MyThird has an aeriefull of wyvern shit to cleanout.”“Manon,”Asterinbegan.“Wing Leader,” Manon

growled. “When you’vestopped acting like asimpering mortal, you mayagainaddressmeasManon.”“And yet you tolerate a

wyvern who sniffs flowersandmakespuppyeyesatthisgirl.”Manonalmoststruckher—

almost went for her throat.But the girl was watching,listening. SoManon grabbedElideby the armandyankedhertowardthedoor.

Elide kept hermouth shut asManon led her down thestairs.Shedidn’taskhowtheWingLeaderknewwhereherroomwas.She wondered if Manon

would kill her once theyreachedit.Wonderedifshe’dbegand

grovel for mercy when thetimecame.Butafterawhile,thewitch

said, “If you try to bribeanyone here, they’ll just turnyou in. Save the money forwhenyourun.”Elidehidtheshakinginher

handsandnodded.The witch gave her a

sidelong glance, her goldeneyes shimmering in thetorchlight. “Where the hellwould you have run to,anyway? There’s nothingwithin a hundred miles. Theonly way you would stand a

chance is if you got on the…” Manon snorted. “Thesupplywagons.”Elide’s heart sank. “Please

—pleasedon’ttellVernon.”“Don’tyouthinkifVernon

wanted to use you like that,he’d have done it already?And why make you playservant?”“I don’t know. He likes

games; he might be waitingfor one of you to confirmwhatIam.”

Manon fell silent again—untiltheyroundedacorner.Elide’s stomach dropped

down to her feet when shebeheldwho stood in front ofher door as if she’dsummoned him by merethought.Vernon was wearing his

usual vibrant tunic—today aTerrasen green—and hisbrows rose at the sight ofManonandElide.“What are you doing

here?” Manon snapped,coming to a stop in front ofElide’slittledoor.Vernon smiled. “Visiting

mybelovedniece,ofcourse.”ThoughVernonwas taller,

Manonseemed to lookdownher nose at him, seemedbigger than him as she kepther grip on Elide’s arm andsaid,“Forwhatpurpose?”“I was hoping to see how

you twoweregettingalong,”herunclepurred.“But…”He

looked at the hand ManonhadaroundElide’swrist.Andthe door beyond them. “Itseems I needn’t haveworried.”It took Elide longer to

catch it than Manon, whobaredherteethandsaid,“I’mnotinthehabitofforcingmyservants.”“Only slaughtering men

likepigs,correct?”“Their deaths equate to

theirbehaviorinlife,”Manon

replied with a kind of calmthat made Elide wonderwhether she should startrunning.Vernonletoutalowlaugh.

He was so unlike her father,who had been warm andhandsome and broad-shouldered—ayearpastthirtywhenhewasexecutedbytheking.Her uncle hadwatchedthat execution and smiled.And thencome to tellherallaboutit.

“Allying yourself with thewitches?” Vernon askedElide.“Howruthlessofyou.”Elide lowered her eyes to

theground.“Thereisnothingtoallyagainst,Uncle.”“Perhaps I kept you too

sheltered for all those years,ifyoubelievethat’sso.”Manon cocked her head.

“Say your piece and begone.”“Careful, Wing Leader,”

Vernon said. “You know

precisely where your powerends.”Manon shrugged. “I also

know precisely where tobite.”Vernongrinnedandbitthe

air in front of him. Hisamusement honed itself intosomething ugly as he turnedto Elide. “I wanted to checkon you. I know how hardtodaywas.”Her heart stopped. Had

someone told him about the

conversation in the kitchens?Had there been a spy in thetowerjustnow?“Whywould itbehardfor

her, human?” Manon’s starewasascoldasiron.“This date is always

difficult for the Lochanfamily,” Vernon said. “CalLochan, my brother, was atraitor, you know. A rebelleader for the few monthsafter Terrasen was inheritedby the king. But he was

caught like the rest of themandputdown.Difficultforusto curse his name and stillmisshim,isn’tit,Elide?”Ithitherlikeablow.How

hadsheforgotten?Shehadn’tsaid the prayers, hadn’tbeseeched the gods to lookafterhim.Her father’sdeath-day, and she had forgottenhim, as surely as the worldhad forgotten her. Keepingher head downwasn’t an actnow, even with the Wing

Leader’seyesonher.“You’re a useless worm,

Vernon,” Manon said. “Gospew your nonsenseelsewhere.”“Whatever would your

grandmother say,” Vernonmused,stuffinghishandsintohis pockets, “about such …behavior?” Manon’s growlchased after him as hesauntereddownthehall.Manon flung open Elide’s

door,revealingaroombarely

big enough for a cot and apile of clothes. She hadn’tbeen permitted to bring anybelongings, none of thekeepsakes that Finnula hadhidden all these years: thesmall doll her mother hadbrought back from a trip tothe Southern Continent, herfather’s seal ring, hermother’s ivory comb—thefirst gift Cal Lochan hadgiven Marion the Laundresswhile courting her.

Apparently, Marion theIronteeth Witch would havebeenabettername.Manonshutthedoorwitha

backwardkick.Too small—the room was

too small for two people,especially when one of themwas ancient and dominatedthe space just by breathing.Elideslumpedontothecot,ifonly toputmoreairbetweenherandManon.TheWingLeaderstaredat

her for a long moment, andthen said, “You can choose,witchling.Blueorred.”“What?”“Doesyourbloodrunblue

orred?Youdecide.Ifitrunsblue, it turns out I havejurisdiction over you. Littleshits likeVernon can’t do asthey will to my kind—notwithout my permission. Ifyourbloodrunsred…Well,Idon’tparticularlycareabouthumans, and seeing what

Vernon does with youmightbeentertaining.”“Why would you offer

this?”Manon gave her a half

smile, all iron teeth and noremorse.“BecauseIcan.”“Ifmybloodruns…blue,

won’titconfirmwhatVernonsuspects?Won’theact?”“Ariskyou’llhavetotake.

He can try to act on it—andlearnwhereitgetshim.”A trap.AndElidewas the

bait. Claim her heritage as awitch,andifVernontookhertobeimplanted,Manoncouldhavethegroundstokillhim.She had a feeling Manon

might hope for that. It wasnot just a risk; it was asuicidal, stupid risk. Butbetterthannothing.The witches, who lowered

theireyesfornoman…Untilshe could get away, perhapsshemightlearnathingortwoaboutwhatitwasliketohave

fangsandclaws.Andhowtousethem.“Blue,” she whispered.

“Mybloodrunsblue.”“Good choice, witchling,”

Manon said, and the wordwasachallengeandanorder.Sheturnedaway,butglancedoverhershoulder.“WelcometotheBlackbeaks.”Witchling. Elide stared

after her. She had likely justmade the biggest mistake ofherlife,but…itwasstrange.

Strange, that feeling ofbelonging.

26

“I’m not about to keel overdead,” Aedion said to hiscousin, his queen, as shehelped him walk around theroof. This was their thirdrotation, the moonshimmering on the tilesbeneaththem.Itwasanefforttokeepupright, not from the

steady throb in his side, butfrom the fact that Aelin—Aelin—wasbesidehim, anarmaroundhiswaist.A cool night breeze laced

with the plume of smoke onthe horizon wrapped aroundhim,chillingthesweatonhisneck.But he angled his face

away from the smoke,breathing in another, bettersmell. And found the sourceof it frowning up at him.

Aelin’s exquisite scentsoothed him, awakened him.He’d never get sick of thatscent.Itwasamiracle.But her frown—that was

not a miracle. “What?” hedemanded. It had been a daysinceshe’dfought in thePits—a day of more sleeping.Tonight, under cover ofdarkness, was the first he’dbeenabletogetoutofbed.Ifhe were cooped up foranother moment, he’d start

tearingdownthewalls.He’d had enough of cages

andprisons.“I’m making my

professionalassessment,”shesaid, keeping pace besidehim.“As an assassin, queen, or

pit-brawler?”Aelingavehimagrin—the

sort that told him she wasdebating kicking his ass.“Don’t be jealous that youdidn’tgetashotatthoseValg

bastards.”It wasn’t that. She’d been

fightingValglastnight,whilehe’dlaininbed,unawareshewas in any sort of danger atall. He tried to convincehimself thatdespite theperil,despite how she’d returnedreeking of blood and injuredfromwhere one of them hadbitten her, she’d at leastlearned that Morath waswhere the peoplewithmagicwere being turned into Valg

vessels.Tried to convince himself,

and failed. But—he had togive her space. He wouldn’tbe an overbearing, territorialFae bastard, as she liked tocallthem.“And if I pass your

assessment,” Aedion said atlast, “will we go directly toTerrasen, or are we waitinghereforPrinceRowan?”“Prince Rowan,” she said,

rolling her eyes. “You keep

needlingmefordetailsaboutPrinceRowan—”“Youbefriendedoneofthe

greatestwarriors inhistory—perhaps the greatest warrioralive. Your father, and hismen,alltoldmestoriesaboutPrinceRowan.”“What?”Oh, he’d been waiting to

drop this particular gem ofinformation. “Warriors in theNorthstilltalkabouthim.”“Rowan’s never been to

thiscontinent.”She said it with such

casualness—Rowan. Shereally had no clue who shenowconsideredamemberofher court, who she’d freedfromhisoathtoMaeve.Whoshefrequentlyreferredtoasapaininherass.Rowan was the most

powerful full-blooded Faemalealive.Andhisscentwasall over her. Yet she had nogods-damnedidea.

“Rowan Whitethorn is alegend. And so is his—whatdoyoucallthem?”“Cadre,”shesaidglumly.“The six of them …”

Aedion loosed a breath. “Weusedtotellstoriesaboutthemaroundfires.Theirbattlesandexploitsandadventures.”She sighed through her

nose. “Please, please don’tever tell him that. I’ll neverhear the end of it, and he’lluse it in every argument we

have.”Honestly, Aedion didn’t

know what he would say tothemale—becausethereweremany, many things to say.Expressing his admirationwould be the easy part. Butwhenitcametothankinghimforwhathe’ddone forAelinthis spring, or what, exactly,Rowanexpectedasamemberof their court—if the FaePrinceexpectedtobeofferedthebloodoath,then…Itwas

an effort to keep fromtighteninghisgriponAelin.Ren already knew that the

blood oath was Aedion’s byright, and any other child ofTerrasenwouldknow,too.Sofirst thing Aedion would dowhen the prince arrivedwould be to make sure heunderstood that little fact. Itwasn’t like in Wendlyn,where warriors were offeredthe oathwhenever their rulerpleased.

No—since Brannon hadfounded Terrasen, its kingsand queens had picked onlyoneoftheircourttosweartheblood oath, usually at theircoronationor soonafter. Justone,fortheirentirelives.Aedion had no interest in

yielding the honor, even tothelegendarywarrior-prince.“Anyway,” Aelin said

sharply as they rounded thecorner of the roof again,“we’re not going toTerrasen

—not yet. Not until you’rewell enough to travel hardandfast.Rightnow,weneedto get the Amulet of OrynthfromArobynn.”Aedionwashalftemptedto

huntdownher formermasterand rip him to shreds as heinterrogatedhimaboutwherethe amulet was kept, but hecould play along with herplan.He was still weak enough

that until now, he’d barely

been able to stand longenough topiss.HavingAelinhelp him the first time hadbeenawkwardenoughthathecouldn’t even go until shestarted singing a bawdy tuneat the top of her lungs andturned on the sink faucet, allthe while helping him standoverthetoilet.“Give me another day or

two, and I’ll help you huntdown one of those demonpricks for him.” Rage

slammedintohim,ashardasanyphysical blow.TheKingof the Assassins haddemanded she put herself insuchdanger—asifherlife,asif the fate of their kingdom,wereagods-damnedgametohim.But Aelin … Aelin had

struckthatbargain.Forhim.Again, breathing became

hard.Howmanyscarswouldsheaddtothatlithe,powerfulbodybecauseofhim?

Then Aelin said, “You’renot going to hunt the Valgwithme.”Aedion stumbled a step.

“Oh,yes,Iam.”“No,you’renot,”shesaid.

“One, you’re toorecognizable—”“Don’tevenstart.”She observed him for a

longmoment, as if assessinghis every weakness andstrength. At last she said,“Verywell.”

Healmostsaggedinrelief.“Butafter all that—theValg,the amulet,” Aedion pushed,“willwefreemagic?”Anod.“I assume you have a plan.”Another nod. He gritted histeeth. “Do you care to shareit?”“Soon,”shesaidsweetly.Godshelphim.“Andafter

completing your mysterious,wonderful plan, we’ll go toTerrasen.”He didn’twant toask about Dorian. He’d seen

the anguish on her face thatdayinthegarden.But if she couldn’t put the

princeling down, he’d do it.Hewouldn’tenjoyit,andthecaptain might very well killhim in return, but to keepTerrasen safe, he’d cut offDorian’shead.Aelin nodded. “Yes, we’ll

go, but—you have only onelegion.”“Therearemenwhowould

fight,andotherterritoriesthat

mightcomeifyoucall.”“Wecandiscussthislater.”He leashed his temper.

“We need to be in Terrasenbefore the summer is out—before the snowstarts fallingin autumn, or else we waituntil spring.” She noddeddistantly. Yesterdayafternoon, she’d dispatchedthe letters Aedion had askedhertowritetoRen,theBane,andtheremainingloyallordsof Terrasen, letting them

know they’d been reunited,andthatanyonewithmagicintheirveinswastolielow.Heknew the remaining lords—the old, cunning bastards—wouldn’t appreciate orderslike that, even from theirqueen.Buthehadtotry.“And,” he added, because

she really was going to shuthim down about this, “we’llneedmoneyforthatarmy.”Shesaidquietly,“Iknow.”Not an answer. Aedion

tried again. “Even if menagree to fight on their honoralone, we stand a betterchance of having greaternumbers ifwecanpay them.Not to mention feeding ourforces, and arming andsupplying them.” For yearsnow, he and the Bane hadtraversed from tavern totavern, quietly raising fundsfor their own efforts. It stillkilled him to see the poorestof his people plunk hard-

earned coins into the pansthey’d passed around, to seethe hope in their gaunt,scarred faces. “The King ofAdarlan emptied our royalcoffers;itwasoneofthefirstthings he did. The onlymoney we have comes fromwhatever our people candonate—which isn’t much—or whatever is granted byAdarlan.”“Another way of keeping

control all these years,” she

murmured.“Our people are beggared.

Theydon’thave twocopperstorubtogetherthesedays,letalonetopaytaxes.”“I wouldn’t raise taxes to

pay for a war,” she saidsharply. “And I’d rather notwhore ourselves to foreignnations for loans, either. Notyet,anyway.”Aedion’sthroattightened at the bitternesscoatingher toneas theybothconsidered the other way

money and men could beobtained. But he couldn’tbring himself to mentionselling her hand in marriagetoawealthyforeignkingdom—notyet.So he just said, “It’s

something to startcontemplating. If magic isindeedfreed,wecouldrecruitthe wielders to our side—offer them training, money,shelter.Imagineasoldierwhocankillwithbladeandmagic.

It could turn the tide of abattle.”Shadows flickered in her

eyes.“Indeed.”He weighed her posture,

the clarity of her gaze, hertired face. Too much—she’dalready faced and survivedtoomuch.He’d seen the scars—the

tattoos that covered them—peekingoverthecollarofhershirt everynowand then.Hehadn’tyetdaredtoasktosee

them. The bandaged bite onher arm was nothingcompared to that pain, andthe many others she hadn’tmentioned, the scars all overher.Thescarsalloverbothofthem.“And then,” he said,

clearing his throat, “there’sthe blood oath.” He’d hadendless hours in bed tocompile this list. Shestiffened enough thatAedionquickly added, “You don’t

have to—not yet. But whenyou’reready,I’mready.”“Youstillwant to swear it

tome?”Hervoicewasflat.“Of course I do.” He

damned caution to hell andsaid,“Itwasmyright then—andnow.ItcanwaituntilwegettoTerrasen,butit’sgoingtobemewhotakesit.Nooneelse.”Her throat bobbed.

“Right.”A breathless answerthathecouldn’tread.

She let go of him andstalked toward one of thelittletrainingareastotestouther injured arm. Or maybeshewanted togetaway fromhim—maybe he’d broachedthetopicthewrongway.Hemighthavehobbledoff

the roof had the door notopened and the captainappeared.Aelin was already striding

toward Chaol with predatoryfocus.He’dhate tobeonthe

receiving end of that gait.“Whatisit?”shesaid.He’d hate to be on the

receivingendofthatgreeting,too.Aedionlimpedforthemas

Chaol kicked the door shutbehind him. “The ShadowMarketisgone.”Aelindrewupshort.“What

doyoumean?”The captain’s face was

tight and pale. “The Valgsoldiers. They went to the

markettonightandsealedtheexits with everyone inside.Then they burnt it. Thepeople who tried to escapethrough the sewers foundgarrisons of soldiers waitingthere,swordsready.”That explained the smoke

in the air, the plume on thehorizon.Holygods.Thekinghad to have lost his mindentirely—hadtohavestoppedcaring what the generalpublicthought.

Aelin’s arms slackened ather sides. “Why?”The slighttremor in her voice hadAedion’shacklesrising,thoseFae instincts roaring to shutthe captain up, to rip out histhroat,toendthecauseofherpainandfear—“Becauseitgotoutthatthe

rebels who freed him”—ChaolsentacuttingglanceinAedion’s direction—“weremeeting in the ShadowMarkettobuysupplies.”

Aedion reached her side,close enough now to see thetightness of the captain’sface, the gauntness thathadn’tbeen thereweeksago.Thelasttimethey’dspoken.“AndIsupposeyoublame

me?” Aelin said withmidnightsoftness.A muscle flickered on the

captain’sjaw.Hedidn’tevennod a greeting to Aedion, oracknowledge the monthsthey’d spent working

together, what had happenedinthattowerroom—“The king could have

orderedtheirslaughterbyanymeans,” Chaol said, theslender scaronhis face starkin the moonlight. “But hechosefire.”Aelinwentimpossiblystill.Aedion snarled. “You’re a

prick for suggesting theattack was a message forher.”Chaol at last turned his

attention toward him. “Youthinkit’snottrue?”Aelin cocked her head.

“You came all this way tofling accusations in myface?”“You told me to stop by

tonight,” Chaol retorted, andAedion was half tempted topunch his teeth down histhroat for the tone he used.“But I came to askwhy youhaven’t moved on the clocktower. How many more

innocent people are going tobe caught in the crossfire ofthis?”Itwasanefforttokeephis

mouthshut.Hedidn’tneedtospeak for Aelin, who saidwith flawless venom, “Areyou suggesting that I don’tcare?”“You risked everything—

multiplelives—togetoutoneman.Ithinkyoufindthiscityand its citizens to beexpendable.”

Aelin hissed, “Need Iremindyou,Captain,thatyouwenttoEndovieranddidnotblink at the slaves, at themass graves? Need I remindyou that I was starved andchained, and you let DukePerrington force me to thegroundatDorian’sfeetwhileyou did nothing? And nowyouhave thenerve toaccusemeofnotcaring,whenmanyofthepeopleinthiscityhaveprofited off the blood and

miseryoftheverypeopleyouignored?”Aedion stifled the snarl

workingitswayuphisthroat.The captain had never saidthat about the initialmeetingwithhisqueen.Neversaidhehadn’t stepped in while shewas manhandled, humiliated.Hadthecaptainevenflinchedat the scars on her back, ormerely examined them asthough she were some prizeanimal?

“You don’t get to blameme,” Aelin breathed. “Youdon’tgettoblamemefortheShadowMarket.”“This city still needs

protecting,”Chaolsnapped.Aelin shrugged, heading

for the roofdoor. “Ormaybethis city should burn,” shemurmured.AchillwentdownAedion’s spine, even thoughhe knew she’d said it to pissoff the captain. “Maybe theworld should burn,” she

added, and stalked off theroof.Aedion turned to the

captain. “Youwant to pick afight, you come to me, nother.”The captain just shook his

head and stared across theslums. Aedion followed hisgaze, taking in the capitaltwinklingaroundthem.He’d hated this city from

the very first time he’dspotted the white walls, the

glass castle. He’d beennineteen,andhadbeddedandreveledhiswayfromoneendof Rifthold to the other,trying to find something,anything, to explain whyAdarlan thought it was sogods-damned superior, whyTerrasen had fallen to itsknees before these people.And when Aedion hadfinishedwith thewomenandtheparties,afterRiftholdhaddumped its riches at his feet

and begged him for more,more,more,he’dstillhatedit—evenmorethanbefore.And all that time, and

every timeafter,he’dhadnoidea that what he trulysought, what his shreddedheart still dreamed of, wasdwellinginahouseofkillersmereblocksaway.At last, the captain said,

“Youlookmoreorlessinonepiece.”Aedion gave him a wolf’s

grin. “And you won’t be, ifyou speak to her that wayagain.”Chaolshookhishead.“Did

you learn anything aboutDorianwhileyouwereinthecastle?”“You insultmy queen and

yethave thenerve to askmeforthatinformation?”Chaol rubbed his brows

with his thumb andforefinger. “Please—just tellme. Today has been bad

enough.”“Why?”“I’ve been hunting the

Valg commanders in thesewers since the fight in thePits.Wetrackedthemtotheirnewnests,thankthegods,butfound no sign of humansbeingheldprisoner.Yetmorepeople have vanished thanever—right under our noses.Someoftheotherrebelswantto abandon Rifthold.Establish ourselves in other

cities in anticipation of theValgspreading.”“Andyou?”“I don’t leave without

Dorian.”Aedion didn’t have the

heart to ask if that meantaliveordead.Hesighed.“Hecame tome in the dungeons.Taunted me. There was nosign of the man inside him.He didn’t even know whoSorscha was.” And then,maybe because he was

feeling particularly kind,thanks to the golden-hairedblessing in the apartmentbeneath, Aedion said, “I’msorry—aboutDorian.”Chaol’s shoulders sagged,

as if an invisible weightpushed against them.“Adarlan needs to have afuture.”“Somakeyourselfking.”“I’m not fit to be king.”

The self-loathing in thosewords made Aedion pity the

captaindespitehimself.Plans—Aelin had plans foreverything, it seemed. Shehad invited the captain overtonight, he realized, not todiscussanythingwithher,butforthisveryconversation.Hewondered when she wouldstartconfidinginhim.These things took time, he

reminded himself. She wasused toa lifetimeof secrecy;learning to depend on himwould take a bit of

adjustment.“I can think of worse

alternatives,” Aedion said.“LikeHollin.”“And what will you and

Aelin do about Hollin?”Chaol asked, gazing towardthe smoke. “Where do youdrawtheline?”“Wedon’tkillchildren.”“Even ones who already

showsignsofcorruption?”“Youdon’tget theright to

fling that sort of horseshit in

our faces—not when yourking murdered our family.Ourpeople.”Chaol’s eyes flickered.

“I’msorry.”Aedion shook his head.

“We’renotenemies.Youcantrustus—trustAelin.”“No, I can’t. Not

anymore.”“Then it’s your loss,”

Aedionsaid.“Goodluck.”It was all he really had to

offerthecaptain.

Chaol stormed out of thewarehouse apartment andacross the street to whereNesrynwas leaningagainstabuilding, arms crossed.Beneath the shadows of herhood, her mouth quirked totheside.“Whathappened?”He continued down the

street,hisbloodroaringinhisveins.“Nothing.”“What did they say?”

Nesryn kept up with him,meetinghimstepforstep.“Noneofyourbusiness,so

dropit.Justbecauseweworktogetherdoesn’tmeanyou’reentitled to know everythingthatgoesoninmylife.”Nesryn stiffened almost

imperceptibly, and part ofChaol flinched, alreadyyearning to take the wordsback.But it was true. He’d

destroyed everything the day

he fled the castle—andmaybehe’d taken tohangingaround with Nesryn becausethere was no one else whodidn’tlookathimwithpityintheireyes.Maybe it had been selfish

ofhimtodoit.Nesryndidn’tbotherwitha

good-bye before vanishingdownanalley.At least he couldn’t hate

himself any more than healreadydid.

Lying to Aedion about thebloodoathwas…awful.She would tell him—she

wouldfindawaytotellhim.When things were less new.When he stopped looking ather as though she were agods-damnedmiracleandnota lying, cowardly piece ofshit.MaybetheShadowMarket

hadbeenherfault.

Crouched on a rooftop,Aelin shook off the cloak ofguilt and temper that hadbeensmotheringherforhoursandturnedherattentiontothealleybelow.Perfect.She’d tracked several

different patrols tonight,noting which of thecommanders wore blackrings, which seemed morebrutal than the rest, whichdidn’t even try to move likehumans.Theman—orwashe

ademonnow?—haulingopena sewer grate in the streetbelowwas one of themilderones.She’d wanted to shadow

this commander to whereverhemadehisnest,soshecouldat least give Chaol thatinformation—prove to himhow invested she was in thewelfareofthispiss-poorcity.This commander’s men

had headed for the glowingglass palace, the thick river

fogcasting theentirehillsidein greenish light. But he hadveered away, going deeperinto the slums and to thesewersbeneaththem.Shewatchedhimdisappear

through the sewergrate, thennimbly climbed off the roof,hurrying for the closestentrance that would connectto his. Swallowing that oldfear, she quietly entered thesewers a block or two downfromwhere he’d climbed in,

andlistenedcarefully.Drippingwater,thereekof

refuse, the scurrying of rats…Andsplashingstepsahead,

around the next bigintersection of tunnels.Perfect.Aelin kept her blades

concealed in her suit, notwanting them to rust in thesewerdampness.Sheclungtothe shadows, her stepssoundless as she neared the

crossroadsandpeeredaroundthe corner. Sure enough, theValgcommanderwasstridingdown the tunnel, his back toher, headed deeper into thesystem.When he was far enough

ahead,sheslippedaroundthecorner, keeping to thedarkness, avoiding thepatches of light that shonethroughtheoverheadgrates.Tunnel after tunnel, she

trailedhim,untilhereacheda

massivepool.It was surrounded by

crumbling walls covered ingrime and moss, so ancientthat she wondered if they’dbeen among the first built inRifthold.But it wasn’t the man

kneeling before the pool, itswaters fed by rivers snakingin from either direction, thatmade her breath catch andpanicfloodherveins.It was the creature that

emergedfromthewater.

27

The creature rose, its blackstone body cutting throughthewaterwithhardlyaripple.TheValgcommanderknelt

before it, head down, notmoving a muscle as thehorror uncoiled to its fullheight.Her heart leaped into a

wildbeat,andshewilledittocalmasshetookinthedetailsofthecreaturethatnowstoodwaist-deep in thepool,waterdrippingoff itsmassivearmsand elongated, serpentinesnout.She’dseenitbefore.One of eight creatures

carved into the clock toweritself; eight gargoyles thatshe’d once sworn had …watchedher.Smiledather.Was there currently one

missingfromtheclocktower,or had the statues beenmolded after thismonstrosity?She willed strength to her

knees. A faint blue lightbegan pulsing from beneathher suit—shit. The Eye.Never a good sign when itflared—never,never,never.She put a hand over it,

smothering the barelyperceptibleglow.“Report,” the thing hissed

throughamouthofdarkstoneteeth. Wyrdhound—that’swhat shewould call it. Evenif itdidn’t lookremotelylikeadog,shehadthefeelingthegargoyle-thing could trackand hunt as well as anycanine.Andobeyeditsmasterwell.The commander kept his

headlowered.“Nosignofthegeneral, or thosewho helpedhim get away. We receivedword that he’d been spotted

heading down the southernroad, riding with five othersfor Fenharrow. I sent twopatrolsafterthem.”She could thank Arobynn

forthat.“Keep looking,” the

Wyrdhound said, the dimlightglintingontheiridescentveins running through itsobsidian skin. “The generalwas injured—he can’t havegottenfar.”The creature’s voice

stoppedhercold.Not the voice of a demon,

oraman.Buttheking.She didn’t want to know

whatsortofthingshe’ddonein order to see through thisthing’s eyes, speak throughitsmouth.A shudder crawled down

herspineasshebackeddownthetunnel.Thewaterrunningbeside the raised walkwaywas shallow enough that the

creature couldn’t possiblyswimthere,but…shedidn’tdarebreathetooloudly.Oh,she’dgiveArobynnhis

Valg commander, all right.Then she’d let Chaol andNesryn hunt them all intoextinction.But not until she had the

chancetospeaktooneonherown.

It took Aelin ten blocks tostoptheshakinginherbones,ten blocks to debate whethershe would even tell themwhatshe’dseenandwhatshehad planned—butwalking inthe door and seeing Aedionpacing by the window wasenough to set her on edgeagain.“Would you look at that,”

she drawled, throwing backher hood. “I’m alive andunharmed.”

“You said twohours—youweregonefour.”“Ihadthingstodo—things

that only I can do. So toaccomplish those things, Ineeded to go out. You’re inno shape to be in the streets,especially if there’s danger—”“You swore there wasn’t

anydanger.”“Do I look like an oracle?

There is always danger—always.”

That wasn’t even the halfofit.“You reek of the gods-

damned sewers,” Aedionsnapped. “Want to tell mewhatyouweredoingthere?”No.Notreally.Aedion rubbed at his face.

“Do you understand what itwas like to sit on my asswhile you were gone? Yousaid two hours. What was Isupposedtothink?”“Aedion,” she said as

calmly as she could, andpulled off her filthy glovesbefore taking his broad,callusedhand.“Igetit.Ido.”“Whatwereyoudoingthat

was so important it couldn’twaitadayor two?”Hiseyeswerewide,pleading.“Scouting.”“You’regoodatthis,aren’t

you—halftruths.”“One, just because you’re

…you, it doesn’t entitle youto information about

everythingIdo.Two—”“There you go with the

listsagain.”Shesqueezedhishandhard

enough to shatter a lesserman’s bones. “If you don’tlikemy lists, then don’t pickfightswithme.”Hestaredather;shestared

rightback.Unyielding, unbreakable.

They’d been cut from thesamecloth.Aedionloosedabreathand

looked at their joined hands—thenopenedhistoexamineherscarredpalm,crisscrossedwiththemarksofhervowtoNehemia and the cut she’dmade the moment she andRowan became carranam,theirmagicjoiningtheminaneternalbond.“It’shardnottothinkallof

yourscarsaremyfault.”Oh.Oh.Ittookherabreathortwo,

but shemanaged to cock her

chin at a devious angle andsay, “Please. Half of thesescarsIrightlydeserved.”Sheshowed him a small scardown the inside of herforearm. “See that one? Aman in a tavern sliced meopen with a bottle after Icheated him in a round ofcards and tried to steal hismoney.”Achokedsoundcamefrom

him.“Youdon’tbelieveme?”

“Oh,Ibelieveyou.Ididn’tknow you were so bad atcardsthatyouhadtoresorttocheating.” Aedion chuckledquietly,butthefearlingered.So she peeled back the

collarofher tunic torevealathinnecklaceof scars. “BabaYellowlegs, Matron of theYellowlegsWitch-Clan,gaveme these when she tried tokill me. I cut off her head,thencuther corpse into littlebits,thenshoveditallintothe

ovenofherwagon.”“I wondered who killed

Yellowlegs.” She could haveembraced him for thatsentence alone—for the lackof fear or disgust in thoseeyes.She walked to the buffet

table and pulled out a bottleof wine from inside thecabinet. “I’m surprised youbeasts didn’t drink all mygood alcohol these pastmonths.” She frowned at the

cabinet. “Looks like one ofyougotintothebrandy.”“Ren’s grandfather,”

Aedion said, tracking hermovements from his spot bythe window. She opened thebottle of wine and didn’tbother with a glass as sheslumped onto the couch andswigged.“This one,” she said,

pointing to a jagged scar byher elbow. Aedion camearoundthecouchtositbeside

her.Hetookupnearlyhalfofthe damn thing. “The PirateLordofSkull’sBaygavethattomeafterItrashedhisentirecity, freed his slaves, andlooked damn good whiledoingit.”Aedion took the bottle of

wineanddrankfromit.“Hasanyone ever taught youhumility?”“You didn’t learn it, so

whyshouldI?”Aedion laughed, and then

showed her his left hand.Several of the fingers werecrooked. “In the trainingcamps, one of thoseAdarlanian bastards brokeevery fingerwhen Imouthedoff.Thenhebroke them inasecond place because Iwouldn’t stop swearing athimafter.”She whistled through her

teeth,evenasshemarveledatthe bravery, the defiance.Even as pride for her cousin

mingled with the slightesttinge of shame for herself.Aedionyankeduphisshirttoreveal a muscled abdomenwhere a thick, jagged slashplunged from his ribs to hisbelly button. “Battle nearRosamel. Six-inch serratedhunting knife, curved on thetip. Rutting prick got mehere”—hepointed to the top,thendraggedhisfingerdown—“andslicedsouth.”“Shit,” she said. “How the

hellareyoustillbreathing?”“Luck—and I was able to

moveashedragged it down,keepinghimfromguttingme.AtleastIlearnedthevalueofshieldingafterthat.”So they went on through

the evening and the night,passing the wine betweenthem.One by one, they told the

stories of the woundsaccumulated in the yearsspentapart.Andafterawhile,

she peeled off her suit andturned to showhimher back—toshowhimthescars,andthe tattoos she’d had etchedoverthem.When she again reclined

onthecouch,Aedionshowedher the scar across his leftpectoral, from the first battlehe’d fought, when he’dfinallybeenable towinbackthe Sword of Orynth—herfather’ssword.Hepaddedtowhatshenow

considered his room, andwhenhereturned,heheldthesword in his hands as heknelt. “This belongs to you,”hesaidhoarsely.Herswallowwasloudinherears.ShefoldedAedion’shands

around the scabbard, even asherheartfracturedatthesightofher father’sblade, atwhathe had done to attain it, tosave it. “It belongs to you,Aedion.”He didn’t lower the blade.

“Itwasjustforsafekeeping.”“It belongs to you,” she

said again. “There is no oneelse who deserves it.” Notevenher,sherealized.Aedion took a shuddering

breathandbowedhishead.“You’re a sad drunk,” she

toldhim,andhelaughed.Aedion set the sword on

the table behind him andslumpedbackontothecouch.Hewaslargeenoughthatshewas nearly popped off her

own cushion, and she glaredat him as she straightened.“Don’t breakmy couch, youhulkingbrute.”Aedionruffledherhairand

stretched his long legs outbefore him. “Ten years, andthat’sthetreatmentIgetfrommybelovedcousin.”She elbowed him in the

ribs.

Two more days passed, andAedionwas going out of hismind,especiallyasAelinkeptsneaking out only to returncoveredinfilthandreekingtoHellas’sfieryrealm.Goingtothe rooftop for fresh airwasn’tthesameasgoingout,and the apartment was smallenoughthathewasstartingtocontemplate sleeping in thewarehousedownstairstohavesomesenseofspace.He always felt that way,

though—whether in Riftholdor Orynth or at the finest ofpalaces—if hewent too longwithout walking throughforests or fields, without thekiss of thewind on his face.Gods above, he’d even takethe Bane’s war camp overthis. It had been too longsince he’d seen his men,laughedwiththem,listenedtoand secretly envied theirstories about their families,theirhomes.Butno longer—

not now that his own familyhadbeenreturnedtohim;notnowthatAelinwashishome.Even if the walls of her

homenowpushedonhim.He must have looked as

caged as he felt, becauseAelin rolled her eyes whenshe came back into theapartmentthatafternoon.“All right, all right,” she

said, throwing up her hands.“I’d rather have you wreckyourself than destroy my

furniture from boredom.You’reworsethanadog.”Aedionbaredhisteethina

smile.“Iaimtoimpress.”Sotheyarmedandcloaked

themselves and made it twosteps outside before hedetecteda femalescent—likemint and some spice hecouldn’t identify—approachingthem.Fast.He’dcaught that scent before, butcouldn’tplaceit.Painwhippedhisribsashe

reached for his dagger, butAelin said, “It’s Nesryn.Relax.”Indeed, the approaching

woman lifted a hand ingreeting, though she wascloaked so thoroughly thatAedion could see nothing oftheprettyfacebeneath.Aelin met her halfway

downtheblock,movingwitheaseinthatwickedblacksuitof hers, and didn’t botherwaiting for Aedion as she

said,“Issomethingwrong?”The woman’s attention

flicked from Aedion to hisqueen. He hadn’t forgottenthat day at the castle—thearrowshe’dfiredandtheoneshe’d pointed at him. “No. Icame todeliver the reportonthe new nests we’ve found.But I can return later, if youtwoarebusy.”“Wewere just going out,”

Aelinsaid,“togetthegeneraladrink.”

Nesryn’s shoulder-lengthnight-dark hair shiftedbeneath her hood as shecocked her head. “You wantanextrasetofeyeswatchingyourback?”Aedion opened his mouth

to say no, but Aelin lookedcontemplative. She glancedoverhershoulderathim,andhe knew she was assessinghis condition to decidewhether she might indeedwant another sword among

them. If Aelin were in theBane, he might have tackledherrightthere.Aedion drawled to the

young rebel, “What Iwant isa pretty face that doesn’tbelong to my cousin. Lookslikeyou’lldothetrick.”“You’re insufferable,”

Aelinsaid.“AndIhatetotellyou, Cousin, but the captainwouldn’t be very pleased ifyoumadeamoveonFaliq.”“It’snot like that,”Nesryn

saidtightly.Aelin lifted a shoulder. “It

wouldmake no difference tome if it was.” The bare,honesttruth.Nesryn shook her head. “I

wasn’t considering you, but—it’s not like that. I thinkhe’scontenttobemiserable.”The rebel waved a hand indismissal.“Wecoulddieanyday, any hour. I don’t see apointinbrooding.”“Well, you’re in luck,

Nesryn Faliq,” Aelin said.“TurnsoutI’massickofmycousin as he is of me. Wecould use some newcompany.”Aedion sketched a bow to

the rebel, themotionmakinghis ribs positively ache, andgestured to the street ahead.“Afteryou.”Nesryn stared him down,

as though she could seeexactly where his injury wasgroaning in agony, and then

followedafterthequeen.Aelin took them to a truly

disreputable tavern a fewblocksaway.Withimpressiveswagger and menace, shekickedoutacoupleofthievessitting at a table in the back.They took one look at herweapons, at that utterlywicked suit of hers, anddecided they liked havingtheir organs inside theirbodies.Thethreeofthemstayedat

the taproom until last call,hoodedsoheavilytheycouldhardlyrecognizeoneanother,playingcardsandrefusingthemany offers to join otherplayers. They didn’t havemoney to waste on realgames, so for currency theyused some dried beans thatAedion sweet-talked theharried serving girl intobringingthem.Nesrynbarelyspokeasshe

wonroundafterround,which

Aedion supposed was good,given that he hadn’t quitedecided if he wanted to killherforthatarrowshe’dfired.ButAelinaskedherquestionsabout her family’s bakery,about life for her parents ontheSouthernContinent,abouther sister and her nieces andnephews. When at last theyleftthedrinkinghall,noneofthem having dared to getinebriatedinpublic,andnoneof them too eager to go to

sleepjustyet,theymeanderedthrough the alleys of theslums.Aedion savored every step

offreedom.He’dbeenlockedin that cell forweeks. It hadhit an old wound, one hehadn’t spokenabout toAelinor anyone else, though hishighest-ranking warriors inthe Bane knew, if onlybecause they’d helped himexact his revenge years afterthe fact. Aedion was still

brooding about it when theystrode down a narrow, foggyalley, its dark stones silveredwith the light of the moonpeekingoutabove.Hepickedupthescrapeof

boots on stone before hiscompanionsdid, hisFae earscatchingthesound,andthrewout an arm in front of Aelinand Nesryn, who froze withexpertsilence.He sniffed the air, but the

stranger was downwind. So

helistened.Just one person, judging

from the near-silent footfallsthat pierced through thewallof fog. Moving with apredator’s ease that madeAedion’s instincts rise to theforefront.Aedionpalmedhisfighting

knivesasthemale’sscenthithim—unwashed, but with ahint of pine and snow. Andthen he smelledAelin on thestranger, the scent complex

and layered, woven into themalehimself.The male emerged from

the fog; tall—maybe tallerthan Aedion himself, if onlybyaninch—powerfullybuilt,andheavilyarmedbothaboveand beneath his pale graysurcoatandhood.Aelintookastepforward.Onestep,asifinadaze.She loosed a shuddering

breath, and a small,whimpering noise came out

ofher—asob.Andthenshewassprinting

down the alley, flying asthough the winds themselvespushedatherheels.She flung herself on the

male, crashing into him hardenough that anyone elsemight have gone rockingbackintothestonewall.But the male grabbed her

to him, his massive armswrapping around her tightlyand lifting her up. Nesryn

madetoapproach,butAedionstopped her with a hand onherarm.Aelin was laughing as she

cried, and the male was justholdingher, his hoodedheadburied in her neck. As if hewerebreathingherin.“Who is that?” Nesryn

asked.Aedionsmiled.“Rowan.”

28

Shewasshakingfromheadtotoe,andcouldn’tstopcrying,not as the full weight ofmissing Rowan crashed intoher, the weight of theseweeks alone. “How did youget here? How did you findme?” Aelin withdrew farenough to study the harsh

face shadowed by his hood,the tattoo peeking out alongthe side of it, and the grimlineofhissmile.Hewas here, hewas here,

hewashere.“You made it clear my

kindwouldn’tbewelcomeonyour continent,” he said.Even the sound of his voicewas a balm and a blessing.“SoIstowedawayonaship.You’d mentioned a home inthe slums, so when I arrived

thisevening,IwandereduntilI picked up your scent.” Hescanned her with a warrior’sunflinching assessment, hismouth tight. “Youhave a lotto tell me,” he said, and shenodded. Everything—shewantedtotellhimeverything.She gripped him harder,savoringthecordedmuscleofhis forearms, the eternalstrength of him. He brushedback a loose strand of herhair, his callused fingers

scrapingagainsthercheek inthe lightest caress. Thegentleness of it made herchoke on another sob. “Butyou’re not hurt,” he saidsoftly.“You’resafe?”She nodded again and

buriedherfaceinhischest.“Ithought I gave you an ordertostayinWendlyn.”“I had my reasons, best

spoken somewhere secure,”hesaidontoherhood.“Yourfriends at the fortress say

hello,bytheway.Ithinktheymisshavinganextrascullerymaid. Especially Luca—especially in themornings.”She laughed,andsqueezed

him. He was here, and hewasn’tsomethingshe’dmadeup, some wild dream she’dhad,and—“Why are you crying?” he

asked,tryingtopushherbackfar enough to read her faceagain.

Butsheheldon tohim,sofiercely she could feel theweapons beneath his clothes.Itwouldallbefine,evenifitwent to hell, so long as hewas here with her. “I’mcrying,” she sniffled,“becauseyousmellsoruttingbadmyeyesarewatering.”Rowan let out a roar of

laughterthatmadetheverminin the alley go silent. She atlast pulled away, flashing agrin.“Bathingisn’tanoption

for a stowaway,” he said,releasingheronlytoflickhernose.Shegavehimaplayfulshove, but he glanced downthe alley, where Nesryn andAedion were waiting. He’dlikely beenmonitoring everymove they made. And if hehaddeemedthematruethreatto her safety, they’d havebeendeadminutes ago. “Areyou just going tomake themstandthereallnight?”“Since when are you a

stickler for manners?” Sheslung an arm around hiswaist, unwilling to let go ofhimlestheturnintowindandvanish.Hiscasualarmaroundher shoulderswasaglorious,solid weight as theyapproachedtheothers.IfRowanfoughtNesryn,or

even Chaol, there would beno contest. But Aedion …Shehadn’tseemhimfightyet—and from the look hercousin was giving Rowan,

despite all of his professedadmiration, she wondered ifAedion was also wonderingwho’demergefromthatfightalive. Rowan stiffened a bitbeneathhergrip.Neither male broke their

stareastheyneared.Territorialnonsense.Aelin squeezed Rowan’s

side hard enough that hehissed and pinched hershoulder right back. Faewarriors:invaluableinafight

—andragingpainsinherassat all other times. “Let’s getinside,”shesaid.Nesryn had retreated

slightly to observe what wassuretobeabattleofwarrior-arrogance for the ages. “I’llsee you later,” the rebel saidtononeoftheminparticular,the corners of her mouthtwitching upward before sheheadedoffintotheslums.Part of Aelin debated

calling her back—the same

part that hadmadeher inviteNesryn along. The womanhad seemed lonely, a bitadrift. But Faliq had noreasontostay.Notrightnow.Aedion fell into step in

front of her and Rowan,silently leading thewaybacktothewarehouse.Even through his layers of

clothes and weapons,Rowan’s muscles were tensebeneath her fingers as hemonitored Rifthold. She

debated asking him what,exactly, he picked up withthoseheightenedsenses,whatlayers of the city she mightnever know existed. Shedidn’tenvyhimhisexcellentsense of smell, not in theslums, at least. But it wasn’tthe timeorplace toask—notuntil theygot to safety.Untilshetalkedtohim.Alone.Rowan examined the

warehouse without commentbefore stepping aside to let

hergo in frontofhim.She’dforgotten how beautifully hemoved thatpowerfulbodyofhis—astormgivenflesh.Tugging him by the hand,

she ledhimup the stairs andintothegreatroom.Sheknewhe had taken in every detail,every entrance and exit andmethodofescape,bythetimetheywerehalfwayacrossit.Aedion stood before the

fireplace,hoodstillon,handsstill within easy reach of his

weapons. She said over hershouldertohercousinastheypassed, “Aedion, meetRowan.Rowan,meetAedion.HisHighnessneedsabathorI’llvomitifIhavetositnextto him for more than aminute.”She offered no other

explanation before draggingRowan intoherbedroomandshutting the door behindthem.

Aelinleanedagainst thedooras Rowan paused in thecenter of the bedroom, hisfacedarkenedbytheshadowsof his heavy gray hood. Thespace between them wenttaut, every inch of itcrackling.She bit her bottom lip as

she took him in: the familiarclothes; the assortment ofwicked weapons; the

immortal, preternaturalstillness. His presence alonestole the air from the room,fromherlungs.“Take off your hood,” he

said with a soft growl, hiseyesfixedonhermouth.She crossed her arms.

“YoushowmeyoursandI’llshowyoumine,Prince.”“From tears to sass in a

few minutes. I’m glad themonth apart hasn’t dimmedyour usual good spirits.” He

yanked back his hood, andshestarted.“Your hair! You cut it all

off!” She pulled off her ownhood as she crossed thedistance between them.Indeed, the long silver-whitehair was now cropped short.It made him look younger,made his tattoo stand outmore, and … fine, it madehimmore handsome, too.Ormaybe that was just hermissinghim.

“Sinceyouseemedtothinkthat we would be doing agoodamountoffightinghere,shorter hair is more useful.Though I can’t say that yourhair might be considered thesame.Youmightaswellhavedyeditblue.”“Hush. Your hair was so

pretty.Iwashopingyou’dletmebraiditoneday.IsupposeI’ll have to buy a ponyinstead.” She cocked herhead. “When you shift, will

your hawk form be plucked,then?”Hisnostrils flared,andshe

clamped her lips together tokeepfromlaughing.Hesurveyed the room: the

massive bed she hadn’tbothered to make thatmorning,themarblefireplaceadorned with trinkets andbooks, the open door to thegiant closet. “You weren’tlying about your taste forluxury.”

“Not all ofus enjoy livinginwarrior-squalor,” she said,grabbinghis hand again.Sheremembered these calluses,the strength and size of hishands. His fingers closedaroundhers.Thoughitwasafaceshe’d

memorized, a face that hadhauntedherdreamsthesepastfew weeks … it was new,somehow.Andhejustlookedather,as ifhewere thinkingthesamething.

He opened his mouth, butshe pulled him into thebathroom, lighting a fewcandlesbythesinkandontheledgeabovethetub.“Imeantit about the bath,” she said,twisting the faucets andplugging the drain. “Youstink.”Rowanwatchedasshebent

tograbatowelfromthesmallcabinetbythetoilet.“Tellmeeverything.”Shepluckedupagreenvial

of bath salts and another ofbath oil and dumped ingenerous amounts of each,turning the rushing watermilky and opaque. “I will,when you’re soaking in thebath and don’t smell like avagrant.”“If memory serves, you

smelledevenworsewhenwefirstmet.And I didn’t shoveyouintothenearesttroughinVarese.”Sheglared.“Funny.”

“YoumademyeyeswaterfortheentiredamnjourneytoMistward.”“Justgetin.”Chuckling,he

obeyed.Sheshruggedoffherown cloak, then beganunstrapping her variousweaponsassheheadedoutofthebathroom.She might have taken

longer than usual to removeherweapons,peeloffhersuit,andchangeintoaloosewhiteshirt and pants. By the time

she finished, Rowan was inthebath,thewatersocloudedshe could see nothing of thelowerbodybeneath.The powerful muscles of

hisscarredbackshiftedashescrubbed at his facewith hishands,thenhisneck,thenhischest.His skinhaddeepenedto a golden brown—hemusthave spent time outdoorsthese past weeks. Withoutclothing,apparently.He splashed water on his

face again, and she startedinto movement, reaching forthewashclothshe’dsetonthesink. “Here,” she said a bithoarsely.He just dunked it in the

milkywater and attacked hisface,thebackofhisneck,thestrong column of his throat.The full tattoo down his leftarm gleamed with the waterslidingoffhim.Gods,hetookuptheentire

bathtub. She mutely handed

him her favorite lavender-scented soap, which hesniffed at, sighed inresignation, and then beganusing.She took a seat on the

curvedlipofthetubandtoldhim everything that hadhappened since they’d left.Well, mostly everything. Hewashed while she spoke,scrubbing himself downwithbrutalefficiency.Heliftedthelavendersoaptohishair,and

shesqueaked.“Youdon’tusethatinyour

hair,”shehissed,joltingfromherperch to reach foroneofthe many hair tonics liningthelittleshelfabovethebath.“Rose,lemonverbena,or…”She sniffed the glass bottle.“Jasmine.” She squinteddownathim.He was staring up at her,

his green eyes full of thewordsheknewhedidn’thaveto say.Do I look like I care

whatyoupick?She clicked her tongue.

“Jasmineitis,youbuzzard.”He didn’t object as she

tookupaplaceattheheadofthe tub and dumped some ofthe tonic into his short hair.The sweet, night-filled scentof jasmine floated up,caressing and kissing her.EvenRowanbreatheditinasshe scrubbed the tonic intohis scalp. “I could stillprobably braid this,” she

mused. “Very teensy-tinybraids,so—”Hegrowled,butleaned back against the tub,his eyes closed. “You’re nobetter than a house cat,” shesaid,massaging his head.Helet out a low noise in histhroat that might very wellhavebeenapurr.Washing his hair was

intimate—a privilege shedoubted he’d ever allowedmany people; somethingshe’d never done for anyone

else. But lines had alwaysbeen blurred for them, andneither of them hadparticularly cared. He’d seeneverybareinchofherseveraltimes,andshe’dseenmostofhim.They’dsharedabedformonths. On top of that, theywere carranam. He’d let herinside his power, past hisinnerbarriers,towherehalfathought from her could haveshattered his mind. Sowashing his hair, touching

him … it was an intimacy,butitwasessential,too.“Youhaven’tsaidanything

about your magic,” shemurmured, her fingers stillworkinghisscalp.He tensed. “What about

it?”Fingers in his hair, she

leaned down to peer at hisface.“Itakeitit’sgone.Howdoesitfeeltobeaspowerlessasamortal?”He opened his eyes to

glare.“It’snotfunny.”“Do I look like I’m

laughing?”“I spent the first few days

sick to my stomach andbarely able to move. It waslike having a blanket thrownovermysenses.”“Andnow?”“AndnowI’mdealingwith

it.”She poked him in the

shoulder.Itwasliketouchingvelvet-wrapped steel.

“Grumpy,grumpy.”He gave a soft snarl of

annoyance, and she pursedher lips to keep the smile in.She pushed down on hisshoulders, beckoning him todunk under the water. Heobeyed, and when heemerged, she rose from thetiles and grabbed the towelshe’d left on the sink. “I’mgoing to find you someclothes.”“Ihave—”

“Oh, no. Those are goingright to the laundress. Andyou’ll get them back only ifshe can make them smelldecent again. Until then,you’ll wear whatever I giveyou.”Shehandedhim the towel,

but didn’t let go as his handclosed around it. “You’vebecome a tyrant, Princess,”hesaid.She rolled her eyes and

released the towel, turningas

he stood in a mightymovement, water sloshingeverywhere. It was an effortnottopeekoverhershoulder.Don’t you even dare, a

voicehissedinherhead.Right.She’dcallthatvoice

Common Sense—and she’dlistentoitfromnowon.Stridingintohercloset,she

went to the dresser in theback and knelt before thebottom drawer, opening it toreveal folded men’s

undershorts,shirts,andpants.Foramoment,shestaredat

Sam’s old clothes, breathingin the faint smell of himclinging to the fabric. Shehadn’t mustered the strengthtogotohisgraveyet,but—“You don’t have to give

those to me,” Rowan saidfrombehindher.Shestartedabit, and twisted in place toface him. He was so damnstealthy.Aelin tried not to look too

jolted by the sight of himwith the towel wrappedaroundhiships,atthetanandmuscled body that gleamedwith the oils of the bath, atthe scars crisscrossing it likethestripesofagreatcat.EvenCommonSensewasata lossforwords.Hermouthwas a littledry

as she said, “Clean clothesare scarce in the house rightnow,and theseareofnousesittinghere.”Shepulledouta

shirtandhelditup.“Ihopeitfits.” Sam had been eighteenwhen he died; Rowan was awarrior honed by threecenturies of training andbattle.She pulled out undershorts

andpants.“I’llgetyouproperclothes tomorrow. I’m prettysure you’ll start a riot if thewomen of Rifthold see youwalking down the streets innothingbutatowel.”Rowan huffed a laugh and

strode to the clothes hangingalong onewall of the closet:dresses, tunics, jackets, shirts… “You wore all this?” Shenodded and uncoiled to herfeet.Heflickedthroughsomeof the dresses andembroidered tunics. “Theseare … very beautiful,” headmitted.“Iwouldhavepeggedyou

for a proud member of theanti-finerycrowd.”“Clothes are weapons,

too,” he said, pausing on ablack velvet gown. Its tightsleeves and front wereunadorned, the necklineskimming just beneath thecollarbones, unremarkablesave for the tendrils ofembroidered, shimmeringgold creeping over theshoulders. Rowan angled thedresstolookattheback—thetrue masterpiece. The goldembroidery continued fromthe shoulders, sweeping to

form a serpentine dragon, itsmawroaringtowardtheneck,the body curving down untilthe narrow tail formed theborder of the lengthenedtrain.Rowanloosedabreath.“Ilikethisonebest.”She fingered the solid

blackvelvet sleeve. “I saw itinashopwhenIwassixteenand bought it immediately.But when the dress wasdeliveredafewweekslater,itseemed too … old. It

overpowered the girl I was.So I never wore it, and it’shunghereforthreeyears.”He ran a scarred finger

downthegoldenspineof thedragon. “You’re not that girlanymore,” he said softly.“Someday, Iwant to seeyouwearthis.”She dared to look up at

him, her elbow brushing hisforearm.“Imissedyou.”His mouth tightened. “We

weren’tapartthatlong.”

Right. To an immortal,several weeks were nothing.“So? Am I not allowed tomissyou?”“I once told you that the

people you care about areweapons to be used againstyou. Missing me was afoolishdistraction.”“You’re a real charmer,

you know that?” She hadn’texpectedtearsoremotion,butit would have been nice toknowhe’dmissedheratleast

afractionasbadlyasshehad.She swallowed, her spinelocking, and pushed Sam’sclothes into his arms. “Youcangetdressedinhere.”She left him in the closet,

and went right to thebathroom,whereshesplashedcold water on her face andneck.She returned to her

bedroom to find himfrowning.Well,thepantsfit—barely.

Theywere too short, anddidwonders for showing off hisbackside, but— “The shirt istoo small,” he said. “I didn’twanttoripit.”He handed it to her, and

she lookedabithelplesslyatthe shirt, then at his baretorso.“I’llgooutfirstthing.”She sighed sharply throughhernose. “Well, if youdon’tmind meeting Aedionshirtless,Isupposeweshouldgosayhello.”

“Weneedtotalk.”“Goodtalkorbadtalk?”“The kind that will make

me glad you don’t haveaccess to your power so youdon’t spew flameseverywhere.”Herstomachtightened,but

she said, “That was oneincident, and if you ask me,your absolutely wonderfulformerloverdeservedit.”Morethandeservedit.The

encounter with the visiting

group of highborn Fae atMistwardhadbeenmiserable,to say the least. And whenRowan’s former lover hadrefused tostop touchinghim,despite his request to do so,when she’d threatened tohave Aelin whipped forstepping in …Well, Aelin’snewfavoritenickname—fire-breathing bitch-queen—hadbeen fairly accurate duringthatdinner.A twitch of his lips, but

shadowsflickeredinRowan’seyes.Aelin sighed again and

looked at the ceiling. “Noworlater?”“Later.Itcanwaitabit.”She was half tempted to

demand he tell her whateveritwas,but she turned towardthedoor.

Aedion rose from his seat at

thekitchentableasAelinandRowan entered. Her cousinlooked Rowan over with anappreciative eye and said,“You never bothered to tellme how handsome yourfaerieprinceis,Aelin.”Aelinscowled. Aedion just jerkedhis chin at Rowan.“Tomorrowmorning,youandI are going to train on theroof. I want to knoweverythingyouknow.”Aelin clicked her tongue.

“All I’ve heard from yourmouth thesepast fewdays isPrinceRowanthisandPrinceRowan that, and yet this iswhat you decide to say tohim? No bowing andscraping?”Aedion slid back into his

chair.“IfPrinceRowanwantsformalities, I can grovel, buthedoesn’t looklikesomeonewhoparticularlycares.”With a flicker of

amusementinhisgreeneyes,

the Fae Prince said,“Whatevermyqueenwants.”Oh,please.Aedion caught the words,

too.Myqueen.The two princes stared at

eachother, onegold andonesilver, one her twin and oneher soul-bonded. There wasnothingfriendlyinthestares,nothing human—two Faemales locked in someunspokendominancebattle.Sheleanedagainstthesink.

“If you’re going to have apissing contest, can you atleastdoitontheroof?”Rowan looked at her,

brows high. But it wasAedion who said, “She sayswe’renobetter thandogs, soIwouldn’tbesurprisedifsheactuallybelieveswe’dpissonherfurniture.”Rowan didn’t smile,

though, as he tilted his headtothesideandsniffed.“Aedionneedsabath, too,

I know,” she said. “Heinsistedonsmokingapipeatthe taproom. He said it gavehimanairofdignity.”Rowan’s head was still

angled as he asked, “Yourmotherswerecousins,Prince,butwhosiredyou?”Aedion lounged in his

chair.“Doesitmatter?”“Do you know?” Rowan

pressed.Aedion shrugged. “She

nevertoldme—oranyone.”

“I’m guessing you havesomeidea?”Aelinasked.Rowan said, “He doesn’t

lookfamiliartoyou?”“Helookslikeme.”“Yes, but—” He sighed.

“You met his father. A fewweeksago.Gavriel.”

Aedion stared at the shirtlesswarrior, wondering if he’dstrainedhisinjuriestoomuch

tonight and was nowhallucinating.Theprince’swordssankin.

Aedion just kept staring. Awicked tattoo in the OldLanguage stretcheddown theside of Rowan’s face andalonghisneck,shoulder,andmuscled arm. Most peoplewould take one look at thattattoo and run in the otherdirection.Aedion had seen plenty of

warriors in his day, but this

male was a Warrior—lawuntohimself.JustlikeGavriel.Orsothe

legendsclaimed.Gavriel, Rowan’s friend,

oneofhiscadre,whoseotherformwasamountainlion.“He asked me,” Aelin

murmured. “He asked mehow old I was, and seemedrelieved when I saidnineteen.”Nineteen was too young,

apparently, to be Gavriel’s

daughter, though she lookedsosimilar tothewomanhe’donce bedded. Aedion didn’tremember his mother well;his last memories were of agaunt,grayfaceasshesighedher final breath. As sherefused the Fae healers whocouldhavecured thewastingsickness in her. But he hadheard she’d once lookedalmost identical toAelin andhermother,Evalin.Aedion’svoicewashoarse

asheasked,“TheLionismyfather?”AnodfromRowan.“Doesheknow?”“IbetseeingAelinwasthe

firsttimehewonderedifhe’dsired a child with yourmother. He probably stilldoesn’thaveany idea,unlessthat prompted him to startlooking.”Hismother had never told

anyone—anyone but Evalin—who his father was. Even

when she was dying, she’dkept it to herself. She’drefused those Fae healersbecauseofit.Because they might

identify him—and if Gavrielknew he had a son … IfMaeveknew…Anoldacherippedthrough

him. She’d kept him safe—had died to keep him out ofMaeve’shands.Warm fingers slid around

his hand and squeezed. He

hadn’t realized how cold hewas.Aelin’s eyes—their eyes,

the eyes of their mothers—were soft. Open. “Thischanges nothing,” she said.“About who you are, whatyoumeantome.Nothing.”But it did. It changed

everything. Explainedeverything: the strength, thespeed, the senses; the lethal,predatory instincts he’dalways struggled to keep in

check. Why Rhoe had beenso hard on him during histraining.Because if Evalin knew

who his father was, thenRhoe certainly did, too. AndFae males, even half-Faemales, were deadly. WithoutthecontrolRhoeandhislordshad drilled into him from anearly age, without the focus… They’d known. And keptitfromhim.Along with the fact that

afterhesworethebloodoathtoAelinoneday…hemightverywellremainyoungwhileshegrewoldanddied.Aelin brushed her thumb

against the back of his hand,and then pivoted towardRowan. “What does thismean where Maeve isconcerned? Gavriel is boundthrough the blood oath, sowouldshehaveaclaimonhisoffspring?”“Like hell she does,”

Aedionsaid.IfMaevetriedtoclaim him, he’d rip out herthroat. His mother had diedforfearoftheFaeQueen.Heknewitinhisbones.Rowansaid,“Idon’tknow.

Even if she thought so, itwould be an act of war tostealAedionfromyou.”“This information doesn’t

leave this room,” Aelin said.Calm. Calculating—alreadysorting through every plan.The other side of their fair

coin. “It’s ultimately yourchoice, Aedion, whether toapproach Gavriel. But wehave enough enemiesgatheringaroundusasit is.Idon’tneedtostartawarwithMaeve.”But shewould. Shewould

go towar forhim.He saw itinhereyes.It nearly knocked the

breath fromhim.Alongwiththe thought of what thecarnagewouldbelikeonboth

sides, if theDarkQueen andtheheirofMalaFire-Bringercollided.“It stays with us,” Aedion

managed to say. He couldfeel Rowan assessing andweighing him and bit back asnarl. Slowly, Aedion liftedhisgazetomeettheprince’s.The sheer dominance in

thatstarewaslikebeinghitinthefacewithastone.Aedion held it. Like hell

he’d back down; like hell

he’d yield. And there wouldbeayielding—somewhere,atsome point. Probably whenAediontookthatbloodoath.Aelinclickedhertongueat

Rowan. “Stop doing thatalpha-male nonsense. Oncewasenough.”Rowan didn’t so much as

blink. “I’m not doinganything.” But the prince’smouth quirked into a smile,as if saying to Aedion, Youthinkyoucantakeme,cub?

Aediongrinned.Anyplace,anytime,Prince.Aelin muttered,

“Insufferable,” and gaveRowanaplayfulshoveinthearm.Hedidn’tmoveaninch.“Are you actually going togetintoapissingcontestwithevery person we meet?Because if that’s the case,then it’ll takeusanhour justtomakeitdownoneblockofthis city, and I doubt theresidents will be particularly

happy.”Aedion fought the urge to

take a deep breath asRowanbroke his stare to give theirqueenanincredulouslook.She crossed her arms,

waiting.“It’ll take time toadjust to

a new dynamic,” Rowanadmitted.Notanapology,butfrom what Aelin had toldhim, Rowan didn’t oftenbother with such things. Shelookeddownrightshockedby

the small concession,actually.Aedion tried to lounge in

his chair, but his muscleswere taut, his bloodthrumming in his veins. Hefound himself saying to theprince, “Aelin never saidanything about sending foryou.”“Does she answer to you,

General?”Adangerous,quietquestion. Aedion knew thatwhen males like Rowan

spokesoftly, itusuallymeantviolence and death were ontheirway.Aelinrolledhereyes.“You

know he didn’t mean it thatway, so don’t pick a fight,youprick.”Aedionstiffened.Hecould

fighthisownbattles.IfAelinthoughtheneededprotecting,ifshethoughtRowanwasthesuperiorwarrior—Rowan said, “I’m blood-

sworn to you—which means

several things, one of whichbeingthatIdon’tparticularlycare for the questioning ofothers,evenyourcousin.”The words echoed in his

head,hisheart.Blood-sworn.Aelinwentpale.Aedion asked, “What did

hejustsay?”Rowanhadtakentheblood

oathtoAelin.Hisbloodoath.Aelin squared her

shoulders, and said clearly,

steadily, “Rowan took thebloodoathtomebeforeIleftWendlyn.”A roaring sound went

throughhim.“Youlethimdowhat?”Aelin exposed her scarred

palms. “As far as I knew,Aedion, you were loyallyserving the king. As far as Iknew, I was never going toseeyouagain.”“Youlethimtaketheblood

oath to you?” Aedion

bellowed.Shehadliedtohisfacethat

dayontheroof.He had to get out, out of

his skin, out of thisapartment, out of this gods-damned city. Aedion lungedfor one of the porcelainfigurines atop the hearthmantel, needing to shattersomething to just get thatroaringoutofhissystem.She flung out a vicious

finger, advancing on him.

“You break one thing, youshatter just one of mypossessions, and Iwill shovethe shards down your ruttingthroat.”A command—from a

queentohergeneral.Aedion spat on the floor,

but obeyed. If only becauseignoringthatcommandmightvery well shatter somethingfarmoreprecious.Heinsteadsaid,“Howdare

you? How dare you let him

takeit?”“I dare because it is my

blood to give away; I darebecauseyoudidnotexist forme then. Even if neither ofyouhad taken ityet, Iwouldstillgiveittohimbecauseheis my carranam, and he hasearned my unquestioningloyalty!”Aedion went rigid. “And

whataboutourunquestioningloyalty?Whathaveyoudoneto earn that?What have you

donetosaveourpeoplesinceyou’ve returned? Were youever going to tell me aboutthe blood oath, or was thatjust another of your manylies?”Aelin snarled with an

animalistic intensity thatreminded him she, too, hadFae blood in her veins. “Gohave your temper tantrumsomewhere else.Don’t comeback until you can act like ahumanbeing.Orhalfofone,

atleast.”Aedion swore at her, a

filthy, foul curse that heimmediately regretted.Rowan lunged for him,knocking back his chair hardenough to flip it over, butAelin threw out a hand. Theprincestooddown.Thateasily,sheleashedthe

mighty,immortalwarrior.Aedion laughed, the sound

brittleandcold,andsmiledatRowan in away that usually

made men throw the firstpunch.But Rowan just set his

chair upright, sat down, andleaned back, as if he alreadyknew where he’d strikeAedion’sdeathblow.Aelin pointed at the door.

“Getthehellout.Idon’twantto see you again for a goodwhile.”Thefeelingwasmutual.All his plans, everything

he’d worked for … Without

the blood oath hewas just ageneral;justalandlessprinceoftheAshryverline.Aedionstalkedtothefront

doorandflungitopensohardhe almost ripped it off itshinges.Aelindidn’tcallafterhim.

29

Rowan Whitethorn debatedfor a good minute if it wasworthwhile to hunt down thedemi-Faeprinceandtearhiminto bloody ribbons for whathe’dcalledAelin,orifhewasbetter off here, with hisqueen, while she paced infront of her bedroom

fireplace.He understood—hereally did—why the generalwas enraged. He’d have feltthe same. But it wasn’t agood-enough excuse. Notevenclose.Perchedontheedgeof the

plush mattress, he watchedhermove.Even without her magic,

Aelin was a living wildfire,moresonowwiththeredhair—a creature of such roaringemotions that he could

sometimes only watch herandmarvel.Andherface.Thatgods-damnedface.While they’d been in

Wendlyn, it had taken him awhile to realize she wasbeautiful.Months,actually,toreallynoticeit.Andforthesepast few weeks, against hisbetterjudgment,he’dthoughtoften about that face—especially that smart-assmouth.

But he hadn’t rememberedjust how stunning she wasuntilshe’dtakenoffherhoodearlier, and it had struckhimstupid.These weeks apart had

been a brutal reminder ofwhat life had been like untilhe had found her drunk andbroken on that rooftop inVarese. The nightmares hadstarted the very night she’dleft—such relentless dreamsthat he’d nearly vomited

whenheflunghimselfoutofthem, Lyria’s screamingringing in his ears. Thememoryofitsentcoldlickingdownhisspine.Buteventhatwas burned away by thequeenbeforehim.Aelinwaswellonherway

towearing a track in the rugbeforethefireplace.“If that’sany indicationof

what to expect from ourcourt,” Rowan said at last,flexing his fingers in an

attempt to dislodge thehollow shakiness he hadn’tbeenable tomaster sincehismagic had been smothered,“thenwe’llneverhaveadullmoment.”She flung out a hand in a

dismissivewave of irritation.“Don’t tease me right now.”She scrubbedat her face andhuffedabreath.Rowan waited, knowing

shewasgathering thewords,hating the pain and sorrow

andguiltoneverylineofherbody.He’dsellhissoultothedark god to never have herlooklikethatagain.“EverytimeIturnaround,”

shesaid,approachingthebedand leaning against thecarved post, “I feel like I’mone wrong move or wordaway from leading them toruin. People’s lives—yourlife—depend on me. There’snoroomforerror.”There it was, the weight

thathadbeenslowlycrushingher. It killed him that he’dhavetoaddtoitwhenhetoldher the news he carried—thereason he’d disobeyed herfirstordertohim.Hecouldofferhernothing

butthetruth.“Youwillmakemistakes. You will makedecisions,andsometimesyouwill regret those choices.Sometimes there won’t be aright choice, just the best ofseveral bad options. I don’t

need to tell you that you candothis—youknowyoucan.Iwouldn’thavesworntheoathto you if I didn’t think youcould.”She slid onto the bed

beside him, her scentcaressing him. Jasmine, andlemonverbena,andcracklingembers. Elegant, feminine,and utterly wild. Warm, andsteadfast—unbreakable, hisqueen.Savefortheweaknessthey

both shared: that bondbetweenthem.For in his nightmares, he

sometimes heard Maeve’svoice over the crack of awhip, cunning and cold.Notfor all the world, Aelin? Butwhat about for PrinceRowan?Hetriednot to thinkabout

it: the fact that Aelin wouldhand over one of theWyrdkeysforhim.Helockedthat knowledge up so tightly

that it could escape only inhisdreams,orwhenhewokereachingacrossacoldbedforaprincesswhowasthousandsofmilesaway.Aelin shook her head. “It

was so much easier beingalone.”“I know,” he said,

clamping down on theinstinct to sling his armaroundhershouldersandtuckher in close. He focused onlistening to the city around

theminstead.He could hear more than

mortal ears, but the wind nolongersangitssecretstohim.Henolongerfeltittuggingathim. And stuck in his Faebody, unable to shift …Caged.Restless.Madeworseby the fact that he couldn’tshield this apartment fromanyenemyattackswhiletheywerehere.Not powerless, he

reminded himself. He had

been bound head to toe iniron before and had stillkilled. He could keep thisapartment secure—the old-fashioned way. He was just… off-balance. At a timewhenbeingoff-balancecouldbefataltoher.For awhile, they sat there

insilence.“I said some appalling

thingstohim,”shesaid.“Don’tworry about it,” he

said,unabletohelpthegrowl.

“He said some equallyappallingthingstoyou.Yourtempersareevenlymatched.”She let out a breathy

chuckle. “Tell me about thefortress—what it was likewhen you went back to helprebuild.”So he did, until he got to

the knowledge he’d beenholdinginallnight.“Justsayit,”shesaid,with

a direct, unyielding sort oflook. He wondered if she

realized that for all shecomplained about his alphanonsense, she was pure-bloodedalphaherself.Rowan took a longbreath.

“Lorcan’shere.”She straightened. “That’s

whyyoucame.”Rowan nodded. And why

keeping his distance was thesmarter move; Lorcan waswicked and cunning enoughto use their bond againstthem. “I caught his scent

sneaking around nearMistwardandtrackedittothecoast, then onto a ship. Ipicked up his trail when Idocked this evening.” Herfacewas pale, and he added,“I made sure to cover mytracks before hunting youdown.”Over five centuries old,

Lorcan was the strongestmale in the Fae realm, equalonly to Rowan himself.They’d never been true

friends, and after the eventsof a few weeks ago, Rowanwould have liked nothingmore than to slit the male’sthroatforleavingAelintodieat the hands of the Valgprinces. He might very wellget the chance to do that—soon.“Hedoesn’tknowyouwell

enough to immediately pickup your scent,” Rowan wenton.“I’dbetgoodmoney thathe got on that boat just to

dragmeheresoI’d leadhimtoyou.”Butitwasbetterthanletting Lorcan find herwhileheremainedinWendlyn.Aelin swore with creative

colorfulness. “Maeveprobably thinks we’ll alsolead him right to the thirdWyrdkey. Do you think shegave him the order to put usdown—either to get the key,orafterward?”“Maybe.”Thethoughtwas

enough to shoot icy rage

throughhim.“Iwon’tletthathappen.”Her mouth quirked to the

side.“You think Icould takehim?”“If you had your magic,

possibly.”Irritationrippledinher eyes—enough so that heknew something else naggedather.“Butwithoutmagic,inyour human form … You’dbe dead before you coulddrawyoursword.”“He’sthatgood.”

Hegaveheraslownod.She looked him over with

anassassin’seye.“Couldyoutakehim?”“It’d be so destructive, I

wouldn’t risk it. Youremember what I told youabout Sollemere.” Her facetightened at the mention ofthe city he and Lorcan hadobliteratedatMaeve’srequestnearly two centuries ago. Itwasastainthatwouldforeverlinger,nomatterwhathetold

himself about how corruptand evil its residents hadbeen. “Without our magic,it’shardtocallwho’dwin.Itwoulddependonwhowanteditmore.”Lorcan, with his unending

cold rage and a talent forkillinggiftedtohimbyHellashimself, never allowedhimself to lose. Battles,riches, females—Lorcanalways won, at any cost.Once, Rowanmight have let

himwin, let Lorcan end himjust to put a stop to his ownmiserable life, but now …“Lorcan makes a moveagainstyou,andhedies.”She didn’t blink at the

violence that laced everyword.Anotherpartofhim—apart that had been knottedfrom the moment she left—uncoiled like some wildanimalstretchingoutbeforeafire. Aelin cocked her head.“Anyideawherehe’dhide?”

“None. I’ll start huntinghimtomorrow.”“No,” she said. “Lorcan

will easily find us withoutyou hunting him. But if heexpectsmetoleadhimtothethird key so he can bring itback to Maeve, then maybe…”He could almost see thewheels turning in her head.She letoutahum.“I’ll thinkabout that tomorrow.Doyouthink Maeve wants the keymerelytokeepmefromusing

it,ortouseitherself?”“You know the answer to

that.”“Both,then.”Aelinsighed.

“Thequestion is,will she tryto use us to hunt down theother two keys, or does shehave another one of yourcadre out searching for themnow?”“Let’shopeshehasn’tsent

anyoneelse.”“If Gavriel knew that

Aedion is his son …” She

glanced toward the bedroomdoor,guiltandpainflickeringon her lovely features.“Would he follow Maeve,even if it meant hurting orkillingAedionintheprocess?Is her control over him thatstrong?”Ithadbeena shockearlier

to realizewhose son loungedat the kitchen table. “Gavriel…” He’d seen the warriorwithloversoverthecenturies,and seen him leave them at

Maeve’s order. He’d alsoseenhiminkthenamesofhisfallen men onto his flesh.And of all his cadre, onlyGavriel had stopped thatnighttohelpAelinagainsttheValg.“Don’tanswernow,”Aelin

cut in with a yawn. “Weshouldgotobed.”Rowanhadsurveyedevery

inch of the apartment withinmoments of arriving, but heaskedascasuallyashecould,

“WhereshouldIsleep?”She patted the bed behind

them.“Justlikeoldtimes.”He clenchedhis jaw.He’d

been bracing himself for thisall night—for weeks now.“It’s not like the fortress,where no one thinks twiceaboutit.”“AndwhatifIwantyouto

stayinherewithme?”He didn’t allow those

words to sink in fully, theidea of being in that bed.

He’d worked too damn hardatshuttingoutthosethoughts.“ThenI’llstay.Onthecouch.But you need to be clear tothe others about what mystayinginheremeans.”There were so many lines

that needed to be held. Shewas off-limits—completelyoff-limits, for about a dozendifferent reasons. He’dthought he would be able todealwithit,but—No, hewould dealwith it.

He’d findaway todealwithit, because he wasn’t a fool,and he had some gods-damned self-control. Nowthat Lorcan was in Rifthold,trackingthem,huntingfortheWyrdkey, he had biggerthingstoworryabout.Sheshrugged,irreverentas

always. “Then I’ll issue aroyal decree about myhonorable intentions towardyouoverbreakfast.”Rowansnorted.Thoughhe

didn’twant to,hesaid,“And—thecaptain.”“What about him?” she

saidtoosharply.“Just consider how he

mightinterpretthings.”“Why?” She’d done an

excellent job of notmentioninghimatall.But there was enough

anger, enough pain in thatone word, that Rowancouldn’tbackdown.“Tellmewhathappened.”

She didn’t meet his eyes.“He said what occurred here—to my friends, to him andDorian, while I was away inWendlyn—that it was myfault. And that I was amonster.”For a moment, a blinding,

blistering wrath shot throughhim. It was instinct to lungeforherhand,totouchthefacethat remained downturned.Butheheldhimselfincheck.Shestilldidn’tlookathimas

shesaid,“Doyouthink—”“Never,” he said. “Never,

Aelin.”At last she met his stare,

with eyes that were too old,too sad and tired to benineteen. It had been amistaketoevercallheragirl—and there were indeedmomentswhenRowanforgothowyoungshetrulywas.Thewoman before himshouldered burdens thatwould break the spine of

someone three timesherage.“If you’re a monster, I’m amonster,”he saidwithagrinbroadenoughtoshowoffhiselongatedcanines.She let out a rough laugh,

close enough that it warmedhis face. “Just sleep in thebed,” she said. “I don’t feellike digging up bedding forthecouch.”Maybeitwasthelaugh,or

thesilver lininghereyes,buthesaid,“Fine.”Fool—hewas

such a stupid fool when itcametoher.Hemadehimselfadd,“Butitsendsamessage,Aelin.”She lifted her brows in a

way that usually meant firewas going to start flickering—but none came. Both ofthem were trapped in theirbodies, stranded withoutmagic. He’d adapt; he’dendure.“Oh?” she purred, and he

braced himself for the

tempest. “Andwhatmessagedoes it send? That I’m awhore?AsifwhatIdointheprivacy of my own room,with my body, is anyone’sconcern.”“YouthinkIdon’tagree?”

His temper slipped its leash.No one else had ever beenable to get under his skin sofast,sodeep,inthespanofafew words. “But things aredifferentnow,Aelin.You’reaqueenof the realm.Wehave

toconsiderhowitlooks,whatimpact it might have on ourrelationshipswithpeoplewhofind it to be improper.Explaining that it’s for yoursafety—”“Oh, please. My safety?

YouthinkLorcanorthekingorwhoeverthehellelsehasitin for me is going to slitherthrough the window in themiddle of the night? I canprotectmyself,youknow.”“Gods above, I know you

can.” He’d never been indoubtofthat.Hernostrilsflared.“Thisis

one of the stupidest fightswe’veeverhad.Allthankstoyour idiocy, I might add.”Shestalkedtowardhercloset,her hips swishing as if toaccentuateeverywordasshesnapped,“Justgetinbed.”Heloosedatightbreathas

she and those hips vanishedintothecloset.Boundaries. Lines. Off-

limits.Those were his new

favorite words, he remindedhimselfashegrimacedatthesilkensheets,evenasthehuffofherbreathstilltouchedhischeek.

Aelin heard the bathroomdoor close, then runningwater as Rowan washed upwith the toiletries she’d left

outforhim.Not a monster—not for

what she’d done, not for herpower, notwhenRowanwasthere. She’d thank the godseverydamndayforthesmallmercy of giving her a friendwho was her match, herequal, and who would neverlookatherwithhorror inhiseyes. No matter whathappened, she’d always begratefulforthat.But…Improper.

Improperindeed.He didn’t know how

impropershecouldbe.Sheopened the topdrawer

of the oak dresser. Andslowlysmiled.Rowan was in bed by the

time she strutted toward thebathroom. She heard, ratherthansaw,himjoltupright,themattress groaning as hebarked, “What in hell isthat?”She kept going toward the

bathroom, refusing toapologizeorlookdownatthepink,delicate,very short lacenightgown. When sheemerged, face washed andclean, Rowanwas sitting up,arms crossed over his barechest.“Youforgotthebottompart.”She merely blew out the

candles in the room one byone.Hiseyes trackedher theentire time. “There is nobottom part,” she said,

flinging back the covers onher side. “It’s starting to getso hot, and I hate sweatingwhen I sleep. Plus, you’repractically a furnace. So it’seither this or I sleep naked.You can sleep in the bathtubif you have a problem withit.”Hisgrowlrattledtheroom.

“You’vemadeyourpoint.”“Hmm.” She slid into bed

besidehim,ahealthy,properdistanceaway.

Fora fewheartbeats, therewasonlythesoundofrustlingblanketsasshenestleddown.“I need to fill in the ink a

bitmore ina fewplaces,”hesaidflatly.She could barely see his

faceinthedark.“What?”“Your tattoo,” he said,

staring at the ceiling. “Thereare a few spots I need to fillinatsomepoint.”Of course. He wasn’t like

other men—not even close.

Therewas so little she coulddo to jar him, taunt him. Anaked body was a nakedbody.Especiallyhers.“Fine,”shesaid,turningso

thatherbackwastohim.They were silent again.

ThenRowansaid,“I’veneverseen—clothinglikethat.”She rolled over. “You

meantotellmethefemalesinDoranelle don’t havescandalous nightclothes? Oranywhereelseintheworld?”

His eyes gleamed like ananimal’s in the dark. She’dforgotten what it was like tobe Fae, to have one footalways in the forest. “Myencounterswithotherfemalesusually didn’t involveparading around innightclothes.”“Andwhatclothesdidthey

involve?”“Usually,noneatall.”She clicked her tongue,

shoving away the image.

“Havinghad theutterdelightof meeting Remelle thisspring, I have a hard timebelieving she didn’t subjectyoutoclothingparades.”He turned his face toward

the ceiling again. “We’re nottalkingaboutthis.”She chuckled. Aelin: one,

Rowan:zero.Shewasstillsmilingwhen

he asked, “Are all yournightclotheslikethat?”“So curious about my

negligees, Prince. Whateverwouldtheotherssay?Maybeyou should issue a decree toclarify.”Hegrowled,andshegrinnedintoherpillow.“Yes,I have more, don’t worry. IfLorcanisgoingtomurdermeinmy sleep, I might as welllookgood.”“Vainuntilthebitterend.”She pushed back against

the thought of Lorcan, ofwhatMaevemightwant, andsaid,“Isthereaspecificcolor

you’dlikemetowear?IfI’mgoing to scandalize you, Ishould at least do it insomethingyoulike.”“You’reamenace.”She laughed again, feeling

lighterthanshehadinweeks,despite the news Rowan hadgiven her. She was fairlycertain they were donetalkingforthenightwhenhisvoicerumbledacrossthebed.“Gold. Not yellow—real,metallicgold.”

“You’re out of luck,” shesaidintoherpillow.“Iwouldnever own anything soostentatious.”She could almost feel him

smiling at her as she fellasleep.

Thirty minutes later, Rowanwas still staring up at theceiling, teeth gritted as hecalmed the roaring in his

veins that was steadilyshredding through his self-control.That gods-damned

nightgown.Shit.He was in such deep,

unendingshit.

Rowan was asleep, hismassive body half coveredwith blankets, as dawn

streamed in through the lacecurtains.Silentlyrising,Aelinstuckouthertongueathimassheshruggedonherpale-bluesilk robe, tied her already-fading red hair into a knotatop her head, and paddedintothekitchen.Until the Shadow Market

had burned to cinders, thatmiserablemerchant therehadbeen making a small fortuneoffallthebricksofdyeshe’dkept buying.Aelinwinced at

thethoughtofhavingtotrackdown the vendor again—thewoman had seemed the sortwhowould have escaped theflames. And would nowcharge double, triple, on heralready overpriced dyes tomake up for her lost goods.AndsinceLorcancouldtrackher by scent alone, changingthe color of her hair wouldhave no impact on him.Though she supposed thatwith the king’s guard on the

lookoutforher…Oh,itwastoo damn early to considerthegiantpileofhorseshitthathadbecomeherlife.Groggy, she made tea

mostly by muscle memory.She started on toast, andprayed they had eggs left inthe cooling box—they did.Andbacon, toherdelight. Inthis house, food tended tovanishassoonasitcamein.One of the biggest pigs of

allapproachedthekitchenon

immortal-silent feet. Shebracedherselfas,armsfulloffood, she nudged the smallcoolingboxshutwithahip.Aedion eyed her warily

while she went to the smallcounter beside the stove andbegan pulling down bowlsand utensils. “There aremushrooms somewhere,” hesaid.“Good.Thenyoucanclean

andcutthem.Andyougettochoptheonion.”

“Isthatpunishmentforlastnight?”She cracked the eggs one

byoneintoabowl.“If that’swhat you think is anacceptablepunishment,sure.”“And is making breakfast

at this ungodly hour yourself-imposedpunishment?”“I’m making breakfast

because I’m sick of youburning it and making thewholehousesmell.”Aedionlaughedquietlyand

came up beside her to beginslicingtheonion.“Youstayedontheroofthe

whole time you were out,didn’t you?” She yanked anironskilletfromtherackoverthe stove, set it on a burner,and chucked a thick pat ofbutterontoitsdarksurface.“Youkickedmeoutof the

apartment, but not thewarehouse, so I figured Imight as well make myselfuseful and take watch.” The

twisty, bendy Old Waysmanner of warping orders.She wondered what the OldWays had to say aboutqueenlypropriety.She grabbed a wooden

spoonandpushedthemeltingbutteraroundabit.“Webothhave atrocious tempers. Youknow I didn’t mean what Isaid, about the loyalty thing.Or about the half-humanthing.Youknownoneofthatmatterstome.”Gavriel’sson

—holy gods. But she wouldkeep hermouth shut about ituntil Aedion felt likebroachingthesubject.“Aelin, I’m ashamed of

whatIsaidtoyou.”“Well, that makes two of

us, so let’s leave it at that.”She whisked the eggs,keepinganeyeon thebutter.“I—I understand, Aedion, Ireally do, about the bloodoath.Iknewwhatitmeanttoyou. I made a mistake not

telling you. I don’t normallyadmit to that kind of thing,but…Ishouldhavetoldyou.AndI’msorry.”He sniffed at the onions,

his expert slicing leaving aneatheapofthemononeendofthecuttingboard,andthenstarted on the small brownmushrooms. “That oathmeant everything tome.Renand I used to be at eachother’s throats because of itwhen we were children. His

fatherhatedmebecauseIwastheonefavoredtotakeit.”She took the onions from

him and chucked them intothebutter, sizzling filling thekitchen.“There’snothingthatsays you can’t take the oath,youknow.Maevehasseveralblood-sworn members in hercourt.” Who were nowmaking Aelin’s life a livinghell.“Youcantakeit,andsocan Ren—only if you wantto,but…Iwon’tbeupset if

youdon’twantto.”“In Terrasen, there was

onlyone.”She stirred the onions.

“Things change. Newtraditions for a new court.Youcanswearitrightnowifyouwish.”Aedion finished the

mushroomsandsetdowntheknifeasheleanedagainstthecounter.“Notnow.NotuntilIsee you crowned. Not untilwecanbeinfrontofacrowd,

infrontoftheworld.”She dumped in the

mushrooms. “You’re evenmoredramaticthanIam.”Aedion snorted. “Hurryup

with the eggs. I’m going todieofstarvation.”“Make the bacon, or you

don’tgettoeatany.”Aedion could hardlymove

fastenough.

30

Therewasaroomdeepbelowthe stone castle that thedemon lurking inside himlikedtovisit.Thedemonprinceeven let

him out sometimes, throughtheeyesthatmighthaveoncebeenhis.It was a room cloaked in

endless night. Or maybe thedarkness was from thedemon.But they could see; they

had always been able to seein the blackness. Where thedemonprincehadcomefrom,so little light existed that ithad learned to hunt in theshadows.There were pedestals

arrangedintheroundroominanelegantcurve,eachtoppedwith a black pillow. And on

eachpillowsatacrown.Kept down here like

trophies—kept in darkness.Likehim.Asecretroom.The prince stood in the

center of it, surveying thecrowns.The demon had taken

control of the bodycompletely. He’d let him,after that woman with thefamiliareyeshadfailedtokillhim.

Hewaitedforthedemontoleave the room, but thedemon prince spoke instead.A hissing, cold voice thatcamefrombetween thestars,speaking to him—only tohim.The crowns of the

conquered nations, thedemonprincesaid.Morewillbe added soon. Perhaps thecrownsofotherworlds,too.Hedidnotcare.You should care—you will

enjoy it aswe rip the realmstoshreds.He backed away, tried to

retreat into a pocket ofdarkness where even thedemon prince couldn’t findhim.The demon laughed.

Spineless human. Nowondershelostherhead.He tried to shut out the

voice.Triedto.Hewishedthatwomanhad

killedhim.

31

Manon stormed intoPerrington’s massive wartent, shoving aside theheavycanvas flap so violently thatherironnailsslashedthroughthe material. “Why are myThirteen being denied accessto the Yellowlegs coven?Explain.Now.”

As the last word snappedout of her, Manon stoppeddead.Standing in the center of

thedimtent,thedukewhirledtoward her, his face dark—and,Manonhadtoadmitwitha thrill, a bit terrifying. “Getout,”hesaid,hiseyesflaringlikeembers.ButManon’sattentionwas

fixed on what—who—stoodbeyondtheduke.Manon stepped forward,

evenasthedukeadvancedonher.Herblack, filmydress like

woven night, Kaltain wasfacing a kneeling, tremblingyoung soldier, her pale handoutstretched toward hiscontortedface.Andalloverher,anunholy

auraofdarkfireburned.“What is that?” Manon

said.“Out,” the duke barked,

andactuallyhad thenerve to

lunge for Manon’s arm. Sheswiped with her iron nails,sidesteppingthedukewithoutso much as glancing at him.All her focus, every pore ofher,was pinned on the dark-hairedlady.Theyoungsoldier—oneof

Perrington’s own—wassilentlysobbingastendrilsofthat black fire floated fromKaltain’s fingertips andslithered over his skin,leavingnomarks.Thehuman

turnedpain-filledgrayeyestoManon.Please,hemouthed.The duke snatched for

Manon again, and she dartedpasthim.“Explainthis.”“You do not give orders,

Wing Leader,” the dukesnapped.“Nowgetout.”“What is that?” Manon

repeated.The duke surged for her,

butthenasilkenfemalevoicebreathed,“Shadowfire.”Perrington froze, as if

surprisedshehadspoken.“Where does this

shadowfire come from?”Manon demanded. Thewomanwassosmall,sothin.The dress was barely morethancobwebsandshadows.Itwas cold in the mountaincamp, even for Manon. Hadshe refused a cloak, or didthey just not care? Orperhaps, with this fire …Perhapsshedidnotneedoneatall.

“From me,” Kaltain said,in a voice thatwas dead andhollow and yet vicious. “Ithas always been there—asleep. And now it has beenawoken.Shapedanew.”“Whatdoesitdo?”Manon

said.Thedukehadstoppedtoobserve the young woman,likehewasfiguringoutsomesort of puzzle, like he waswaitingforsomethingelse.Kaltain smiled faintly at

the soldier shaking on the

ornate redcarpet,hisgolden-brownhairshimmeringinthelight of the dimmed lanternabovehim.“Itdoesthis,”shewhispered, and curled herdelicatefingers.The shadowfire shot from

herhandandwrappedaroundthesoldierlikeasecondskin.He opened his mouth in a

silent scream—convulsingand thrashing, tipping hisheadbacktotheceilingofthetent and sobbing in quiet,

unheardagony.But no burns marred his

skin. As if the shadowfiresummoned only pain, as if ittrickedthebodyintothinkingitwasbeingincinerated.Manondidn’ttakehereyes

awayfromthemanspasmingon the carpet, tears of bloodnow leaking from his eyes,hisnose,hisears.Quietlysheaskedtheduke,“Whyareyoutorturing him? Is he a rebelspy?”

Now the duke approachedKaltain,peeringatherblank,beautiful face.Hereyeswerewholly fixed on the youngman, enthralled. She spokeagain. “No. Just a simpleman.” No inflection, no signofempathy.“Enough,” the duke said,

and the fire vanished fromKaltain’s hand. The youngman sagged on the carpet,panting and weeping. Theduke pointed to the curtains

inthebackofthetent,whichnodoubtconcealedasleepingarea.“Liedown.”Like a doll, like a ghost,

Kaltain turned, thatmidnightgown swirling with her, andstalked toward the heavy redcurtains, slipping throughthem as if shewere nomorethanmist.The duke walked over to

the young man and kneltbefore him on the ground.The captive lifted his head,

blood and tears mingling onhis face.But the duke’s eyesmet Manon’s as he put hismassive hands on either sideofhissoldier’sface.Andsnappedhisneck.The death-crunch

shuddered through Manonlike the twanging of a harp.Normally, she would havechuckled.Butforaheartbeatshefelt

warm, sticky blue blood onherhands, felt thehilt ofher

knife imprinted against herpalm as she gripped it hardand slashed it across thethroatofthatCrochan.Thesoldierslumped to the

carpet as the duke rose.“What is it that you want,Blackbeak?”Like the Crochan’s death,

this had been a warning.Keephermouthshut.Butsheplannedtowriteto

her grandmother. Planned totell her everything that had

happened: this, and that theYellowlegs coven hadn’tbeenseenorheardfromsinceentering thechamberbeneaththeKeep.TheMatronwouldfly down here and startshreddingspines.“I want to know why we

have been blocked from theYellowlegs coven. They areundermy jurisdiction, andassuch, I have the right to seethem.”“It was successful; that’s

allyouneedtoknow.”“You’retotellyourguards

immediately to grantme andmine permission to enter.”Indeed,dozensofguardshadblocked her path—and shortof killing her way through,Manonhadnowayin.“You choose to ignoremy

orders. Why should I followyours,WingLeader?”“You won’t have a gods-

damned army to ride thosewyverns if you lock themall

up for your breedingexperiments.”They were warriors—they

were Ironteethwitches.Theyweren’t chattel to be bred.They weren’t to beexperimented upon. Hergrandmotherwould slaughterhim.Thedukemerelyshrugged.

“I told you I wantedBlackbeaks. You refused togivethemtome.”“Is this punishment?” The

words snapped out of her.The Yellowlegs were stillIronteeth,afterall.Stillunderhercommand.“Oh, no.Not at all. But if

youdisobeymyordersagain,the next time, it might be.”He cocked his head, and thelight gilded his dark eyes.“Thereareprinces,youknow—among theValg.Powerful,cunning princes, capable ofsplattering people on walls.They’ve been very keen to

test themselves against yourkind. Perhaps they’ll pay avisit to your barracks. Seewho survives the night. It’dbe a good way to weed outthe lesser witches. I have nouse for weak soldiers in myarmies, even if it decreasesyournumbers.”Foramoment, therewasa

roaringsilenceinherhead.Athreat.A threat from this human,

thismanwhohadlivedbuta

fractionofherexistence, thismortalbeast—Careful,avoicesaidinher

head.Proceedwithcunning.SoManon allowed herself

to nod slightly inacquiescence, and asked,“And what of your other …activities? What goes onbeneath the mountainscirclingthisvalley?”The duke studied her, and

she met his gaze, met everyinch of blackness within it.

And found somethingslithering inside that had noplaceinthisworld.Atlasthesaid, “You do not wish tolearnwhat is being bred andforged under thosemountains, Blackbeak. Don’tbothersendingyourscoutsin.They won’t see daylightagain. Consider yourselfwarned.”The human worm clearly

didn’t know precisely howskilledherShadowswere,but

she wasn’t about to correcthim, not when it could beused to her advantage oneday.Yetwhatever did go oninsidethosemountainswasn’ther concern—not with theYellowlegsandtherestofthelegion to deal with. Manonjerked her chin toward thedead soldier. “What do youplan to use this shadowfirefor?Torture?”Aflashofireatyetanother

question. The duke said

tightly, “I have not yetdecided. For now, she willexperiment like this. Perhapslater, she will learn toincinerate the armies of ourenemies.”A flame that did not leave

burns—loosed uponthousands. It would beglorious, even if it wasgrotesque. “And are therearmiesof enemiesgathering?Will you use this shadowfireonthem?”

Thedukeagaincockedhishead, the scars on his facethrown into stark contrast inthe dim lantern light. “Yourgrandmother didn’t tell you,then.”“Aboutwhat?”shebitout.Thedukestrodetowardthe

curtained-off part of theroom. “About the weaponsshe has been making for me—foryou.”“What weapons?” She

didn’t bother wasting time

withtacticalsilence.The duke just grinned at

her as he disappeared, thecurtains swinging enough torevealKaltainlyingona lowbedcovered in furs,her thin,pale arms at her sides, hereyes open and unseeing. Ashell.Aweapon.Two weapons—Kaltain,

and whatever hergrandmotherwasmaking.That was why the Matron

had stayed in theFangswith

theotherHighWitches.If the three of them were

combining their knowledge,wisdom, and cruelty todevelop a weapon to useagainstthemortalarmies…A shiver skidded down

Manon’sspineassheglancedonce more at the brokenhumanontherug.Whateverthisnewweapon

was,whatever the threeHighWitchescameupwith…The humans wouldn’t

standachance.

“Iwantyouallspreading theword to the other covens. Iwant sentinels on constantsurveillance at the entrancesto the barracks. Three-hourwatch rotations, no longer—wedon’tneedanyonepassingoutandlettingtheenemyslipin. I’ve dispatched a letter totheMatronalready.”

Elide awoke with a joltinside the aerie, warm andrested and not daring tobreathe. Itwas still dark, butthe moonlight was gone,dawn far off. And in theblackness, she could faintlymakeout thegleamofsnow-whitehairandtheflickerofafew sets of iron teeth andnails.Oh,gods.She’d planned to sleep for

only an hour. Shemust haveslept for at least four.

Abraxos didn’t move behindher, his wing still shieldingher.Since that encounter with

Asterin and Manon, everyhour,wakingorsleeping,hadbeen a nightmare for Elide,and even days afterward shecaught herself holding herbreathatoddmoments,whenthe shadow of the feargrippedherbythethroat.Thewitches hadn’t botheredwithher, even though she’d

claimed her blood ran blue.ButneitherhadVernon.But tonight… she’d been

limpingbacktoherroom,thestairwell dark and quiet—tooquiet, evenwith the scrapingof her chains on the floor.Andbyherdoor,apocketofutter silence, as if even thedust mites had held theirbreath. Someone was insideherroom.Waitingforher.So she’d kept walking, all

theway to themoonlit aerie,

where her uncle wouldn’tdare go. The wyverns of theThirteen had been curled upon the floor like cats orperched on their posts overthedrop.Toherleft,Abraxoshadwatched her fromwherehe’d sprawled on his belly,his depthless eyes wide,unblinking.Whenshe’dcomeclose enough to smell thecarrion on his breath, she’dsaid, “I need somewhere tosleep.Justfortonight.”

Histailmovedslightly,theiron spikes clinking on thestones.Wagging. Like a dog—sleepy, but pleased to seeher.Therewasnogrowltobeheard, no glint of iron teethreadying togulpherdownintwo bites. She would ratherbe gobbled down than facewhoever had been in herroom.Elidehadsliddownagainst

the wall, tucking her handsunderherarmpitsandcurling

her knees to her chest. Herteeth began clacking againsteach other, and she curledtighter.Itwassocoldinherethat her breath clouded infrontofher.Hay crunched, and

Abraxossidledcloser.Elide had tensed—might

have sprung to her feet andbolted. The wyvern hadextended one wing towardher as if in invitation. To sitbesidehim.

“Please don’t eat me,”she’dwhispered.He’d huffed, as if to say,

You wouldn’t be much of amouthful.Shivering, Elide rose. He

seemed bigger with everystep.But thatwing remainedextended, as if she were theanimalinneedofcalming.As she reached his side,

she could hardly breathe asshe extended a hand andstroked the curving, scaly

hide. Itwassurprisinglysoft,likewornleather.Andtoasty,as if he were a furnace.Carefully, aware of the headheangled towatchhereverymove, she sat down againsthim, her back instantlywarmed.That wing had gracefully

lowered,foldingdownuntilitbecame a wall of warmmembrane between her andthe chill wind. She’d leanedfarther into his softness and

delightful heat, letting it sinkintoherbones.She hadn’t even realized

thatshe’dtumbledintosleep.Andnow…theywerehere.Abraxos’s reek must be

concealing her own humanscent, or else the WingLeaderwouldhavefoundherby now. Abraxos kept stillenough that she wondered ifheknewthat,too.The voices moved toward

the center of the aerie, and

Elide gauged the distancebetween Abraxos and thedoor. Perhaps she could slipawaybeforetheynoticed—“Keep it quiet; keep it

secret. If anyone reveals ourdefenses, they die at myhand.”“As you will it,” Sorrel

said.Asterin said, “Do we tell

the Yellowlegs andBluebloods?”“No,” Manon said, her

voice like death andbloodshed. “Blackbeaksonly.”“Even if another coven

windsupvolunteeringforthenextround?”Asterinsaid.Manon gave a snarl that

madethehaironElide’sneckrise. “We can only tug somuchattheleash.”“Leashes can snap,”

Asterinchallenged.“So can your neck,”

Manonsaid.

Now—now, while theywere fighting. Abraxosremainedunmoving,asifnotdaring to draw attention tohimself while Elide preparedto hurry out. But the chains… Elide sat back down andcarefully, slowly, lifted herfoot justa littleoff the floor,holding the chains so theywouldn’tdrag.Withonefootand one hand, she beganpushing herself across thestones,slidingforthedoor.

“This shadowfire,” Sorrelmused, as if trying todiffusethe brewing storm betweenthe Wing Leader and hercousin. “Will he use it onus?”“He seemed inclined to

think it could be used onentire armies. I wouldn’t putitpasthimtoholditoverourheads.”Closer and closer, Elide

edgedfortheopendoorway.Shewasalmosttherewhen

Manon crooned, “If you hadany backbone, Elide, youwould have stayed besideAbraxosuntilweleft.”

32

Manon had spotted Elidesleeping against Abraxos themoment they’d entered theaerie, and she’d becomeaware of her presencemoments before that—trackingherfromscentaloneup the stairs. If Asterin andSorrelhadnoticed,theymade

nocomment.Theservantgirlwassitting

on her ass, almost to thedoorway, one foot in the airto keep her chains fromdragging. Smart, even ifshe’d been too stupid torealize howwell they saw inthedark.“Therewassomeoneinmy

room,” Elide said, loweringherfootandstanding.Asterinstiffened.“Who?”“Idon’tknow,”Elidesaid,

keeping near the doorway,even if it would do her nogood.“Itdidn’tseemwisetogoinside.”Abraxoshadtensed,histail

shifting over the stones. Theuselessbeastwasworriedforthegirl.Manonnarrowedhereyes at him. “Isn’t your kindsupposed to eat youngwomen?”Heglaredather.Elide held her ground as

Manon prowled closer. And

Manon, despite herself, wasimpressed. She looked at thegirl—reallylookedather.A girl who was not afraid

to sleep against a wyvern,who had enough commonsense to tell when dangermight be approaching …Perhaps that blood really didrunblue.“There is a chamber

beneath this castle,” Manonsaid, and Asterin and Sorrelfell into rank behind her.

“Inside it is a coven ofYellowlegswitches,all takenby the duke to … createdemon offspring. I want youto get into that chamber. Iwant you to tell me what’shappeninginthere.”The human went pale as

death.“Ican’t.”“You can, and you will,”

Manon said. “You’re minenow.” She felt Asterin’sattention on her—thedisapproval and surprise.

Manonwenton, “You find away into that chamber, yougivemethedetails,youkeepquiet about what you learn,and you live. If you betrayme,ifyoutellanyone…thenwe’ll toast to you at yourweddingpartytoahandsomeValghusband,Isuppose.”The girl’s hands were

shaking. Manon smackedthemdowntohersides.“WedonottoleratecowardsintheBlackbeakranks,”shehissed.

“Or did you think yourprotectionwas free?”Manonpointed to the door. “You’reto stay in my chambers ifyour own are compromised.Gowait at the bottomof thestairs.”Elide glanced behind

Manon to her Second andThird, as if she wasconsidering begging them tohelp. But Manon knew thattheir faces were stony andunyielding.Elide’sterrorwas

atanginManon’snoseasshelimped away. It took her fartoo long to get down thestairs, thatwastedlegofhersslowinghertoacrone’space.Once she was at the bottom,Manon turned to Sorrel andAsterin.“Shecouldgototheduke,”

Sorrel said. As Second, shehad the right to make thatremark—to think through allthreatstotheheir.“She’snotthatruthless.”

Asterinclickedhertongue.“That was why you spoke,knowingshewashere.”Manon didn’t bother

nodding.“If she’s caught?” Asterin

asked.Sorrelglancedsharplyather.Manondidn’tfeellikereprimanding. It was onSorrel to sort out thedominance between themnow.“Ifshe’scaught,thenwe’ll

findanotherway.”

“And you have no qualmsabout them killing her? Orusing that shadowfire onher?”“Stand down, Asterin,”

Sorrelgroundout.Asterin did no such thing.

“You should be asking thesequestions,Second.”Sorrel’s iron teeth snapped

down. “It is because of yourquestioning that you’re nowThird.”“Enough,” Manon said.

“Elide is the only one whomight get into that chamberand report. The duke has hisgruntsunderordersnot to leta singlewitchnear.Even theShadows can’t get closeenough. But a servant girl,cleaning up whatever mess…”“Youweretheonewaiting

inherroom,”Asterinsaid.“Adoseoffeargoesalong

wayinhumans.”“Is she human, though?”

Sorrel asked. “Or do wecountheramongus?”“It makes no difference if

she’s human or witch-kind.I’d send whoever was themost qualified down intothose chambers, and at thismoment, onlyElide can gainaccesstothem.”Cunning—that was how

she would get around theduke, with his schemes andhisweapons.Shemightworkfor his king, but she would

not tolerate being leftignorant.“I need to know what’s

happening in thosechambers,” Manon said. “Ifwe lose one life to do that,thensobeit.”“And what then?” Asterin

asked, despite Sorrel’swarning. “Once you learn,whatthen?”Manon hadn’t decided.

Again, that phantom bloodcoatedherhands.

Followorders—orelsesheand the Thirteen would beexecuted. Either by hergrandmother or by the duke.After her grandmother readher letter,maybe itwouldbedifferent.Butuntilthen—“Then we continue as

we’ve been commanded,”Manon said. “But I will notbe led into this with ablindfoldovermyeyes.”

Spy.AspyfortheWingLeader.Elide supposed it was no

different thanbeingaspyforherself—for her ownfreedom.But learning about the

supply wagons’ arrival andtrying to get into thatchamber while also goingabout her duties … Maybeshe would get lucky. Maybeshecoulddoboth.

Manonhadapallet ofhaybrought up to her room,setting it near the fire towarm Elide’s mortal bones,she’d said.Elidehardly sleptthat first night in thewitch’stower.Whenshestoodtousethe privy, convinced that thewitchwasasleep,she’dmadeit two steps before Manonhad said, “Goingsomewhere?”Gods, her voice. Like a

snakehiddenupatree.

She’d stammered out anexplanationaboutneedingthebathing room. When Manonhadn’t replied, Elide hadstumbled out. She’d returnedto find the witch asleep—oratleasthereyeswereclosed.Manon slept naked. Even

with thechill.Herwhitehaircascadeddownherback,andthere wasn’t a part of thewitch that didn’t seem leanwith muscle or flecked withfaint scarring. No part that

wasn’t a reminder of whatManonwoulddotoherifshefailed.Three days later, Elide

made her move. Theexhaustion that had tuggedrelentlessly on her vanishedas sheclutched thearmfuloflinens she’d taken from thelaundryandpeereddown thehallway.Four guards stood at the

doortothestairwell.Ithad takenher threedays

of helping in the laundry,three days of chatting up thelaundresses, to learn if linenswere ever needed in thechamber at the bottom ofthosestairs.No one wanted to talk to

her the first two days. Theyjust eyed her and told herwheretohaul thingsorwhentosingeherhandsorwhat toscrubuntilherbackhurt.Butyesterday—yesterdayshehadseen the torn, blood-soaked

clothescomein.Blueblood,notred.Witch-blood.Elide kept her head down,

working on the soldiers’shirts she’d been given onceshe’d proved her skillwith aneedle. But she noted whichlaundresses intercepted theclothes. And then she keptworking through the hours ittook to clean and dry andpress them,staying later thanmostoftheothers.Waiting.

She was nobody andnothing and belonged to noone—but if she let Manonand theBlackbeaks thinksheaccepted their claim on her,she might very well still getfree once those wagonsarrived. The Blackbeaksdidn’t care about her—notreally. Her heritage wasconvenient for them. Shedoubted they would noticewhen she vanished. She’dbeen a ghost for years now,

anyway, her heart full of theforgottendead.Sosheworked,andwaited.Even when her back was

aching, evenwhenher handswere so sore they shook, shemarked the laundress whohauledthepressedclothesoutofthechamberandvanished.Elide memorized every

detailofherface,ofherbuildand height. No one noticedwhen she slipped out afterher, carrying an armful of

linens for the Wing Leader.No one stopped her as shetrailed the laundress downhall after hall until shereachedthisspot.Elidepeereddownthehall

again just as the laundresscame up out of the stairwell,arms empty, face drawn andbloodless.Theguardsdidn’tstopher.

Good.Thelaundressturneddown

anotherhall,andElideloosed

thebreathshe’dbeenholding.Turning toward Manon’s

tower, she silently thoughtthrough her plan over andover.Ifshewascaught…Perhaps she should throw

herself from one of thebalconiesratherthanfaceoneofthedozensofawfuldeathsawaitingher.No—no,shewouldendure.

She had survived when somany—nearlyeveryoneshe’d

loved—had not. When herkingdom had not. So shewould survive for them, andwhen she left, she wouldbuild herself a new life farawayintheirhonor.Elidehobbledupawinding

stairwell. Gods, she hatedstairs.Shewas about halfway up

whensheheardaman’svoicethatstoppedhercold.“The duke said you spoke

—why will you not say a

wordtome?”Vernon.Silencegreetedhim.Back down the stairs—she

should go right back downthestairs.“So beautiful,” her uncle

murmured to whomever itwas.“Likeamoonlessnight.”Elide’s mouth went dry at

thetoneinhisvoice.“Perhaps it’s fate that we

ran into each other here. Hewatches you so closely.”

Vernon paused. “Together,”he said quietly, reverently.“Together, we shall createwonders that will make theworldtremble.”Suchdark, intimatewords,

filled with such …entitlement. She didn’t wanttoknowwhathemeant.Elide took as silent a step

as she could down the stairs.Shehadtogetaway.“Kaltain,” her uncle

rumbled, a demand and a

threatandapromise.Thesilentyoungwoman—

the one who never spoke,who never looked atanything, who had suchmarksonher.Elidehadseenher only a few times. Hadseenhowlittlesheresponded.Orfoughtback.And then Elide was

walkingupthestairs.Up and up, making sure

her chains clanked as loudlyas possible. Her uncle fell

silent.She rounded the next

landing,andtheretheywere.Kaltain had been shoved

up against thewall, the neckof that too-flimsy gowntugged to the side, herbreastnearly out. There was suchemptiness on her face—as ifsheweren’t even there at all.Vernon stood a few pacesaway. Elide clutched herlinens so hard she thoughtshe’dshredthem.Wishedshe

hadthoseironnails,foronce.“LadyKaltain,”shesaidto

the young woman, barely afewyearsolderthanshe.Shedidnotexpectherown

rage. Did not expect herselftogoontosay,“Iwassenttofind you, Lady. This way,please.”“Who sent for her?”

Vernondemanded.Elide met his gaze. And

didnotbowherhead.Notaninch.“TheWingLeader.”

“The Wing Leader isn’tauthorizedtomeetwithher.”“And you are?” Elide set

herselfbetweenthem,thoughit would do no good shouldheruncledecidetouseforce.Vernon smiled. “I was

wonderingwhen you’d showyourfangs,Elide.OrshouldIsayyourironteeth?”Heknew,then.Elidestaredhimdownand

put a light handonKaltain’sarm.Shewasascoldasice.

She didn’t even look atElide.“If you’d be so kind,

Lady,”Elidesaid,tuggingonthat arm, clutching thelaundry with her other hand.Kaltain mutely started into awalk.Vernon chuckled. “You

twocouldbesisters,”hesaidcasually.“Fascinating,” Elide said,

guiding the ladyup the steps—even as the effort to keep

balanced made her leg throbinagony.“Until next time,” her

unclesaidfrombehind them,and she didn’twant to knowwhohemeant.In silence, her heart

pounding so wildly that shethought she might vomit,Elide led Kaltain up to thenextlanding,andletgoofherlongenoughtoopenthedoorandguideherintothehall.Theladypaused,staringat

thestone,atnothing.“Where do you need to

go?”Elideaskedhersoftly.Theladyjuststared.Inthe

torchlight,thescaronherarmwasgruesome.Whohaddonethat?Elide put a hand on the

woman’s elbow again.“WherecanItakeyouthatissafe?”Nowhere—there was

nowhereherethatwassafe.Butslowly,asifittookher

a lifetime to remember howtodoit,theladyslidhereyestoElide.Darkness and death and

blackflame;despairandrageandemptiness.And yet—a kernel of

understanding.Kaltain merely walked

away, that dress hissing onthestones.Therewerebruisesthat looked like fingerprintsaround her other arm. As ifsomeonehadgrippedher too

hard.Thisplace.Thesepeople—Elide fought her nausea,

watching until the womanvanishedaroundacorner.

Manon was seated at herdesk,staringatwhatappearedto be a letter, when Elideentered the tower. “Did youget into the chamber?” thewitch said, not bothering to

turnaround.Elide swallowed hard. “I

need you to get me somepoison.”

33

Standing in a wide clearingamong the stacks of crates,Aedion blinked against thelate-morning sun slantingthroughthewindowshighupin the warehouse. He wasalready sweating, and in direneed of water as the heat ofthedayturnedthewarehouse

suffocating.He didn’t complain. He’d

demanded to be allowed tohelp,andAelinhadrefused.He’d insistedhewas fit to

fight, and she had merelysaid,“Proveit.”Sohere theywere.Heand

theFaePrincehadbeengoingthrough a workout routinewith sparring sticks for thepastthirtyminutes,anditwasthoroughly kicking his ass.The wound on his side was

one wrong move away fromsplitting, but he grittedthroughit.The pain was welcome,

considering the thoughts thathad kept him up all night.That Rhoe and Evalin hadnever told him, that hismother had died to concealthe knowledge of who siredhim, that he was half Fae—and that he might not knowfor another decade how hewould age. If he would

outlasthisqueen.And his father—Gavriel.

That was a whole other pathtobeexplored.Later.Perhapsit’dbeuseful,ifMaevemadegoodonthethreatsheposed,now that one of his father’slegendary companions washuntingAelininthiscity.Lorcan.Shit.Thestorieshe’dheard

aboutLorcanhadbeenfullofglory and gore—mostly thelatter. A male who didn’t

makemistakes, andwhowasruthlesswiththosewhodid.Dealing with the King of

Adarlanwasbadenough,buthavinganimmortalenemyattheir backs … Shit. And ifMaeve ever saw fit to sendGavriel over here…Aedionwouldfindawaytoendureit,ashe’dfoundawaytoendureeverythinginhislife.Aedion was finishing a

maneuver with the stick thatthe prince had shown him

twicenowwhenAelinpausedher own exercising. “I thinkthat’s enough for today,” shesaid,barelywinded.Aedion stiffened at the

dismissalalreadyinhereyes.He’d been waiting allmorningforthis.Forthepastten years, he had learnedeverything he could frommortals. If warriors came tohis territory, he’d use hisconsiderable charms toconvince them to teach him

what they knew. Andwhenever he’d venturedoutside of his lands, he’dmade a point to glean asmuch as he could aboutfighting and killing fromwhoever lived there. Sopitting himself against apurebred Fae warrior, directfrom Doranelle, was anopportunity he couldn’twaste. He wouldn’t let hiscousin’spitywreckit.“I heard a story,” Aedion

drawled toRowan, “that youkilled an enemy warlordusingatable.”“Please,”Aelinsaid.“Who

thehelltoldyouthat?”“Quinn—your uncle’s

CaptainoftheGuard.Hewasan admirer of PrinceRowan’s. He knew all thestories.”Aelin slid her eyes to

Rowan,whosmirked,bracinghissparringstickonthefloor.“You can’t be serious,” she

said. “What—you squashedhim to death like a pressedgrape?”Rowan choked. “No, I

didn’t squash him like agrape.” He gave the queen aferal smile. “I ripped the legoffthetableandimpaledhimwithit.”“Clean through the chest

and into the stone wall,”Aedionsaid.“Well,” said Aelin,

snorting,“I’llgiveyoupoints

forresourcefulness,atleast.”Aedion rolled his neck.

“Let’sgetbacktoit.”But Aelin gave Rowan a

look that pretty much said,Don’t kill my cousin, please.Callitoff.Aedion gripped the

woodensparringsticktighter.“I’mfine.”“Aweek ago,”Aelin said,

“you had one foot in theAfterworld. Your wound isstill healing. We’re done for

today,andyou’renotcomingout.”“I know my limits, and I

sayI’mfine.”Rowan’s slow grin was

nothing short of lethal. Aninvitationtodance.And that primal part of

Aediondecideditdidn’twantto flee from the predator inRowan’s eyes. No, it verymuch wanted to stand itsgroundandroarback.Aelingroaned,butkepther

distance.Prove it, she’dsaid.Well,hewould.Aediongavenowarningas

heattacked,feintingrightandaiming low.He’d killedmenwith that move—sliced themclean in half. But Rowandodged him with brutalefficiency, deflecting andpositioning to the offensive,and that was all that Aedionmanaged to see before hebrought up his stick on pureinstinct. Bracing himself

against the force of Rowan’sblowhadhis sidebleating inpain, but he kept focused—even though Rowan hadalmost knocked the stickfromhishands.He managed to strike the

next blow himself. But asRowan’s lips tuggedupward,Aedion had the feeling thatthe prince was toying withhim.Notforamusement—no,to

prove some point. Red mist

coatedhisvision.Rowan went to sweep his

legsout,andAedionstompedhard enough on Rowan’sstick that it snapped in two.As it did, Aedion twisted,lungingtobringhisownstickstraight into Rowan’s face.Gripping the two pieces ineither hand, the Fae warriordodged,goinglow,and—Aedion didn’t see the

second blow coming to hislegs.Thenhewasblinkingat

the wooden beams of theceiling, gasping for breath asthe pain from his woundarcedthroughhisside.Rowan snarled down at

him, one piece of the stickangledtocuthis throatwhilethe other pushed against hisabdomen, ready to spill hisguts.Holyburninghell.Aedionhadknownhe’dbe

fast, and strong, but this …Having Rowan fight

alongside the Bane mightvery well decide battles inanysortofwar.Gods, his side hurt badly

enough he thought he mightbebleeding.The Fae Prince spoke so

quietly that even Aelincouldn’t hear. “Your queengave you an order to stop—for your own good. Becauseshe needs you healthy, andbecause it pains her to seeyou injured. Do not ignore

hercommandnexttime.”Aedion was wise enough

not to snap a retort, nor tomoveastheprinceduginthetips of his sticks a littleharder.“And,”Rowanadded,“if you ever speak to heragain the way you did lastnight,I’llripoutyourtongueand shove it down yourthroat.Understand?”With the stick at his neck,

Aedion couldn’t nod withoutimpaling himself on the

jagged end. But he breathed,“Understood,Prince.”Aedion opened his mouth

againasRowanbackedaway,about to say something hewould surely regret, when abrighthellosounded.They allwhirled,weapons

up, as Lysandra closed therollingdoorbehindher,boxesandbagsinherarms.Shehadan uncanny way of sneakingintoplacesunnoticed.Lysandra took two steps,

that stunning face grave, andstopped dead as she beheldRowan.Then his queen was

suddenly moving, snatchingsome of the bags fromLysandra’s armsand steeringherintotheapartmentalevelabove.Aedion eased from where

he’d been sprawled on theground.“IsthatLysandra?”Rowan

asked.

“Nottoobadontheeyes,isshe?”Rowan snorted. “Why is

shehere?”Aedion gingerly prodded

thewoundinhisside,makingsure it was indeed intact.“She probably hasinformationaboutArobynn.”WhomAedionwouldsoon

beginhunting,oncehisgods-damned wound was finallyhealed, regardlessofwhetherAelin deemed him fit. And

thenhe’dcut theKingof theAssassins into little, tinypiecesovermany,manydays.“Yet shedoesn’twantyou

tohearit?”Aedion said, “I think she

finds everyone but Aelinboring. Biggestdisappointmentofmylife.”Alie, and he didn’t knowwhyhesaidit.But Rowan smiled a bit.

“I’mgladshefoundafemalefriend.”

Aedion marveled for aheartbeatatthesoftnessinthewarrior’s face. Until Rowanshifted his eyes toward himand they were full of ice.“Aelin’s court will be a newone, different fromanyotherin the world, where the OldWays are honored again.You’re going to learn them.AndI’mgoingtoteachyou.”“IknowtheOldWays.”“You’re going to learn

themagain.”

Aedion’s shoulders pushedback as he rose to his fullheight. “I’m the general oftheBane,andaprinceofbothAshryver and Galathyniushouses. I’m not someuntrainedfootsoldier.”Rowangaveasharpnodof

agreement—and Aedionsupposed he should beflattered. Until Rowan said,“My cadre, as Aelin likes tocall them, was a lethal unitbecause we stuck together

andabidedbythesamecode.Maevemightbe a sadist, butshe ensured that we allunderstood and followed it.Aelin would never force usinto anything, and our codewill be different—better—thanMaeve’s.You and I aregoing to form the backboneof this court. We will shapeanddecideourowncode.”“What? Obedience and

blindloyalty?”Hedidn’tfeellikegettingalecture.Evenif

Rowan was right, and everyword out of the prince’smouth was one that Aedionhaddreamedofhearingforadecade.Heshouldhavebeenthe one to initiate thisconversation. Gods above,he’d had this conversationwithRenweeksago.Rowan’s eyes glittered.

“Toprotectandserve.”“Aelin?”Hecoulddothat;

he had already planned ondoingthat.

“Aelin. And each other.And Terrasen.” No room forargument,nohintofdoubt.A small part of Aedion

understood why his cousinhad offered the prince thebloodoath.

“Whoisthat?”Lysandrasaidtoo innocently as Aelinescortedherupthestairs.“Rowan,” Aelin said,

kicking open the apartmentdoor.“He’s spectacularly built,”

she mused. “I’ve never beenwith a Fae male. Or female,forthatmatter.”Aelinshookherheadtotry

to clear the image from hermind. “He’s—” Sheswallowed. Lysandra wasgrinning, and Aelin hissed,setting down the bags on thegreatroomfloorandshuttingthedoor.“Stopthat.”

“Hmm,” was all Lysandrasaid, dropping her boxes andbags besideAelin’s. “Well, Ihavetwothings.One,Nesrynsent me a note this morningsaying that you had a new,very muscled guest stayingandtobringsomeclothes.SoIbroughtclothes.Lookingatour guest, I think Nesrynundersoldhimagooddeal,sothe clothes might be tight—not that I’mobjecting to thatonebit—buthecanusethem

untilyougetothers.”“Thankyou,”shesaid,and

Lysandra waved a slenderhand.She’dthankFaliqlater.“The other thing I brought

you is news. Arobynnreceived a report last nightthat two prisonwagonswerespotted heading south toMorath—chock full of allthosemissingpeople.”She wondered if Chaol

knew, and if he had tried tostop it. “Does he know that

former magic-wielders arebeingtargeted?”Anod.“He’sbeentracking

which people disappear andwhich get sent south in theprison wagons. He’s lookinginto all his clients’ lineagesnow, no matter how thefamiliestriedtoconcealtheirhistories after magic wasbanned, to see if he can useanythingtohisadvantage.It’ssomething to consider whendealing with him … given

yourtalents.”Aelin chewed on her lip.

“Thank you for telling methat,too.”Fantastic. Arobynn,

Lorcan, the king, the Valg,the key, Dorian … She hadhalf amind to stuff her facewith every remaining morseloffoodinthekitchen.“Just prepare yourself.”

Lysandra glanced at a smallpocketwatch.“Ineedtogo.Ihave a lunch appointment.”

No doubt why Evangelinewasn’twithher.Shewasalmosttothedoor

whenAelinsaid,“Howmuchlonger—until you’re free ofyourdebts?”“Istillhaveagreatdeal to

pay off, so—a while.”Lysandra paced a few steps,and then caught herself.“Clarisse keeps addingmoney as Evangeline grows,claiming that someone sobeautiful would have made

her double, triple what sheoriginallytoldme.”“That’sdespicable.”“WhatcanIdo?”Lysandra

held up her wrist, where thetattoohadbeeninked.“She’llhunt me until the day I die,and I can’t run withEvangeline.”“I could dig Clarisse a

grave no one would everdiscover,” Aelin said. Andmeantit.Lysandra knew she meant

it,too.“Notyet—notnow.”“Yousaytheword,andit’s

done.”Lysandra’s smile was a

thingofsavage,darkbeauty.

Standingbeforeacrateinthecavernous warehouse, Chaolstudied the map Aelin hadjust handed him. He focusedon the blank spots—tryingnot to stare at the warrior-

princeonguardbythedoor.Itwashard to avoiddoing

so when Rowan’s presencesomehow sucked out all theairinthewarehouse.Then there was the matter

of the delicately pointed earspeeking out from the shortsilver hair. Fae—he’d neverseen one other than Aelin inthose brief, petrifyingmoments. And Rowan …Conveniently, in all herstorytelling, Aelin had

forgotten tomention that theprincewassohandsome.A handsome Fae Prince,

whom she’d spent monthsliving and training with—while Chaol’s own life fellapart, while people diedbecauseofheractions—Rowan was watching

Chaol as if he might bedinner.DependingonhisFaeform, that might not be toofarwrong.Every instinct was

screaming at him to run,despite the fact that Rowanhad been nothing but polite.Distant and intense, butpolite. Still, Chaol didn’tneed to see the prince inactiontoknowthathewouldbedeadbeforehecouldevendrawhissword.“You know, he won’t

bite,”Aelincrooned.Chaol leveled a stare at

her. “Can you just explainwhatthesemapsarefor?”

“Anything you, Ress, orBrullo can fill in regardingthese gaps in the castledefenses would beappreciated,”shesaid.Notananswer.TherewasnosignofAedion among the stackedcrates, but the general wasprobably listening fromsomewhere nearby with hiskeenFaehearing.“Foryoutobringdownthe

clock tower?” Chaol asked,folding up the map and

tucking it into the innerpocketofhistunic.“Maybe,” she said. He

tried not to bristle. But therewas something settled abouthernow—asifsomeinvisibletension in her face hadvanished.Hetriednottolooktowardthedooragain.“Ihaven’theardfromRess

orBrullo fora fewdays,”hesaid instead. “I’ll makecontactsoon.”She nodded, pulling out a

secondmap—this one of thelabyrinthine network of thesewers—and weighted downtheendswithwhateversmallbladesshehadonher.Agoodnumberofthem,apparently.“Arobynn learned that the

missing prisonerswere takentoMorathlastnight.Didyouknow?”Anotherfailurethatfellon

his shoulders—anotherdisaster.“No.”“They can’t have gotten

far.You could gather a teamandambushthewagons.”“IknowIcould.”“Areyougoingto?”Helaidahandonthemap.

“Did you bring me here toprove a point about myuselessness?”She straightened. “I asked

you to come because Ithought it would be helpfulforthebothofus.We’reboth—we’re both under a fairamount of pressure these

days.”Her turquoise-and-gold

eyeswerecalm—unfazed.Chaol said, “Whendoyou

makeyourmove?”“Soon.”Again, not an answer. He

said as evenly as he could,“Anything else I shouldknow?”“I’d start avoiding the

sewers. It’s your deathwarrantifyoudon’t.”“There are people trapped

downthere—we’vefoundthenests, but no sign of theprisoners. I won’t abandonthem.”“That’sallwellandgood,”

shesaid,andheclenchedhisteeth at the dismissal in hertone, “but there are worsethings than Valg gruntspatrolling the sewers, and Ibet they won’t turn a blindeye to anyone in theirterritory. I would weigh therisks if I were you.” She

dragged a hand through herhair. “So are you going toambushtheprisonwagons?”“Of course I am.” Even

though the rebels’ numbersweredown.Somanyof theirpeoplewereeitherfleeingthecity altogether or refusing torisk their necks in anincreasinglyfutilebattle.Wasthatconcernflickering

in her eyes? But she said,“They use warded locks onthe wagons. And the doors

are reinforced with iron.Bringtherighttools.”Hedrewinabreathtosnap

at her about talking down tohim,but—Shewouldknowabout the

wagons;she’dspentweeksinone.Hecouldn’tquitemeether

stareashestraightenedup togo.“Tell Faliq that Prince

Rowansaysthankyoufortheclothes,”Aelinsaid.

What the hell was shetalkingabout?Perhapsitwasanotherjab.So he made for the door,

where Rowan stepped asidewith a murmured farewell.Nesryn had told him she’dspent the evening withAedion and Aelin, but hehadn’trealizedtheymightbe… friends. He hadn’tconsidered thatNesrynmightwind up unable to resist theallureofAelinGalathynius.

Though he supposed thatAelin was a queen. She didnot falter. She did not doanything but plow ahead,burningbright.Even if it meant killing

Dorian.They hadn’t spoken of it

since the day of Aedion’srescue. But it still hungbetweenthem.Andwhenshewent to freemagic…Chaolwould again have the properprecautionsinplace.

Because he did not thinkshe would put her sworddownthenexttime.

34

Aelinknewshehadthingstodo—vital things, terriblethings—but she couldsacrificeoneday.Keeping to the shadows

whenever possible, she spenttheafternoonshowingRowanthe city, from the elegantresidential districts to the

markets crammed withvendors sellinggoods for thesummer solstice in twoweeks.Therewasnosignorscent

of Lorcan, thank the gods.But the king’s men wereposted at a few busyintersections,givingAelinanopportunitytopointthemoutto Rowan. He studied themwith trained efficiency, hiskeen sense of smell enablinghim to pick out which ones

were still human and whichwereinhabitedbylesserValgdemons.Fromthelookonhisface, shehonestly felt a littlebad for any guard that cameacrosshim,demonorhuman.A little, but not much.Especially given that theirpresence alone somewhatruined her plans for apeaceful,quietday.She wanted to show

Rowan the good parts of thecitybeforedragginghiminto

itsunderbelly.So she took him to one of

Nesryn’s family’s bakeries,where she went so far as tobuyafewofthosepeartarts.At the docks, Rowan evenconvinced her to try somepan-fried trout. She’d oncesworn never to eat fish, andhad cringed as the fork hadneared her mouth, but—thedamned thing was delicious.She ate her entire fish, thensnuckbitesofRowan’s,tohis

snarlingdismay.Here—Rowan was here

with her, in Rifthold. Andthere was somuchmore shewanted him to see, to learnaboutwhat her life had beenlike. She’d never wanted toshareanyofitbefore.Evenwhenshe’dheardthe

crackofawhipafterlunchastheycooledthemselvesbythewater,she’dwantedhimwithhertowitnessit.He’dsilentlystood with a hand on her

shoulder as theywatched thecluster of chained slaveshaulingcargoontooneoftheships. Watched—and coulddonothing.Soon,shepromisedherself.

Putting an end to that was ahighpriority.They meandered back

throughthemarketstalls,oneafter another, until the smellof roses and lilieswaftedby,the river breeze sweepingpetals of every shape and

color past their feet as theflower girls shouted abouttheirwares.She turned tohim. “If you

wereagentleman,you’dbuyme—”Rowan’s face had gone

blank, his eyes hollow as hestared at one of the flowergirls in the center of thesquare, a basket of hothousepeonies on her thin arm.Young, pretty, dark-haired,and—Oh,gods.

Sheshouldn’thavebroughthim here. Lyria had soldflowers in the market; she’dbeenapoorflowergirlbeforePrinceRowanhadspottedherand instantly known shewashismate.A faerie tale—untilshe’d been slaughtered byenemy forces. Pregnant withRowan’schild.Aelin clenched and

unclenched her fingers, anywords lodged in her throat.Rowanwasstillstaringatthe

girl,who smiled at a passingwoman, aglow with someinnerlight.“I didn’t deserve her,”

Rowansaidquietly.Aelin swallowed hard.

Therewerewoundsinbothofthemthathadyettoheal,butthisone…Truth.Asalways,shecouldofferhimonetruthin exchange for another. “Ididn’tdeserveSam.”Helookedatheratlast.She’d do anything to get

rid of the agony in his eyes.Anything.Hisglovedfingersbrushed

her own, then dropped backtohisside.Sheclenchedherhandinto

afistagain.“Come.Iwanttoshowyousomething.”

Aelin scrounged up somedessert from the streetvendorswhile Rowanwaited

in a shadowed alley. Now,sitting on one of thewoodenrafters in the gilded dome ofthe darkened Royal Theater,Aelin munched on a lemoncookieandswungher legsintheopenairbelow.Thespacewas the same as sheremembered it, but thesilence,thedarkness…“This used to be my

favorite place in the entireworld,” she said, her wordstoo loud in the emptiness.

Sunlight poured in from theroofdoor they’dbroken into,illuminating the rafters andthe golden dome, gleamingfaintly off the polished brassbanisters and the bloodredcurtains of the stage below.“Arobynnownsaprivatebox,soIwentanychanceIcould.The nights I didn’t feel likedressinguporbeing seen,ormaybe thenights I had a joband only an hour free, I’dcreep in here through that

doorandlisten.”Rowan finished his cookie

and gazed at the dark spacebelow.He’dbeensoquietforthepast thirtyminutes—as ifhe’dpulledback intoaplacewhereshecouldn’treachhim.She nearly sighed with

relief as he said, “I’ve neverseen an orchestra—or atheater like this, craftedaround sound and luxury.Even in Doranelle, thetheaters and amphitheaters

are ancient, with benches orjuststeps.”“There’s no place like this

anywhere, perhaps. Even inTerrasen.”“Thenyou’llhave tobuild

one.”“With what money? You

think people are going to behappy to starvewhile I builda theater for my ownpleasure?”“Perhaps not right away,

but if youbelieveonewould

benefit the city, the country,then do it. Artists areessential.”Florine had said as much.

Aelinsighed.“Thisplacehasbeen shut down for months,andyetIswearIcanstillhearthemusicfloatingintheair.”Rowan angled his head,

studying the dark with thoseimmortalsenses.“Perhapsthemusic does live on, in someform.”Thethoughtmadehereyes

sting.“Iwishyoucouldhaveheardit—Iwishyouhadbeenthere to hear Pytor conducttheStygianSuite.Sometimes,I feel like I’m still sittingdown in that box, thirteenyears old and weeping fromthesheergloryofit.”“You cried?” She could

almost see the memories oftheirtrainingthisspringflashin his eyes: all those timesmusic had calmed orunleashedhermagic.Itwasa

part ofher soul—asmuchashewas.“The final movement—

everydamn time. IwouldgobacktotheKeepandhavethemusic in my mind for days,even as I trained or killed orslept. It was a kind ofmadness,lovingthatmusic.ItwaswhyIstartedplayingthepianoforte—so I could comehome at night and make mypoorattemptatreplicatingit.”She’d never told anyone

that—never taken anyonehere,either.Rowan said, “Is there a

pianoforteinhere?”

“I haven’t played in monthsand months. And this is ahorrible idea for about adozen different reasons,” shesaid for the tenth timeas shefinished rolling back thecurtainsonthestage.

She’d stood here before,when Arobynn’s patronagehad earned them invitationstogalasheldon thestageforthesheer thrillofwalkingonsacred space. But now, amidthegloomofthedeadtheater,lit with the single candleRowanhad found, it felt likestandinginatomb.Thechairsof theorchestra

were still arranged as theyprobably had been the nightthemusicianshadwalkedout

to protest the massacres inEndovierandCalaculla.Theywereallstillunaccountedfor—and considering the arrayof miseries the king nowheapedupontheworld,deathwould have been the kindestoption.Clenching her jaw, Aelin

leashed thefamiliar,writhinganger.Rowanwasstandingbeside

the pianoforte near the frontright of the stage, running a

handoverthesmoothsurfaceasifitwereaprizehorse.She hesitated before the

magnificent instrument. “Itseems like sacrilege to playthatthing,”shesaid,thewordechoingloudlyinthespace.“Since when are you the

religious type, anyway?”Rowan gave her a crookedsmile. “Where should I standtobesthearit?”“Youmightbe in for a lot

ofpainatfirst.”

“Self-conscious today,too?”“If Lorcan’s snooping

about,” she grumbled, “I’drather he not report back toMaeve that I’m lousy atplaying.” She pointed to aspot on the stage. “There.Stand there,andstop talking,youinsufferablebastard.”Hechuckled,andmovedto

thespotshe’dindicated.She swallowed as she slid

onto the smooth bench and

foldedback the lid, revealingthegleamingwhiteandblackkeys beneath. She positionedher feet on the pedals, butmade no move to touch thekeyboard.“I haven’t played since

before Nehemia died,” sheadmitted, the words tooheavy.“We can come back

another day, if youwant.”Agentle,steadyoffer.His silver hair glimmered

inthedimcandlelight.“Theremight not be another day.And—and I would considermy life very sad indeed if Ineverplayedagain.”Henoddedandcrossedhis

arms.Asilentorder.She faced the keys and

slowly set her hands on theivory.Itwassmoothandcoolandwaiting—agreatbeastofsound and joy about to beawakened.“I need to warm up,” she

blurted, and plunged inwithout another word,playingassoftlyasshecould.Once she had started

seeing the notes in her mindagain, when muscle memoryhad her fingers reaching forthose familiar chords, shebegan.It was not the sorrowful,

lovely piece she had onceplayedforDorian,anditwasnot the light, dancingmelodies she’d played for

sport; itwasnot thecomplexand clever pieces she hadplayed for Nehemia andChaol. This piece was acelebration—a reaffirmationof life, of glory, of the painandbeautyinbreathing.Perhaps that was why

she’d gone to hear itperformedeveryyear,aftersomuch killing and torture andpunishment:asa reminderofwhat she was, of what shestruggledtokeep.

Up and up it built, thesound breaking from thepianoforte like theheart-songofagod,untilRowandriftedover to stand beside theinstrument, until shewhispered to him, “Now,”and the crescendo shatteredintotheworld,noteafternoteafternote.The music crashed around

them, roaring through theemptiness of the theater.Thehollow silence that had been

inside her for so manymonthsnowoverflowedwithsound.She brought the piece

home to its final explosive,triumphantchord.When she looked up,

panting slightly, Rowan’seyes were lined with silver,histhroatbobbing.Somehow,afterallthistime,herwarrior-prince still managed tosurpriseher.He seemed to struggle for

words, but he finallybreathed, “Show me—showmehowyoudidthat.”Sosheobligedhim.

They spent the better part ofanhourseatedtogetheronthebench,Aelinteachinghimthebasics of the pianoforte—explaining the sharps andflats,thepedals,thenotesandchords. When Rowan heard

someone at last coming toinvestigate the music, theyslipped out. She stopped atthe Royal Bank, warningRowantowaitintheshadowsacross the street as she againsat in the Master’s officewhile one of his underlingsrushed in and out on herbusiness. She eventually leftwith another bag of gold—vital, now that therewasonemoremouthtofeedandbodyto clothe—and found Rowan

exactlywhere she’d lefthim,pissed off that she’d refusedto let him accompany her.But he’d raise too manyquestions.“Soyou’reusingyourown

money to support us?”Rowan asked as they slippeddownasidestreet.Aflockofbeautifully dressed youngwomen passed by on thesunny avenue beyond thealley and gaped at thehooded, powerfully built

malewho stormed past—andthen all turned to admire theview from behind. Aelinflashedherteethatthem.“Fornow,”shesaidtohim.“Andwhatwillyoudofor

moneylater?”She glanced sidelong at

him.“It’llbetakencareof.”“Bywhom?”“Me.”“Explain.”“You’ll find out soon

enough.” She gave him a

little smile that she knewdrovehiminsane.Rowanmadetograbherby

the shoulder, but she duckedawayfromhistouch.“Ah,ah.Better not move too swiftly,orsomeonemightnotice.”Hesnarled, the sound definitelynothuman,andshechuckled.Annoyance was better thanguilt and grief. “Just bepatient and don’t get yourfeathersruffled.”

35

Gods, he hated the smell oftheirblood.But damn if it wasn’t a

glorious thing to be coveredin when two dozen Valg laydead around him, and goodpeoplewerefinallysafe.Drenched in Valg blood

from head to toe, Chaol

Westfall searched for a cleanbit of fabric with which towipe down his black-stainedblade, but came up empty.Across the hidden clearing,Nesrynwasdoingthesame.He’d killed four; she’d

taken down seven. Chaolknewonlybecausehe’dbeenwatching her the entire time;she’d paired off withsomeone else during theambush.He’d apologized forsnapping at her the other

night, but she’d just nodded—and still teamed up withanother rebel. But now …She gave up trying to wipedown her blade and lookedtowardhim.Her midnight eyes were

bright,andevenwithherfacesplattered inblackblood,hersmile—relieved, a bit wildwith the thrill of the fight,their victory—was …beautiful.The word clanged through

him. Chaol frowned, and theexpression was instantlywiped from her face. Hismind was always a jumbleafterafight,asif ithadbeenspun around and around andtwisted upside down, andthen given a heavy dose ofliquor. But he strode towardher. They’d done this—together, they’d saved thesepeople. More at once thanthey’d ever rescued before,and with no loss of life

beyondtheValg.Gore and blood were

splatteredonthegrassyforestfloor, the only remnants ofthe decapitated Valg bodiesthat had already been hauledaway and dumped behind aboulder. When they left,they’dpaythebodies’formerowners the tributeofburningthem.Threeofhisgrouphad set

to unchaining the huddledprisoners now seated in the

grass. TheValg bastards hadstuffedsomanyof them intothe two wagons that Chaolhad nearly gagged at thesmell.Eachwagonhadonlyasmall,barredwindowhighupon the wall, and a man hadfaintedinside.Butallofthemweresafenow.Hewouldn’t stop until the

others still hidden in the citywere out of harm’s way aswell.Awoman reached upwith

her filthy hands—her nailssplitandfingertipsswollenasifshe’dtriedtoclawherwayout of whatever hellholeshe’d been kept in. “Thankyou,” she whispered, hervoice hoarse. Probably fromscreaming that had goneunanswered.Chaol’s throat tightenedas

hegavethewoman’shandsagentle squeeze, mindful ofher near-broken fingers, andsteppedtowhereNesrynwas

nowwiping her blade on thegrass. “You fought well,” hetoldher.“I know I did.” Nesryn

looked over her shoulder athim.“Weneedtogetthemtothe river. The boats won’twaitforever.”Fine—he didn’t expect

warmthorcamaraderieafterabattle, despite that smile, but… “Maybe once we’re backin Rifthold, we can go for adrink.” He needed one.

Badly.Nesryn rose from her

crouch, and he fought theurge to wipe a splatter ofblack blood from her tancheek. The hair she’d tiedbackhadcomeloose,andthewarm forest breeze set thestrandsfloatingpastherface.“I thought wewere friends,”shesaid.“We are friends,” he said

carefully.“Friends don’t spend time

with each other only whenthey’re feeling sorry forthemselves. Or bite eachother’s heads off for askingdifficultquestions.”“I toldyou Iwassorry for

snappingtheothernight.”She sheathed her blade.

“I’m fine with distractingeach other for whateverreason,Chaol,butat leastbehonestaboutit.”He opened his mouth to

object,but…maybeshewas

right. “I do like yourcompany,”hesaid.“Iwantedtogo for adrink to celebrate—not…brood.And I’d liketogowithyou.”She pursed her lips. “That

was the most half-assedattempt at flattery I’ve everheard. But fine—I’ll joinyou.”Theworstpartwasthatshedidn’tevensoundmad—she genuinely meant it. Hecould go drinking with orwithouther,andshewouldn’t

particularlycare.Thethoughtdidn’tsitwell.Personal conversation

decidedly over, Nesrynsurveyed the clearing, thewagon, and the carnage.“Whynow?Thekinghashadten years to do this;why thesudden rush to get thesepeople all down to Morath?What’sitbuildingto?”Some of the rebels turned

their way. Chaol studied thebloodyaftermathasifitwere

amap.“Aelin Galathynius’s

returnmight have started it,”Chaol said, aware of thosewholistened.“No,” Nesryn said simply.

“Aelin announced herselfbarely two months ago.Something this large … It’sbeen in theworksfora long,longtime.”Sen—one of the leaders

with whom Chaol metregularly—said, “Weshould

consider yielding the city.Move to other places wheretheir foothold isn’tassecure;maybe try to establish aborder somehow. If AelinGalathynius is lingering nearRifthold, we should meetwith her—maybe head forTerrasen, push Adarlan out,andholdtheline.”“We can’t abandon

Rifthold,” Chaol said,glancing at the prisonersbeinghelpedtotheirfeet.

“It might be suicide tostay,” Sen challenged. Someof the others nodded theiragreement.Chaol opened his mouth,

butNesrynsaid,“Weneedtoheadfortheriver.Fast.”He gave her a grateful

look, but she was alreadymoving.

Aelin waited until everyone

wasasleepandthefullmoonhadrisenbeforeclimbingoutof bed, careful not to jostleRowan.She slipped into the closet

anddressedswiftly,strappingon the weapons she’dcasually dumped there thatafternoon. Neither male hadcommented when she’dplucked Damaris from thedining table, claiming shewantedtocleanit.She strapped the ancient

blade onto her back alongwith Goldryn, the two hiltspeeking over either shoulderas she stood in front of thecloset mirror and hastilybraided back her hair. Itwasshort enough now thatbraiding had become anuisance, and the front bitsslipped out, but at least itwasn’tinherface.Shecreptfromthecloset,a

spare cloak in hand, past thebed where Rowan’s tattooed

torso gleamed in the light ofthefullmoonleakinginfromthewindow.Hedidn’tstirasshe snuck from the bedroomand out of the apartment, nomorethanashadow.

36

It didn’t take long for Aelintosethertrap.Shecouldfeelthe eyes monitoring her asshe found the patrol led byoneofthemoresadisticValgcommanders.Thanks to Chaol and

Nesryn’s reports, she knewtheir new hideouts. What

Chaol and Nesryn didn’tknow—what she had spentthese nights sneaking out totrackonherown—waswhichsewer entrances thecommanders used whengoing to speak to one of theWyrdhounds.They seemed to prefer the

most ancient waterways toswimmingthroughthefilthofthemorerecentmaintunnels.She’dbeengettingascloseasshedared,whichusuallywas

not near enough to overhearanything.Tonight, she slipped down

into the sewers after thecommander, her steps nearlysilent on the slick stones,trying to stifle her nausea atthestench.She’dwaiteduntilChaol, Nesryn, and their toplieutenants were out of thecity, chasing down thoseprisonwagons, if only so noone would get in her wayagain.Shecouldn’triskit.

Asshewalked,keepingfarenough behind the Valgcommander that he wouldn’thear, she began speakingsoftly.“Igot thekey,”shesaid,a

sighofreliefpassingoverherlips.Twisting her voice just as

Lysandrahadshowedher,sherepliedinamaletenor,“Youbroughtitwithyou?”“Of course I did. Now

show me where you wanted

tohideit.”“Patience,”shesaid,trying

not to smile toomuchas sheturned down a corner,creeping along. “It’s just upthisway.”On she went, offering

whispers of conversation,until she neared thecrossroads where the Valgcommanders liked to meetwith their Wyrdhoundoverseer and fell silent.There, she dumped the spare

cloakshe’dbrought,andthenbacktracked to a ladderleadinguptothestreet.Aelin’s breath caught as

she pushed against the grate,anditmercifullygave.Sheheavedherselfontothe

street, her hands unsteady.For a moment, shecontemplated lying there onthe filthy, wet cobblestones,savoring the free air aroundher.Buthewastooclose.Soshe silently sealed the grate

again.It took only a minute

before near-silent bootsscrapedonstonebelow,andafiguremovedpast the ladder,heading to where she’d leftthecape,trackingherashe’ddoneallnight.As she’d let him do all

night.And when Lorcan walked

right into that den of Valgcommanders and theWyrdhound thathadcometo

retrieve their reports, whentheclashofweaponsandroarofdyingfilledherears,Aelinmerely sauntered down thestreet,whistlingtoherself.

Aelin was striding down analley three blocks from thewarehousewhena forceakinto a stone wall slammed herface-first into the side of abrickbuilding.

“You little bitch,” Lorcansnarledinherear.Both of her arms were

somehow already pinnedbehind her back, his legsdigginghardenoughintohersthatshecouldn’tmovethem.“Hello, Lorcan,” she said

sweetly, turning herthrobbingfaceasmuchasshecould.Fromthecornerofhereye,

she could make out cruelfeatures beneath his dark

hood, along with onyx eyesandmatchingshoulder-lengthhair, and—damn. Elongatedcaninesshonefartoonearherthroat.Onehandgrippedherarms

likeasteelvise;Lorcanusedthe other to push her headagainst the damp brick sohardhercheekscraped.“Youthinkthatwasfunny?”“It was worth a shot,

wasn’tit?”He reeked of blood—that

awful, otherworldly Valgblood. He pushed her face alittleharder into thewall,hisbody an immovable forceagainsther.“I’mgoingtokillyou.”“Ah, about that,” she said,

and shifted her wrist justenough for him to feel thebladeshe’dflickedfreeinthemoment before she’d sensedhis attack—the steel nowresting against his groin.“Immortality seems like a

long,longtimetogowithoutyourfavoritebodypart.”“I’ll rip out your throat

beforeyoucanmove.”She pressed the blade

harder against him. “Big risktotake,isn’tit?”For a moment, Lorcan

remained unmoving, stillshovingherintothewallwiththe force of five centuries oflethal training. Then cool airnippedatherneck,herback.By the time she whirled,

Lorcan was several pacesaway.In the darkness, she could

barely make out the granite-hewn features, but sheremembered enough fromthatdayinDoranelletoguessthat beneath his hood, theunforgiving face was livid.“Honestly,” she said, leaningagainst thewall, “I’m a littlesurprised you fell for it.YoumustthinkI’mtrulystupid.”“Where’s Rowan?” he

sneered.Hisclose-fittingdarkclothes, armored with blackmetal at the forearms andshoulders, seemed to gobbleup the dim light. “Stillwarmingyourbed?”She didn’t want to know

howLorcanknewthat.“Isn’tthat all you pretty males aregoodfor?”Shelookedhimupanddown,marking themanyweapons both visible andconcealed. Massive—asmassive as Rowan and

Aedion. And utterlyunimpressedbyher.“Didyoukill all of them? There wereonlythreebymycount.”“There were six of them,

and one of those stonedemons, you bitch, and youknewit.”So he had found away to

kill one of the Wyrdhounds.Interesting—and good. “Youknow, I’m really rather tiredof being called that. You’dthink five centuries would

give you enough time tocome up with somethingmorecreative.”“Come a little closer, and

I’ll show you just what fivecenturiescando.”“Why don’t I show you

whathappenswhenyouwhipmy friends, you spinelessprick?”Violence danced across

thosebrutalfeatures.“Suchabig mouth for someonewithoutherfiretricks.”

“Such a big mouth forsomeone who needs to mindhissurroundings.”Rowan’s knife was angled

along Lorcan’s throat beforehecouldsomuchasblink.She’dbeenwonderinghow

longitwouldtakehimtofindher.He’dprobablyawakenedthemoment she pushed backthe covers. “Start talking,”RowanorderedLorcan.Lorcan gripped his sword

—amighty,beautifulweapon

that she had no doubt hadended many lives on killingfields in distant lands. “Youdon’t want to get into thisfightrightnow.”“Give me a good reason

not to spill your blood,”Rowansaid.“If I die,Maevewill offer

aid to the King of Adarlanagainstyou.”“Bullshit,”Aelinspat.“Friendsclosebutenemies

closer,right?”Lorcansaid.

Slowly, Rowan let go ofhim and stepped away. Allthree of them monitoredevery movement the othersmade, until Rowan was atAelin’s side, his teeth baredat Lorcan. The aggressionpouring off the Fae Princewas enough to make herjumpy.“You made a fatal

mistake,”Lorcan said to her,“themomentyoushowedmyqueenthatvisionofyouwith

thekey.”Heflickedhisblackeyes to Rowan. “And you.You stupid fool. Allyingyourself—bindingyourself toa mortal queen. What willyou do, Rowan, when shegrows old and dies? Whatabout when she looks oldenough to be your mother?Will you still share her bed,still—”“That’s enough,” Rowan

saidsoftly.Shedidn’tletoneflicker of the emotions that

shotthroughhershow,didn’tdaretoeventhinkaboutthemfor fear Lorcan could smellthem.Lorcan just laughed. “You

think you beat Maeve? Sheallowed you to walk out ofDoranelle—bothofyou.”Aelin yawned. “Honestly,

Rowan, I don’t know howyou put up with him for somanycenturies.FiveminutesandI’mboredtotears.”“Watch yourself, girl,”

Lorcan said. “Maybe nottomorrow, maybe not in aweek, but someday you willtripup.AndI’llbewaiting.”“Really—you Fae males

andyourdramaticspeeches.”She turned to walk away, amove she could make onlybecause of the princestanding between them. Butshe looked back over hershoulder, dropping allpretense of amusement, ofboredom. Let that killing

calmrisecloseenoughtothesurface that she knew therewas nothing human in hereyesasshesaidtoLorcan,“Iwillnever forget,not foronemoment,whatyoudidtohimthat day in Doranelle. Yourmiserable existence is at thebottomofmyprioritylist,butone day, Lorcan …” Shesmiled a little. “Oneday, I’llcome to claim that debt, too.Considertonightawarning.”

Aelin had just unlocked thewarehouse door whenRowan’s deep voice purredfrom behind, “Busy night,Princess?”She hauled open the door,

and the two of them slippedinto the near-blackwarehouse, illuminated onlyby a lantern near the backstairs. She took her timelocking the sliding door

behind her. “Busy, butenjoyable.”“You’re going to have to

try a lot harder to sneakpastme,” Rowan said, the wordslacedwithagrowl.“You and Aedion are

insufferable.”ThankthegodsLorcanhadn’tseenAedion—hadn’tscentedhisheritage.“Iwas perfectly safe.” Lie. Shehadn’t been sure whetherLorcan would even show up—or whether he would fall

forherlittletrap.Rowan poked her cheek

gently, and pain rippled.“You’reluckyscrapingyouisallhedid.Thenext timeyousneakouttopickafightwithLorcan, you will tell mebeforehand.”“I will do no such thing.

It’s my damn business, and—”“It’snotjustyourbusiness,

not anymore. You will takeme along with you the next

time.”“The next time I sneak

out,” she seethed, “if I catchyou following me like someoverprotective nursemaid, Iwill—”“You’llwhat?”Hestepped

up close enough to sharebreath with her, his fangsflashing.In the light of the lantern,

shecouldclearlyseehiseyes—and he could see hers asshesilentlysaid,Idon’tknow

whatI’lldo,youbastard,butI’ll make your life a livinghellforit.He snarled, and the sound

strokeddownher skinas sheread the unspoken words inhiseyes.Stopbeingstubborn.Is this some attempt to clingtoyourindependence?And so what if it is? she

shot back. Just—let me dothesethingsonmyown.“I can’t promise that,” he

said, the dim light caressing

his tan skin, the eleganttattoo.She punched him in the

bicep—hurting herself morethan him. “Just becauseyou’re older and strongerdoesn’t mean you’re entitledtoordermearound.”“It’s exactly because of

those things that I can dowhateverIplease.”She let out a high-pitched

sound and went to pinch hisside, and he grabbed her

hand, squeezing it tightly,dragging her a step closer tohim.Shetiltedherheadbacktolookathim.Foramoment,aloneinthat

warehouse with nothing butthe crates keeping themcompany,sheallowedherselfto take in his face, thosegreeneyes,thestrongjaw.Immortal. Unyielding.

Bloodedwithpower.“Brute.”“Brat.”

Sheloosedabreathylaugh.“Did you really lure

Lorcanintoasewerwithoneofthosecreatures?”“It was such an easy trap

thatI’mactuallydisappointedhefellforit.”Rowan chuckled. “You

neverstopsurprisingme.”“He hurt you. I’m never

goingtoforgivethat.”“Plentyofpeoplehavehurt

me. If you’re going to goaftereveryone,you’llhavea

busylifeaheadofyou.”Shedidn’tsmile.“Whathe

said—about me getting old—”“Don’t. Just—don’t start

withthat.Gotosleep.”“Whataboutyou?”He studied the warehouse

door. “I wouldn’t put it pastLorcantoreturnthefavoryoudealt him tonight.He forgetsand forgives even less easilythanyoudo.Especiallywhensomeone threatens to cut off

hismanhood.”“AtleastIsaiditwouldbe

abigmistake,” she saidwitha fiendish grin. “I wastemptedtosay‘little.’”Rowan laughed, his eyes

dancing.“Thenyoudefinitelywouldhavebeendead.”

37

Thereweremenscreaminginthedungeons.He knew because the

demonhadforcedhimtotakea walk there, past every cellandrack.Hethoughthemightknow

someof theprisoners,buthecouldn’t remember their

names; he could neverremember their names whenthemanonthethroneorderedthe demon to watch theirinterrogation.Thedemonwashappy to oblige. Day afterdayafterday.Thekingneveraskedthem

any questions. Some of themen cried, some screamed,and some stayed silent.Defiant,even.Yesterday,oneof them—young, handsome,familiar—hadrecognizedhim

andbegged.He’dbegged formercy, insisted he knewnothing,andwept.But there was nothing he

coulddo,evenashewatchedthem suffer, even as thechambers filledwith thereekof burning flesh and thecoppery tang of blood. Thedemon savored it, growingstronger each day it wentdown there and breathed intheirpain.Headdedtheirsufferingto

the memories that kept himcompany, and let the demontake him back to thosedungeons of agony anddespair the next day, and thenext.

38

Aelin didn’t dare to go backto the sewers—not until shewascertainLorcanwasoutoftheareaandtheValgweren’tlurkingabout.The next night, they were

alleatingadinnerAedionhadscraped together fromwhatever was lying around

the kitchen when the frontdoor opened and Lysandrabreezed in with a chirpedhello that had them allreleasing theweapons they’dgrabbed.“How do you do that?”

Aedion demanded as sheparadedintothekitchen.“What amiserable-looking

meal,”wasallLysandrasaid,peering over Aedion’sshoulder at the spread ofbread, pickled vegetables,

cold eggs, fruit, dried meat,and leftover breakfastpastries. “Can’t any of youcook?”Aelin,who’dbeenswiping

grapes off Rowan’s plate,snorted. “Breakfast, it seems,istheonlymealanyofusaredecentat.Andthisone”—shejabbed a thumb in Rowan’sdirection—“only knows howtocookmeatonastickoverafire.”Lysandra nudged Aelin

downthebenchandsqueezedonto the end, her blue dresslikeliquidsilkasshereachedfor some bread. “Pathetic—utterly pathetic for suchesteemed and mightyleaders.”Aedionbracedhisarmson

the table. “Make yourself athome,whydon’tyou.”Lysandra kissed the air

between them. “Hello,General. Good to see you’relookingwell.”

Aelin would have beencontent tositbackandwatch—untilLysandraturnedthoseuptilted green eyes towardRowan. “I don’t think wewere introduced the otherday. Her Queenliness hadsomething rather urgent totellme.”A sly cat’s glance in

Aelin’sdirection.Rowan,seatedonAedion’s

right, cocked his head to theside. “Do you need an

introduction?”Lysandra’s smile grew. “I

like your fangs,” she saidsweetly.Aelinchokedonhergrape.

OfcourseLysandradid.Rowan gave a little grin

that usually sent Aelinrunning. “Are you studyingthem so you can replicatethemwhenyoutakemyform,shape-shifter?”Aelin’s fork froze in

midair.

“Bullshit,”Aedionsaid.All amusement had

vanishedfromthecourtesan’sface.Shape-shifter.Holy gods. What was fire

magic, or wind and ice,compared to shape-shifting?Shifters: spies and thievesandassassinsable todemandany price for their services;the bane of courts across theworld, so feared that they’dbeen hunted nearly to

extinction even beforeAdarlanhadbannedmagic.Lysandra plucked up a

grape, examined it, and thenflicked her eyes to Rowan.“Perhaps I’m just studyingyoutoknowwheretosinkmyfangs if I ever get my giftsback.”Rowanlaughed.It explained somuch.You

and I are nothing but beastswearinghumanskins.Lysandra turned her

attention to Aelin. “No oneknows this. Not evenArobynn.”Herfacewashard.A challenge and a questionlayinthoseeyes.Secrets—Nehemia had

kept secrets from her, too.Aelindidn’tsayanything.Lysandra’s mouth

tightened as she turned toRowan.“How’dyouknow?”Ashrug,evenasAelinfelt

hisattentiononherandknewhe could read the emotions

biting at her. “I met a fewshifters, centuries ago. Yourscentsarethesame.”Lysandrasniffedatherself,

but Aedion murmured, “Sothat’swhatitis.”Lysandra looked at Aelin

again.“Saysomething.”Aelinheldupahand.“Just

—justgivemeamoment.”Amomenttosortoutonefriendfrom another—the friend shehadlovedandwhohadliedtoher at every chance, and the

friendshehadhatedandwhoshe had kept secrets fromherself … hated, until loveand hate had met in themiddle,fusedbyloss.Aedion asked, “How old

were you when you foundout?”“Young—five or six. I

knew even then to hide itfrom everyone. It wasn’t mymother, so my father musthave had the gift. She nevermentionedhim.Orseemedto

misshim.”Gift—interesting choice of

words. Rowan said, “Whathappenedtoher?”Lysandra shrugged. “I

don’t know. I was sevenwhenshebeatme,thenthrewmeoutofthehouse.Becausewe livedhere—in thiscity—andthatmorning,forthefirsttime,I’dmadethemistakeofshifting in her presence. Idon’t remember why, but Iremember being startled

enough that I changed into ahissingtabbyrightinfrontofher.”“Shit,”Aedionsaid.“So you’re a full-powered

shifter,”Rowansaid.“I’dknownwhat Iwasfor

a long time. From evenbefore that moment, I knewthat I could change into anycreature. But magic wasoutlawedhere.Andeveryone,in every kingdom, wasdistrustful of shape-shifters.

How could they not be?” Alow laugh. “After she kickedme out, I was left on thestreets.Wewerepoorenoughthat it was hardly different,but—I spent the first twodays crying on the doorstep.She threatened to turnme into the authorities, so I ran,and I never saw her again. Ievenwent back to the housemonths later, but she wasgone—movedaway.”“She sounds like a

wonderful person,” Aedionsaid.Lysandrahadn’tliedtoher.

Nehemia had lied outright,kept things that were vital.What Lysandrawas…Theywere even: after all, shehadn’t toldLysandrashewasqueen.“How’d you survive?”

Aelin asked at last, hershouldersrelaxing.“Aseven-year-old on the streets ofRiftholddoesn’toftenmeeta

happyend.”Something sparked in

Lysandra’s eyes, and Aelinwondered if she had beenwaiting for the blow to fall,waiting for the order to getout. “I used my abilities.Sometimes I was human;sometimesIworetheskinsofotherstreetchildrenwithhighstanding in their packs;sometimes I became an alleycatoraratoragull.AndthenI learned that if I made

myself prettier—if I mademyself beautiful—when Ibeggedformoney,itcamefarfaster. I was wearing one ofthose beautiful faces the daymagic fell. And I’ve beenstuckiniteversince.”“So this face,” Aelin said,

“isn’t your real face? Yourrealbody?”“No.Andwhat killsme is

that I can’t remember whatmy real face was. That wasthe danger of shifting—that

you would forget your realform, because it’s thememory of it that guides theshifting. I remember beingplainasadormouse,but…Idon’t remember if my eyeswereblueorgrayorgreen; Ican’t remember the shape ofmy nose or my chin. And itwas a child’s body, too. Idon’t know what I wouldlooklikenow,asawoman.”Aelin said, “And this was

the form that Arobynn

spotted you in a few yearslater.”Lysandra nodded and

pickedataninvisiblefleckoflintonherdress.“Ifmagicisfree again—would you bewaryofashape-shifter?”So carefully phrased, so

casually asked, as if itweren’t the most importantquestionofall.Aelin shrugged and gave

her the truth. “I’d be jealousof a shape-shifter. Shifting

intoany formIpleasewouldcome in rather handy.” Sheconsidered it. “A shape-shifter would make apowerful ally. And an evenmoreentertainingfriend.”Aedion mused, “It would

make a difference on abattlefield, once magic isfreed.”Rowan just asked, “Did

youhaveafavoriteform?”Lysandra’s grin was

nothing short of wicked. “I

likedanythingwithclawsandbig,bigfangs.”Aelinswallowedherlaugh.

“Is thereareasonbehindthisvisit, Lysandra, or are youhere just tomakemy friendssquirm?”All amusement faded as

Lysandra held up a velvetsack that sagged with whatlooked to be a large box.“What you requested.” Thebox thumped as she set thesack onto the worn wooden

table.Aelin slid the sack toward

herself, even as the malesraised their brows and subtlysniffed at the box within.“Thankyou.”Lysandrasaid,“Arobynnis

going to call in your favortomorrow,tobedeliveredthefollowingnight.Beready.”“Good.”Itwasaneffortto

keepherfaceblank.Aedion leaned forward,

glancing between them.

“DoesheexpectonlyAelintodeliverit?”“No—allofyou,Ithink.”Rowansaid,“Isitatrap?”“Probably, insomewayor

another,” Lysandra said. “Hewants you to deliver it andthenjoinhimfordinner.”“Demons and dining,”

Aelin said. “A delightfulcombination.”OnlyLysandrasmiled.“Will he poison us?”

Aedionasked.

Aelin scratched at a pieceof dirt on the table. “Poisonisn’t Arobynn’s style. If hewere to do anything to thefood,itwouldbetoaddsomedrug that would incapacitateus while he had us movedwherever he wanted. It’s thecontrol that he loves,” sheadded, still staring at thetable, not quite feeling likeseeing what was written onRowan’s or Aedion’s face.“Thepain and fear, yes—but

the power is what he reallythrives on.” Lysandra’s facehadlost itssoftness,hereyescold and sharp—a reflectionofAelin’sown,nodoubt.Theonly person who couldunderstand, who had alsolearnedfirsthandexactlyhowfar that lust for controlwent.Aelinrosefromherseat.“I’llwalkyoutoyourcarriage.”

She and Lysandra pausedamong thestacksofcrates inthewarehouse.“Areyouready?”Lysandra

asked,crossingherarms.Aelin nodded. “I’m not

sure the debt could ever bepaidforwhathe…whattheyalldid.But itwillhavetobeenough. I’m running out oftime.”Lysandra pursed her lips.

“I won’t be able to riskcoming here again until

afterward.”“Thank you—for

everything.”“He could still have a few

tricks up his sleeve. Be onyourguard.”“Andyoubeonyours.”“You’re not…mad that I

didn’ttellyou?”“Yoursecretcouldgetyou

killed just as easily as mine,Lysandra.Ijustfelt…Idon’tknow. If anything, Iwondered if I’d done

something wrong, somethingto make you not trust meenoughtotellme.”“I wanted to—I’ve been

dyingto.”Aelin believed her. “You

risked those Valg guards forme—for Aedion that day werescued him,” Aelin said.“They’d probably be besidethemselves if they learnedthere was a shifter in thiscity.” And that night at thePits,whenshe’dkept turning

away from the Valg andhiding behind Arobynn… Ithad been to avoid theirnotice. “You have to beinsane.”“Even before I knew who

youwere,Aelin, I knew thatwhat you were workingtoward…Itwasworthit.”“What is?” Her throat

tightened.“A world where people

like me don’t have to hide.”Lysandra turned away, but

Aelin grabbed her by thehand. Lysandra smiled a bit.“Times like these, I wish Ihad your particular skill setinstead.”“Would you do it if you

could?Abouttwonightsfromnow,Imean.”Lysandra gently let go of

herhand.“I’vethoughtaboutit every single day sinceWesley died. I would do it,and gladly.But I don’tmindif you do it. You won’t

hesitate. I find thatcomforting,somehow.”

The invitation arrived bystreet urchin at ten o’clockthenextmorning.Aelin stared at the cream-

coloredenvelopeonthetablebefore the fireplace, its redwax seal imprinted withcrossed daggers. Aedion andRowan, peering over her

shoulders, studied the box ithad come with. Both malessniffed—andfrowned.“It smells like almonds,”

Aedionsaid.She pulled out the card.A

formal invitation for dinnertomorrow at eight—for herand two guests—and arequest for thefavorowed tohim.Hispatiencewasatanend.

But in typical Arobynnfashion, dumping the demon

at his doorstep wouldn’t beenough.No—she’d deliver itonhisterms.Thedinnerwaslateenough

inthedaytogivehertimetostew.Therewasanoteattheend

oftheinvitation,inanelegantyetefficientscrawl.A gift—and one I hope

you’llweartomorrownight.She chucked the card onto

thetableandwavedahandtoAedionorRowantoopenthe

box as she walked to thewindow and looked outtoward the castle. It wasblindingly bright in themorning sun, glimmering asthough it had been craftedfrom pearl and gold andsilver.The slither of ribbon, the

thud of the box lid opening,and—“Whatthehellisthat?”She glanced over her

shoulder.Aedionheldalarge

glass bottle in his hands, fullofamberliquid.She said flatly, “Perfumed

skinoil.”“Whydoeshewantyouto

wear it?” Aedion asked tooquietly.Shelookedoutthewindow

again. Rowan stalked overand perched on the armchairbehind her, a steady force atherback.Aelinsaid,“It’sjustanother move in the gamewe’vebeenplaying.”

She’d have to rub it intoherskin.Hisscent.She told herself that she’d

expectednothingless,but…“And you’re going to use

it?”Aedionspat.“Tomorrow, our one goal

istogettheAmuletofOrynthfrom him. Agreeing to wearthat oil will put him onunsurefooting.”“Idon’tfollow.”“Theinvitationisathreat,”

Rowan replied for her. She

could feel him inches away,was aware of hismovementsas much as her own. “Twocompanions—he knows howmany of us are here, knowswhoyouare.”“Andyou?”Aedionasked.The fabric of his shirt

sighed against Rowan’s skinas he shrugged. “He’sprobably figured out by nowthatI’mFae.”The thought of Rowan

facing Arobynn, and what

Arobynnmighttrytodo—“And what about the

demon?” Aedion demanded.“He expects us to bring itoverinallourfinery?”“Anothertest.Andyes.”“So when do we go catch

ourselves a Valgcommander?”Aelin and Rowan glanced

ateachother.“You’restayinghere,”shesaidtoAedion.“LikehellIam.”Shepointedtohisside.“If

you hadn’t been a hotheadedpain inmyass and tornyourstitches when you sparredwithRowan, you could havecome.But you’re still on themend, and I’m not going toriskexposingyourwoundstothe filth in thesewers just soyou can feel better aboutyourself.”Aedion’s nostrils flared as

he reined in his temper.“You’re going to face ademon—”

“She’ll be taken care of,”Rowansaid.“Icantakecareofmyself,”

she snapped. “I’m going togetdressed.”Shegrabbedhersuit from where she’d left itdrying over an armchairbeforetheopenwindows.Aedion sighed behind her.

“Please—just be safe. AndLysandraistobetrusted?”“We’llfindouttomorrow,”

she said. She trustedLysandra—shewouldn’thave

lethernearAedionotherwise—but Lysandra wouldn’tnecessarily know if Arobynnwasusingher.Rowan lifted his brows.

Areyouallright?Shenodded. I justwant to

get through these two daysandbedonewithit.“Thatwillneverstopbeing

strange,”Aedionmuttered.“Deal with it,” she told

him,carryingthesuitintothebedroom. “Let’s go hunt

ourselves a pretty littledemon.”

39

“Deadasdeadcanbe,”Aelinsaid, toeing theupperhalf ofthe Wyrdhound’s remains.Rowan, crouching over oneof the bottom bits, growledhis confirmation. “Lorcandoesn’t pull punches, doeshe?” she said, studying thereeking, blood-splattered

sewer crossroads. There washardly anything left of theValg captains, or theWyrdhound. In a matter ofmoments, Lorcan hadmassacred themallas if theywerechattel.Godsabove.“Lorcanprobablyspentthe

entirefightimaginingeachofthese creatures was you,”Rowan said, rising from hiscrouchbearingaclawedarm.“The stone skin seems likearmor, but inside it’s just

flesh.” He sniffed at it, andsnarledindisgust.“Good. And thank you,

Lorcan, for finding that outforus.”ShestrodetoRowan,taking the heavy arm fromhim,andwavedat theprincewith the creature’s stifffingers.“Stopthat,”hehissed.She wriggled the demon’s

fingersabitmore.“It’dmakeagoodback-scratcher.”Rowanonlyfrowned.

“Killjoy,” she said, andchucked the arm onto thetorso of the Wyrdhound. Itlanded with a heavy thumpand click of stone. “So,Lorcan can bring down aWyrdhound.” Rowan snortedat the name she’d coined.“Andonceit’sdown,itseemslike it stays down. Good toknow.”Rowan eyed her warily.

“Thistrapwasn’tjusttosendLorcanamessage,wasit?”

“These things are theking’spuppets,”shesaid,“sohis Grand Imperial Majestynow has a read on Lorcan’sface and smell, and I suspecthewillnotbeverypleasedtohaveaFaewarriorinhiscity.Why, I’d bet that Lorcan iscurrently being pursued bythe sevenotherWyrdhounds,whonodoubthaveascoretosettle on behalf of their kingandtheirfallenbrother.”Rowan shook his head. “I

don’t know whether tothrottle you or clap you ontheback.”“I think there’sa long line

of people who feel the sameway.”Shescannedthesewer-turned-charnel-house. “Ineeded Lorcan’s eyeselsewhere tonight andtomorrow. And I needed toknow whether theseWyrdhoundscouldbekilled.”“Why?”Hesawtoomuch.Slowly, she met his gaze.

“Because I’m going to usetheir beloved sewer entranceto get into the castle—andblowuptheclocktowerrightfromunderthem.”Rowan let out a low,

wickedchuckle. “That’showyou’re going to free magic.OnceLorcan kills the last ofthe Wyrdhounds, you’regoingin.”“He really should have

killed me, considering theworld of trouble that’s now

hunting him through thiscity.”Rowanbaredhis teethina

feral smile. “He had itcoming.”

Cloaked,armed,andmasked,Aelinleanedagainstthestonewall of the abandonedbuildingwhileRowancircledthe bound Valg commanderinthecenteroftheroom.

“You’ve signed your deathwarrant, you maggots,” thething inside theguard’sbodysaid.Aelin clicked her tongue.

“Youmustnotbeaverygooddemon to be captured soeasily.”It had been a joke, really.

Aelinhadpickedthesmallestpatrol led by the mildest ofthe commanders. She andRowan had ambushed thepatrol justbeforemidnightin

aquietpartofthecity.She’dbarely killed two guardsbefore the rest were dead atRowan’shand—andwhenthecommander tried to run, theFae warrior had caught himwithinheartbeats.Rendering him

unconscious had been thework of a moment. Thehardest part had beendragging his carcass acrossthe slums, into the building,and down into the cellar,

where they’d chained him toachair.“I’m—not a demon,” the

manhissed, as if everywordburnedhim.Aelin crossed her arms.

Rowan,bearingbothGoldrynandDamaris,circledtheman,ahawkclosinginonprey.“Thenwhat’stheringfor?”

shesaid.A gasp of breath—human,

labored. “To enslave us—corruptus.”

“And?”“Comecloser, and Imight

tell you.” His voice changedthen,deeperandcolder.“What’s your name?”

Rowanasked.“Your human tongues

cannotpronounceournames,orour language,” thedemonsaid.She mimicked, “Your

human tongues cannotpronounce our names. I’veheard that one before,

unfortunately.”Aelinletoutalow laugh as the creatureinside the man seethed.“What is your name—yourrealname?”The man thrashed, a

violent jerking motion thatmadeRowanstepcloser.Shecarefullymonitoredthebattlebetweenthetwobeingsinsidethat body. At last it said,“Stevan.”“Stevan,” she said. The

man’s eyes were clear, fixed

on her. “Stevan,” she saidagain,louder.“Quiet,” the demon

snapped.“Where are you from,

Stevan?”“Enoughof—Melisande.”“Stevan,” she repeated. It

hadn’t worked on the day ofAedion’s escape—it hadn’tbeenenoughthen,butnow…“Do you have a family,Stevan?”“Dead.Allofthem.Justas

you will be.” He stiffened,slumped,stiffened,slumped.“Can you take off the

ring?”“Never,”thethingsaid.“Can you come back,

Stevan?Iftheringisgone?”Ashudderthatlefthishead

hanging between hisshoulders. “I don’t want to,evenifIcould.”“Why?”“The things—things I did,

we did…He liked to watch

while I took them, while Irippedthemapart.”Rowan stopped his

circling, standing beside her.Despite his mask, she couldalmost see the look on hisface—thedisgustandpity.“Tell me about the Valg

princes,”Aelinsaid.Bothmananddemonwere

silent.“Tell me about the Valg

princes,”sheordered.“They are darkness, they

areglory,theyareeternal.”“Stevan, tell me. Is there

onehere—inRifthold?”“Yes.”“Whose body is it

inhabiting?”“TheCrownPrince’s.”“Is the prince in there, as

youareinthere?”“I never saw him—never

spoke to him. If—if it’s aprince inside him… I can’thold out, can’t stand thisthing. If it’s a prince… the

princewill have broken him,usedandtakenhim.”Dorian,Dorian…The man breathed,

“Please,” his voice so emptyandsoftcom-paredtothatofthe thing inside him. “Please—justendit.Ican’tholdit.”“Liar,” she purred. “You

gaveyourselftoit.”“No choice,” the man

gasped out. “They came toourhomes,ourfamilies.Theysaidtheringswerepartofthe

uniform, so we had to wearthem.” A shudder wentthrough him, and somethingancient and cold smiled ather.“Whatareyou,woman?”Itlickeditslips.“Letmetasteyou.Tellmewhatyouare.”Aelin studied the black

ringonitsfinger.Cain—onceupon a time, months andlifetimes ago, Cain hadfought the thing inside him.There had been a day, in thehallsofthecastle,whenhe’d

looked hounded, hunted. Asif,despitethering…“I am death,” she said

simply.“Shouldyouwantit.”The man sagged, the

demon vanishing. “Yes,” hesighed.“Yes.”“Whatwouldyouofferme

inexchange?”“Anything,” the man

breathed.“Please.”She looked at his hand, at

hisring,andreachedintoherpocket. “Then listen

carefully.”

Aelin awoke, drenched insweat and twisted in thesheets,fearclenchingherlikeafist.She willed herself to

breathe, to blink—to look atthe moon-bathed room, toturnherheadandseetheFaePrince slumbering across thebed.

Alive—not tortured, notdead.Still, she reached a hand

out over the sea of blanketsbetween them and touchedhis bare shoulder. Rock-hardmuscleencased invelvet-softskin.Real.They’d done what they

needed to, and the Valgcommander was locked inanother building, ready andwaiting for tomorrow night,whentheywouldbringhimto

theKeep,Arobynn’s favoratlastfulfilled.Butthewordsofthe demon rang through herhead.And then they blendedwith the voice of the ValgprincethathadusedDorian’smouthlikeapuppet.I will destroy everything

thatyoulove.Apromise.Aelin loosed a breath,

carefulnot todisturb theFaePrince sleeping beside her.Foramoment, itwashardtopull back the hand touching

his arm—for a moment, shewas tempted to stroke herfingers down the curve ofmuscle.But she had one last thing

todotonight.Soshewithdrewherhand.And this time, he didn’t

wake when she crept out oftheroom.

It was almost four in the

morning when she slippedback into the bedroom, herboots clutched in one hand.Shemadeitalloftwosteps—two immensely heavy,exhausted steps—beforeRowan said from the bed,“Yousmelllikeash.”She just kept going, until

she’ddroppedherbootsoffinthecloset,strippeddownintothe first shirt she could find,and washed her face andneck.

“I had things to do,” shesaidassheclimbedintobed.“You were stealthier this

time.” The rage simmeringoff him was almost hotenough to burn through theblankets.“This wasn’t particularly

high risk.” Lie. Lie, lie, lie.She’djustbeenlucky.“And I supposeyou’renot

going to tell me until youwantto?”She slumped against the

pillows. “Don’t get pissybecauseIout-stealthedyou.”His snarl reverberated

acrossthemattress.“It’snotajoke.”She closed her eyes, her

limbsleaden.“Iknow.”“Aelin—”Shewasalreadyasleep.

Rowanwasn’tpissy.No, pissy didn’t cover a

fractionofit.The rage was still riding

him the next morning, whenhe awokebefore she did andslipped into her closet toexamine the clothes she’dshucked off. Dust and metaland smoke and sweat tickledhis nose, and there werestreaksofdirtandashon theblack cloth. Only a fewdaggers lay scattered nearby—no sign of Goldryn orDamaris having been moved

from where he’d dumpedthem on the closet floor lastnight.NowhiffofLorcan,ortheValg.Noscentofblood.Eithershehadn’twantedto

risk losing theancientbladesin a fight, or she hadn’twantedtheextraweight.She was sprawled across

thebedwhenheemerged,hisjaw clenched. She hadn’tevenbotheredtowearoneofthose ridiculous nightgowns.She must have been

exhausted enough not tobother with anything otherthan that oversized shirt.Hisshirt, he noticed with nosmall amount of malesatisfaction.Itwas enormousonher. It

was so easy to forget howmuch smaller she was thanhim. How mortal. And howutterlyunawareofthecontrolhehadtoexerciseeveryday,every hour, to keep her atarm’s length, to keep from

touchingher.He glowered at her before

striding out of the bedroom.In the mountains, he wouldhavemadehergoonarun,orchopwood for hours, or pullextrakitchenduty.This apartment was too

small, too full ofmales usedtogetting their ownwayanda queen used to getting hers.Worse, a queen hell-bent onkeeping secrets. He’d dealtwith young rulers before:

Maevehaddispatchedhimtoenoughforeigncourtsthatheknewhowtogetthemtoheel.ButAelin…She’d taken him out to

hunt demons. And yet thistask,whatever she had done,required evenhim tobekeptinignorance.Rowan filled the kettle,

focusing on each movement—if only to keep fromthrowing it through thewindow.

“Making breakfast? Howdomestic of you.” Aelinleaned against the doorway,irreverentasalways.“Shouldn’tyoubesleeping

like the dead, consideringyourbusynight?”“Can we not get into a

fight about it beforemy firstcupoftea?”Withlethalcalm,hesetthe

kettleonthestove.“Aftertea,then?”She crossed her arms,

sunlight kissing the shoulderofherpale-blue robe.Suchacreatureofluxury,hisqueen.And yet—yet she hadn’tboughtasinglenewthingforherself lately. She loosed abreath, and her shouldersslumpedabit.The rage roaring through

his veins stumbled. Andstumbled again when shechewed on her lip. “I needyoutocomewithmetoday.”“Anywhere you need to

go,” he said. She lookedtowardthetable,atthestove.“To Arobynn?” He hadn’tforgotten for one secondwhere they would be goingtonight—what she would befacing.She shook her head, then

shrugged. “No—Imean, yes,I want you to come tonight,but…There’ssomethingelseIneedtodo.AndIwanttodotoday, before everythinghappens.”

He waited, restraininghimself from going to her,from asking her to tell himmore. That had been theirpromise to each other: spaceto sort out their ownmiserable lives—to sort outhowtosharethem.Hedidn’tmind.Mostofthetime.She rubbed at her brows

with her thumb andforefinger, and when shesquaredher shoulders—thosesilk-cladshouldersthatborea

weight he’d do anything torelieve—she lifted her chin.“There’s a grave I need tovisit.”

Shedidn’thaveablackgownfit for mourning, but Aelinfigured Sam would havepreferred to see her insomething bright and lovelyanyway.So shewore a tunicthe color of spring grass, its

sleeves capped with dustygolden velvet cuffs.Life, shethoughtasshestrodethroughthe small, pretty graveyardoverlooking the Avery. Theclothes Sam would havewantedher towear remindedheroflife.The graveyardwas empty,

but the headstones and grasswere well kept, and thetowering oaks were buddingwith new leaves. A breezecominginofftheglimmering

river set them sighing andruffled her unbound hair,which was back now to itsnormalhoney-gold.Rowanhadstayednearthe

little iron gate, leaningagainst one of those oaks tokeep passersby on the quietcity street behind them fromnoticing him. If they did, hisblack clothes and weaponspainted him as a merebodyguard.She had planned to come

alone.Butthismorningshe’dawoken and just … neededhimwithher.The new grass cushioned

each step between the paleheadstones bathed in thesunlightstreamingdown.She picked up pebbles

alongtheway,discardingthemisshapen and rough ones,keeping those that gleamedwith bits of quartz or color.Sheclutchedafistfulofthemby the time she approached

the last line of graves at theedge of the large, muddyriverflowinglazilypast.It was a lovely grave—

simple, clean—and on thestonewaswritten:SamCortlandBelovedArobynn had left it blank

—unmarked.ButWesleyhadexplained in his letter howhe’d asked the tombstonecarver to come. Sheapproachedthegrave,reading

itoverandover.Beloved—not just by her,

butbymany.Sam.HerSam.Foramoment,shestaredat

that stretch of grass, at thewhite stone. For a momentshe could see that beautifulfacegrinningather,yellingather, loving her. She openedherfistofpebblesandpickedout the three loveliest—twofor theyears sincehe’dbeentaken fromher, one forwhat

they’d been together.Carefully,sheplaced thematthe apex of the headstone’scurve.Then she sat down against

the stone, tucking her feetbeneath her, and rested herheadagainstthesmooth,coolrock.“Hello,Sam,”shebreathed

ontotheriverbreeze.Shesaidnothingforatime,

content to be near him, eveninthisform.Thesunwarmed

her hair, a kiss of heat alongher scalp. A trace of Mala,perhaps,evenhere.She began talking, quietly

and succinctly, telling Samabout what had happened tohertenyearsago,tellinghimaboutthesepastninemonths.When she was done, shestared up at the oak leavesrustling overhead anddragged her fingers throughthesoftgrass.“I miss you,” she said.

“Everyday,Imissyou.AndIwonderwhatyouwouldhavemadeofallthis.Madeofme.I think—I think you wouldhavebeenawonderfulking.Ithink they would have likedyoumore thanme,actually.”Herthroattightened.“Inevertold you—how I felt. But Iloved you, and I think a partofmemightalwaysloveyou.Maybe you were my mate,and I never knew it. MaybeI’ll spend the rest ofmy life

wonderingabout that.MaybeI’ll see you again in theAfterworld, and then I’llknowfor sure.Butuntil then… until then I’ll miss you,andI’llwishyouwerehere.”She would not apologize,

nor say it was her fault.Becausehisdeathwasn’therfault. And tonight… tonightshewouldsettlethatdebt.Shewipedatherfacewith

thebackofhersleeveandgottoherfeet.Thesundriedher

tears. She smelled the pineand snow before she heardhim, and when she turned,Rowanstoodafewfeetaway,staring at the headstonebehindher.“Hewas—”“I know who he was to

you,”Rowansaid softly, andheldouthishand.Nottotakehers,butforastone.Sheopenedherfist,andhe

sorted through the pebblesuntil he found one—smooth

and round, the size of ahummingbird’s egg. With agentleness that cracked herheart, he set it on theheadstone beside her ownpebbles.“You’re going to kill

Arobynn tonight, aren’tyou?”hesaid.“After the dinner. When

he’s gone to bed. I’m goingback to theKeep and endingit.”She’dcomeheretoremind

herself—remind herself whythat grave before themexisted, and why she hadthosescarsonherback.“And the Amulet of

Orynth?”“An endgame, but also a

distraction.”Thesunlightdancedonthe

Avery, nearly blinding.“You’rereadytodoit?”She looked back at the

gravestone, and at the grassconcealingthecoffinbeneath.

“I have no choice but to beready.”

40

Elide spent two days onvoluntary kitchen duty,learningwhere andwhen thelaundresses ate and whobrought their food. By thatpoint, the head cook trustedher enough that when shevolunteeredtobringthebreadup to the dining hall, he

didn’tthinktwice.No one noticed when she

sprinkled the poison onto afewrollsofbread.TheWingLeaderhadswornitwouldn’tkill—justmake the laundresssick for a few days. Andmaybeitmadeherselfishforplacingherownsurvivalfirst,but Elide didn’t hesitate asshe dumped the pale powderonto some of the rolls,blending it into the flour thatdustedthem.

Elide marked one roll inparticular to make sure shegaveit to thelaundressshe’dnoted days before, but theotherswould be given out atrandom to the otherlaundresses.Hell—shewaslikelygoing

to burn in Hellas’s realmforeverforthis.But she could think about

her damnation when she hadescaped and was far, faraway, beyond the Southern

Continent.Elide limped into the

raucous dining hall, a quietcripple with yet anotherplatteroffood.Shemadeherway down the long table,trying to keep theweight offherlegassheleanedinagainandagaintodepositrollsontoplates. The laundress didn’tevenbothertothankher.

The next day, the Keep wasabuzz with the news that athird of the laundressesweresick. It must have been thechicken at dinner, they said.Or the mutton. Or the soup,sinceonly someof themhadhad it. The cook apologized—and Elide had tried not toapologize to him when shesawtheterrorinhiseyes.The head laundress

actuallylookedrelievedwhenElide limped in and

volunteered to help. She toldhertopickanystationandgettowork.Perfect.But guilt pushed down on

her shoulders as she wentrighttothatwoman’sstation.She worked all day, and

waited for the bloodiedclothestoarrive.

When they finally did, there

was not as much blood asbefore, but more of asubstance that looked likevomit.Elide almost vomited

herself as she washed themall.Andwrungthemout.Anddried them. And pressedthem.Ittookhours.Nightwasfallingwhenshe

foldedthelastofthem,tryingto keep her fingers fromshaking. But she went up tothe head laundress and said

softly, no more than anervous girl, “Should—shouldIbringthemback?”Thewomansmirked.Elide

wondered if the otherlaundresshadbeensentdownthereasapunishment.“There’s a stairwell over

thatwaythatwilltakeyoutothe subterranean levels. Tellthe guards you’re Misty’sreplacement. Bring theclothestotheseconddooronthe left and drop them

outside.” The woman lookedatElide’schains.“Trytorunout,ifyoucan.”

Elide’s bowels had turned towaterbythetimeshereachedtheguards.Buttheydidn’tsomuchas

question her as she recitedwhat the head laundress hadsaid.Down, down, down she

walked,intothegloomofthespiral stairwell. Thetemperature plummeted thefarthershedescended.And then she heard the

moaning.Moansofpain,ofterror,of

despair.She held the basket of

clothes to her chest. A torchflickeredahead.Gods,itwassocoldhere.The stairs widened toward

thebottom, flaringout into a

straightdescentandrevealinga broad hallway, lit withtorches and lined withcountlessirondoors.The moans were coming

frombehindthem.Seconddoor on the left. It

wasgougedwithwhatlookedlike clawmarks, pushing outfromwithin.There were guards down

here—guards and strangemen,patrollingupanddown,opening and closing the

doors.Elide’skneeswobbled.Noonestoppedher.She set the basket of

laundryinfrontoftheseconddoor and rappedquietly.Theiron was so cold that itburned. “Clean clothes,” shesaidagainst themetal. Itwasabsurd. In this place, withthese people, they stillinsistedoncleanclothes.Three of the guards had

paused to watch. Shepretended not to notice—

pretended to back awayslowly,ascaredlittlerabbit.Pretended to catch her

mangled foot on somethingandslip.But it was real pain that

roared throughher legasshewent down, her chainssnapping and tugging at her.The floorwas as cold as theirondoor.Noneoftheguardsmadeto

helpherup.She hissed, clutching her

ankle, buying as much timeas she could, her heartthundering-thundering-thundering.And then thedoorcracked

open.

Manon watched Elide vomitagain.Andagain.A Blackbeak sentinel had

foundhercurledinaballinacorner of a random hallway,

shaking, a puddle of pissbeneath her. Having heardthat the servant was nowManon’s property, thesentinel had dragged her uphere.Asterin and Sorrel stood

stone-facedbehindManonasthegirlpukedintothebucketagain—only bile and spittlethis time—and at last raisedherhead.“Report,”Manonsaid.“Isawthechamber,”Elide

rasped.Theyallwentstill.“Something opened the

doortotakethelaundry,andIsawthechamberbeyond.”With those keen eyes of

hers, she’d likely seen toomuch.“Outwith it,”Manonsaid,

leaning against the bedpost.Asterin and Sorrel lingeredby the door, monitoring foreavesdroppers.Elide stayed on the floor,

herlegtwistedouttotheside.But the eyes that metManon’ssparkedwithafierytemper that the girl rarelyrevealed.“The thing thatopened the

doorwas a beautifulman—aman with golden hair and acollararoundhisneck.Buthewas not a man. There wasnothing human in his eyes.”Oneof theprinces—ithadtobe. “I—I’d pretended to fallso I could buy myself more

time to see who opened thedoor.Whenhesawmeontheground,hesmiledatme—andthis darkness leaked out ofhim…” She lurched towardthebucketandleanedoverit,but didn’t vomit. Afteranothermoment, she said, “Imanaged to look past himintotheroombehind.”She stared atManon, then

at Asterin and Sorrel. “Yousaid they were to be …implanted.”

“Yes,”Manonsaid.“Didyouknowhowmany

times?”“What?”Asterinbreathed.“Did you know,” Elide

said, her voice uneven withrage or fear, “how manytimes they were each to beimplanted with offspringbeforetheywereletgo?”Everything went quiet in

Manon’shead.“Goon.”Elide’s face was white as

death, making her freckles

look like dried, splatteredblood. “From what I saw,they’vedeliveredat leastonebaby each. And are alreadyabout to give birth toanother.”“That’simpossible,”Sorrel

said.“The witchlings?” Asterin

breathed.Elide really did vomit

againthistime.When she was done,

Manon mastered herself

enoughtosay,“Tellmeaboutthewitchlings.”“They are not witchlings.

They are not babies,” Elidespat, covering her face withherhands as if to ripout hereyes. “They are creatures.They aredemons. Their skinis like black diamond, andthey—theyhavethesesnouts,with teeth. Fangs. Already,theyhavefangs.Andnotlikeyours.” She lowered herhands. “They have teeth of

black stone.There is nothingofyouinthem.”If Sorrel and Asterin were

horrified, they showednothing.“WhatoftheYellowlegs?”

Manondemanded.“They have them chained

to tables. Altars. And theywere sobbing. They werebegging the man to let themgo.But they’re… they’re soclose to giving birth. AndthenIran.Iranfromthereas

fast as I could, and … oh,gods.Oh,gods.”Elidebeganweeping.Slowly, slowly Manon

turned to her Second andThird.Sorrel was pale, her eyes

raging.But Asterin met Manon’s

gaze—met itwitha fury thatManon had never seendirectedather.“Youletthemdothis.”Manon’s nails flicked out.

“Thesearemyorders.Thisisourtask.”“It is an abomination!”

Asterinshouted.Elide paused her weeping.

And backed away to thesafetyofthefireplace.Then there were tears

—tears—inAsterin’seyes.Manon snarled. “Has your

heart softened?” The voicemight as well have been hergrandmother’s.“Doyouhavenostomachfor—”

“You let them do this!”Asterinbellowed.Sorrel got right into

Asterin’sface.“Standdown.”AsterinshovedSorrelaway

so violently that Manon’sSecondwentcrashingintothedresser. Before Sorrel couldrecover, Asterin was inchesfromManon.“You gave him those

witches. You gave himwitches!”Manon lashed out, her

hand wrapping aroundAsterin’s throat. But Asteringripped her arm, digging inher iron nails so hard thatbloodran.For a moment, Manon’s

blood dripping on the floorwastheonlysound.Asterin’s life should have

been forfeited for drawingbloodfromtheheir.Light glinted off Sorrel’s

dagger as she approached,ready to tear it intoAsterin’s

spine if Manon gave theorder. Manon could haveswornSorrel’shandwobbledslightly.ManonmetAsterin’sgold-

flecked black eyes. “You donot question. You do notdemand. You are no longerThird.Vestawillreplaceyou.You—”A harsh, broken laugh.

“You’re not going to doanything about it, are you?You’re not going to free

them. You’re not going tofight for them. For us.Because what wouldGrandmother say? Whyhasn’t she answered yourletters, Manon? How manyhave you sent now?”Asterin’s iron nails dug inharder, shredding flesh.Manonembracedthepain.“Tomorrow morning at

breakfast, you will receiveyour punishment,” Manonhissed, and shoved herThird

away, sending Asterinstaggering toward the door.Manon let her bloodied armhang at her side. She’d needtobinditupsoon.Theblood—onherpalm,onherfingers—feltsofamiliar…“Ifyou try to free them, if

you do anything stupid,Asterin Blackbeak,” Manonwent on, “the nextpunishment you’ll receivewillbeyourownexecution.”Asterin let out another

joyless laugh. “You wouldnothavedisobeyedeven if ithad been Blackbeaks downthere, would you? Loyalty,obedience, brutality—that iswhatyouare.”“Leavewhile you can still

walk,”Sorrelsaidsoftly.Asterinwhirled toward the

Second, and something likehurtflashedacrossherface.Manon blinked. Those

feelings…Asterin turned on her heel

and left, slamming the doorbehindher.

Elide had managed to clearher head by the time sheoffered to clean and bandageManon’sarm.What she’d seen today,

both in this roomand in thatchamberbelow…You let them do this. She

didn’t blame Asterin for it,

even if it had shockedher tosee the witch lose control socompletely. She had neverseen any of them react withanythingbutcoolamusement,indifference, or ragingbloodlust.Manon hadn’t said aword

since she’d ordered Sorrelaway, to follow Asterin andkeep her from doingsomethingprofoundlystupid.As if saving those

Yellowlegswitchesmight be

foolish. As if that sort ofmercywasreckless.Manon was staring at

nothing as Elide finishedapplying the salve andreachedforthebandages.Thepuncture wounds were deep,butnotbadenoughtowarrantstiches. “Is your brokenkingdom worth it?” Elidedaredtoask.Those burnt-gold eyes

shifted toward the darkenedwindow.

“I do not expect a humanto understand what it is liketo be an immortal with nohomeland.Tobecursedwitheternal exile.” Cold, distantwords.Elide said, “My kingdom

wasconqueredbytheKingofAdarlan, and everyone Iloved was executed. Myfather’s lands and my titlewere stolen from me by myuncle,andmybestchanceofsafety now lies in sailing to

the other end of theworld. Iunderstand what it is like towish—tohope.”“It is not hope. It is

survival.”Elide gently rolled a

bandage around the witch’sforearm. “It is hope for yourhomeland that guides you,thatmakesyouobey.”“Andwhatofyour future?

Forallyourtalkofhope,youseem resigned to fleeing.Why not return to your

kingdom—tofight?”Perhaps the horror she’d

witnessed today gave her thecourage to say, “Ten yearsago, my parents weremurdered. My father wasexecuted on a butcheringblock in front of thousands.Butmymother…Mymotherdied defending AelinGalathynius, the heir to thethrone of Terrasen. Shebought Aelin time to run.They followedAelin’s tracks

to the frozen river, wheretheysaidshemusthavefalleninanddrowned.“But you see, Aelin had

fire magic. She could havesurvived the cold.AndAelin… Aelin never really likedme or played with mebecauseIwassoshy,but…Inever believed them whentheysaidshewasdead.Everyday since then, I’ve toldmyselfthatshegotaway,andthat she’s still out there,

bidingher time.Growingup,growing strong, so that shemight one day come to saveTerrasen. And you are myenemy—because if shereturns,shewillfightyou.“But for ten years, until I

camehere, I enduredVernonbecause of her. Because ofthe hope that she got away,and my mother’s sacrificewasn’t invain. I thought thatoneday,Aelinwouldcometosaveme—would remember I

existed and rescue me fromthattower.”Thereitwas,hergreat secret, which she hadneverdaredtellanyone,evenhernursemaid. “Even though… even though she nevercame, even though I’m herenow, I can’t let go of that.And I think that is why youobey.Becauseyouhavebeenhoping every day of yourmiserable, hideous life thatyou’llgettogohome.”Elidefinishedwrappingthe

bandage and stepped back.Manon was staring at hernow.“If this Aelin Galathynius

wereindeedalive,wouldyoutry to run to her? Fight withher?”“I would fight with tooth

and claw to get to her. Butthere are lines I would notcross.BecauseIdon’tthinkIcould face her if … if Icouldn’tfacemyselfforwhatI’ddone.”

Manon said nothing. Elidestepped away, heading to thebathing room to wash herhands.The Wing Leader said

from behind her, “Do youbelievemonstersareborn,ormade?”From what she’d seen

today, she would say somecreatures were very muchborn evil. But what Manonwas asking … “I’m not theonewhoneedstoanswerthat

question,”Elidesaid.

41

The oil was sitting on theedgeofthebathtub,gleaminglike amber in the afternoonlight.Naked, Aelin stood before

it, unable to reach for thebottle.It was what Arobynn

wanted—for her to think of

himassherubbedtheoilintoevery inch of her skin. Forher breasts, her thighs, herneck to smell like almond—hischosenscent.Hisscent,becauseheknew

that a Faemale had come tostay with her, and all signspointed to their being closeenough for scent tomatter toRowan.She closed her eyes,

steelingherself.“Aelin,” Rowan said

throughthedoor.“I’mfine,”shesaid.Onlya

few more hours. And theneverythingwouldchange.She opened her eyes and

reachedfortheoil.

It took Rowan a jerk of hischin to get Aedion to followhim to the roof. Aelin wasstillinherroomdressing,butRowan wasn’t going far. He

would hear any enemies onthe street long before theyhad a chance to get into theapartment.Despite the Valg prowling

the city,Riftholdwas one ofthe milder capitals he’dencountered—its peoplemostly prone to avoidingtrouble.Perhaps from fear ofbeingnoticedby themonsterwhodwelledinthatgodawfulglass castle. But Rowanwould keep his guard up all

the same—here, in Terrasen,or wherever else their pathsmightlead.Aedion was now lounging

in a small chair one of themhaddraggeduphere at somepoint. Gavriel’s son—asurprise and a shock everytime he saw that face orcaught a whiff of his scent.Rowan couldn’t help butwonder ifAelin had sent theWyrdhounds hunting afterLorcan not just to keep him

fromtrackingherandtopavethewayforhertofreemagicbut also to keep him fromgetting close enough toAediontodetecthislineage.Aedion crossed his legs

with a lazy grace thatprobably served to hide hisspeed and strength fromopponents. “She’s going tokillhimtonight,isn’tshe?”“After the dinner and

whatever Arobynn plans todowiththeValgcommander.

She’sgoingtocirclebackandputhimdown.”Only a fool would think

Aedion’s grin sprang fromamusement.“That’smygirl.”“And if she decides to

sparehim?”“It’sherdecisiontomake.”Smartanswer.“Whatifshe

were to say we could takecareofit?”“Then I’d hope you’d join

meforahunt,Prince.”Anothersmartanswer,and

what he’d been waiting tohear.Rowansaid,“Andwhenthetimecomes?”“Youtookthebloodoath,”

Aedionsaid,andtherewasn’tanyhintofachallengeinhiseyes—only the truth, spokenwarrior to warrior. “I getArobynn’skillingblow.”“Fairenough.”Primal wrath flickered in

Aedion’sface.“It’snotgoingtobequick,andit’snotgoingto be clean. That man has

many, many debts to paybeforehemeetshisend.”

By the time Aelin emerged,themaleswere talking in thekitchen, already dressed. Onthe street outside theapartment, the Valgcommander was bound,blindfolded,andlockedinthetrunk of the carriage Nesrynhadacquired.

Aelin squared hershoulders, shaking loose thebreaththathadbecomeatightknotinherchest,andcrossedthe room, each step bringingher too quickly toward theirinevitabledeparture.Aedion,facingherinafine

tunic of deep green, was thefirst to notice. He let out alow whistle. “Well, if youdidn’talreadyscarethelivingshit out of me, you’vecertainlydoneitnow.”

Rowanturnedtoher.He went completely and

utterly still as he took in thedress.The black velvet hugged

every curve and hollowbefore pooling at her feet,revealing each too-shallowbreath as Rowan’s eyesgrazedoverherbody.Down,then up—to the hair she’dswept back with golden bat-wing-shaped combs that roseaboveeither sideofherhead

likeaprimalheaddress;totheface she’dkeptmostlyclean,save for a sweep of kohlalong her upper eyelid andthe deep red lips she’dpainstakinglycolored.Withtheburningweightof

Rowan’s attention upon her,she turned to show them theback—the roaring goldendragon clawing up her body.Shelookedoverhershoulderin time to see Rowan’s eyesagainslidesouth,andlinger.

Slowly, his gaze lifted tohers. And she could havesworn that hunger—ravenoushunger—flickeredthere.“Demons and dining,”

Aedionsaid,clappingRowanon the shoulder. “We shouldgo.”Her cousin passed her by

withawink.Whensheturnedback to Rowan, stillbreathless, only coolobservation remained on hisface.

“You said you wanted toseemeinthisdress,”shesaidabithoarsely.“Ihadn’trealizedtheeffect

wouldbeso…”Heshookhishead.Hetookinherface,herhair, the combs. “You looklike—”“Aqueen?”“The fire-breathing bitch-

queen those bastards claimyouare.”She chuckled, waving a

hand toward him: the

formfitting black jacket thatshowed off those powerfulshoulders, the silver accentsthat matched his hair, thebeauty and elegance of theclothes that made anenthralling contrast with thetattoo down the side of hisface and neck. “You don’tlook too bad yourself,Prince.”An understatement. He

looked … she couldn’t stopstaring,that’showhelooked.

“Apparently,” he said,walking toward her andoffering an arm, “we bothcleanupwell.”Shegavehimaslygrinas

she tookhis elbow, the scentof almonds wrapping aroundheragain.“Don’t forgetyourcloak. You’d feel ratherguilty when all those poormortalwomencombustatthesightofyou.”“I’d say likewise, but I

thinkyou’denjoyseeingmen

bursting into flames as youstruttedby.”Shewinkedathim,andhis

chuckle echoed through herbonesandblood.

42

The front gates of theAssassins’ Keep were open,the gravel drive andmanicured lawn lit withshimmeringglass lamps.Thepale stone estate itself wasbright,beautiful,andinviting.Aelin had told them what

toexpectonthecarriageride

over, but even as they cameto a stop at the foot of thesteps, she looked at the twomales crammed in with herand said, “Beonyourguard,and keep your fat mouthsshut.EspeciallywiththeValgcommander. No matter whatyou hear or see, just keepyour fat mouths shut. Nopsychoticterritorialbullshit.”Aedionchuckled.“Remind

metotellyoutomorrowhowcharmingyouare.”

Butshewasn’tinthemoodtolaugh.Nesrynjumpeddownfrom

the driver’s seat and openedthe carriage door. Aelinsteppedout,leavinghercloakbehind, and didn’t dare lookto thehouse across the street—to the roof where Chaoland a few rebels wereproviding backup in casethingswentvery,verywrong.She was halfway up the

marblestepswhenthecarved

oak doors swung open,flooding the threshold withgolden light. It wasn’t thebutler standing there, smilingatherwithtoo-whiteteeth.“Welcome home,”

Arobynnpurred.Hebeckonedthemintothe

cavernous entry hall. “Andwelcome to your friends.”Aedion and Nesryn movedaround the carriage to thetrunk in the back. Hercousin’s nondescript sword

wasdrawnastheyopenedthecompartment and yanked outthechained,hoodedfigure.“Yourfavor,”Aelinsaidas

they hauled him to his feet.The Valg commanderthrashed and stumbled intheir grip as they led himtoward the house, the hoodover his head swaying thiswayand that.A low,vicioushissing noise crept out fromunderthecoarse-knitfibers.“Iwouldhavepreferredthe

servants’doorforourguest,”Arobynnsaidtightly.Hewasingreen—greenforTerrasen,thoughmostwouldassumeitwastooffsethisauburnhair.A way to confuse theirassumptions about hisintentions, his allegiance. Hewore no weapons she couldsee, and there was nothingbut warmth in those silvereyesasheheldouthishandsto her, as if Aedion wasn’tnow tugging a demonup the

front steps. Behind them,Nesryn steered the carriageaway.She could feel Rowan

bristling, sense Aedion’sdisgust,butsheblockedthemout.She tookArobynn’s hands

—dry, warm, callused. Hesqueezed her fingers gently,peering into her face. “Youlookravishing,butI’dexpectnothing less. Not even abruise after trapping our

guest.Impressive.”Heleanedcloser, sniffing. “And yousmell divine, too. I’m gladmygiftwasputtogooduse.”Fromthecornerofhereye,

she saw Rowan straighten,and she knew he’d slid intothe killing calm. NeitherRowan nor Aedion worevisible weapons save for thesingle blade her cousin nowhad out—but she knew theywere both armed beneaththeir clothes, and knew

Rowan would snapArobynn’sneckifhesomuchasblinkedwrongather.It was that thought alone

that made her smile atArobynn. “You look well,”she said. “I suppose youalready know mycompanions.”HefacedAedion,whowas

busy digging his sword intothe commander’s side as agentle reminder to keepmoving. “I haven’t had the

pleasure of meeting yourcousin.”SheknewArobynntookin

every detail as Aedion camecloser, pushing his chargebeforehim;tryingtofindanyweakness, anything to use tohis advantage. Aedion justcontinued into the house, theValg commander stumblingacrossthethreshold.“You’verecovered well, General,”Arobynn said. “Or should Icall you ‘Your Highness,’ in

honor of your Ashryverlineage? Whichever youprefer,ofcourse.”She knew then that

Arobynn had no plans to letthe demon—and Stevan—leavethishousealive.Aedion gave Arobynn a

lazygrinoverhisshoulder.“Idon’t give a shit what youcallme.”HeshovedtheValgcommander farther inside.“Just take this rutting thingoffmyhands.”

Arobynn smiled blandly,unfazed—he’d calculatedAedion’s hatred. Withdeliberateslowness,heturnedtoRowan.“You, I don’t know,”

Arobynnmused,havingtolifthisheadtoseeRowan’sface.He made a show of lookingRowan over. “It’s been anage since I saw one of theFae. I don’t remember thembeingquitesolarge.”Rowan moved deeper into

the entry hall, every steplaced with power and death,coming to a stop at her side.“You can call me Rowan.That’sallyouneedtoknow.”He cocked his head to theside, a predator assessingprey.“Thankyoufortheoil,”he added. “My skin was alittledry.”Arobynn blinked—as

muchsurpriseashe’dshow.It took her a moment to

processwhatRowanhadsaid,

andtorealizethatthealmondsmellhadn’tjustbeencomingfromher.He’dwornit,too.Arobynn flicked his

attention to Aedion and theValg commander. “Thirddoor on the left—take himdownstairs. Use the fourthcell.”Aelin didn’t dare look at

her cousin as he draggedStevan along. There was nosign of the other assassins—notevena servant.Whatever

Arobynn had planned … hedidn’twantanywitnesses.Arobynn trailed after

Aedion, his hands in hispockets.But Aelin remained in the

hallforamoment,lookingatRowan.Hisbrowswerehighasshe

readthewordsinhiseyes,hisposture. He never specifiedthatonlyyouhadtowearit.Her throat tightened and

sheshookherhead.

What?heseemedtoask.You just… She shook her

head again. Surprise mesometimes.Good. I’d hate for you to

getbored.Despite herself, despite

what was to come, a smiletugged on her lips asRowantook her hand and gripped ittightly.When she turned to head

into the dungeons, her smilefaded as she found Arobynn

watching.

Rowan was about a hair’sbreadth from ripping out theKingof theAssassins’ throatas he led them down, down,downintothedungeons.Rowan kept a step behind

Aelin while they descendedthe long, curving stonestaircase, the reek ofmildewand blood and rust growing

strongerwitheachstep.He’dbeen tortured enough, anddone enough torturinghimself, to know what thisplacewas.To know what sort of

training Aelin had receiveddownhere.A girl—she’d been a girl

whenthered-hairedbastardafew steps ahead had broughther here and taught her howto cut up men, how to keepthem alive while she did it,

how to make them screamandplead.Howtoendthem.There was no part of her

thatdisgustedhim,nopartofher that scared him, but thethought of her in this place,with these smells, in thisdarkness…With every step down the

stairs, Aelin’s shouldersseemed to droop, her hairseeming to grow duller, herskinpaler.This was where she’d last

seen Sam, he realized. Andhermasterknewit.“We use this for most of

our meetings—harder toeavesdrop or be caughtunawares,” Arobynn said tonooneinparticular.“Thoughit also has other uses, asyou’ll soon see.” He openeddoorafterdoor,anditseemedto Rowan that Aelin wascounting them, waiting, until—“Shallwe?”Arobynn said,

gesturing toward the celldoor.Rowan touchedher elbow.

Gods, his self-control had tobe in shreds tonight; hecouldn’tstopmakingexcusesto touch her. But this touchwas essential. Her eyes methis, dim and cold. You givethe word—just one damnwordandhe’sdead,andthenwe can search this housefrom top to bottom for thatamulet.

She shookherheadas sheentered the cell, and heunderstood it well enough.Notyet.Notyet.

She’d almost balked on thestairs to the dungeons, and itwas only the thought of theamulet, only the warmth ofthe Fae warrior at her backthatmadeherputonefoot infrontoftheotheranddescend

intothedarkstoneinterior.Shewouldneverforgetthis

room.Itstillhauntedherdreams.The table was empty, but

she could see him there,broken and almostunrecognizable, the scent ofgloriellaclingingtohisbody.Sam had been tortured inways shehadn’t evenknownuntilshereadWesley’sletter.The worst of it had beenrequested by Arobynn.

Requested,aspunishmentforSam’s loving her—punishment for tamperingwithArobynn’sbelongings.Arobynnsaunteredintothe

room, hands in his pockets.Rowan’s sharp sniff told herenoughaboutwhat thisplacesmelledlike.Such a dark, cold room

wherethey’dputSam’sbody.Suchadark,coldroomwhereshe’d vomited and then lainbeside him on that table for

hoursandhours,unwillingtoleavehim.Where Aedion now

chainedStevantothewall.“Get out,” Arobynn said

simplytoRowanandAedion,who stiffened. “The two ofyou can wait upstairs. Wedon’t need unnecessarydistractions.Andneitherdoesourguest.”“Over my rotting corpse,”

Aedion snapped. Aelin shothimasharplook.

“Lysandra is waiting foryou in the drawing room,”Arobynn said with expertpoliteness,hiseyesnowfixedon the hooded Valg chainedto the wall. Stevan’s glovedhands tugged at the chains,his incessant hissing risingwith impressive violence.“She’ll entertain you. We’llbeupfordinnershortly.”RowanwaswatchingAelin

very,verycarefully.Shegavehimaslightnod.

Rowanmet Aedion’s gaze—the general stared rightback.Honestly, had she been

anywhere else, she mighthave pulled up a chair towatch this latest littledominancebattle.Thankfully,Aedionjustturnedtowardthestairs. A moment later, theyweregone.Arobynn stalked to the

demonandsnatchedthehoodfromhishead.

Black, rage-filled eyesglared at them and blinked,scanningtheroom.“We can do this the easy

way, or the hard way,”Arobynndrawled.Stevanjustsmiled.

Aelin listened to Arobynninterrogate the demon,demanding to know what itwas,whereithadcomefrom,

what the king wanted. Afterthirty minutes and minimalslicing, the demon wastalking about anything andeverything.“Howdoesthekingcontrol

you?”Arobynnpushed.The demon laughed.

“Wouldn’tyouliketoknow.”Arobynnhalfturnedtoher,

holding up his dagger, atrickle of dark blood slidingdown the blade. “Would youliketodothehonors?Thisis

foryourbenefit,afterall.”She frowned at her dress.

“Idon’twanttogetbloodonit.”Arobynn smirked and

slashed his dagger down theman’s pectoral. The demonscreeched, drowning out thepitter-patter of blood on thestones. “The ring,” it pantedafter a moment. “We’ve allgot them.” Arobynn paused,and Aelin cocked her head.“Left—lefthand,”itsaid.

Arobynn yanked off theman’s glove, revealing theblackring.“How?”“Hehasaring,too—usesit

to control us all. Ring goeson, and it doesn’t come off.We do what he says,whateverhesays.”“Wheredidhegettherings

from?”“Made’em,Idon’tknow.”

The dagger came closer. “Iswear! We wear the rings,

and he makes a cut on ourarms—licksourbloodso it’sin him, and then he cancontrolushoweverhewants.It’sthebloodthatlinksus.”“Andwhatdoesheplanto

do with you all, now thatyou’reinvadingmycity?”“We’re searching for the

general. I won’t—won’t tellanyone he’s here … Or thatshe’s here, I swear. The rest—therestIdon’tknow.”Hiseyes met hers—dark,

pleading.“Kill him,” she said to

Arobynn.“He’saliability.”“Please,” Stevan said, his

eyes still holding hers. Shelookedaway.“Hedoesseemtohaverun

out of things to tell me,”Arobynnmused.Swiftasanadder,Arobynn

lunged for him, and StevanscreamedsoloudlyithurtherearsasArobynnslicedoffhisfinger—andtheringthatheld

it—in one brutal movement.“Thank you,” Arobynn saidabove Stevan’s screaming,and then slashed his knifeacrosstheman’sthroat.Aelin stepped clear of the

spray of blood, holdingStevan’s stare as the lightfaded from his gaze. Whenthe spray had slowed, shefrowned at Arobynn. “Youcould have killed him andthencutoffthering.”“Where would the fun be

inthat?”Arobynnheldupthebloody finger and pried offthe ring. “Lost yourbloodlust?”“I’d dump that ring in the

AveryifIwereyou.”“The king is enslaving

people to his will with thesethings.Iplantostudythisoneas best I can.” Of course hedid.Hepocketedtheringandinclined his head toward thedoor. “Now that we’re even,darling…shallweeat?”

ItwasanefforttonodwithStevan’s still-bleeding bodysaggingfromthewall.

Aelin was seated toArobynn’s right, as she’dalways been. She’d expectedLysandra to be across fromher,but instead thecourtesanwas beside her. No doubtmeant to reduce her optionstotwo:dealwithherlongtime

rival, or talk to Arobynn. Orsomethinglikethat.She had bid hello to

Lysandra, who’d beenkeeping Aedion and Rowancompany in the drawingroom, keenly aware ofArobynn on her heels as sheshook Lysandra’s hand,subtly passing over the noteshe’dkepthiddeninherdressallnight.The note was gone by the

time Aelin leaned in to kiss

the courtesan’s cheek, thepeckof someonenotentirelythrilledtobedoingso.ArobynnhadseatedRowan

tohisleft,withAedionbesidethe warrior. The twomembers of her court wereseparatedbythetabletokeepthem from reaching her, andtoleaveherunprotectedfromArobynn. Neither had askedwhat happened in thedungeon.“I have to say,” Arobynn

mused as their first course—tomato and basil soup,courtesyofvegetablesgrowninthehothouseintheback—was cleared away by silentservants who had beensummoned now that Stevanhad been dealt with. Aelinrecognizedsome,thoughtheydidn’t look at her. They hadnever looked at her, evenwhen she was living here.Sheknewtheywouldn’tdarewhisper a word about who

dined at this table tonight.Not with Arobynn as theirmaster.“You’rearatherquietgroup. Or has my protégéescaredyouintosilence?”Aedion, who had watched

every bite she took of thatsoup,liftedaneyebrow.“Youwant us to make small talkafteryoujustinterrogatedandbutcheredademon?”Arobynn waved a hand.

“I’d like to hear more aboutyouall.”

“Careful,” she said tooquietlytoArobynn.TheKing of theAssassins

straightened the silverwareflankinghisplate.“Shouldn’tIbeconcernedaboutwhomyprotégéeislivingwith?”“You weren’t concerned

about who I was living withwhenyouhadmeshippedofftoEndovier.”Aslowblink.“Isthatwhat

youthinkIdid?”Lysandra stiffened beside

her. Arobynn noted themovement—as he notedevery movement—and said,“Lysandra can tell you thetruth: I fought tooth and nailtofreeyoufromthatprison.Ilosthalfmymentotheeffort,allofthemtorturedandkilledby the king. I’m surprisedyourfriendthecaptaindidn’ttell you. Such a pity he’s onrooftopwatchtonight.”He missed nothing, it

seemed.

Arobynn looked toLysandra—waiting. Sheswallowed and murmured,“He did try, you know. Formonthsandmonths.”It was so convincing that

Aelinmighthavebelieved it.Through some miracle,Arobynnhadnoideathat thewoman had been meetingwith them in secret. Somemiracle—or Lysandra’s ownwits.Aelindrawled toArobynn,

“Do you plan on telling mewhyyou insistedwe stay fordinner?”“How else would I get to

seeyou?Youwouldhavejustdumped that thing on mydoorstep and left. And welearned so much—so muchthat we could use, together.”The chill down her spinewasn’tfaked.“ThoughIhaveto say, thisnew you ismuchmore … subdued. I supposefor Lysandra that’s a good

thing.Shealwayslooksattheholeyouleftintheentrywallwhen you threw that daggeratherhead.Ikeptitthereasalittle reminder of how muchweallmissedyou.”Rowan was watching her,

anaspreadytostrike.Buthisbrows bunched slightly, as ifto say, You really threw adaggeratherhead?Arobynn began talking

about a time Aelin hadbrawled with Lysandra and

they’drolleddownthestairs,scratching and yowling likecats, so Aelin looked atRowan a moment longer. Iwasatadhotheaded.I’m beginning to admire

Lysandra more and more.Seventeen-year-old Aelinmust have been a delight todealwith.Shefoughtthetwitchingin

her lips. I would pay goodmoney to see seventeen-year-old Aelin meet seventeen-

year-oldRowan.His green eyes glittered.

Arobynn was still talking.Seventeen-year-old Rowanwouldn’thaveknownwhattodowithyou.Hecouldbarelyspeak to females outside hisfamily.Liar—I don’t believe that

forasecond.It’s true. You would have

scandalized him with yournightclothes—even with thatdressyouhaveon.

She sucked on her teeth.Hewouldprobablyhavebeeneven more scandalized tolearn I’m not wearing anyundergarments beneath thisdress.The table rattled as

Rowan’skneebangedintoit.Arobynn paused, but

continuedwhenAedionaskedabout what the demon hadtoldhim.You can’t be serious,

Rowanseemedtosay.

Did you see any placewhere this dress might hidethem?Everylineandwrinklewouldshow.Rowan shook his head

subtly, his eyes dancingwitha light that she’d onlyrecently come to glimpse—andcherish.Doyoudelightinshockingme?She couldn’t stop her

smile. How else am Isupposed to keep a crankyimmortalentertained?

His grin was distractingenough that it took her amomenttonoticethesilence,andthateveryonewasstaringatthem—waiting.She glanced at Arobynn,

whose face was a mask ofstone. “Did you ask mesomething?”Therewasonlycalculating

ire in his silver eyes—whichmight have once made herstart begging for mercy. “Iasked,” Arobynn said, “if

you’vehadfunthesepastfewweeks, wrecking myinvestment properties andensuring that all my clientswon’ttouchme.”

43

Aelin leaned back in herchair. Even Rowan wasstaring at her now, surpriseandannoyancewrittenonhisface. Lysandra was doing agood job of feigning shockand confusion—even thoughit had been shewho had fedAelin the details, who had

madeherplansomuchbetterand broader than it had beenwhen Aelin scribbled it outonthatship.“Idon’tknowwhatyou’re

talking about,” she said withalittlesmile.“Oh?”Arobynnswirledhis

wine. “You mean to tell methat when you wrecked theVaults beyond repair, itwasn’t a move against myinvestment in thatproperty—and my monthly cut of their

profits?Don’t pretend it wasjustvengeanceforSam.”“The king’s men showed

up. I had no choice but tofightformylife.”Aftershe’dled them directly from thedocks to thepleasurehall, ofcourse.“And I suppose it was an

accidentthatthelockboxwashacked open so its contentscould be snatched up by thecrowd.”It hadworked—worked so

spectacularly that she wassurprisedArobynnhad lastedthis long without going forherthroat.“You know how those

lowlifes get. A little chaos,and they turn into animalsfoamingatthemouth.”Lysandra cringed; a stellar

performance of a womanwitnessingabetrayal.“Indeed,” Arobynn said.

“Butespeciallythelowlifesatestablishments from which I

receive a handsome monthlysum,correct?”“Soyouinvitedmeandmy

friends here tonight to flingaccusations at me? Here Iwas, thinking I’d becomeyourpersonalValghunter.”“You deliberately

disguised yourself as HinsolCormac, one of my mostloyal clients and investors,whenyoufreedyourcousin,”Arobynn snapped. Aedion’seyes widened slightly. “I

could dismiss it ascoincidence,exceptawitnesssays he called out Cormac’sname at the prince’s party,and Cormac waved to him.The witness told the kingthat, too—that he sawCormac heading towardAedion right before theexplosions happened. Andwhat a coincidence that theverydayAediondisappeared,two carriages, belonging to abusiness that Cormac and I

own together, went missing—carriagesCormac then toldall my clients and partnersthat I used to get Aedion tosafety when I freed thegeneral that day byimpersonatinghim,becauseI,apparently, have become agods-damned rebelsympathizer strutting abouttownatallhoursoftheday.”ShedaredalookatRowan,

whose face remainedcarefully blank, but saw the

words there anyway. Youwicked,cleverfox.And here you were,

thinkingtheredhairwasjustforvanity.Ishallneverdoubtagain.She turned to Arobynn. “I

can’t help it if your prissyclients turn on you at theslightesthintofdanger.”“Cormac has fled the city,

and continues to drag myname through themud. It’samiracle thekinghasn’t come

tohaulmetohiscastle.”“If you’re worried about

losing money, you couldalways sell the house, Isuppose. Or stop usingLysandra’sservices.”Arobynn hissed, and

Rowan and Aedion reachedcasually under the table fortheir hiddenweapons. “Whatwill it take, dearest, for youto stop being such a ragingpaininmyass?”There they were. The

words she’d wanted to hear,the reason she’d been socareful not to wreck himaltogether but merely toannoyhimjustenough.Shepickedathernails.“A

fewthings,Ithink.”

The sitting room wasoversized and made toentertain parties of twenty orthirty, with couches and

chairs and chaises spreadthroughout.Aelin lounged inan armchair before the fire,Arobynn across from her,furystilldancinginhiseyes.She could feel Rowan and

Aedion in the hall outside,monitoringeveryword,everybreath. She wonderedwhether Arobynn knewthey’d disobeyed hiscommand to remain in thedining room; she doubted it.They were stealthier than

ghost leopards, those two.But she didn’t want them inhere, either—not until she’ddonewhatsheneededtodo.She crossed one leg over

the other, revealing thesimpleblackvelvetshoesshewore,andherbarelegs.“So all of this was

punishment—for a crime Ididn’tcommit,”Arobynnsaidatlast.She ran a finger down the

rolledarmofthechair.“First

thing, Arobynn: let’s notbotherwithlies.”“I suppose you’ve told

yourfriendsthetruth?”“My court knows

everything there is to knowabout me. And they knoweverythingyou’vedone,too.”“Casting yourself as the

victim, are you? You’reforgetting that it didn’t takemuch encouragement to putthoseknivesinyourhands.”“I am what I am. But it

doesn’terasethefactthatyouknew very well who I waswhen you found me. Youtook my family necklace offme, and toldme that anyonewho came looking for mewouldwind up killed bymyenemies.”Shedidn’t dare letherbreathinghitch,didn’t lethim consider the words toomuch as she plowed ahead.“You wanted to shape meinto your own weapon—why?”

“Why not? I was youngand angry, and my kingdomhad just been conquered bythatbastardking.IbelievedIcould give you the tools youneeded to survive, tosomeday defeat him. That iswhyyou’ve comeback, isn’tit? I’msurprisedyouand thecaptainhaven’tkilledhimyet—isn’t that what he wants,why he tried to work withme?Orareyouclaimingthatkillforyourself?”

“You honestly expect meto believe that your end goalwas to have me avenge myfamily and reclaim mythrone.”“Who would you have

become without me? Somepampered, quaking princess.Your beloved cousin wouldhavelockedyouupinatowerand thrown away the key. Igave you your freedom—Igave you the ability to bringdown men like Aedion

Ashryver with a few blows.And all I get for it iscontempt.”She clenched her fingers,

feeling the weight of thepebbles she’d carried thatmorningtoSam’sgrave.“Sowhatelsedoyouhave

in store for me, O MightyQueen? Shall I save you thetroubleand tellyouhowelseyou might continue to be athorninmyside?”“You know the debt isn’t

anywherenearpaid.”“Debt? For what? For

trying to free you fromEndovier? And when thatdidn’t work, I did the best Icould. I bribed those guardsand officials with moneyfrommy own coffers so thatthey wouldn’t hurt youbeyondrepair.Allthewhile,Itried to findways to get youout—forayearstraight.”Lies and truth, as he’d

always taught her. Yes, he’d

bribed the officials andguards to ensure she wouldstill be functioning when heeventually freed her. ButWesley’sletterhadexplainedindetail just how little effortArobynnhadputforthonceitbecameclearshewasheadedfor Endovier. How he’dadjusted his plans—embracing the idea of herspirit being broken by themines.“And what about Sam?”

shebreathed.“Sam was murdered by a

sadist, whom my uselessbodyguardgotitintohisheadto kill. You know I couldn’tallow that to go unpunished,notwhenweneeded thenewCrime Lord to continueworkingwithus.”Truth and lies, lies and

truth.Sheshookherheadandlooked toward the window,ever the confused andconflictedprotégéefallingfor

Arobynn’spoisonedwords.“TellmewhatIneedtodo

tomakeyouunderstand,” hesaid. “Do you know why Ihad you capture that demon?So that we could attain itsknowledge. So you and Icould take on the king, learnwhat he knows.Whydo youthink I let you in that room?Together—we’ll bring thatmonster down together,before we’re all wearingthose rings. Your friend the

captaincaneven join in, freeofcharge.”“Youexpectme tobelieve

awordyousay?”“I have had a long, long

while to think on thewretched things I’ve done toyou,Celaena.”“Aelin,” she snapped. “My

name is Aelin. And you canstart proving you’ve mendedyourwaysbygivingmebackmy family’s gods-damnedamulet.Thenyoucanproveit

somemorebygivingmeyourresources—by lettingme useyourmentogetwhatIneed.”She could see the wheels

turning in that cold andcunning head. “In whatcapacity?”Noword about the amulet

—nodenyinghehadit.“You want to take down

the king,” she murmured, asif to keep the twoFaemalesoutside the door fromhearing. “Then let’s take

down the king. But we do itmyway.Thecaptainandmycourtstayoutofit.”“What’s in it for me?

These are dangerous times,you know. Why, just today,one of the top opiate dealerswascaughtbytheking’smenand killed. Such a pity; heescaped the slaughter at theShadow Market only to becaught buying dinner a fewblocksaway.”More nonsense to distract

her.Shemerelysaid,“Iwon’tsend a tip to the king aboutthis place—about how youoperate andwho your clientsare.Ormentionthedemoninyour dungeon, its blood nowa permanent stain.” Shesmiled a little. “I’ve tried;their blood doesn’t washaway.”“Threats,Aelin?Andwhat

ifImakethreatsofmyown?What if I mention to theking’s guard that hismissing

generalandhisCaptainoftheGuard are frequently visitingacertainwarehouse?What ifI let itslip thataFaewarrioris wandering his city? Or,worse, that hismortal enemyislivingintheslums?”“Isupposeit’llbearaceto

the palace, then. It’s too badthecaptainhasmenstationedby the castle gates,messagesin hand, ready for the signaltosendthemthisverynight.”“You’d have to get out of

herealivetogivethatsignal.”“The signal is us not

returning, I’m afraid. All ofus.”Again, that cold stare.

“How cruel and ruthlessyou’vebecome,mylove.Butwill you become a tyrant aswell? Perhaps you shouldstart slipping rings onto thefingersofyourfollowers.”He reached into his tunic.

She kept her posture relaxedas a golden chain glinted

aroundhislongwhitefingers,and then a tinkling sounded,andthen—The amuletwas exactly as

sherememberedit.It had been with a child’s

hands that she’d last held it,and with a child’s eyes thatshe’d last seen the ceruleanbluefrontwiththeivorystagand the golden star betweenitsantlers.The immortalstagofMalaFire-Bringer,broughtover to these lands by

Brannon himself and set freein Oakwald Forest. Theamulet glinted in Arobynn’shands as he removed it fromhisneck.The third and final

Wyrdkey.It had made her ancestors

mightyqueensandkings;hadmadeTerrasenuntouchable,apowerhousesolethalnoforcehadeverbreacheditsborders.Until she’d fallen into theFlorine River that night—

until this man had removedthe amulet from around herneck, and a conquering armyhad swept through. AndArobynn had risen frombeingalocallordofassassinsto crown himself thiscontinent’s unrivaled king oftheir Guild. Perhaps hispower and influence derivedsolely from the necklace—her necklace—that he’dwornalltheseyears.“I’ve become rather

attached to it,”Arobynn saidashehandeditover.He’dknownshewouldask

for it tonight, if he waswearing it. Perhaps he’dplanned to offer it to her allalong, just towinher trust—orgethertostopframinghisclients and interrupting hisbusiness.Keeping her face neutral

was an effort as she reachedforit.Her fingers grazed the

goldenchain,andshewishedthen and there that she’dnever heard of it, nevertouched it, never been in thesameroomwithit.Notright,her blood sang, her bonesgroaned.Not right, not right,notright.The amulet was heavier

than it looked—and warmfrom his body, or from theboundless power dwellinginsideofit.TheWyrdkey.

Holygods.That quickly, that easily,

he’d handed it over. HowArobynn hadn’t felt it,noticed it … Unless youneededmagicinyourveinstofeel it. Unless it never …called tohimas it did tohernow, its raw power brushingup against her senses like acat rubbing along her legs.How had her mother, herfather—any of them—neverfeltit?

She almost walked outright then and there. But sheslid the Amulet of Oryntharound her neck, its weightbecoming heavier still—aforce pressing down on herbones, spreading through herblood like ink in water. Notright.“Tomorrow morning,” she

said coldly, “you and I aregoing to talk again. Bringyourbestmen,orwhoever islickingyourbootsthesedays.

And then we’re going toplan.” She rose from thechair,herkneeswobbling.“Any other requests, Your

Majesty?”“You think I don’t realize

you have the upper hand?”Shewilledcalmtoherveins,her heart. “You’ve agreed tohelpme far too easily. But Ilike this game. Let’s keepplayingit.”His answering smile was

serpentine.

Each step toward the doorwas an effort of will as sheforced herself not to thinkabout the thing thuddingbetween her breasts. “If youbetray us tonight, Arobynn,”sheadded,pausingbeforethedoor, “I’ll make what wasdone to Sam seem like amercycomparedtowhatIdotoyou.”“Learned some new tricks

these past few years, haveyou?”

She smirked, taking in thedetails of how he looked atthisexactmoment: the sheenof his red hair, his broadshoulders and narrow waist,the scars on his hands, andthose silver eyes, so brightwith challenge and triumph.They’d probably haunt herdreamsuntilthedayshedied.“One more thing,”

Arobynnsaid.It was an effort to lift a

brow as he came close

enough to kiss her, embraceher.Buthejusttookherhandin his, his thumb caressingherpalm.“I’mgoingtoenjoyhavingyouback,”hepurred.Then,fasterthanshecould

react, he slid the Wyrdstoneringontoherfinger.

44

ThehiddendaggerAelinhaddrawn clattered to thewoodenfloorthemomentthecool black stone slid againsther skin. She blinked at thering,at the lineofblood thathad appeared on her handbeneath Arobynn’s sharpthumbnail as he raised her

hand to his mouth andbrushed his tongue along thebackofherpalm.Her blood was on his lips

ashestraightened.Suchasilenceinherhead,

even now. Her face stoppedworking; her heart stoppedworking.“Blink,”heorderedher.Shedid.“Smile.”Shedid.“Tell me why you came

back.”“Tokilltheking;tokillthe

prince.”Arobynn leaned in close,

his nose grazing her neck.“Tellmethatyouloveme.”“Iloveyou.”“My name—say my name

when you tell me that youloveme.”“I love you, Arobynn

Hamel.”Hisbreathwarmedherskin

ashehuffedalaughontoher

neck, then brushed a kisswhere itmether shoulder. “IthinkI’mgoingtolikethis.”He pulled back, admiring

her blank face, her features,now empty and foreign.“Takemycarriage.Gohomeandsleep.Donottellanyoneof this; do not show yourfriends the ring. Andtomorrow, report here afterbreakfast.Wehaveplans,youand I. For our kingdom, andAdarlan.”

Shejuststared,waiting.“Doyouunderstand?”“Yes.”He lifted her hand again

and kissed the Wyrdstonering.“Goodnight,Aelin,”hemurmured, his hand grazingherbacksideasheshooedherout.

Rowan was trembling withrestrained rage as they took

Arobynn’s carriage home,noneofthemspeaking.He’d heard every word

uttered inside that room. Sohad Aedion. He’d seen thefinal touch Arobynn hadmade, theproprietarygestureof a man convinced that hehad a new, very shiny toy toplaywith.But Rowan didn’t dare

grab for Aelin’s hand to seethering.She didn’t move; she

didn’t speak. She just satthereandstaredatthewallofthecarriage.Aperfect,broken,obedient

doll.Iloveyou,ArobynnHamel.Every minute was an

agony, but there were toomany eyes on them—toomany, even as they finallyreached the warehouse andclimbed out. They waiteduntil Arobynn’s carriage haddriven off beforeRowan and

Aedion flanked the queen asshe slipped inside thewarehouseandupthestairs.The curtains were already

shut inside the house, a fewcandles left burning. Theflames caught on the goldendragon embroidered on theback of that remarkablegown,andRowandidn’tdarebreathe as she just stood inthe center of the room. Aslaveawaitingorders.“Aelin?” Aedion said, his

voicehoarse.Aelin lifted her hands in

frontofherandturned.Shepulledoffthering.“So

that was what he wanted. Ihonestly expected somethinggrander.”

Aelin slapped the ring downon the small tablebehind thecouch.Rowan frowned at it. “He

didn’t check Stevan’s otherhand?”“No,” she said, still trying

toclearthehorrorofbetrayalfrom her mind. Trying toignorethethinghangingfromher neck, the abyss of powerthatbeckoned,beckoned—Aedion snapped, “One of

youneedstoexplainnow.”Her cousin’s face was

drained of color, his eyes sowidethatthewhitesshoneallaround them as he glanced

from the ring to Aelin andbackagain.She’d held it together

during the carriage ride,maintaining the mask of thepuppet Arobynn believedshe’d become. She crossedtheroom,keepingherarmsather sides to avoid chuckingtheWyrdkeyagainstthewall.“I’m sorry,” she said. “Youcouldn’tknow—”“I could have rutting

known. You really think I

can’tkeepmymouthshut?”“Rowan didn’t even know

untillastnight,”shesnapped.Deepinthatabyss,thunder

rumbled.Oh,gods.Oh,gods—“Is that supposed to make

mefeelbetter?”Rowan crossed his arms.

“It is, considering the fightwehadaboutit.”Aedion shook his head.

“Just…explain.”Aelin picked up the ring.

Focus. She could focus onthis conversation, until shecould safely hide the amulet.Aedion couldn’t know whatshe carried, what weaponshe’d claimed tonight. “InWendlyn, there was amoment when Narrok …came back.When hewarnedme. And thanked me forending him. So I picked theValg commander whoseemed to have the leastamount of control over the

human’s body, out of hopethat the man might be inthere,wishingforredemptionin some form.” Redemptionforwhatthedemonhadmadehim do, hoping to dieknowinghe’ddoneonegoodthing.“Why?”Speaking normally was an

effort. “So I could offer himthe mercy of death andfreedom from theValg, if hewould only tell Arobynn all

the wrong information. HetrickedArobynnintothinkingthat a bit of blood couldcontrol these rings—and thatthe ringheborewas the realthing.” She held up the ring.“I got the idea from you,actually.Lysandrahasaverygood jeweler, andhada fakemade.TherealthingIcutofftheValgcommander’sfinger.IfArobynnhad taken off hisother glove, he would havefoundhimwithoutadigit.”

“You’dneedweekstoplanallthat—”Aelinnodded.“But why? Why bother

with any of it?Why not justkilltheprick?”Aelinsetdownthering.“I

hadtoknow.”“Know what? That

Arobynnisamonster?”“That there was no

redeeming him. I knew, but… It was his final test. Toshowhishand.”

Aedion hissed. “He wouldhavemade you into his ownpersonal figurehead—hetouched—”“I know what he touched,

and what he wanted to do.”Shecouldstillfeelthattouchon her. It was nothingcompared to the hideousweight pressing against herchest. She rubbed her thumbacross the scabbed-over sliceon her hand. “So now weknow.”

Some small, pathetic partofherwishedshedidn’t.

Stillintheirfinery,AelinandRowan stared at the amuletlyingon the low tablebeforethe darkened fireplace in herbedroom.She’d taken it off the

momentsheenteredtheroom—Aedionhavinggone to theroof to take watch—and

slumped onto the couchfacing the table.Rowan tooka seat beside her a heartbeatlater.For aminute, they saidnothing.TheamuletgleamedinthelightofthetwocandlesRowanhadlit.“Iwasgoing toaskyou to

make sure it wasn’t a fake;thatArobynnhadn’tswitchedit somehow,” Rowan said atlast, his eyes fixed on theWyrdkey.“ButIcanfeelit—a glimmer of whatever is

insidethatthing.”Shebracedherforearmson

herknees,theblackvelvetofherdresssoftlycaressing.“Inthe past, people must haveassumed that feeling camefrom the magic of whoeverwas wearing it,” she said.“With my mother, withBrannon … it would neverhavebeennoticed.”“And your father and

uncle? They had little to nomagic,yousaid.”

The ivory stag seemed tostareather,theimmortalstarbetween its horns flickeringlike molten gold. “But theyhad presence. What betterplace to hide this thing thanaround the neck of aswaggeringroyal?”Rowan tensed as she

reached for the amulet andflipped it over as quickly asshe could. The metal waswarm, its surface unmarreddespitethemillenniathathad

passedsinceitsforging.There, exactly as she’d

remembered, were carvedthreeWyrdmarks.“Any idea what those

mean?” Rowan said, shiftingclose enough that his thighgrazedhers.Hemoved awayaninch,thoughitdidnothingto stop her from feeling theheatofhim.“I’veneverseen—”“That one,” Rowan said,

pointingtothefirstone.“I’ve

seen that one. It burned onyourbrowthatday.”“Brannon’s mark,” she

breathed. “The mark of thebastard-born—thenameless.”“No one in Terrasen ever

lookedintothesesymbols?”“If they did, it was never

revealed—or theywrote it intheir personal accounts,which were stored in theLibrary of Orynth.” Shechewed on the inside of herlip. “It was one of the first

places the King of Adarlansacked.”“Maybe the librarians

smuggled out the rulers’accounts first—maybe theygotlucky.”Her heart sank a bit.

“Maybe. We won’t knowuntil we return to Terrasen.”She tapped her foot on thecarpet. “I need to hide this.”Therewasa loosefloorboardinherclosetunderwhichshestashedmoney,weapons,and

jewelry. It would be goodenoughfornow.AndAedionwouldn’t question it, sinceshecouldn’t riskwearing thedamnthinginpublicanyway,even under her clothes—notuntil she was back inTerrasen.She stareddownattheamulet.“Sodoit,”hesaid.“Idon’twanttotouchit.”“If it was that easy to

trigger,your ancestorswouldhavefiguredoutwhatitwas.”

“Youpick itup,”shesaid,frowning.Hejustgaveheralook.Shebentdown,willingher

mind blank while she liftedthe amulet off the table.Rowanstiffenedasifbracinghimself, despite hisreassurance.Thekeywasamillstonein

herhand,butthatinitialsenseofwrongness, of an abyss ofpower … It was quiet.Slumbering.

She made quick work ofpulling back the rug in hercloset and yanking loose thefloorboard. She felt Rowancome up behind her, peeringover her shoulder where sheknelt and into the smallcompartment.She had picked up the

amulettodropitintothelittlespace when a thread tuggedinside her—no, not a thread,but … a wind, as if someforce barreled from Rowan

intoher,asiftheirbondwerea living thing, and she couldfeelwhatitwastobehim—She dropped the amulet

into the compartment. Itthudded only once, a deadweight.“What?”Rowanasked.She twisted to peer up at

him.“Ifelt—Ifeltyou.”“How?”Soshetoldhim—abouthis

essence sliding into her, offeelinglikesheworehisskin,

ifonlyforaheartbeat.He didn’t look entirely

pleased. “That sort of abilitycould be a helpful tool forlater.”She scowled. “Typical

warrior-brutethinking.”He shrugged. Gods, how

didhehandleit,theweightofhis power? He could crushbones into dust evenwithouthismagic;hecouldbringthiswhole building down with afewwell-placedblows.

She’d known—of courseshe’d known—but to feel it… The most powerfulpurebred Fae male inexistence. To an ordinaryhuman,hewasasalienastheValg.“ButIthinkyou’reright:it

can’t just blindly act on mywill,” she said at last. “Orelsemyancestorswouldhaverazed Orynth to the groundanytime they were royallypissed off. I—I think these

things might be neutral bynature; it’s the bearer whoguides how they are used. Inthehandsofsomeonepureofheart, it would only bebeneficial. That was howTerrasenthrived.”Rowan snorted as she

replaced the wooden plank,tampingitdownwiththeheelof her hand. “Trustme, yourancestors weren’t utterlyholy.”Heoffered her a handup, and she tried not to stare

at it as she gripped it. Hard,callused, unbreakable—nearly impossible tokill.Buttherewas a gentleness to hisgrip,acare reservedonly forthose he cherished andprotected.“Idon’t thinkanyof them

were assassins,” she said ashe dropped her hand. “Thekeys can corrupt an alreadyblack heart—or amplify apure one. I’ve never heardanythingaboutheartsthatare

somewhereinbetween.”“The fact that you worry

says enough about yourintentions.”She stepped all around the

area to ensure that nocreaking boards gave awaythe hiding place. Thunderrumbled above the city. “I’mgoingtopretendthat’snotanomen,”shemuttered.“Good luckwith that.”He

nudgedherwith an elbowasthey reentered the bedroom.

“We’llkeepaneyeonthings—and if you appear to beheading toward DarkLorddom, I promise to bringyoubacktothelight.”“Funny.” The little clock

onhernightstandchimed,andthunder boomed againthrough Rifthold. A swift-movingstorm.Good—maybeitwouldclearherhead,too.She went to the box

Lysandrahadbroughtherandpulledouttheotheritem.

“Lysandra’s jeweler,”Rowan said, “is a verytalentedperson.”Aelin held up a replica of

the amulet. She’d gotten thesize, coloring, and weightalmost perfect. She set it onher vanity like a discardedpieceofjewelry.“Justincaseanyoneaskswhereitwent.”

The downpour had softened

toasteadydrizzlebythetimethe clock struck one, yetAelin hadn’t come downfromtheroof.She’dgoneupthere to take over Aedion’swatch, apparently—andRowanhadwaited,bidinghistime as the clock nearedmidnight and then passed it.Chaol had come by to giveAedion a report on themovements of Arobynn’smen, but slipped back outaroundtwelve.

Rowanwasdonewaiting.She was standing in the

rain, facing westward—nottoward the glowing castle toher right, not toward the seaat her back, but across thecity.He didn’t mind that she’d

gotten that glimpse into him.Hewanted to tell her that hedidn’t care what she knewabouthim,solongasitdidn’tscare her away—and wouldhavetoldherbeforeifhestill

hadn’t been so stupidlydistractedbyhowshe lookedtonight.The lamplight glinted off

the combs in her hair andalong the golden dragon onthedress.“You’ll ruin that dress

standingouthereintherain,”hesaid.She half turned toward

him.Therainhadleftstreaksof kohl down her face, andher skin was as pale as a

fish’s belly. The look in hereyes—guilt, anger, agony—hithimlikeablowtothegut.She turned again toward

thecity.“Iwasnevergoingtowear this dress again,anyway.”“YouknowI’lltakecareof

it tonight,” he said, steppingbesideher,“ifyoudon’twantto be the one to do it.” Andafter what that bastard hadtried to do to her, what he’dplanned to do to her … He

and Aedion would take along, long time endingArobynn’slife.She gazed across the city,

toward the Assassins’ Keep.“ItoldLysandrashecoulddoit.”“Why?”She wrapped her arms

aroundherself,huggingtight.“Becausemorethanme,morethanyouorAedion,Lysandradeserves to be the one whoendshim.”

It was true. “Will she beneedingourassistance?”She shook her head,

spraying droplets of rain offthe combs and the dampstrandsofhair thathadcomeloose. “Chaolwent to ensureeverythinggoesfine.”Rowan allowed himself a

momenttolookather—attherelaxedshouldersandupliftedchin, thegrip shehadonherelbows,thecurveofhernoseagainstthestreetlight,thethin

lineofhermouth.“It feels wrong,” she said,

“to still wish that there hadbeen some other way.” Shetookanunevenbreath,theairclouding in front of her. “Hewas a bad man,” shewhispered. “Hewasgoing toenslavemetohiswill,usemeto takeoverTerrasen,maybemake himself king—maybesiremy—”Sheshudderedsoviolentlythatlightshimmeredoffthegoldinherdress.“But

healso…Ialsoowehimmylife.All this timeI thought itwouldbearelief,ajoytoendhim.But all I feel is hollow.Andtired.”She was like ice when he

slid an arm around her,foldingher intohisside.Justthis once—just this once, hewouldlethimselfholdher.Ifhe’dbeenasked toputdownMaeve, and one of his cadrehad done it instead—ifLorcan had done it—he

wouldhavefeltthesame.Shetwistedslightlytopeer

up at him, and though shetried to hide it, he could seethe fear in her gaze, and theguilt. “I need you to huntdown Lorcan tomorrow. Seeifhe’saccomplishedthelittletaskIgavehim.”If he’d killed those

Wyrdhounds. Or been killedby them.Soshecouldat lastfreemagic.Gods. Lorcan was his

enemy now. He shut out thethought. “And if it’snecessarytoeliminatehim?”Hewatchedher throatbob

as she swallowed. “It’s yourcall then, Rowan. Do as youseefit.”He wished she’d told him

one way or another, butgiving him the choice,respecting their historyenoughtoallowhimtomakethatdecision…“Thankyou.”Sherestedherheadagainst

his chest, the tips of the bat-wingcombsdiggingintohimenough that he eased themone at a time from her hair.The gold was slick and coldin his hands, and as headmired the craftsmanship,shemurmured,“Iwantyoutosell those. And burn thisdress.”“As you wish,” he said,

pocketingthecombs.“Suchapity, though. Your enemieswould have fallen to their

kneesiftheyeversawyouinit.”He’d almost fallen to his

knees when he’d first seenherearliertonight.She huffed a laugh that

might have been a sob andwrappedherarmsaroundhiswaist as if trying to steal hiswarmth. Her sodden hairtumbled down, the scent ofher—jasmine and lemonverbenaandcracklingembers—rising above the smell of

almonds to caress his nose,hissenses.Rowan stood with his

queenintherain,breathinginherscent,andletherstealhiswarmth for as long as sheneeded.

The rain lightened to a softsprinkle, and Aelin stirredfromwhereRowan held her.From where she’d been

standing, soaking up hisstrength,thinking.Shetwistedslightlytotake

inthestronglinesofhisface,his cheekbones gilded withtherainandthelightfromthestreet. Across the city, in aroom she knew too well,Arobynn was hopefullybleedingout.Hopefullydead.A hollow thought—but

also the clicking of a lockfinallyopened.Rowan turned his head to

look at her, rain dripping offhis silver hair. His featuressoftenedabit,theharshlinesbecoming more inviting—vulnerable, even. “Tell mewhat you’re thinking,” hemurmured.“I’mthinking that thenext

time I want to unsettle you,all I need to do is tell youhow rarely I wearundergarments.”His pupils flared. “Is there

a reason you do that,

Princess?”“Is there any reason not

to?”He flattened his hand

against her waist, his fingerscontracting once as ifdebating letting her go. “Ipity the foreign ambassadorswho will have to deal withyou.”Shegrinned,breathlessand

more than a little reckless.Seeing that dungeon roomtonight, she’d realized she

wastired.Tiredofdeath,andof waiting, and of sayinggood-bye.She lifted a hand to cup

Rowan’sface.So smooth, his skin, the

bones beneath strong andelegant.Shewaited forhim topull

back,buthejuststaredather—stared into her in thatwayhe always did. Friends, butmore. So much more, andshe’d known it longer than

she wanted to admit.Carefully, she stroked herthumb across his cheekbone,hisfaceslickwiththerain.It hit her like a stone—the

wanting. She was a fool tohave dodged it, denied it,evenwhen a part of her hadscreamed it every morningthatshe’dblindlyreachedfortheemptyhalfofthebed.Sheliftedherotherhandto

his face and his eyes lockedonto hers, his breathing

raggedasshetracedthelinesofthetattooalonghistemple.His hands tightened

slightly on her waist, histhumbsgrazingthebottomofher ribcage. It was an effortnottoarchintohistouch.“Rowan,”shebreathed,his

nameapleaandaprayer.Sheslidherfingersdownthesideofhistattooedcheek,and—Faster than she could see,

hegrabbedonewristandthentheother,yankingthemaway

from his face and snarlingsoftly. The world yawnedopen around her, cold andstill.Hedroppedherhandsasif

they were on fire, steppingaway, those green eyes flatand dull in away she hadn’tseen for some timenow.Herthroat closed up even beforehesaid,“Don’tdothat.Don’t—touchmelikethat.”Therewasa roaring inher

ears, a burning in her face,

andsheswallowedhard.“I’msorry.”Oh,gods.Hewasoverthreehundred

yearsold. Immortal.Andshe—she…“I didn’t mean—” She

backed away a step, towardthe door on the other side ofthe roof. “I’m sorry,” sherepeated.“Itwasnothing.”“Good,”he said,going for

theroofdoorhimself.“Fine.”Rowandidn’tsayanything

elseashestalkeddownstairs.Alone, she scrubbed at herwetface,attheoilysmearofcosmetics.Don’ttouchmelikethat.Aclear line in thesand.A

line—because he was threehundred years old, andimmortal, and had lost hisflawlessmate,andshewas…She was young andinexperienced and hiscarranam and queen, and hewanted nothing more than

that. If she hadn’t been sofoolish, so stupidly unaware,maybe she would haverealized that, understood thatthough she’d seen his eyesshine with hunger—hungerfor her—it didn’t mean hewanted to act on it. Didn’tmean he might not hatehimselfforit.Oh,gods.Whathadshedone?

The rain sliding down thewindows cast slitheringshadowsonthewoodenfloor,on the painted walls ofArobynn’sbedroom.Lysandra had been

watching it for some timenow, listening to the steadyrhythm of the storm and tothe breathing of the mansleeping beside her. Utterlyunconscious.If she were to do it, it

wouldhavetobenow—whenhis sleep was deepest, whenthe rain covered up mostsounds. A blessing fromTemis, Goddess of WildThings, who had oncewatchedoverherasa shape-shifter and who never forgotthecagedbeastsoftheworld.Three words—that was all

that had been written on thenoteAelinslippedherearlierthat night; a note still tuckedinto thehiddenpocketofher

discardedunderwear.He’sallyours.A gift, she knew—a gift

from the queen who hadnothing else to give a no-namewhorewithasadstory.Lysandra turned onto her

side,staringnowatthenakedmansleeping inchesaway,attheredsilkofhishairspilledacrosshisface.He’dneveronce suspected

whohadfedAelinthedetailsabout Cormac. But that had

always been her ruse withArobynn—the skin she’dwornsincechildhood.Hehadnever thought otherwise ofher vapid and vain behavior,never bothered to. If he had,he wouldn’t keep a knifeunder his pillow and let hersleepinthisbedwithhim.He hadn’t been gentle

tonight, and she knew shewould have a bruise on herforearm from where he’dgripped her too tightly.

Victorious, smug, a kingcertain of his crown, hehadn’tevennoticed.At dinner, she’d seen the

expression flash across hisface when he caught Aelinand Rowan smiling at eachother. All of Arobynn’s jabsand stories had failed to findtheir mark tonight becauseAelin had been too lost inRowantohear.Shewonderedwhether the

queen knew. Rowan did.

Aedion did. And Arobynndid. He had understood thatwith Rowan, she was nolonger afraid of him; withRowan, Arobynn was nowutterly unnecessary.Irrelevant.He’sallyours.After Aelin had left, as

soonashe’dstoppedstruttingaboutthehouse,convincedofhisabsolutemasteryover thequeen,Arobynnhadcalledinhismen.

Lysandra hadn’t heard theplans, but she knew the FaePrince would be his firsttarget. Rowan would die—Rowanhadtodie.She’dseenit in Arobynn’s eyes as hewatched the queen and herprince holding hands,grinningateachotherdespitethehorrorsaroundthem.Lysandra slid her hand

beneath the pillow as shesidled up to Arobynn,nestling against him. He

didn’t stir; his breathingremaineddeepandsteady.He’d never had trouble

sleeping. The night he’dkilledWesleyhesleptlikethedead, unaware of themomentswhenevenher ironwill couldn’t keep the silenttearsfromfalling.She would find that love

again—oneday.Anditwouldbe deep and unrelenting andunexpected, the beginningand the end and eternity, the

kind that could changehistory,changetheworld.Thehilt of the stilettowas

cool in her hand, and asLysandrarolledbackover,nomore than a restless sleeper,shepulleditwithher.Lightning gleamed on the

blade,aflickerofquicksilver.ForWesley. For Sam. For

Aelin.And for herself. For the

child she’d been, for theseventeen-year-old on her

Biddingnight,forthewomanshe’d become, her heart inshreds, her invisible woundstillbleeding.Itwassoveryeasytositup

and slice the knife acrossArobynn’sthroat.

45

Themanstrappedtothetablewas screaming as the demonran its hands down his barechest,itsnailsdigginginandleavingbloodintheirwake.Listen to him, the demon

prince hissed. Listen to themusichemakes.Beyond the table, theman

who usually sat on the glassthrone said, “Where are therebelshiding?”“I don’t know, I don’t

know!”themanshrieked.The demon ran a second

nail down the man’s chest.Therewasbloodeverywhere.Do not cringe, spineless

beast.Watch;savor.The body—the body that

might once have been his—had betrayed him entirely.The demon gripped him

tightly, forcing him towatchas his own hands gripped acruel-lookingdevice,fittingitonto the man’s face, andbegantightening.“Answer me, rebel,” the

crownedmansaid.The man screamed as the

masktightened.He might have begun

screaming, too—might havebegun begging the demon tostop.Coward—human coward.

Doyounottastehispain,hisfear?He could, and the demon

shovedeverybitofdelight itfeltintohim.Hadhebeenabletovomit,

he would have. Here therewasnosuchthing.Heretherewasnoescape.“Please,” the man on the

tablebegged.“Please!”Buthishandsdidnotstop.And the man went on

screaming.

46

Today, Aelin decided, wasalready forfeited to hell, andtherewas no use even tryingto salvage it—not with whatshehadtodonext.Armed to the teeth, she

tried not to think aboutRowan’s words from thenight before as they took the

carriage across the city. Butsheheardthembeneatheveryclop of the horses’ hooves,just as she’d heard them allnight long while she layawakeinbed,tryingtoignorehispresence.Don’t touchmelikethat.Shesatas far fromRowan

as she could get withouthanging out the carriagewindow. She’d spoken tohim,ofcourse—distantlyandquietly—and he’d given her

clippedanswers.Whichmadethe ride truly delightful.Aedion, wisely, didn’t askaboutit.She needed to be clear-

headed,relentless,inordertoendurethenextfewhours.Arobynnwasdead.Word had come an hour

ago that Arobynn had beenfound murdered. Herpresence was requestedimmediately by Tern,Harding, and Mullin, the

three assassins who hadseized control of the Guildand estate until everythingwassortedout.She’dknown last night, of

course. Hearing it confirmedwas a relief—that Lysandrahad done it, and survived it,but…Dead.The carriage pulled up in

front of theAssassins’Keep,but Aelin didn’t move.Silencefellastheylookedup

at the pale stone manorlooming above. But Aelinclosed her eyes, breathing indeep.Onelasttime—youhaveto

wearthismaskonelast time,and then you can buryCelaenaSardothienforever.She opened her eyes, her

shoulders squaring and herchin lifting, even as the restof her went fluid with felinegrace.Aedion gaped, and she

knewtherewasnothingofthecousinhe’dcometoknowinher face.Sheglancedathim,then Rowan, a cruel smilespreading as she leaned overtoopenthecarriagedoor.“Don’tgetinmyway,”she

toldthem.She swept from the

carriage,hercloakflappinginthe spring wind as shestormed up the steps of theKeep and kicked open thefrontdoors.

47

“What the rutting hellhappened?” Aelin roared asthe front doors to theAssassins’ Keep bangedbehind her. Aedion andRowanfollowedonherheels,bothconcealedbeneathheavyhoods.The front hall was empty,

but a glass crashed from theclosed sitting room, and then—Three males, one tall, one

short and slender, and onemonstrouslymuscled,stalkedinto the hall. Harding, Tern,and Mullin. She bared herteeth at the men—Tern inparticular. He was thesmallest,oldest,andthemostcunning, the ringleader oftheir little group. He’dprobablyhopedthatshe’dkill

Arobynn that night they ranintoeachotherintheVaults.“Start talking now,” she

hissed.Tern braced his feet apart.

“Not unless you do thesame.”Aedionletoutalowgrowl

as the three assassins lookedoverhercompanions.“Nevermind the guard dogs,” shesnapped, drawing theirattention back to her.“Explainyourselves.”

There was a muffled sobfrom the sitting room behindthemen, and she flicked hereyes over Mullin’s toweringshoulder.“Whyarethosetwopiecesofwhoringtrashinthishouse?”Tern glowered. “Because

Lysandra was the one whowoke up screaming next tohisbody.”Her fingers curled into

claws. “Was she, now?” shemurmured, suchwrath in her

eyes that even Tern steppedaside as she stalked into thesittingroom.Lysandra was slumped in

an armchair, a handkerchiefpressed to her face. Clarisse,hermadam, stoodbehind thechair,herfacepaleandtight.Blood stained Lysandra’s

skinandmattedherhair,andpatches had soaked throughthe thin silk robe that didlittletohidehernakedness.Lysandra jerked upright,

her eyes red and facesplotchy.“Ididn’t—IswearIdidn’t—”Aspectacularperformance.

“Why the hell should Ibelieveyou?”Aelindrawled.“You’re the only one withaccesstohisroom.”Clarisse,golden-hairedand

aginggracefullyforawomanin her forties, clicked hertongue. “Lysandra wouldnever harm Arobynn. Whywould she, when he was

doingsomuchtopayoffherdebts?”Aelin cocked her head at

the madam. “Did I ask foryour gods-damned opinion,Clarisse?”Poisedforviolence,Rowan

and Aedion kept silent,thoughshecouldhavesworna hint of shock flashed intheir shadowed eyes. Good.Aelin flicked her attention tothe assassins. “Show mewhereyoufoundhim.Now.”

Terngavehera long look,consideringhereveryword.Avalianteffort, she thought, totry to catch me in knowingmore than I should. Theassassin pointed to thesweeping stairs visiblethroughtheopensittingroomdoors. “In his room. Wemovedhisbodydownstairs.”“You moved it before I

could study the scenemyself?”It was tall, quiet Harding

who said, “You were toldonlyasacourtesy.”AndtoseeifI’ddoneit.Shestalkedfromthesitting

room, pointing a fingerbehind her at Lysandra andClarisse. “If either of themtries to run,” she said toAedion,“gutthem.”Aedion’s grin shone from

beneath his hood, his handshovering within casual reachofhisfightingknives.Arobynn’s bedroomwas a

bloodbath. And there wasnothingfeignedasshepausedon the threshold, blinking atthe blood-drenched bed andthebloodpooledonthefloor.WhatthehellhadLysandra

donetohim?She clenched her hands

againsttheirtrembling,awarethat the threeassassinsatherback could see it.Theyweremonitoring her every breathand blink and swallow.“How?”

Mullin grunted. “Someoneslicedhis throatopenand lethim choke to death on hisownblood.”Her stomach turned—

honestly turned. Lysandra, itseemed, hadn’t been contentto let him go quickly.“There,” she said, and herthroatclosed.Shetriedagain.“There’s a footprint in theblood.”“Boots,” Tern said at her

side. “Big—probably male.”

HegaveAelin’sslenderfeetapointedlook.ThenhestudiedRowan’s feet where theprince loomed behind her,even though he’d probablyalready examined them. Thelittle shit. Of course, thefootprints Chaol haddeliberately left were madewith boots different fromwhatanyofthemwore.“Thelockshowsnosignof

tampering,” she said,touching the door. “Does the

window?”“Gocheck,”Ternsaid.She would have to walk

through Arobynn’s blood toreach it. “Just tell me,” shesaidquietly.Wearily.“Lock’s broken from the

outside,” Harding said, andTernshothimaglare.She stepped back into the

cool darkness of the hall.Rowan silently kept hisdistance,hisFaeheritagestillundetected beneath that hood

—and it would remain thatwaysolongashedidn’topenhis mouth to reveal hiselongatedcanines.Aelinsaid,“No one reported signs ofanythingbeingamiss?”Ternshrugged.“Therewas

a storm. The murdererprobablywaited until then tokill him.” He gave heranother long look, wickedviolence dancing in his darkeyes.“Whydon’tyoujustsayit,

Tern?Whydon’tyouaskmewhereIwaslastnight?”“We know where you

were,” Harding said, comingto tower over Tern. Therewasnothingkindonhislong,bland face. “Our eyes sawyou at home all night. Youwere on the roof of yourhouse, and then you went tobed.”Exactlyasshe’dplanned.“Are you telling me that

detail because you’d likeme

to hunt downyour littleeyesand blind them?” Aelinreplied sweetly. “Becauseafter I sort out this mess,that’s exactly what I plan todo.”Mullin sighed sharply

throughhisnoseandglaredatHarding,butsaidnothing.Hewas always a man of fewwords—perfect for dirtywork.“Youdon’ttouchourmen,

and we won’t touch yours,”

Ternsaid.“I don’t make bargains

with piece-of-shit, second-rate assassins,” she chirped,andgavehimanastysmileasshesweptdownthehall,pasther old room, and down thestairs,Rowanastepbehind.She gaveAedion a nod as

she entered the sitting room.He kept up his watchfulposition, still smiling like awolf.Lysandrahadn’tmovedan inch. “You can go,” she

said to her. Lysandra’s headsnappedup.“What?”Ternbarked.Aelin pointed to the door.

“Why would these twomoney-grubbing whores killtheir biggest client? Ifanything,” she said over hershoulder,“I’dthinkyouthreewouldhavemoretogain.”Before they could start

barking, Clarisse coughedpointedly.“Yes?”Aelinhissed.

Clarisse’sfacewasdeathlypale, but she held her headhigh as she said, “If youwouldallowit, theMasteroftheBankwillbeheresoontoread Arobynn’s will.Arobynn …” She dabbed ather eyes, the perfect portraitof grief. “Arobynn informedme thatwewere named.Wewould like to remain until ithasbeenread.”Aelin grinned. “Arobynn’s

bloodhasn’tyetdriedonthat

bed, and you’re alreadyswoopinginforyourbequest.I don’t know why I’msurprised. Maybe I’vedismissed you as hismurderer too soon, if you’rethateager tosnatchwhateverhe’sleftyou.”Clarisse paled again, and

Lysandra began shaking.“Please, Celaena,” Lysandrabegged.“Wedidn’t—Iwouldnever—”Someone knocked on the

frontdoor.Aelin slid her hands into

her pockets. “Well, well.Whatgoodtiming.”

The Master of the Banklookedasifhemightvomitatthe sight of blood-coveredLysandra, but then he sighedwith something like reliefwhen he spied Aelin.Lysandra and Clarisse now

sat in twin armchairs whiletheMastertookaseatbehindthe little writing desk beforethe towering bay windows,Ternandhiscronieshoveringlike vultures. Aelin leanedagainst the wall beside thedoorway, arms crossed,Aedion flanking her left sideandRowanherright.AstheMasterwentonand

on with his condolences andapologies, she felt Rowan’seyesonher.

Hetookastepnearer,asiftobrushhisarmagainsthers.Shesidledoutofreach.Rowan was still staring at

herwhentheMasteropenedasealed envelope and clearedhis throat. He spouted somelegal jargon and offered hiscondolences again, whichgods-damnedClarissehadtheaudacity to accept as thoughshewereArobynn’swidow.Thencame the long list of

Arobynn’s assets—his

business investments, hisproperties,andtheenormous,outrageous fortune left in hisaccount. Clarisse waspractically drooling on thecarpet, but Arobynn’s threeassassins kept their facescarefullyneutral.“It ismywill,” theMaster

read, “that the solebeneficiaryofallmyfortune,assets,andholdingsshouldbemyheir,CelaenaSardothien.”Clarissewhippedaroundin

her chair, fast as an adder.“What?”“Bullshit,”Aedionblurted.Aelin just stared at the

Master,hermouthabitopen,herhandsfallingslack tohersides. “Say that again,” shebreathed.TheMastergaveanervous,

watery smile. “Everything—all of it, is left to you.Well,except for … this sum toMadamClarisse, to settle hisdebts.” He showed Clarisse

thepaper.“That’s impossible,” the

madamhissed.“HepromisedIwasinthatwill.”“And you are,” Aelin

drawled,pushingoff thewallto peer over Clarisse’sshoulderatthesmallnumber.“Don’tgetgreedy,now.”“Where are the

duplicates?” Tern demanded.“Have you inspected them?”He stormed around the tabletoexaminethewill.

The Master flinched, butheld up the parchment—signed by Arobynn andutterlylegal.“Weverifiedthecopies in our vaults thismorning. All identical, alldated from three monthsago.”When she’d been in

Wendlyn.She stepped forward. “So,

aside from that teensy sumfor Clarisse … all of this—this house, the Guild, the

other properties, his fortune—it’sallmine?”The Master nodded again,

alreadyscramblingtopackuphis case. “Congratulations,MissSardothien.”Slowly, she turned her

head toward Clarisse andLysandra.“Well, if that’s thecase…”She bared her teethin avicious smile. “Getyourwhoring, blood-suckingcarcasses the hell off myproperty.”

TheMasterchoked.Lysandra couldn’t move

fastenoughassherushedforthe door. Clarisse, however,remained seated. “How dareyou—”themadambegan.“Five,”Aelinsaid,holding

up five fingers. She loweredone, and reached for herdagger with her other hand.“Four.”Another.“Three.”Clarisse hauled ass from

the room, bustling after asobbingLysandra.

Then Aelin looked at thethree assassins. Their handshung limpat their sides, furyand shock and—wiselyenough—something like fearontheirfaces.She said tooquietly, “You

held Sam back whileArobynn beat me intooblivion,andthendidn’traisea finger to stop it whenArobynn beat him, too. Idon’t know what role youplayedinhisdeath,butIwill

never forget the sounds ofyour voices outside mybedroomdoor asyou fedmethe details about RourkeFarran’s house. Was it easyforyouthree?Tosendmetothat sadist’s house, knowingwhat he’d done to Sam andwhat hewas aching to do tome?Wereyou just followingorders,orwereyoumorethanhappytovolunteer?”TheMasterhadrecoiledin

his chair, trying to make

himself as invisible aspossible in a room full ofprofessionalkillers.Tern’s lip curled. “We

don’t know what you’retalkingabout.”“Pity. I might have been

willing to listen to somepaltryexcuses.”Shelookedatthe clock on the mantel.“Pack your clothes and getthehellout.Rightnow.”They blinked. “What?”

Ternsaid.

“Pack your clothes,” shesaid, enunciating each word.“Getthehellout.Rightnow.”“This is our home,”

Hardingsaid.“Notanymore.”Shepicked

at her nails. “Correct me ifI’m wrong, Master,” shepurred, and the man cringedat the attention. “I own thishouse and everything in it.Tern, Harding, and Mullinhaven’t yet paid back theirdebts to poor Arobynn, so I

own everything they havehere—even their clothes. I’mfeeling generous, so I’ll letthem keep those, since theirtaste is shit-awful anyway.Buttheirweapons,theirclientlists, theGuild…Allof thatismine.Igettodecidewho’sin and who’s out. And sincethese three saw fit to accusemeofmurderingmymaster,Isay they’reout. If they try towork again in this city, onthis continent, then by law

andbythelawsoftheGuild,Ihave the right tohunt themdownandchopthemintoitty-bitty pieces.” She batted hereyelashes.“OramIwrong?”The Master’s gulp was

audible.“Youarecorrect.”Tern took a step toward

her. “You can’t—you can’tdothis.”“Ican,andIwill.Queenof

theAssassinssoundssonice,doesn’tit?”Shewavedtothedoor.“Seeyourselvesout.”

Harding and Mullin madeto move, but Tern flung hisarms out, stopping them.“What the hell do you wantfromus?”“Honestly,Iwouldn’tmind

seeing you three gutted andhanging from the chandeliersbyyourinsides,butIthinkitwould ruin these verybeautifulcarpetsthatI’mnowtheownerof.”“Youcan’tjusttossusout.

Whatwillwedo?Wherewill

wego?”“I hear hell is particularly

niceatthistimeofyear.”“Please—please,” Tern

said,hisbreathcomingfast.She stuffed her hands into

herpocketsand surveyed theroom. “I suppose …” Shemade a thoughtful sound. “Isuppose I could sell you thehouse, and the land, and theGuild.”“You bitch—” Tern spat,

butHardingsteppedforward.

“Howmuch?”heasked.“How much were the

propertyandtheGuildvaluedat,Master?”The Master looked like a

man walking up to thegallowsasheopenedhis fileagain and found the sum.Astronomical, outrageous,impossible for the three ofthemtopay.Hardingranahandthrough

his hair. Tern had turned aspectacularshadeofpurple.

“I take it you don’t havethatmuch,”Aelin said. “Toobad. I was going to offer tosellitalltoyouatfacevalue—nomarkup.”Shemadetoturnaway,but

Harding said, “Wait.What ifwe all paid together—thethreeofusandtheothers.Sowe all owned the house andtheGuild.”She paused. “Money’s

money. I don’t give a shitwhereyougetitfrom,solong

as it’s given to me.” Sheangled her head toward theMaster. “Can you have thepapers drawn up today?Providing they come throughwiththemoney,ofcourse.”“This is insane,” Tern

murmuredtoHarding.Harding shook his head.

“Be quiet, Tern. Just—bequiet.”“I…,”theMastersaid.“I

—I can have them made upandreadywithin threehours.

Willthatbeadequatetimeforyou to provide proof ofsufficientfunds?”Harding nodded. “We’ll

findtheothersandtellthem.”She smiled at the Master

and at the three men.“Congratulationsonyournewfreedom.” She pointed to thedoor again. “And as I ammistress of this house foranother three hours … getout.Gofindyourfriends,getyour money together, and

then sit on the curb like thetrashyouareuntiltheMasterreturns.”They wisely obeyed,

Harding clamping down onTern’shandtokeephimfromgiving her a vulgar gesture.WhentheMasteroftheBankleft, the assassins spoke totheir colleagues, and everyinhabitant of the house filedoutside one by one, even theservants.Shedidn’tcarewhattheneighborsmadeofit.

Soon the giant, beautifulmanorhousewasemptysaveforher,Aedion,andRowan.They silently followed as

she walked through the doorto the lower levels anddescendedintothedarktoseehermasteronelasttime.

Rowan didn’t know what tomake of it. A whirlwind ofhate and rage and violence,

thatwaswhat she’d become.And none of these piss-poorassassins had been surprised—not even a blink at herbehavior.FromAedion’spaleface,heknewthegeneralwasthinking the same thing,contemplatingtheyearsshe’dspent as that unyielding andvicious creature. CelaenaSardothien—that was whoshe’d been then, and whoshe’dbecometoday.He hated it. Hated that he

couldn’t reach her when shewas that person. Hated thathe’dsnappedatherlastnight,had panicked at the touch ofher hands. Now she’d shuthimout entirely.This personshe’d become today had nokindness,nojoy.Hefollowedherdowninto

the dungeons, where candleslit a path toward the roomwherehermaster’sbodywasbeing kept. She was stillswaggering, hands in her

pockets, not caring thatRowan lived or breathed orevenexisted.Notreal,hetoldhimself.Anact.But she’d avoided him

sincelastnight,andtodayshehad actually stepped awayfrom his touch when he’ddared to reach for her. Thathadbeenreal.She strode through the

opendoorintothesameroomwhereSamhadlain.Redhairspilled out from underneath

the white silk sheet coveringthe naked body on the table,and she paused before it.Then she turned to RowanandAedion.She stared at them,

waiting.Waiting for them to—Aedion swore. “You

switched the will, didn’tyou?”She gave a small, cold

smile, her eyes shadowed.“Yousaidyouneededmoney

for an army, Aedion. Sohere’syourmoney—allof it,and every coin for Terrasen.It was the least Arobynnowed us. That night I foughtatthePits,wewereonlytherebecause I’d contacted theowners days before and toldthem to send out subtlefeelers to Arobynn aboutinvesting.He took thebait—didn’t even question thetiming of it. But Iwanted tomake sure he quickly earned

back all the money he lostwhenItrashedtheVaults.Sowe wouldn’t be denied onecoinowedtous.”Holyburninghell.Aedion shook his head.

“How—how thehelldidyouevendoit?”Sheopenedhermouth,but

Rowan said quietly, “Shesnuck into the bank—allthose times that she slippedoutinthemiddleofthenight.And used all those daytime

meetings with the Master oftheBanktogetabettersenseof the layout, where thingswerekept.”Thiswoman,thisqueen of his … A familiarthrillracedthroughhisblood.“Youburnedtheoriginals?”She didn’t even look at

him. “Clarisse would havebeenavery richwoman,andTern would have becomeKing of the Assassins. AndyouknowwhatIwouldhavereceived? The Amulet of

Orynth. That was all he leftme.”“That was how you knew

hetrulyhadit—andwherehekept it,” Rowan said. “Fromreadingthewill.”She shrugged again,

dismissing the shock andadmiration he couldn’t keepfrom his face. Dismissinghim.Aedion scrubbed at his

face. “I don’t even knowwhattosay.Youshouldhave

toldme so I didn’t act like agawkingfoolupthere.”“Your surprise needed to

be genuine; even Lysandradidn’t know about the will.”Such a distant answer—closed and heavy. Rowanwanted to shakeher,demandshe talk to him, look at him.But he wasn’t entirely surewhat he would do if shewouldn’t let him near, if shepulled away again whileAedionwaswatching.

Aelin turned back toArobynn’s body and flippedthesheetawayfromhisface,revealingajaggedwoundthatslicedacrosshispaleneck.Lysandra had mangled

him.Arobynn’s face had been

arranged in an expression ofcalm, but from the bloodRowan had seen in thebedroom, the man had beenvery much awake while hechokedonhisownblood.

Aelin peered down at herformermaster,herfaceblanksave for a slight tighteningaroundhermouth.“Ihopethedarkgodfindsaspecialplacefor you in his realm,” shesaid,andashiverwentdownRowan’s spine at themidnightcaressinhertone.She extended a hand

behind her to Aedion. “Givemeyoursword.”Aediondrew theSwordof

Orynth and handed it to her.

Aelin gazed down at theblade of her ancestors as sheweigheditinherhands.When she raised her head,

there was only icydetermination in thoseremarkable eyes. A queenexactingjustice.Thensheliftedherfather’s

swordandseveredArobynn’sheadfromhisbody.It rolled to the sidewith a

vulgar thud, and she smiledgrimlyatthecorpse.

“Just to be sure,” was allshesaid.

PARTTWO

QUEENOFLIGHT

48

Manon beat Asterin in thebreakfast hall the morningafter her outburst regardingtheYellowlegscoven.Nooneaskedwhy;noonedared.Threeunblockedblows.Asterin didn’t so much as

flinch.WhenManonwasfinished,

the witch just stared herdown, blue blood gushingfrom her broken nose. Nosmile.Nowildgrin.ThenAsterinwalkedaway.The rest of the Thirteen

monitored them warily.Vesta, now Manon’s Third,looked half inclined to sprintafter Asterin, but a shake ofSorrel’s head kept the red-hairedwitchstill.Manon was off-kilter all

dayafterward.

She’d told Sorrel to stayquiet about the Yellowlegs,but wondered if she shouldtellAsterintodothesame.She hesitated, thinking

aboutit.Youletthemdothis.The words danced around

andaround inManon’shead,alongwith that preachy littlespeech Elide had made thenight before. Hope. Whatdrivel.The words were still

dancingwhenManon stalkedinto the duke’s councilchambertwentyminuteslaterthanhissummonsdemanded.“Do you delight in

offending me with yourtardiness, or are youincapableoftellingtime?”theduke said from his seat.Vernon and Kaltain were atthe table, the formersmirking, the latter staringblankly ahead. No sign ofshadowfire.

“I’man immortal,”Manonsaid,takingaseatacrossfromthemasSorrelstoodguardbythe doors, Vesta in the halloutside.“Timemeansnothingtome.”“A little sass from you

today,” Vernon said. “I likeit.”Manon leveledacold look

at him. “I missed breakfastthis morning, human. I’d becarefulifIwereyou.”Thelordonlysmiled.

She leaned back in herchair.“Whydidyousummonmethistime?”“Ineedanothercoven.”Manonkeptherfaceblank.

“WhatoftheYellowlegsyoualreadyhave?”“They are recovering well

andwillbe ready forvisitorssoon.”Liar.“A Blackbeak coven this

time,”thedukepressed.“Why?”

“Because I want one, andyou’llprovideone,andthat’sallyouneedtoknow.”Youletthemdothis.She could feel Sorrel’s

gazeonthebackofherhead.“We’re not whores for

yourmentouse.”“You are sacred vessels,”

thedukesaid.“It isanhonortobechosen.”“I find that a very male

thingtoassume.”Aflashofyellowing teeth.

“Pick your strongest coven,andsendthemdownstairs.”“That will require some

consideration.”“Do it fast, or I will pick

myself.”Youletthemdothis.“Andinthemeantime,”the

dukesaidasherosefromhisseat in a swift, powerfulmovement, “prepare yourThirteen.Ihaveamissionforyou.”

Manon sailed on a hard, fastwind, pushing Abraxos evenascloudsgathered,evenasastorm broke around theThirteen.Out.Shehad togetout,hadtorememberthebiteofthewindonherface,whatunchecked speed andunlimitedstrengthwerelike.Even if the rush of it was

somewhat diminished by theridersheheldinfrontofher,

her frail body bundled upagainsttheelements.Lightning cleaved the air

soclosebythatManoncouldtastethetangoftheether,andAbraxos veered, plungingintorainandcloudandwind.Kaltain didn’t so much asflinch. Shouts burst from themen riding with the rest oftheThirteen.Thunder cracked, and the

world went numb with thesound. Even Abraxos’s roar

wasmutedinherdulledears.The perfect cover for theirambush.Youletthemdothis.The rain soaking through

her gloves turned to warm,stickyblood.Abraxos caught an updraft

and ascended so fast thatManon’s stomach dropped.SheheldKaltaintightly,eventhough the woman washarnessed in. Not onereactionfromher.

Duke Perrington, ridingwith Sorrel, was a cloud ofdarkness in Manon’speripheral vision as theysoaredthroughthecanyonsoftheWhite Fangs,which theyhad so carefully mapped alltheseweeks.Thewildtribeswouldhave

no ideawhatwas upon themuntilitwastoolate.She knew there was no

way to outrun this—no waytoavoidit.

Manonkeptflyingthroughtheheartofthestorm.

When they reached thevillage,blendedintothesnowand rock, Sorrel swooped inclose enough for Kaltain tohearPerrington.“Thehouses.Burnthemall.”Manonglancedattheduke,

then at her charge. “Shouldweland—”

“From here,” the dukeordered, andhis facebecamegrotesquely soft as he spoketoKaltain.“Doitnow,pet.”Below, a small female

figure slipped out of one ofthe heavy tents. She lookedup,shouting.Dark flames—shadowfire

—engulfed her from head totoe. Her scream was carriedtoManononthewind.Then there were others,

pouringoutastheunholyfire

leaped upon their houses,theirhorses.“Allof them,Kaltain,” the

duke said over the wind.“Keep circling, WingLeader.”Sorrel met Manon’s stare.

Manon quickly looked awayand reeled Abraxos backaround the pass where thetribehadbeencamped.Therewere rebels among them;Manon knew because she’dtrackedthemherself.

Shadowfire ripped throughthe camp. People dropped tothe ground, shrieking,pleading in tongues Manondidn’t understand. Somefainted from the pain; somediedfromit.Thehorseswerebucking and screaming—such wretched sounds thatevenManon’sspinestiffened.Thenitvanished.Kaltainsagged inManon’s

arms, panting, gasping downraspybreaths.

“She’s done,” Manon saidtotheduke.Irritation flickered on his

granite-hewn face. Heobserved the people runningabout, trying to help thosewho were weeping orunconscious—or dead.Horses fled in everydirection.“Land, Wing Leader, and

putanendtoit.”Any other day, a good

bloodlettingwouldhavebeen

enjoyable.Butathisorder…She’dscoutedthistribefor

him.Youletthemdothis.Manon barked the

commandtoAbraxos,buthisdescent was slow—as ifgivinghertimetoreconsider.Kaltain was shuddering inManon’s arms, nearlyconvulsing. “What’s wrongwithyou?”Manonsaidtothewoman,halfwonderingifsheshould stage an accident that

wouldendwith thewoman’snecksnappedontherocks.Kaltain said nothing, but

the lines of her body werelocked tight, as if frozendespite the fur she’d beenwrappedin.Too many eyes—there

were toomanyeyeson themforManon tokillher.And ifshe was so valuable to theduke, Manon had no doubthe’dtakeone—orall—oftheThirteen as retribution.

“Hurry, Abraxos,” she said,and he picked up his pacewith a snarl. She ignored thedisobedience, thedisapproval,inthesound.They landedona flattened

bit of mountain ledge, andManon left Kaltain inAbraxos’s care as shestompedthroughthesleetandsnow toward the panickingvillage.The Thirteen silently fell

into rank behind her. She

didn’tglanceat them;partofher didn’t dare to see whatmightbeontheirfaces.Thevillagershaltedasthey

beheld the coven standingatop the rock outcroppingjuttingoverthehollowwherethey’dmadetheirhome.Manon drew Wind-

Cleaver. And then thescreamingstartedanew.

49

By midafternoon, Aelin hadsigned all the documents theMaster of the Bank broughtover, abandoned theKeep toits horrible new owners, andAedion still hadn’t wrappedhis mind around everythingthatshehaddone.Their carriage deposited

themattheedgeoftheslums,and theykept to theshadowsastheymadetheirwayhome,silent and unseen. Yet whenthey reached the warehouse,Aelin kept walking towardtheriverseveralblocksawaywithout so much as a word.Rowan tooka step to follow,butAedioncuthimoff.Hemust have had a death

wish, because Aedion evenraised his brows a bit at theFae Prince before he

sauntered down the streetafter her. He’d heard theirlittle fight on the roof lastnight thanks to his openbedroomwindow.Evennow,hehonestlycouldn’tdecideifhewasamusedorenragedbyRowan’swords—Don’ttouchme like that—when it wasobvious the warrior-princefelt quite the opposite. ButAelin—gods above, Aelinwasstillfiguringitout.She was stomping down

the street with delightfultemperasshesaid,“Ifyou’vecome along to reprimand—oh.” She sighed. “I don’tsupposeIcanconvinceyoutoturnaround.”“Not a chance in hell,

sweetheart.”She rolled her eyes and

continued on. They walkedsilently for block after blockuntil they reached theglimmering brown river. Adecrepit, filthy length of

cobblestone walkway ranalong the water’s edge.Below, abandoned andcrumblingpostswereall thatwasleftofanancientdock.She stared out across the

muddy water, crossing herarms.Theafternoonlightwasnearlyblindingasitreflectedoff the calm surface. “Outwithit,”shesaid.“Today—who you were

today… that wasn’t entirelyamask.”

“That bothers you? Yousaw me cut down the king’smen.”“It bothers me that the

people we met today didn’tbat an eye at that person. Itbothersmethatyouwerethatpersonforatime.”“What do youwantme to

tellyou?Doyouwantme toapologizeforit?”“No—gods, no. I just …”

The words were coming outall wrong. “You know that

when I went to those warcamps, when I becamegeneral…Iletthelinesblur,too. But I was still in theNorth, stillhome,amongourpeople. You came hereinstead, and had to grow upwith those piece-of-shitmen,and…IwishI’dbeenhere.Iwish Arobynn had somehowfoundme, too, and raised ustogether.”“You were older. You

never would have let

Arobynn take us. Themomenthelookedaway,youwould have grabbed me andrun.”True—very true, but …

“Thepersonyouwere today,and a few years ago—thatpersonhadnojoy,orlove.”“Gods,Ihadsome,Aedion.

Iwasn’tacompletemonster.”“Still, I justwantedyou to

knowallthat.”“ThatyoufeelguiltythatI

becameanassassinwhileyou

endured the war camps andbattlefields?”“That I wasn’t there. That

youhad to face those peoplealone.”Headded,“Youcameup with that whole plan byyourself and didn’t trust anyofuswithit.Youtookontheburdenofgettingthatmoney.I could have found a way—gods, I would have marriedwhateverwealthy princess orempress you asked me to, ifthey promised men and

money.”“I’m never going to sell

you off like chattel,” shesnapped. “And we haveenough now to pay for anarmy,don’twe?”“Yes.” And then some.

“But that’s beside the point,Aelin.” He took a breath.“Thepoint is—Ishouldhavebeentherethen,butIamherenow. I’m healed. Let mesharethisburden.”She tipped her head back,

savoring the breeze off theriver.“AndwhatcouldIeveraskof you that I couldn’t domyself?”“That’s the problem. Yes,

you can do most things onyourown.Thatdoesn’tmeanyouhaveto.”“Why should I risk your

life?” The words wereclipped.Ah.Ah. “Because I’m still

more expendable than youare.”

“Not to me.” The wordswere barely more than awhisper.Aedion put a hand on her

back, his own reply cloggedin his throat. Even with theworld going to hell aroundthem, just hearing her saythat, standingherebesideher—itwasadream.She stayed silent, so he

mastered himself enough tosay, “What, exactly, are wegoingtodonow?”

She glanced at him. “I’mgoing to free magic, takedown the king, and killDorian. The order of the lasttwoitemsonthatlistcouldbeflipped, depending on how itallgoes.”Hisheartstopped.“What?”“Wassomethingaboutthat

notclear?”All of it. Every damn part

of it. He had no doubt shewould do it—even the partabout killing her friend. If

Aedion objected, she’d onlylieandcheatandtrickhim.“What and when and

how?”heasked.“Rowan’s working on the

firstlegofit.”“That sounds a lot like, ‘I

have more secrets that I’mgoing to spring on youwhenever I feel likestoppingyour heart dead in yourchest.’”But her answering smile

told him he would get

nowhere with her. Hecouldn’t decide if it charmedordisappointedhim.

Rowanwashalf-asleepinbedby the time Aelin returnedhours later, murmuring goodnight to Aedion beforeslipping into her room. Shedidn’t so much as glance inhis direction as she beganunbuckling her weapons and

piling them on the tablebeforetheunlithearth.Efficient,quick,quiet.Not

asoundfromher.“I went hunting for

Lorcan,” he said. “I trackedhis scent around the city, butdidn’tseehim.”“Is he dead, then?”

Anotherdaggerclatteredontothetable.“The scent was fresh.

Unless he died an hour ago,he’sstillverymuchalive.”

“Good,”shesaidsimplyasshe walked into the opencloset to change. Or just toavoid looking at him somemore.She emerged moments

later in one of those flimsylittle nightgowns, and all thethoughtswentrightoutofhisdamn head.Well, apparentlyshe’dbeenmortifiedby theirearlier encounter—but notenough to wear somethingmorematronlytobed.

The pink silk clung to herwaistandslidoverherhipsasshe approached the bed,revealing the glorious lengthofherbarelegs,stillleanandtan from all the time they’dspent outdoors this spring.Astrip of pale yellow lacegracedtheplungingneckline,and he tried—gods damnhim,hehonestlytried—nottolook at the smooth curve ofher breasts as she bent toclimbintobed.

He supposed any lick ofself-consciousness had beenflayed from her under thewhips of Endovier. Eventhoughhe’dtattooedoverthebulkofthescarsonherback,their ridges remained. Thenightmares, too—when she’dstill startle awakeand light acandle to drive away theblackness they’d shoved herinto, the memory of thelightless pits they’d used forpunishment. His Fireheart,

shutinthedark.He owed the overseers of

Endovieravisit.Aelin might have an

inclination to punish anyonewho’d hurt him, but shedidn’tseemtorealize thathe—and Aedion, too—mightalso have scores to settle onher behalf. And as animmortal, he had infinitepatience where thosemonsterswereconcerned.Her scent hit him as she

unboundherhair andnestledinto the pile of pillows. Thatscent had always struck him,hadalwaysbeena call andachallenge. It had shaken himso thoroughly from centuriesencasedinicethathe’dhatedheratfirst.Andnow…nowthat scent drove him out ofhismind.They were both really

damnluckythatshecurrentlycouldn’t shift into her Faeform and smell what was

pounding through his blood.It had been hard enough toconcealitfromheruntilnow.Aedion’s knowing looks toldhim enough about what hercousinhaddetected.He’dseenhernakedbefore

—afewtimes.Andgods,yes,there had been momentswhen he’d considered it, buthe’d mastered himself. He’dlearned to keep those uselessthoughts on a short, shortleash. Like that time she’d

moanedat thebreezehesentherwayonBeltane—thearchof her neck, the parting ofthatmouthofhers,thesoundthatcameoutofher—Shewas now lying on her

side,herbacktohim.“About lastnight,”he said

throughhisteeth.“It’s fine. It was a

mistake.”Lookatme.Turnoverand

lookatme.But she remainedwith her

back to him, the moonlightcaressing the silk bunchedover thedipofherwaist, theslopeofherhip.Hisbloodheated.“Ididn’t

mean to—snap at you,” hetried.“I know you didn’t.” She

tugged the blanket up as ifshe could feel the weight ofhis gaze lingering on thatsoft, inviting place betweenher neck and shoulder—oneofthefewplacesonherbody

thatwasn’tmarkedwithscarsor ink. “I don’t even knowwhat happened, but it’s beena strange few days, so let’sjust chalk it up to that, allright?Ineedtosleep.”Hedebated tellingher that

it was not all right, but hesaid,“Fine.”Moments later, she was

indeedasleep.Herolledontohisbackand

stared up at the ceiling,tucking a hand beneath his

head.He needed to sort this out

—needed to get her to justlookathimagain,sohecouldtry to explain that he hadn’tbeen prepared. Having hertouch the tattoo that told thestory of what he’d done andhow he’d lost Lyria … Hehadn’tbeenreadyforwhathefelt in that moment. Thedesire hadn’t been whatshook him at all. It was just… Aelin had driven him

insane these past fewweeks,and yet he hadn’t consideredwhatitwouldbeliketohaveherlookathimwithinterest.It wasn’t at all the way it

hadbeenwiththelovershe’dtaken in the past: evenwhenhe’d cared for them, hehadn’t really cared. Beingwith them had never madehim think of that flowermarket. Never made himremember that he was aliveand touching anotherwoman

whileLyria—Lyriawasdead.Slaughtered.And Aelin … If he went

down that road, and ifsomethinghappenedtoher…His chest seized at thethought.Soheneeded tosort itout

—needed to sorthimselfout,too, no matter what hewantedfromher.Evenifitwasagony.

“This wig is horrible,”Lysandra hissed, patting herhead as she and Aelinelbowed their way into thepacked bakery alongside anicerstretchof thedocks.“Itwon’tstopitching.”“Quiet,”Aelinhissedback.

“Youonlyhavetowearitforanotherfewminutes,notyourwholedamnlife.”Lysandra opened her

mouth to complain some

more, but two gentlemenapproached, boxes of bakedgoodsinhand,andgavethemappreciative nods. BothLysandra and Aelin haddressedintheirfinest,frilliestdresses, no more than twowealthy women on anafternoon stroll through thecity, monitored by twobodyguardseach.Rowan, Aedion, Nesryn,

and Chaol were leaningagainst the wooden dock

posts outside, discreetlywatching them through thelarge glass window of theshop.Theywere clothed andhoodedinblack,wearingtwoseparate coats of arms—bothfake, acquired fromLysandra’s stash for whenshemetwithsecretiveclients.“That one,” Aelin said

under her breath as theypushedthroughthelunchtimecrowd,fixingherattentiononthe most harried-looking

woman behind the counter.The best time to come here,Nesryn had said, was whentheworkerswere toobusy toreallynote theirclienteleandwould want them out of thewayasquicklyaspossible.Afew gentlemen parted to letthem pass, and Lysandracooedherthanks.Aelincaughttheeyeofthe

womanbehindthecounter.“What can I get you,

miss?” Polite, but already

sizing up the customersclusteringbehindLysandra.“I want to talk to Nelly,”

Aelinsaid.“Shewastomakemeabrambleberrypie.”The woman narrowed her

eyes.Aelinflashedawinningsmile.The woman sighed and

hustled through the woodendoor, allowing a glimpse ofthe chaos of the bakerybehindit.Amomentlatershecamebackout,givingAelina

She’llbeoutinaminutelookand going right to anothercustomer.Fine.Aelinleanedagainstoneof

the walls and crossed herarms.Thensheloweredthem.Aladydidn’tloiter.“SoClarissehasno idea?”

Aelin said under her breath,watchingthebakerydoor.“None,” Lysandra said.

“Andanytearssheshedwerefor her own losses. You

should have seen her ragingwhenwegotintothecarriagewith those fewcoins.You’renot frightened of having atargetonyourback?”“I’ve had a target on my

back since the day I wasborn,”Aelinsaid.“ButI’llbegone soon enough, and I’llnever be Celaena again,anyway.”Lysandra let out a little

hum. “You know I couldhavedonethisforyouonmy

own.”“Yes,buttwoladiesasking

questions are less suspiciousthanone.”Lysandragaveheraknowinglook.Aelinsighed.“It’shard,”sheadmitted.“Toletgoofthecontrol.”“Iwouldn’tknow.”“Well, you’re close to

paying off your debts, aren’tyou?You’llbefreesoon.”A casual shrug. “Not

likely. Clarisse increased allof our debts since she got

shutoutofArobynn’swill.Itseems she made someadvance purchases and nowhastopayforthem.”Gods—she hadn’t even

considered that. Hadn’t eventhought about what it mightmean for Lysandra and theothergirls.“I’msorryforanyextraburdenit’scausedyou.”“Tohave seen the lookon

Clarisse’s facewhen thewillwas read, I’ll gladly endureanotherfewyearsofthis.”

A lie, and they both knewit. “I’m sorry,” Aelin saidagain.Andbecauseitwasallshe could offer, she added,“Evangeline looked well andhappyjustnow.Icouldseeifthere was a way to take herwhenwego—”“And drag an eleven-year-

oldgirl across kingdoms andinto a potential war? I thinknot. Evangeline will remainwith me. You don’t need tomakemepromises.”

“How are you feeling?”Aelin asked. “After theothernight.”Lysandra watched three

young women giggle to oneanother as they passed ahandsomeyoungman. “Fine.I can’t quite believe I gotawaywithit,but…Webothpulleditoff,Isuppose.”“Doyouregretdoingit?”“No. I regret … I regret

that I didn’t get to tell himwhatIreallythoughtofhim.I

regret that I didn’t tell himwhat I’d done with you—tosee thebetrayalandshock inhis eyes. I did it so fast, andhad to go for the throat, andafter I did, I just rolled overand listened—until it wasdone,but…”Hergreeneyeswere shadowed. “Do youwishyouhadbeentheonetodoit?”“No.”Andthatwasthat.Sheglancedatherfriend’s

saffron-and-emerald gown.“That dress suits you.” Shejerked her chin towardLysandra’s chest. “And doeswonders for them, too. Thepoor men in here can’t stoplooking.”“Trust me, having larger

ones isn’t a blessing. Myback hurts all the time.”Lysandra frowned down atherfullbreasts.“AssoonasIget my powers back, thesethingswillbethefirsttogo.”

Aelin chuckled. Lysandrawouldgetherpowersback—once that clock tower wasgone. She tried not to let thethoughtsinkin.“Really?”“If it wasn’t for

Evangeline, I think I’d justturn into something withclaws and fangs and live inthewildernessforever.”“Nomoreluxuryforyou?”Lysandra pulled a bit of

lint off Aelin’s sleeve. “Ofcourse I like luxury—you

think I don’t love thesegownsandjewels?Butintheend … they’re replaceable.I’vecometovaluethepeopleinmylifemore.”“Evangeline is lucky to

haveyou.”“Iwasn’tjusttalkingabout

her,” Lysandra said, and shechewedon her full lip. “You—I’mgratefulforyou.”Aelin might have said

somethingback,somethingtoadequatelyconvey theflicker

ofwarmthinherheart,hadaslim, brown-haired womannotemergedfromthekitchendoor.Nelly.Aelin pushed off the wall

and flounced up to thecounter, Lysandra in tow.Nellysaid,“Youcametoseemeaboutapie?”Lysandra smiled prettily,

leaning close. “Our supplierof pies, it seems, vanishedwith the Shadow Market.”Shespokesosoftlythateven

Aelin could barely hear.“Rumor has it you knowwhereheis.”Nelly’s blue eyes

shuttered. “Don’t knowanythingaboutthat.”Aelindelicatelyplacedher

purseon the counter, leaninginsothattheothercustomersand workers couldn’t see asshe slid it toward Nelly,making sure the coinsclinked. Heavy coins. “Weare very, very hungry for…

pie,”Aelinsaid, lettingsomedesperation show. “Just telluswherehewent.”“No one escaped the

ShadowMarketalive.”Good. Just as Nesryn had

assured them, Nelly didn’ttalk easily. It would be toosuspicious for Nesryn to askNellyabouttheopiumdealer,but two vapid, spoiled richwomen?Noonewould thinktwice.Lysandra set another coin

purse on the counter.One ofthe other workers glancedtheir way, and the courtesansaid, “We’d like to place anorder.” The worker focusedon her customer again,unfazed. Lysandra’s smileturned feline. “So tell uswheretopickitup,Nelly.”Someone barked Nelly’s

name from the back, andNelly glanced between them,sighing. She leaned forwardandwhispered,“Theygotout

throughthesewers.”“We heard guards were

downthere,too,”Aelinsaid.“Not down far enough. A

few went to the catacombsbeneath.Stillhidingoutdownthere.Bring your guards, butdon’tlet’emweartheirsigils.Notaplaceforrichfolk.”Catacombs. Aelin had

never heard of catacombsbeneath the sewers.Interesting.Nelly withdrew, striding

back into the bakery. Aelinlookeddownatthecounter.Both bags of coins were

gone.They slipped out of the

bakeryunnoticedandfellintostep with their fourbodyguards.“Well?”Nesrynmurmured.

“WasIright?”“Your father should fire

Nelly,” Aelin said. “Opiumaddicts are piss-pooremployees.”

“She makes good bread,”Nesryn said, and then fellback to where Chaol waswalkingbehindthem.“What’d you learn?”

Aedion demanded. “And doyou care to explainwhy youneeded to know about theShadowMarket?”“Patience,”Aelinsaid.She

turned to Lysandra. “Youknow, I bet the men aroundhere would cut out theirsnarling if you turned into a

ghost leopard and snarledbackatthem.”Lysandra’s brows rose.

“Ghostleopard?”Aedion swore. “Do me a

favorandneverturnintooneofthose.”“Whatarethey?”Lysandra

said. Rowan chuckled underhis breath and stepped a bitcloser to Aelin. She tried toignore it. They’d barelyspokenallmorning.Aedion shook his head.

“Devils cloaked in fur. Theylive up in theStaghorns, andduring the winter they creepdowntopreyonlivestock.Asbig as bears, some of them.Meaner. And when thelivestock runs out, they preyonus.”Aelin patted Lysandra’s

shoulder. “Sounds like yourkindofcreature.”Aedion went on, “They’re

white and gray, so you canbarelymakethemoutagainst

thesnowandrock.Youcan’treallytellthey’reonyouuntilyou’re staring right into theirpalegreeneyes…”HissmilefalteredasLysandrafixedhergreeneyesonhimandcockedherhead.Despite herself, Aelin

laughed.

“Tell us why we’re here,”Chaol said as Aelin climbed

overafallenwoodenbeaminthe abandoned ShadowMarket. Beside her, Rowanheld a torch high,illuminating the ruins—andthe charred bodies. Lysandrahadgonebacktothebrothel,escorted by Nesryn; Aelinhad swiftly changed into hersuit in an alley, and stashedher gown behind a discardedcrate, praying no onesnatched it before she couldreturn.

“Just be quiet for amoment,” Aelin said, tracingthetunnelsbymemory.Rowan shot her a glance,

andsheliftedabrow.What?“You’ve come here

before,” Rowan said. “Youcame to search the ruins.”That’s why you smelled ofash,too.Aedion said, “Really,

Aelin? Don’t you eversleep?”Chaol was watching her

now, too, thoughmaybe thatwas to avoid looking at thebodies littered around thehalls. “Whatwere you doingherethenightyouinterruptedmy meeting with Brullo andRess?”Aelinstudiedthecindersof

the oldest stalls, the sootstains,thesmells.Shepausedbeforeoneshopwhosewareswerenownothingbutashandtwisted bits of metal. “Herewe are,” she trilled, and

strode into the hewn-rockstall,itsstonesburnedblack.“Itstillsmellslikeopium,”

Rowan said, frowning. Aelinbrushed her foot over theashy ground, kicking awaycinders and debris. It had tobesomewhere—ah.She swept awaymore and

more, the ash staining herblackbootsandsuit.Atlastalarge, misshapen stoneappeared beneath her feet, awornholenearitsedge.

Shesaidcasually,“Didyouknow that in addition todealing opium, thismanwasrumoredtosellhellfire?”Rowanwhippedhisgazeto

her.Hellfire—nearly

impossible to attain ormake,mostly because it was solethal. Just a vat of it couldtake out half of a castle’sretainerwall.“Hewouldnevertalktome

about it, of course,” Aelin

went on, “no matter howmany times I came here. Heclaimedhedidn’thaveit,yethe had some of theingredientsaroundtheshop—all very rare—so … Theremusthavebeenasupplyofithere.”She hauled open the stone

trapdoor to reveal a ladderdescending into the gloom.None of the males spoke asthe reek of the sewersunfurled.

She crouched, sliding ontothe first rung, and Aediontensed, but he wisely saidnothingabouthergoingfirst.Smoke-scented darkness

envelopedherassheclimbeddown, down, down, until herfeet hit smooth rock. The airwas dry, despite theirproximitytotheriver.Rowancamenext,droppinghistorchonto the ancient stones toreveal a cavernous tunnel—andbodies.

Several bodies, some ofthem nothing but darkmounds in the distance, cutdown by the Valg. Therewere fewer to the right,toward the Avery. They’dprobably anticipated anambush at the river mouthand gone the other way—totheirdoom.Not waiting for Aedion or

Chaol to climb down, Aelinbegan following the tunnel,Rowan silent as a shadow at

her side—looking, listening.After the stone door groanedclosed above, she said intothe darkness, “When theking’s men set this placealight, if the fire had hit thatsupply … Rifthold probablywouldn’tbehereanymore.Atleast not the slums, andprobablymore.”“Gods above,” Chaol

murmured from a few pacesbehind.Aelin paused at what

looked like an ordinary gratein the sewer floor. But nowater ran beneath, and onlydusty air floated up to meether.“That’s how you’re

planningtoblowuptheclocktower—withhellfire,”Rowansaid, crouching at her side.Hemadetograbherelbowasshereachedfor thegrate,butshe sidled out of range.“Aelin—I’ve seen it used,seen it wreck cities. It can

literallymeltpeople.”“Good. So we know it

works,then.”Aedion snorted, peering

down into the gloom beyondthe grate. “So what? Youthinkhekepthissupplydownthere?” If he had aprofessional opinion abouthellfire,hekeptittohimself.“These sewers were too

public, but he had to keep itnear themarket,”Aelin said,yanking on the grate. It gave

a little, and Rowan’s scentcaressed her as he leaned tohelphaulitofftheopening.“It smells like bones and

dust down there,” Rowansaid. His mouth quirked tothe side. “But you suspectedthatalready.”Chaolsaidfromafewfeet

behind, “That’s what youwantedtoknowfromNelly—where he was hiding. So hecansellittoyou.”Aelinlitabitofwoodfrom

Rowan’s torch. She carefullypoised it just beneath the lipof the hole before her, theflamelightingadropofaboutten feet, with cobblestonesbeneath.A wind pushed from

behind, toward the hole. Intoit.Shesetasidetheflameand

satonthe lipof thehole,herlegs swinging in thedimnessbeneath.“WhatNellydoesn’tknow yet is that the opium

monger was actually caughttwodaysago.Killedonsightby the king’s men. Youknow, I do think Arobynnsometimes had no ideawhether he really wanted tohelpme or not.” It had beenhis casual mention of it atdinner that had set herthinking,planning.Rowanmurmured, “So his

supply in the catacombs isnowunguarded.”She peered into the gloom

below.“Finderskeepers,”shesaid,andjumped.

50

“Howdidthoselowlifeskeepthis place a secret?” Aelinbreathed as she turned toChaol.The four of them stood

atop a small staircase, thecavernousspacebeyondthemilluminated in flickeringgoldby the torches Aedion and

Rowanbore.Chaol was shaking his

head, surveying the space.Not a sign of scavengers,thank the gods. “Legend hasit that the Shadow Marketwasbuilton thebonesof thegodoftruth.”“Well, they got the bones

partright.”In every wall, skulls and

bones were artfully arranged—and every wall, even theceiling, had been formed

from them.Even the floor atthefootof thestairswaslaidwithbonesofvaryingshapesandsizes.“These aren’t ordinary

catacombs,” Rowan said,settingdownhis torch. “Thiswasatemple.”Indeed,altars,benches,and

even a dark reflection poollayinthemassivespace.Stillmore sprawled away intoshadow.“There’s writing on the

bones,”Aedion said, stridingdown the steps and onto thebonefloor.Aelingrimaced.“Careful,” Rowan said as

Aedion went to the nearestwall.Hercousinliftedahandinlazydismissal.“It’s in every language—

all in different handwriting,”Aedionmarveled,holdinghistorchaloftashemovedalongthe wall. “Listen to this onehere:‘Iamaliar.Iamathief.I took my sister’s husband

and laughedwhile I did it.’”A pause. He silently readanother.“Noneofthiswriting… I don’t think these weregoodpeople.”Aelin scanned the bone

temple. “We should bequick,” she said. “Reallydamnquick.Aedion,youtakethat wall; Chaol, the center;Rowan,theright.I’llgrabtheback. Careful of where youwave your fire.” Gods helpthem if they unwittingly

placed a torch near thehellfire.She tooka stepdown, and

then another. Then the lastone,ontothebonefloor.Ashuddercrawledthrough

her, and she glanced atRowan out of instinct. Histight face told her all sheneeded to know. But he stillsaid,“Thisisabadplace.”Chaolstrodepastthem,his

sword out. “Then let’s findthis hellfire supply and get

out.”Right.Allaroundthem,theempty

eyesoftheskullsinthewalls,inthestructures,thepillarsinthe center of the room,seemedtowatch.“Seems like this god of

truth,”Aedioncalledfromhiswall, “was more of a Sin-Eater than anything. Youshould read some of thethings people wrote—thehorrible things they did. I

think this was a place forthem to be buried, and toconfessonthebonesofothersinners.”“Nowondernoonewanted

to come here,” Aelinmuttered as she strode offintothedark.

The temple went on and on,andtheyfoundsupplies—butno whisper of scavengers or

other residents. Drugs,money, jewelry, all hiddeninsideskullsandwithinsomeof the bone crypts on thefloor.Butnohellfire.Theircautiousstepsonthe

bone floor were the onlysounds.Aelin moved deeper and

deeperintothegloom.Rowansoon cleared his side of thetemple and joined her in theback, exploring the alcovesand little hallways that

branched off into theslumbering dark. “Thelanguage,”Aelinsaidtohim.“It gets older and older thefarther backwego.Thewaytheyspellthewords,Imean.”Rowan twisted toward her

from where he’d beencarefully opening asarcophagus. She doubted anordinary man would be ableto shift the stone lid. “Someof them even date theirconfessions. I just saw one

from seven hundred yearsago.”“Makes you seem young,

doesn’tit?”He gave her a wry smile.

Shequicklylookedaway.The bone floor clicked as

he stepped toward her.“Aelin.”She swallowed hard,

staring at a carvedbonenearher head. I killed a man forsportwhen Iwas twenty andnever told anyone where I

buried him. I kept his fingerboneinadrawer.Dated nine hundred years

ago.Ninehundred—Aelin studied the darkness

beyond. If the ShadowMarket dated back to Gavin,then this place had to havebeen built before it—oraroundthesametime.Thegodoftruth…She drew Damaris from

across her back, and Rowan

tensed.“Whatisit?”She examined the flawless

blade. “The Sword of Truth.That’s what they calledDamaris. Legend said thebearer—Gavin—could seethetruthwhenhewieldedit.”“And?”“Mala blessed Brannon,

and she blessed Goldryn.”She peered into the gloom.“What if there was a god oftruth—a Sin-Eater? What ifhe blessed Gavin, and this

sword?”Rowan now stared toward

the ancient blackness. “Youthink Gavin used thistemple.”Aelin weighed the mighty

sword in her hands. “Whatsins did you confess to,Gavin?” she whispered intothedark.

Deep into the tunnels they

went, so far that whenAedion’s triumphant cry of“Found it!” reached AelinandRowan, she couldbarelyhearit.Andbarelycared.Notwhenshestoodbefore

the back wall—the wallbehind the altar of what hadno doubt been the originaltemple. Here the bones werenearly crumbling with age,thewritingalmostimpossibletoread.The wall behind the altar

was of pure stone—whitemarble—and carved inWyrdmarks.And in the center was a

giant renderingof theEyeofElena.Cold.Itwassocoldinhere

that their breath clouded infrontofthem,mingling.“Whoeverthisgodoftruth

was,”Rowanmurmured,asiftryingnot tobeoverheardbythe dead, “he was not abenevolentsortofdeity.”

No; with a temple builtfrom the bones of murderersand thieves and worse, shedoubted this god had been aparticular favorite. Nowonderhe’dbeenforgotten.Aelin stepped up to the

stone.Damaris turned icy in her

hand—so frigid her fingerssplayed, and shedropped thesword on the altar floor andbacked away. Its clangagainst the bones was like

thunder.Rowanwasinstantlyather

side,hisswordsout.Thestonewallbeforethem

groaned.It began shifting, the

symbols rotating, alteringthemselves. From the flickerofhermemory sheheard thewords:ItisonlywiththeEyethatonecanseerightly.“Honestly,” Aelin said as

the wall at last stoppedrearranging itself from the

proximity of the sword. Anew, intricate array ofWyrdmarks had formed. “Idon’t know why thesecoincidences keep surprisingme.”“Can you read it?”Rowan

asked. Aedion called theirnames, and Rowan calledback, telling them both tocome.Aelin stared up at the

carvings. “It might take mesometime.”

“Doit.Idon’tthinkitwaschance that we found thisplace.”Aelinshookoffhershiver.

No—nothing was everchance.Notwhen it came toElena and theWyrdkeys. Soshe loosed a breath andbegan.“It’s … it’s about Elena

and Gavin,” she said. “Thefirstpanelhere”—shepointedto a stretch of symbols—“describesthemasthefirst

King and Queen of Adarlan,how they were mated. Then…thenitjumpsback.Tothewar.”Footsteps sounded and

light flickeredasAedionandChaol reached them. Chaolwhistled.“Ihaveabadfeelingabout

this,” Aedion said. Hefrowned at the giantrendering of the Eye, andthenattheonearoundAelin’sneck.

“Get comfortable,” shesaid.Aelin read a few more

lines, deciphering anddecoding. So hard—theWyrdmarks were so damnhardtoread.“Itdescribesthedemon wars with the Valgthat had been left here afterthe First War. And …” Sheread the line again. “And theValg this time were led …”Herbloodchilled.“Byoneofthe three kings—the king

who remained trapped hereafter the gate was sealed. Itsays that to lookuponaking—to look upon a Valg kingwas to gaze into …” Sheshook her head. “Madness?Despair? I don’t know thatsymbol. He could take anyform,butheappearedtothemnowasahandsomemanwithgolden eyes. The eyes of theValgkings.”Shescannedthenextpanel.

“They did not know his true

name, so they called himErawan,theDarkKing.”Aedion said, “Then Elena

and Gavin battled him, yourmagic necklace saved theirasses, and Elena called himby his true name, distractinghimenoughforGavintoslayhim.”“Yes, yes,” Aelin said,

wavingahand.“But—no.”“No?”Chaolsaid.Aelin read further, andher

heartskippedabeat.“Whatis

it?” Rowan demanded, as ifhis Fae ears had noted herheart’sstutter.She swallowed hard,

running a shaking fingerunder a line of symbols.“This … this is Gavin’sconfessional. From hisdeathbed.”Noneofthemspoke.Her voice trembled as she

said,“Theydidnotslayhim.Not by sword, or fire, orwater,ormightcouldErawan

be slain or his body bedestroyed.TheEye…”Aelintouched her hand to thenecklace; the metal waswarm. “The Eye containedhim. Only for a short time.No—not contained. But …puthimtosleep?”“I have a very, very bad

feeling about this,” Aedionsaid.“So they built him a

sarcophagusofironandsomesort of indestructible stone.

And they put it in a sealedtomb beneath a mountain—acrypt sodark…sodark thatthere was no air, no light.Uponthelabyrinthofdoors,”she read, “they put symbols,unbreakable by any thief orkeyorforce.”“You’re saying that they

never killed Erawan,” Chaolsaid.Gavin had been Dorian’s

childhood hero, she recalled.And thestoryhadbeena lie.

Elenahadliedtoher—“Where did they bury

him?”Rowanaskedsoftly.“They buried him…”Her

handsshooksobadlythatshelowered them to her sides.“They buried him in theBlackMountains, andbuilt akeep atop the tomb, so thatthenoblefamilywhodwelledabove might forever guardit.”“There are no Black

Mountains in Adarlan,”

Chaolsaid.Aelin’s mouth went dry.

“Rowan,” she said quietly.“How do you say ‘BlackMountains’ in the OldLanguage?”A pause, and then a

loosenedbreath.“Morath,”Rowansaid.She turned to them, her

eyes wide. For a moment,they all just stared at oneanother.“What are the odds,” she

said,“thatthekingissendinghisforcesdowntoMorathbymerecoincidence?”“What are the odds,”

Aedion countered, “that ourillustriouskinghasacquiredakey thatcanunlockanydoor—even a door betweenworlds—and his second incommandhappenstoownthevery place where Erawan isburied?”“Thekingisinsane,”Chaol

said. “If he plans to raise

Erawan—”“Who says he hasn’t

already?”Aedionasked.Aelin glanced at Rowan.

Hisfacewasgrim.IfthereisaValgkingin thisworld,weneed to move fast. Get thoseWyrdkeysandbanishthemallbacktotheirhellhole.She nodded. “Why now,

though? He’s had the twokeys for at least a decade.Why bring the Valg overnow?”

“It would make sense,”Chaolsaid,“ifhe’sdoingitinanticipationofraisingErawanagain.Tohaveanarmyreadyforhimtolead.”Aelin’s breathing was

shallow. “The summersolstice is in ten days. If webring magic down on thesolstice, when the sun isstrongest, there’s a goodchance my power will begreaterthen,too.”Sheturnedto Aedion. “Tell me you

foundalotofhellfire.”His nod wasn’t as

reassuringasshe’dhoped.

51

Manon and her Thirteenstood around a table in aroom deep within thewitches’barracks.“You know why I called

youhere,”Manonsaid.Noneofthemreplied;noneofthemsat. They’d barely spoken tohersincebutcheringthattribe

intheWhiteFangs.Andthentoday—more news. Morerequests.“The duke asked me to

pick another coven to use.ABlackbeakcoven.”Silence.“I’dlikeyoursuggestions.”Theydidn’tmeethereyes.

Didn’tutteraword.Manon snapped down her

iron teeth. “You would daredefyme?”Sorrel cleared her throat,

attentiononthetable.“Neveryou,Manon.Butwedefythathuman worm’s right to useourbodiesasiftheywerehisown.”“Your High Witch has

given orders that will beobeyed.”“You might as well name

the Thirteen,” Asterin said,theonlyoneof themholdingManon’s gaze.Her nosewasstillswollenandbruisedfromthe beating. “For we would

sooner that be our fate thanhandoveroursisters.”“And you all agree with

this?That youwish to breeddemon offspring until yourbodiesbreakapart?”“We are Blackbeaks,”

Asterin said, her chin high.“Wearenoone’sslaves,andwill not be used as such. Ifthe price for that is neverreturning to theWastes, thensobeit.”Noneoftheotherssomuch

asflinched.They’dallmet—they’d discussed thisbeforehand. What to say toher.As if she were in need of

managing.“Was there anything else

you all decided in your littlecouncilmeeting?”“There are … things,

Manon,”Sorrelsaid.“Thingsyouneedtohear.”Betrayal—this was what

mortalscalledbetrayal.

“I don’t give a shit aboutwhat you fools dared believeIneedtohear.TheonlythingIneedtohearisthesoundofyousayingYes,WingLeader.And the name of a gods-damnedcoven.”“Pick one yourself,”

Asterinsnapped.Thewitches shifted.Not a

partoftheplan,wasit?Manon stalked around the

tabletoAsterin,pasttheotherwitcheswho didn’t dare turn

to face her. “You have beennothingbut awaste from theminute you set foot in thisKeep.Idon’tcareifyouhaveflownatmysideforacentury—I am going to put youdown like the yapping dogyouare—”“Do it,” Asterin hissed.

“Rip my throat out. Yourgrandmotherwillbesoproudthatyoufinallydid.”Sorrel was at Manon’s

back.

“Is that a challenge?”Manonsaidtooquietly.Asterin’s gold-flecked

blackeyesdanced.“It’sa—”But the door opened and

shut.A youngmanwith golden

hair now stood in the room,his black stone collargleaminginthetorchlight.

Heshouldn’thavegottenin.

There had been witcheseverywhere, and she’d setsentinels from another coventoguardthehallssothatnoneoftheduke’smencouldcatchthemunawares.Asone,theThirteenturned

toward the handsome youngman.And as one, they flinched

as he smiled, and a wave ofdarknesscrashedintothem.Darkness without end,

darkness even Manon’s eyes

couldn’tpenetrate,and—And Manon was again

standing before that Crochanwitch,adaggerinherhand.“We pity you … for what

you do to your children …You force them to kill andhurt and hate until there isnothing left inside of them—of you. That is why you arehere,” the Crochan wept …“Because of the threat youposedtothemonsteryoucallgrandmotherwhenyouchose

mercy and you saved yourrival’slife.”Manonviolentlyshookher

head, blinking. Then it wasgone. There was onlydarkness, and the Thirteen,shouting to one another,struggling,and—A golden-haired young

man had been in that roomwith the Yellowlegs, Elidehadsaid.Manon started prowling

through the darkness,

navigating the room bymemory and smell. Some ofher Thirteen were nearby;some had backed against thewalls. And the otherworldlyreekoftheman,ofthedemoninsidehim—The smellwrapped around

her fully, and Manon drewWind-Cleaver.Then there he was,

chuckling as someone—Ghislaine—startedscreaming.Manon had never

heardthatsound.She’dneverheard any of them screamwith…withfear.Andpain.Manonhurtledintoablind

sprint and tackled him to theground. No sword—shedidn’t want a sword for thisexecution.Light cracked around her,

and there was his handsomeface, and that collar. “WingLeader,” he grinned, in avoice that was not from thisworld.

Manon’s hands werearound his throat, squeezing,her nails ripping through hisskin.“Wereyousenthere?”she

demanded.Hereyesmethis—and the

ancientmaliceinthemshrankback.“Getaway,”hehissed.Manon did no such thing.

“Were you sent here?” sheroared.Theyoungmansurgedup,

but then Asterin was there,

pinning his legs. “Make himbleed,” she said from behindManon.The creature continued

thrashing. And in thedarkness, some of theThirteenwerestillshoutinginagony and terror. “Who sentyou?”Manonbellowed.His eyes shifted—turning

blue, turning clear. It waswithayoungman’svoicethathe said, “Kill me. Please—please kill me. Roland—my

name was Roland. Tell my—”Then blackness spread

across his eyes again, alongwith pure panic at whateverhe beheld in Manon’s face,and in Asterin’s over hershoulder. The demon insidethe man shrieked: “Getaway!”She’d heard and seen

enough. Manon squeezedharder, her iron nailsshredding through mortal

flesh and muscle. Black,reeking blood coated herhand, and she ripped harderinto him, until she got to thebone and slashed through it,andhisheadthumpedagainstthefloor.Manon could have sworn

hesighed.Thedarknessvanished,and

Manon was instantly on herfeet, gore dripping from herhands as she surveyed thedamage.

Ghislaine sobbed in thecorner, all the color leechedfromherrich,darkskin.Theaand Kaya were bothtearstainedandsilent,thetwolovers gaping at each other.AndEdda andBriar, both ofher Shadows, both born andraised in darkness … theywere on their hands andknees, puking. Rightalongside the green-eyeddemon twins, Faline andFallon.

The rest of the Thirteenwere unharmed. Still flushwith color, some pantingfromthemomentarysurgeofrageandenergy,but…Fine.Had only some of them

beentargeted?ManonlookedatAsterin—

atSorrel,andVesta,andLin,andImogen.Then at the ones that had

beendrained.They allmet her gaze this

time.

Get away, the demon hadscreamed—as if in surpriseandterror.After looking her in the

eyes.Those who had been

affected … their eyes wereordinary colors. Brown andblue and green.But the oneswhohadn’t…Black eyes, flecked with

gold.And when he’d looked at

Manon’seyes…

Goldeyeshadalwaysbeenprized among Blackbeaks.She’dneverwonderedwhy.But now wasn’t the time.

Not with this reeking bloodsoakingintoherskin.“This was a reminder,”

Manon said, her voicebouncing hollowly off thestones. She turned from theroom. Leave them to eachother.“Getridofthatbody.”

Manon waited until Kaltainwas alone, driftinguponeofthe forgotten spiralingstaircases of Morath, beforeshepounced.Thewomandidn’tflinchas

Manonpinnedheragainstthewall, her iron nails digginginto Kaltain’s pale, bareshoulders. “Where does theshadowfirecomefrom?”Dark,emptyeyesmethers.

“Fromme.”

“Whyyou?Whatmagic isit?Valgpower?”Manon studied the collar

around the woman’s thinthroat.Kaltain gave a small, dead

smile.“Itwasmine—tostart.Then it was… melded withanothersource.Andnowitisthe power of every world,everylife.”Nonsense. Manon pushed

herharderintothedarkstone.“Howdoyou take thatcollar

off?”“Itdoesnotcomeoff.”Manon bared her teeth.

“Andwhatdoyouwantwithus?Toputcollarsonus?”“Theywantkings,”Kaltain

breathed, her eyes flickeringwith some strange, sickdelight. “Mighty kings. Notyou.”More drivel. Manon

growled—but then there wasadelicatehandonherwrist.Anditburned.

Oh, gods, it burned, andher bones were melting, herironnailshadbecomemoltenore,herbloodwasboiling—Manon leaped back from

Kaltain,andonlygrippingherwristtoldherthattheinjuriesweren’t real. “I’m going tokillyou,”Manonhissed.But shadowfire danced on

Kaltain’s fingertips even asthewoman’sfacewentblankagain. Without a word, as ifshehaddonenothing,Kaltain

walked up the stairs andvanished.Alone in the stairwell,

Manon cradled her arm, theecho of pain stillreverberating through herbones.Slaughtering that tribewith Wind-Cleaver, she toldherself,hadbeenamercy.

52

As they left the Sin-Eater’stemple, Chaol marveled athow strange it was to beworking with Aelin and hercourt. How strange it was tonotbefightingherforonce.He shouldn’t have even

gone with them, given howmuch there was to do. Half

the rebels had left Rifthold,more fleeing every day, andthose who remained werepushingtorelocatetoanothercity.He’dkepttheminlineasmuchashecould, relyingonNesryn to back him upwhenever they started tobring up his own past withthe king. There were stillpeople going missing, beingexecuted—still people whomthey rescuedasoften as theycould from the butchering

blocks.Hewouldkeepdoingit until he was the last rebelleftinthiscity;hewouldstaytohelpthem,toprotectthem.But if what they’d learnedaboutErawanwastrue…Godshelpthemall.Back on the city street, he

turned in time to see Rowanoffer a helping hand to pullAelin out of the sewers. Sheseemed to hesitate, but thengripped it, her handswallowedbyhis.

A team, solid andunbreaking.TheFaePrincehoistedher

up and set her on her feet.Neither of them immediatelyletgooftheother.Chaol waited—waited for

thattwistandtugofjealousy,forthebileofittostinghim.But there was nothing.

Only a flickering relief,perhaps,that…ThatAelinhadRowan.He must be feeling truly

sorryforhimself,hedecided.Footsteps sounded, and

they all went still, weaponsdrawn,justas—“I’vebeen lookingforyou

for an hour,” Nesryn said,hurrying out of the alleyshadows. “What’s—” Shenoticed their grim faces.They’d left the hellfire downthere, hidden in asarcophagus, for safekeeping—and to keep themselvesfrom being melted should

thingsgoverywrong.HewassurprisedAelinhad

let him know that much—though how she planned togetintothecastle,shehadn’ttoldhim.Just tell Ress and Brullo

andtheotherstostaythehellaway from the clock towerwas her onlywarning so far.He’d almost demanded toknowwhatherplanswereforthe other innocents in thecastle, but … It had been

nice. To have one afternoonwithnofighting,withnoonehating him. To feel like hewaspartoftheirunit.“I’ll fill you in later,”

Chaol said to her. ButNesryn’s face was pale.“Whatisit?”Aelin,Rowan, andAedion

stalked up to them with thatunnatural,immortalsilence.Nesryn squared her

shoulders. “I received wordfrom Ren. He got into some

minor trouble on the border,but he’s fine. He has amessage for you—for us.”Shebrushedbacka strandofher inky hair. Her handtrembledslightly.Chaol braced himself,

foughtagainsttheurgetoputa hand on her arm. “Theking,” Nesryn went on, “hasbeen building an army downin Morath, under DukePerrington’ssupervision.TheValg guards around Rifthold

arethefirstofthem.Morearecomingupthisway.”Valg footsoldiers, then.

Morath, it seemed, mightverywellbetheirfirstorlastbattleground.Aedion cocked his head,

the Wolf incarnate. “Howmany?”“Too many,” Nesryn said.

“We haven’t gotten a fullcount. Some are campedinsidemountainssurroundingthe war camp—never out all

at once, never in full sight.But it’s an armygreater thananyhe’sassembledbefore.”Chaol’s palms became

slickwithsweat.“And more than that,”

Nesrynsaid,hervoicehoarse,“the king now has an aerialcavalry of Ironteeth witches—a host three thousandstrong—who have beensecretlytrainingintheFerianGap to ridewyverns that theking has somehow managed

tocreateandbreed.”Godsabove.Aelin lifted her head,

gazingupatthebrickwallasif she could see that aerialarmy there, the movementrevealing the ring of scarsaroundherneck.Dorian—they needed

Dorianonthethrone.Neededthisshutdown.“You are certain of this?”

Aedionsaid.Rowan was staring at

Nesryn, his face the portraitofacold,calculatingwarrior,and yet—yet he’d somehowmovedclosertoAelin.Nesryn said tightly, “We

lostmany spies to attain thatinformation.”Chaol wondered which of

themhadbeenherfriends.Aelin spoke, her voice flat

andhard.“JusttomakesureIhave it right: we are nowfacing three thousandbloodthirstyIronteethwitches

on wyverns. And a host ofdeadly soldiers gathering inthesouthofAdarlan,likelytocut off any alliance betweenTerrasen and the southernkingdoms.”LeavingTerrasenstranded.

Say it, Chaol silentlybeseeched her. Say that youneedDorian—freeandalive.Aedionmused,“Melisande

might be capable of unitingwith us.” He pinned Chaolwith an assessing stare—a

general’sstare.“Doyouthinkyour father knows about thewyvernsandwitches?Anielleis the closest city to theFerianGap.”Hisbloodchilled.Wasthat

why his father had been sokeen to get him home? Hesensed Aedion’s nextquestion before the generalspoke. “He doesn’t wear ablack ring,”Chaol said. “ButI doubt you’d find him apleasant ally—if he bothered

toallywithyouatall.”“Things to consider,”

Rowansaid,“shouldweneedan ally to punch through thesouthern lines.” Gods, theywere actually talking aboutthis. War—war was coming.And they might not allsurviveit.“So what are they waiting

for?” Aedion said, pacing.“Whynotattacknow?”Aelin’s voice was soft—

cold. “Me. They’re waiting

formetomakemymove.”None of them contradicted

her.Chaol’svoicewas strained

as he shoved aside hisswarming thoughts.“Anythingelse?”Nesryn reached into her

tunic and pulled out a letter.She handed it to Aedion.“From your second incommand.Theyallworryforyou.”“There’sataverndownthe

block.Giveme fiveminutes,andI’llhaveareplyforyou,”Aedion said, already stridingaway. Nesryn followed him,giving Chaol a silent nod.The general said over hisshouldertoRowanandAelin,his heavy hood concealingany telltale features, “I’ll seeyouathome.”Meetingover.But Aelin suddenly said,

“Thankyou.”Nesryn paused, somehow

knowing the queen hadspokentoher.Aelin put a hand on her

heart. “For all that you’rerisking—thankyou.”Nesryn’s eyes flickered as

she said, “Long live thequeen.”But Aelin had already

turnedaway.Nesryn met Chaol’s gaze,

andhefollowedafterherandAedion.An indestructible army,

possiblyledbyErawan,iftheKing ofAdarlanwere insaneenoughtoraisehim.An army that could crush

anyhumanresistance.But … but maybe not if

they allied with magic-wielders.That is, if the magic-

wielders, after all that hadbeen done to them, evenwanted tobothersaving theirworld.

“Talk to me,” Rowan saidfrom behind her as Aelinstormed down street afterstreet.She couldn’t. She couldn’t

form the thoughts, let alonethewords.Howmanyspiesandrebels

hadlosttheirlivestogetthatinformation? And howmuchworsewoulditfeelwhenshesent people to their deaths—

when she had to watch hersoldiers butchered by thosemonsters? If Elena hadthrown her a bone tonight,somehow leading that opiummonger to the Sin-Eater’stemplesothattheymightfindit, she wasn’t feelingparticularlygrateful.“Aelin,” Rowan said,

quietly enough for only herandthealleyratstohear.She’dbarelysurvivedBaba

Yellowlegs. How would

anyone survive an army ofwitchestrainedincombat?He gripped her elbow,

forcing her to stop. “We’llface this together,” hebreathed, his eyes shiningbright and canines gleaming.“As we have in the past. Towhateverend.”She trembled—trembled

likeagods-damnedcoward—and yanked free, stalkingaway. She didn’t even knowwhere she was going—only

that she had to walk, had tofindawaytosortherselfout,sorttheworldout,beforeshestopped moving, or else shewouldnevermoveagain.Wyverns.Witches.Anew,

even bigger army. The alleypressed in on her, sealing astightly as one of thosefloodedsewertunnels.“Talk tome,” Rowan said

again, keeping a respectfuldistancebehind.She knew these streets. A

few blocks down, she wouldfind one of the Valg sewerentrances.Maybeshe’d jumpright in and hack a few ofthemtopieces.Seewhattheyknew about the Dark KingErawan, andwhether hewasstill slumbering under thatmountain.Maybeshewouldn’tbother

withquestionsatall.There was a strong, broad

hand at her elbow, yankingher back against a hardmale

body.But the scent wasn’t

Rowan’s.Andtheknifeatherthroat,

the blade pressing so hardthat her skin stung and split…“Going somewhere,

Princess?” Lorcan breathedintoherear.

Rowan had thought he knew

fear.Hehadthoughthecouldface any danger with a clearheadandiceinhisveins.Until Lorcan appeared

fromtheshadows,sofastthatRowan hadn’t even scentedhim, and put that knifeagainstAelin’sthroat.“You move,” Lorcan

snarled in Aelin’s ear, “andyoudie.You speak, and youdie.Understand?”Aelin said nothing. If she

nodded,she’dsliceherthroat

openontheblade.Bloodwasshining there already, justabove her collarbone, fillingthealleywithitsscent.The smell of it alone sent

Rowan sliding into a frozen,murderouscalm.“Understand?” Lorcan

hissed, jostling her enoughthat her blood flowed a bitfaster. Still she said nothing,obeying his order. Lorcanchuckled. “Good. I thoughtso.”

The world slowed andspread around Rowan withsharp clarity, revealing everystoneofthebuildingsandthestreet, and the refuse andrubbish around them.Anything to give him anadvantage, to use as aweapon.If he’d had his magic, he

would have choked the airfromLorcan’s lungsbynow,wouldhaveshatteredthroughLorcan’s own dark shields

with half a thought. If he’dhadhismagic,hewouldhavehad a shield of their ownaroundthemfromthestart,sothis ambush could neverhappen.Aelin’seyesmethis.And fear—that was

genuinefearshiningthere.She knew she was in a

compromised position. Theybothknewthatnomatterhowfast he was, she was,Lorcan’s slice would be

faster.Lorcan smiled at Rowan,

his dark hood off for once.No doubt so that Rowancouldseeeverybitoftriumphin Lorcan’s black eyes. “Nowords,Prince?”“Why?” was all Rowan

could ask. Every action,every possible plan still lefthim too far away. Hewondered whether Lorcanrealized that if he killed her,Lorcan himself would be

next. Then Maeve. Andmaybetheworld,forspite.Lorcan craned his head to

lookatAelin’sface.Hereyesnarrowed to slits. “Where istheWyrdkey?”Aelin tensed, and Rowan

willedhernottospeak,nottotauntLorcan.“Wedon’thaveit,” Rowan said. Rage—unending,cataclysmicrage—poundedthroughhim.Exactly what Lorcan

wanted. Exactly how Rowan

had witnessed the demi-Faewarrior manipulate theirenemies for centuries. SoRowan locked that ragedown.Triedto,atleast.“I could snap this neck of

yourssoeasily,”Lorcansaid,grazing his nose against thesideofherthroat.Aelinwentrigid. The possessiveness inthat touch alone half blindedhim with feral wrath. It wasan effort to stifle it again asLorcan murmured onto her

skin, “You’re somuchbetterwhen you don’t open thathideousmouth.”“We don’t have the key,”

Rowan said again. He’dslaughter Lorcan in the wayonly immortals learned andliked to kill: slowly,viciously, creatively.Lorcan’s suffering would bethorough.“What if I told you we

were working for the sameside?”Lorcansaid.

“I’d tell you that Maeveworks for only one side: herown.”“Maeve didn’t send me

here.”Rowan could almost hear

the words Aelin wasstruggling to keep in. Liar.Piece-of-shitliar.“Then who did?” Rowan

demanded.“Ileft.”“Ifwe’reonthesameside,

then put your rutting knife

down,”Rowangrowled.Lorcan chuckled. “I don’t

want to hear the princessyapping.What I have to sayapplies to both of you.”Rowan waited, taking everysecond toassessandreassesstheir surroundings, the odds.At last, Lorcan loosened theblade slightly. Blood sliddown Aelin’s neck, onto hersuit. “You made the mistakeofyourshort,patheticmortallife when you gave Maeve

thatring.”Through the lethal calm,

Rowan felt the blood drainfromhisface.“You should have known

better,” Lorcan said, stillgripping Aelin around thewaist. “You should haveknown she wasn’t somesentimental fool, pining afterher lost love. She had plentyof things from Athril—whywouldshewanthisring?Hisring,andnotGoldryn?”

“Stop dancing around itandtelluswhatitis.”“But I’m having so much

fun.”Rowan leashed his temper

sohardthathechokedonit.“The ring,” Lorcan said,

“wasn’t some familyheirloom from Athril. Shekilled Athril. Shewanted thekeys, and the ring, and herefused, and she killed him.While they fought, Brannonstole them away, hiding the

ring with Goldryn andbringingthekeyshere.Didn’tyoueverwonderwhytheringwas in that scabbard? Ademon-huntingsword—andaringtomatch.”“If Maeve wants to kill

demons,” Rowan said, “wewon’tcomplain.”“The ring doesn’t kill

them. It grants immunityfrom their power. A ringforged by Mala herself. TheValg could not harm Athril

whenheworeit.”Aelin’s eyeswidenedeven

more, the scent of her fearshifting to something fardeeper than dread of bodilyharm.“The bearer of that ring,”

Lorcan went on, smiling atthe terror coating her smell,“need never fear beingenslaved byWyrdstone.Youhanded her your ownimmunity.”“That doesn’t explainwhy

youleft.”Lorcan’s face tightened.

“Sheslaughteredherloverforthe ring, for the keys. Shewill do far worse to attainthemnowthattheyareontheplaying board again. Andonce she has them … Myqueen will make herself agod.”“So?” The knife remained

too close to Aelin’s neck toriskattacking.“Itwilldestroyher.”

Rowan’s rage stumbled.“Youplantogetthekeys—tokeepthemfromher.”“Iplantodestroythekeys.

YougivemeyourWyrdkey,”Lorcan said, opening the fisthe’d held against Aelin’sabdomen, “and I’ll give youthering.”Sure enough, in his hand

shoneafamiliargoldring.“You shouldn’t be alive,”

Rowan said. “If you hadstolen the ring and fled, she

would have killed youalready.” It was a trap. Apretty,clevertrap.“Imovequickly.”Lorcan had been hauling

assoutofWendlyn. It didn’tproveanything,though.“Theothers—”“Noneof themknow.You

think I trust them not to sayanything?”“The blood oath makes

betrayalimpossible.”“I’m doing this for her

sake,” Lorcan said. “I’mdoing this because I do notwishtoseemyqueenbecomea demon herself. I amobeying the oath in thatregard.”Aelin was bristling now,

andLorcanclosedhisfingersaround the ring again.“You’re a fool, Rowan. Youthink only of the next fewyears, decades. What I amdoing is for the sake of thecenturies.Foreternity.Maeve

will send the others, youknow. To hunt you. To killyou both. Let tonight be areminder of yourvulnerability.Youwill neverknow peace for a singlemoment. Not one. And evenif we don’t kill Aelin of theWildfire…timewill.”Rowanshutoutthewords.LorcanpeeredatAelin,his

black hair shifting with themovement. “Think it over,Princess. What is immunity

worth in aworldwhere yourenemies are waiting toshackle you, where one slipcould mean becoming theireternalslave?”Aelinjustbaredherteeth.Lorcan shoved her away,

and Rowan was alreadymoving,lungingforher.She whirled, the built-in

blades in her suit flashingfree.ButLorcanwasgone.

After deciding that the slicesonherneckwereshallowandthat shewas in no danger ofdying from them, Rowandidn’t talk to her for the restofthejourneyhome.IfLorcanwasright…No,

hewasn’tright.Hewasaliar,and his bargain reeked ofMaeve’stricks.Aelin pressed a

handkerchief to her neck as

theywalked,andby the timethey reached the apartment,the wounds had clotted.Aedion, mercifully, wasalreadyinbed.Rowan strode right into

theirbedroom.She followed him in, but

he reached the bathroom andquietly shut the door behindhim.Running water gurgled a

heartbeatlater.Abath.He’d done a good job

concealing it, and his ragehadbeen…she’dneverseensomeone that wrathful. Butshe’d still seen the terror onhis face. It had been enoughto make her master her ownfear as fire started cracklingin her veins.And she’d tried—godsdamnit,she’dtried—tofindawayoutofthathold,but Lorcan … Rowan hadbeen right. Without hermagic, shewas nomatch forhim.

Hecouldhavekilledher.All she had been able to

think about, in spite of herkingdom, in spite of all shestillhadtodo,wasthefearinRowan’seyes.And that it would be a

shameifheneverknew…ifshenevertoldhim…Aelin cleaned her neck in

the kitchen,washed the littlebitofbloodfromhersuitandhung it in the living room todry, then pulled on one of

Rowan’s shirts and climbedintobed.She barely heard any

splashing.Maybehewasjustlying in the tub, staring atnothing with that hollowexpression he’d worn sinceLorcanhadremovedtheknifefromherthroat.Minutes passed, and she

shouted good night toAedion,whose echoing goodnight rumbled through thewalls.

Then the bathroom dooropened, a veil of steamrippled out, and Rowanappeared, a towel slung lowacross his hips. She took inthe muscled abdomen, thepowerfulshoulders,but—But the emptiness in those

eyes.Shepatted thebed.“Come

here.”He stood there, his eyes

lingering on her scabbedneck.

“We both are experts atclamming up, so let’s makean agreement to talk rightnow like even-tempered,reasonablepeople.”Hedidn’tmeethergazeas

hepaddedtowardthebedandslumped down beside her,stretching out over theblankets. She didn’t evenreprimandhimforgettingthesheets wet—or mention thathe could have taken half aminute to put on some

clothes.“Lookslikeourdaysoffun

are over,” she said, proppingher head with a fist andstaring down at him. Hegazed blankly at the ceiling.“Witches, dark lords, FaeQueens … If we make itthrough this alive, I’m goingtotakeanice,longvacation.”Hiseyeswerecold.“Don’t shut me out,” she

breathed.“Never,” he murmured.

“That’snot—”Herubbedhiseyes with his thumb andforefinger. “I failed youtonight.” His words were awhisperinthedarkness.“Rowan—”“He got close enough to

kill you. If it had beenanother enemy, they mighthave.”Thebedrumbledashetook a shuddering sigh andlowered his hand from hiseyes. The raw emotion theremade her bite her lip. Never

—never did he let her seethose things. “I failed you. Iswore to protect you, and Ifailedtonight.”“Rowan,it’sfine—”“It’s not fine.” His hand

was warm as it clamped onhershoulder.Shelethimturnherontoherback, and foundhim half on top of her as hepeeredintoherface.His body was a massive,

solid force of nature abovehers, but his eyes—the panic

lingered.“Ibrokeyourtrust.”“You did no such thing.

Rowan, you told him youwouldn’thandoverthekey.”He sucked in a breath, his

broad chest expanding. “Iwouldhave.Gods,Aelin—hehad me, and he didn’t evenknow it. He could havewaited another minute and Iwould have told him, ring ornoring.Erawan,witches, theking,Maeve…Iwould faceall of them. But losing you

…” He bowed his head, hisbreathwarminghermouthashe closed his eyes. “I failedyou tonight,” he murmured,hisvoicehoarse.“I’msorry.”His pine-and-snow scent

wrapped around her. Sheshouldmoveaway,rolloutofreach. Don’t touch me likethat.Yet therehewas,hishand

abrandonherbareshoulder,hisbodynearlycoveringhers.“You have nothing to be

sorry for,” she whispered. “Itrustyou,Rowan.”He gave her a barely

perceptiblenod.“I missed you,” he said

quietly, his gaze dartingbetweenhermouthandeyes.“When I was in Wendlyn. Ilied when I said I didn’t.From themoment you left, Imissed you so much I wentout of my mind. I was gladfortheexcusetotrackLorcanhere, just to see you again.

And tonight, when he hadthat knife at your throat…”The warmth of his callusedfinger bloomed through heras he traced a path over thecut on her neck. “I keptthinking about how youmight never know that Imissed you with only anocean between us. But if itwas death separating us… Iwould find you. I don’t carehow many rules it wouldbreak.EvenifIhadtogetall

threekeysmyselfandopenagate, Iwould findyouagain.Always.”She blinked back the

burning in her eyes as hereached between their bodiesand tookherhand,guiding itup to lay against his tattooedcheek.It was an effort to

remember how to breathe, tofocus on anything but thatsmooth,warmskin.Hedidn’ttear his eyes away fromhers

as she grazed her thumbalong his sharp cheekbone.Savoring each stroke, shecaressed his face, that tattoo,neverbreakinghisstare,evenasitstrippedhernaked.I’m sorry, he still seemed

tosay.She kept her stare locked

onhisassheletgoofhisfaceand slowly, making sure heunderstood every step of theway, tilted her head backuntil her throat was arched

andbaredbeforehim.“Aelin,” he breathed. Not

in reprimand orwarning, but… a plea. It sounded like aplea.He lowered his head toher exposed neck andhovered a hair’s breadthaway.She arched her neck

farther,asilentinvitation.Rowan letoutasoftgroan

and grazed his teeth againstherskin.One bite, one movement,

wasall itwould takeforhimtoripoutherthroat.His elongated canines slid

along her flesh—gently,precisely. She clenched thesheets to keep from runningher fingers down his barebackanddrawinghimcloser.Hebracedonehandbeside

her head, his fingers twininginherhair.“No one else,” she

whispered. “I would neverallow anyone else at my

throat.”Showinghimwastheonly way he’d understandthat trust, in a manner thatonly the predatory, Fae sideof him would comprehend.“Nooneelse,”shesaidagain.He let out another low

groan, answer andconfirmationandrequest,andtherumbleechoedinsideher.Carefully,heclosedhis teethover the spot where herlifeblood thrummed andpounded, his breath hot on

herskin.She shut her eyes, every

sense narrowing on thatsensation, on the teeth andmouth at her throat, on thepowerfulbodytremblingwithrestraint above hers. Histongue flicked against herskin.She made a small noise

thatmighthavebeenamoan,or a word, or his name. Heshuddered and pulled back,the cool air kissingherneck.

Wildness—pure wildnesssparkedinthoseeyes.Then he thoroughly,

brazenly surveyed her body,his nostrils flaring delicatelyas he scented exactly whatshewanted.Her breathing turned

raggedashedraggedhisstareto hers—hungry, feral,unyielding.“Notyet,”hesaidroughly,

his own breathing uneven.“Notnow.”

“Why?”Itwasaneffort toremember speech with himlooking at her like that. Likehe might eat her alive. Heatpoundedthroughhercore.“I want to take my time

with you—to learn… everyinch of you. And thisapartmenthasvery,very thinwalls.Idon’twanttohaveanaudience,” he added as heleaned down again, brushinghismouthover thecut at thebase of her throat, “when I

makeyoumoan,Aelin.”Oh,by theWyrd.Shewas

in trouble. So much ruttingtrouble.Andwhenhesaidhernamelikethat…“This changes things,” she

said, hardly able to get thewordsout.“Things have been

changingforawhilealready.We’ll deal with it.” Shewondered how long hisresolve to wait would last ifsheliftedherfacetoclaimhis

mouth with her own, if sheran her fingers down thegroove of his spine. If shetouched him lower than that.But—Wyverns. Witches. Army.

Erawan.She loosedaheavybreath.

“Sleep,” she mumbled. “Weshouldsleep.”He swallowed again,

slowly peeling himself awayfrom her and strode to thecloset to dress. Honestly, it

wasaneffortnottoleapafterhim and rip that damn towelaway.Maybe she should make

Aedion go stay somewhereelse.Justforanight.And then she would burn

in hell for all eternity forbeing themost selfish, awfulpersontoevergracetheearth.She forced herself to put

her back to the closet, nottrustingherselftosomuchaslookatRowanwithoutdoing

somethinginfinitelystupid.Oh, she was in so much

gods-damnedtrouble.

53

Drink, the demon princecoaxed in a lover’s croon.Savorit.The prisoner was sobbing

on the floor of the dungeoncell, his fear and pain andmemories leaking from him.The demon prince inhaledthem as though they were

opium.Delicious.Itwas.He hated himself, cursed

himself.But the despair coming

from the man as his worstmemories ripped him toshreds…itwas intoxicating.Itwasstrength;itwaslife.Hehadnothingandnoone,

anyway.Ifhegotthechance,hewouldfindawaytoendit.For now, this was eternity,

this was birth and death andrebirth.So he drank the man’s

pain,hisfear,hissorrow.Andhelearnedtolikeit.

54

Manonstaredattheletterthatthe trembling messenger hadjust delivered. Elide wastrying her best to look asthough she wasn’t observingevery flick of Manon’s eyesacross the page, but it washard not to stare when thewitch snarled with every

wordsheread.Elide lay on her pallet of

hay, the fire already dyingdowntoembers,andgroanedas she sat up, her sore bodyaching. She’d found a waterskein in the larder, and hadeven asked the cook if shecould take it for the WingLeader.Hedidn’tdareobject.Orbegrudgeherthetwolittlebags of nuts she had alsonabbed “for the WingLeader.”Betterthannothing.

She’d stored it all underher pallet, andManonhadn’tnoticed. Any day now, thewagonwouldbearrivingwithsupplies. When it left, Elidewould be on it. And neverhave to dealwith anyof thisdarknessagain.Elide reached for the pile

of logs and added two to thefire, sending sparks shootingup in awave.Shewasaboutto lie down again whenManon said from the desk,

“Inthreedays,I’llbeheadingoutwithmyThirteen.”“To where?” Elide dared

ask. From the violence withwhich the Wing Leader hadread the letter, it couldn’t beanywherepleasant.“To a forest in the North.

To—”Manon caught herselfand moved across the floor,herstepslightbutpowerfulasshe came to the hearth andchucked the letter in. “I’ll begoneforatleasttwodays.IfI

were you, I’d suggest usingthattimetolielow.”Elide’s stomach twisted at

the thought of what, exactly,it might mean for the WingLeader’s protection to bethousandsofmilesaway.Butthere was no point in tellingManon that. She wouldn’tcare, even if she’d claimedElideasoneofherkind.It meant nothing, anyway.

Shewasn’tawitch.She’dbeescaping soon. She doubted

anyone here would reallythink twice about herdisappearance.“I’lllielow,”Elidesaid.Perhaps in the back of a

wagon,asitmadeitswayoutof Morath and to freedombeyond.

It took three whole days toprepareforthemeeting.The Matron’s letter had

contained no mention of thebreeding and slaughter ofwitches. In fact, it was as ifher grandmother hadn’treceived any of Manon’smessages.AssoonasManongot back from this littlemission, she’d startquestioning the Keep’smessengers. Slowly.Painfully.TheThirteenweretoflyto

coordinates in Adarlan—smack in the middle of the

kingdom, just inside thetangle of Oakwald Forest—and arrive a day before thearrangedmeeting to establishasafeperimeter.For the King of Adarlan

wastoat lastseetheweaponher grandmother had beenbuilding, and apparentlywanted to inspect Manon aswell. He was bringing hisson,thoughManondoubteditwas for guarding his back inthe way that the heirs

protected their Matrons. Shedidn’t particularly care—aboutanyofit.A stupid, useless meeting,

she’d almost wanted to tellher grandmother.Awaste ofhertime.At least seeing the king

wouldprovideanopportunityto meet the man who wassending out these orders todestroy witches and makemonstrosities of theirwitchlings.Atleastshewould

be able to tell hergrandmother in person aboutit—maybe even witness theMatron make mincemeat ofthekingonceshelearnedthetruthaboutwhathe’ddone.Manon climbed into the

saddle, and Abraxos walkedoutontothepost,adjustingtothe latest armor the aerialblacksmith had crafted—finally light enough for thewyverns tomanage,andnowtobetestedonthistrip.Wind

bit at her, but she ignored it.Just as she’d ignored herThirteen.Asterin wouldn’t speak to

her—and none of them hadspokenabouttheValgprincethat the duke had sent tothem.It had been a test, to see

who would survive, and toremindherwhatwasatstake.Just as unleashing

shadowfire on that tribe hadbeenatest.

She still couldn’t pick acoven. And she wouldn’t,until she’d spoken to hergrandmother.But she doubted that the

duke would wait muchlonger.Manon gazed into the

plunge, at the ever-growingarmy sweeping across themountains and valleys like acarpetofdarknessand fire—somanymoresoldiershiddenbeneath it. Her Shadows had

reported that very morningabout spotting lean, wingedcreatureswith twistedhumanforms soaring through thenight skies—too swift andagile to track before theyvanished into the heavycloudsanddidnotreturn.ThemajorityofMorath’shorrors,Manon suspected, had yet tobe revealed.Shewondered ifshe’dcommandthem,too.She felt the eyes of her

Thirteen on her, waiting for

thesignal.Manon dug her heels into

Abraxos’sside,andtheyfree-fellintotheair.

Thescaronherarmached.It always ached—more

thanthecollar,morethanthecold, more than the duke’shands on her, more thananything that had been doneto her. Only the shadowfire

wasacomfort.Shehadoncebelievedthat

she’dbeenborntobequeen.She had since learned that

she’dbeenborntobeawolf.The duke had even put a

collar on her like a dog, andhad shoved a demon princeinsideher.She’dlet itwinfora time,

curling up so tightly insideherself that the prince forgotshewasthere.Andshewaited.

Inthatcocoonofdarkness,she bided her time, lettinghim think her gone, lettingthemdowhat theywanted tothemortalshellaroundher.Itwasinthatcocoonwheretheshadowfire began to flicker,fuelingher,feedingher.Longago,whenshewassmallandclean, flames of gold hadcrackledatherfingers,secretand hidden. Then they hadvanished, as all good thingshadvanished.

Andnowtheyhadreturned—reborn within that darkshellasphantomfire.The prince inside her did

notnoticewhenshebegantonibbleathim.Bit by bit, she stole

morsels of the otherworldlycreature that had taken herbody for its skin, who didsuchdespicablethingswithit.The creature noticed the

day she took a bigger bite—bigenoughthatitscreamedin

agony.Beforeitcouldtellanyone,

she leaped upon it, tearingand ripping with hershadowfireuntilonlyashesofmalice remained, until itwasno more than a whisper ofthought. Fire—it did not likefireofanykind.For weeks now, she had

been here. Waiting again.Learning about the flame inher veins—how it bled intothe thing in her arm and

reemergedasshadowfire.Thethingspoketohersometimes,in languages she had neverheard, that had maybe neverexisted.Thecollarremainedaround

her neck, and she let themorder her around, let themtouch her, hurt her. Soonenough—soon enough shewould find true purpose, andthen she would howl herwrathatthemoon.She’d forgotten the name

she’dbeengiven,butitmadeno difference. She had onlyonenamenow:Death,devourerofworlds.

55

Aelinfullybelievedinghosts.She just didn’t think they

usually came out during theday.Rowan’s hand clamped

ontohershoulderrightbeforesunrise.She tookone lookathis tight face and bracedherself. “Someone’s broken

intothewarehouse.”Rowan was out of the

room, armed and fully readyto shed blood before Aelincouldgrabherownweapons.Gods above—he moved likethewind, too.She could stillfeelhis canines at her throat,rasping against her skin,pressingdownlightly—On near-silent feet, she

went after him, finding himand Aedion standing beforetheapartmentdoor,blades in

hand, their muscled, scarredbacks rigid. The windows—they were their best optionsfor escape if it was anambush.Shereached the twomales just as Rowan easedopen the door to reveal thegloomofthestairwell.Collapsed in a heap,

Evangeline was sobbing onthe stair landing, her scarredface deathly pale and thosecitrine eyes wide with terroras she peered up at Rowan

and Aedion. Hundreds ofpounds of lethal muscle andbaredteeth—Aelin shoved past them,

taking the stairs by twos andthrees until she reached thegirl. She was clean—not ascratch on her. “Are youhurt?”She shook her head, her

red-gold hair catching thelightofthecandlethatRowanbrought down. The staircaseshudderedwitheverystephe

andAediontook.“Tell me,” Aelin panted,

silently praying it wasn’t asbad as it seemed. “Tell meeverything.”“They took her, they took

her,theytookher.”“Who?” Aelin said,

brushing back the girl’s hair,wonderingwhethershewouldpanicifsheheldher.“The king’s men,”

Evangelinewhispered.“Theycame with a letter from

Arobynn. Said it was inArobynn’s will that they betold about Lysandra’s b-b-bloodline.”Aelin’sheartstoppeddead.

Worse—far worse than whatshe’dbracedfor—“They said she was a

shape-shifter. They took her,and they were going to takeme,too,butshefoughtthem,and she made me run, andClarissewouldn’thelp—”“Wheredidtheytakeher?”

Evangeline sobbed. “Idon’t know. Lysandra said Iwas tocomehere ifanythingeverhappened;shetoldmetotellyoutorun—”She couldn’t breathe,

couldn’t think. Rowan kneltdownbesidethemandslidhisarms around the girl,scooping her up, his hand sobig that it nearly envelopedthe entire back of her head.Evangelineburiedherfaceinhistattooedchest,andRowan

murmuredwordlesssoundsofcomfort.He met Aelin’s eyes over

thegirl’shead.Weneedtobeout of this house in tenminutes—until we figure outifhebetrayedyou,too.Asifhe’dheardit,Aedion

edgedpastthem,goingtothewarehouse window thatEvangeline had somehowslipped in through.Lysandra,it seemed, had taught herchargeafewthings.

Aelin scrubbed at her faceand braced a hand onRowan’s shoulder as shestood,hisskinwarmandsoftbeneath her callused fingers.“Nesryn’s father. We’ll askhimtolookafterhertoday.”Arobynn had done this. A

finalcarduphissleeve.He’d known. About

Lysandra—about theirfriendship.He didn’t like to share his

belongings.

Chaol and Nesryn burstinto the warehouse a levelbelow, and Aedion washalfway to them before theyevenrealizedhewasthere.They hadmore news.One

of Ren’s men had contactedthemmomentsago:ameetingwastotakeplacetomorrowinOakwald, between the king,Dorian,and theWingLeaderofhisaerialcavalry.Withadeliveryofonenew

prisonerheadedforMorath.

“Youhavetogetheroutofthe tunnels,” Aelin said toChaol and Nesryn, as shestormed down the stairs.“Right now. You’re human;theywon’tnoticeyouatfirst.You’retheonlyoneswhocangointothatdarkness.”Chaol and Nesryn

exchangedglances.Aelin stalked up to them.

“Youhavetogetheroutrightnow.”Foraheartbeat,shewasn’t

in the warehouse. For aheartbeat,shewasstandinginabeautifulbedroom,beforeabloody bed and the wreckedbodysplayeduponit.Chaol held out his hands.

“We’re better off spendingthe time setting up anambush.”The sound of his voice…

Thescaronhisfacewasstarkin the dim light. Aelinclenched her fingers into afist, her nails—the nails that

had shredded his face—digging in. “They could befeedingonher,”shemanagedtosay.Behind her,Evangeline let

out a sob. If they madeLysandra endure what Aelinhadenduredwhenshefoughtthe Valg prince… “Please,”Aelinsaid,hervoicebreakingontheword.Chaolnoticed, then,where

her eyes had focused on hisface. He paled, his mouth

opening.ButNesrynreachedforher

hand, her slim, tan fingerscool against Aelin’s clammypalms.“Wewillgetherback.Wewillsaveher.Together.”Chaol just held Aelin’s

gaze, his shoulders squaringashesaid,“Neveragain.”Shewantedtobelievehim.

56

A few hours later, seated onthe floorofa ramshackle innon the opposite side ofRifthold, Aelin peered at amap they’d marked with themeeting’s location spot—about half a mile from thetemple of Temis. The tinytemple was just inside the

cover of Oakwald, perchedatop a towering slice of rockin the middle of a deepravine.Itwasaccessibleonlyvia two dangling footbridgesattached to either side of theravine, which had spared itfrom invading armies overthe years. The surroundingforestwouldlikelybeempty,andifwyvernswereflyingin,they would no doubt arriveunder cover of darkness thenightbefore.Tonight.

Aelin, Rowan, Aedion,Nesryn,andChaolsataroundthe map, sharpening andpolishing theirbladesas theytalkedovertheirplan.They’dgivenEvangelinetoNesryn’sfather,alongwithmorelettersfor Terrasen and the Bane—and the baker hadn’t askedany questions. He’d onlykissed his youngest daughteron the cheek and announcedthatheandEvangelinewouldbake special pies for their

return.Iftheyreturned.“Whatifshehasacollaror

aringon?”Chaolaskedfromacrosstheirlittlecircle.“Thenshelosesaheadora

finger,”Aedionsaidbaldly.Aelin shot him a look.

“You don’t make that callwithoutme.”“And Dorian?” Aedion

asked.Chaol was staring at the

map as if he would burn a

hole through it. “Not mycall,”Aelinsaidtightly.Chaol’s eyes flashed to

hers.“Youdon’ttouchhim.”It was a terrible risk, to

bringthemallwithinrangeofa Valg prince, but … “Wepaint ourselves inWyrdmarks,”Aelinsaid.“Allof us. To ward against theprince.”In the ten minutes it had

taken them to grab theirweapons, clothes, and

supplies from the warehouseapartment,she’drememberedto get her books onWyrdmarks, which now saton the little table before thesole window in the room.They’d rented three for thenight: one for Aelin andRowan, one for Aedion, andthe other for Chaol andNesryn. The gold coin she’dslapped onto the innkeeper’scounter had been enough topayforatleastamonth.And

hissilence.“Dowetakeouttheking?”

Aedionsaid.“Wedon’tengage,”Rowan

replied, “until we know forsurewecankill thekingandneutralize the prince withminimal risk. GettingLysandra out of that wagoncomesfirst.”“Agreed,”Aelinsaid.Aedion’s gaze settled on

Rowan.“Whendoweleave?”Aelin wondered at his

yieldingtotheFaePrince.“I don’t want those

wyverns or witches sniffingus out,” Rowan said, thecommander bracing for thebattlefield. “We arrive justbefore the meeting takesplace—long enough to findadvantageous spots and tolocate their scouts andsentries. The witches’ senseof smell is too keen to riskdiscovery.Wemoveinfast.”She couldn’t decide

whether or not she wasrelieved.The clock chimed noon.

Nesryn rose to her feet. “I’llorderlunch.”Chaol got up, stretching.

“I’ll help you bring it up.”Indeed, in a place like this,theywouldgetnokitchen-to-room service. Though in aplace like this, Aelinsupposed, Chaol might verywellbegoing tokeepaneyeonFaliq’sback.Good.

Once they left, Aelinpicked up one of Nesryn’sbladesandbeganpolishingit:adecentdagger,butnotgreat.If they lived past tomorrow,maybe she would buy her abetteroneasathank-you.“Too bad Lorcan’s a

psychotic bastard,” she said.“We could use himtomorrow.” Rowan’s mouthtightened. “What will he dowhen he finds out aboutAedion’sheritage?”

Aedion set down thedagger he’d been honing.“Willheevencare?”Halfway through polishing

ashortsword,Rowanpaused.“Lorcanmightnotgiveashit—or he might find Aedionintriguing. But he wouldmore likely be interested inhow Aedion’s existence canbeusedagainstGavriel.”She eyed her cousin, his

golden hair now seemingmore proof of his ties to

Gavriel than to her. “Doyouwant to meet him?” Perhapsshe’dbrought thisuponly tokeep from thinking abouttomorrow.A shrug. “I’d be curious,

but I’m not in any rush.Notunless he’s going to drag hiscadre over here to help withthefighting.”“Such a pragmatist.” She

faced Rowan, whowas backat work on the sword.“Would they ever be

convinced to help, despitewhatLorcansaid?”Theyhadprovided aid once—duringtheattackonMistward.“Unlikely,” Rowan said,

not looking up from theblade.“UnlessMaevedecidesthatsendingyousuccoristhenextmove inwhatever gameshe’s playing. Maybe she’llwant to ally with you to killLorcan for his betrayal.” Hemused,“SomeoftheFaewhousedtodwellheremightstill

be alive and in hiding.Perhapstheycouldbetrained—oralreadyhavetraining.”“I wouldn’t count on it,”

Aedionsaid.“TheLittleFolkI’veseenandfeltinOakwald.ButtheFae…Notawhisperof them there.” He didn’tmeet Rowan’s eyes, andinstead started cleaningChaol’s final unsharpenedblade. “Thekingwiped themout too thoroughly. I wouldbetanysurvivorsarestuckin

theiranimalforms.”Aelin’s body became

heavy with a familiar grief.“We’ll figure all that outlater.”If they lived long enough

todoso.

For the rest of the day andwell intotheevening,Rowanplannedtheircourseofactionwith the same efficiency

she’d come to expect andcherish. But it didn’t feelcomforting now—not whenthe dangerwas so great, andeverything could change in amatter ofminutes.NotwhenLysandra might already bebeyondsaving.“You should be sleeping,”

Rowan said, his deep voicerumbling across the bed andalongherskin.“The bed’s lumpy,” Aelin

said.“Ihatecheapinns.”

His low laugh echoed inthe near-dark of the room.She’d rigged the door andwindow to alert them to anyintruder, but with the ruckuscomingfromtheseedytaverndownstairs, they would haveahardtimehearinganyoneinthe hall. Especially whensome of the rooms wererentedbythehour.“We’ll get her back,

Aelin.”Thebedwasmuchsmaller

thanhers—small enough thather shoulder brushed his asshe turned over. She foundhim already facing her, hiseyesgleaming in thedark.“Ican’tburyanotherfriend.”“Youwon’t.”“Ifanythingeverhappened

toyou,Rowan—”“Don’t,” he breathed.

“Don’t even say it.We dealtwith that enough the othernight.”He lifted a hand—

hesitated, and then brushedbackastrandofhairthathadfallen across her face. Hiscallused fingers scrapedagainst her cheekbone, thencaressedtheshellofherear.Itwasfoolish toevenstart

down this road, when everyothermanshe’dletinhadleftsome wound, in one way oranother,accidentallyornot.There was nothing soft or

tender on his face. Only apredator’s glittering gaze.

“Whenwegetback,”hesaid,“remind me to prove youwrong about every thoughtthat just went through yourhead.”She lifted an eyebrow.

“Oh?”He gave her a sly smile

that made thinkingimpossible. Exactly what hewanted—to distract her fromthehorrorsoftomorrow.“I’llevenletyoudecidehowItellyou: with words”—his eyes

flicked once to her mouth—“or with my teeth andtongue.”A thrill went through her

blood, pooling in her core.Not fair—not fair at all totease her like that. “Thismiserable inn is rather loud,”she said, daring to slide ahand over his bare pectoral,then up to his shoulder. Shemarveled at the strengthbeneath her palm. Heshuddered, but his hands

remained at his sides,clenchedandwhiteknuckled.“It’s too bad Aedion couldstill probably hear throughthewall.”She gently scraped her

nails across his collarbone,marking him, claiming him,beforeleaningintopresshermouth to the hollow of histhroat. His skin was sosmooth,soinvitinglywarm.“Aelin,”hegroaned.Her toes curled at the

roughness in his voice. “Toobad,” she murmured againsthisneck.Hegrowled,andshechuckledquietlyassherolledback over and closed hereyes, her breathing easierthan it had been momentsbefore. She’d get throughtomorrow, regardlessofwhathappened. She wasn’t alone—notwithhim,andnotwithAedionalsobesideher.She was smiling when the

mattress shifted, steady

footsteps padded toward thedresser, and the sounds ofsplashing filled the room asRowandunked thepitcherofcoldwateroverhimself.

57

“I can smell them all right,”Aedion said, his whisperbarely audible as they creptthrough the underbrush, eachof themclothed ingreenandbrowntoremainconcealedinthe dense forest. He andRowan walked several pacesahead of Aelin, arrows

loosely nocked in their bowsas they picked out the waywith their keen hearing andsmell.If she had her damn Fae

form, she could be helpinginstead of lingering behindwithChaolandNesryn,but—Not a useful thought, she

toldherself.Shewouldmakedowithwhatshehad.Chaolknewtheforestbest,

havingcomehuntingthiswaywith Dorian countless times.

He’dlaidoutapathforthemthe night before, but hadyieldedleadingtothetwoFaewarriorsandtheirimpeccablesenses. His steps wereunfaltering on the leaves andmossbeneath their boots, hisface drawn but steady.Focused.Good.They passed through the

trees of Oakwald so silentlythatthebirdsdidn’tstoptheirchirping.

Brannon’s forest. Herforest.She wondered if its

denizens knew what bloodflowed in her veins, and hidtheir little party from thehorrors waiting ahead. Shewondered if they’d somehowhelp Lysandra when it cametime.Rowan paused ten feet

ahead and pointed to threetowering oaks. She halted,her ears straining as she

scannedtheforest.Growlsandroarsofbeasts

that sounded far too largerumbled toward them, alongwith the scrape of leatherywingsonstone.Bracing herself, she

hurried to where Rowan andAedion were waiting by theoaktrees,hercousinpointingskywardtoindicatetheirnextmovement.Aelin took the center tree,

hardly disturbing a leaf or

twig as she climbed. Rowanwaited until she’d reached ahighbranchbeforecomingupafter her—in about the sameamountof timeshehaddoneit, she noted a bit smugly.Aedion took the tree to theright,withChaolandNesrynscalingtheleft.Theyallkeptclimbing, as smoothly assnakes, until the foliageblocked their view of thegroundbelowand theycouldsee into a little meadow up

ahead.Holygods.The wyverns were

enormous. Enormous,vicious, and … and thosewere indeed saddles on theirbacks.“Poisonedbarbsonthetail,” Rowan mouthed in herear. “With that wingspan,they can probably flyhundredsofmilesaday.”He would know, she

supposed.Only thirteen wyverns

were grounded in themeadow. The smallest ofthem was sprawled on hisbelly,faceburiedinamoundof wildflowers. Iron spikesgleamedonhis tail in lieuofbone, scars covered his bodylike a cat’s stripes, and hiswings … she knew thematerial grafted there.Spidersilk. That much of itmusthavecostafortune.Theotherwyvernswereall

normal, and all capable of

ripping aman in half in onebite.Theywouldbedeadwithin

momentsagainstoneofthesethings. But an army threethousand strong? Panicpushedin.I am Aelin Ashryver

Galathynius—“That one—I bet she’s the

Wing Leader,” Rowan said,pointing now to the womengathered at the edge of themeadow.

Notwomen.Witches.They were all young and

beautiful, with hair and skinofeveryshadeandcolor.Buteven from the distance, shepicked out the one Rowanhad pointed to.Her hairwaslike living moonlight, hereyeslikeburnishedgold.Shewasthemostbeautiful

personAelinhadeverseen.Andthemosthorrifying.Shemovedwithaswagger

that Aelin supposed only an

immortal could achieve, herred cloak snapping behindher, the riding leathersclinging to her lithe body.Aliving weapon—that’s whattheWingLeaderwas.TheWing Leader prowled

through the camp, inspectingthe wyverns and givingorders Aelin’s human earscouldn’t hear. The othertwelve witches seemed totrackhereverymovement,asif she were the axis of their

world, and two of themfollowed behind herespecially closely.Lieutenants.Aelin fought to keep her

balanceonthewidebough.Any army that Terrasen

might raise would beannihilated. Along with thefriendsaroundher.Theywereallso,sodead.Rowan put a hand on her

waist, as ifhecouldhear therefrain pounding through her

with every heartbeat. “Youtook down one of theirMatrons,” he said in her ear,barely more than a rustlingleaf.“Youcantakedownherinferiors.”Maybe. Maybe not, given

the way the thirteen witchesin the clearing moved andinteracted.Theywereatight-knit,brutalunit.Theydidnotlook like the sort that tookprisoners.If they did, they likely ate

them.WouldtheyflyLysandrato

Morath once the prisonwagon arrived? If so …“Lysandra doesn’t getwithinthirtyfeetofthewyverns.”Ifshe got hauled onto one ofthem, then it would alreadybetoolate.“Agreed,” Rowan

murmured. “Horsesapproaching from the north.And more wings from thewest.Let’sgo.”

The Matron, then. Thehorseswouldbethekingandthe prison wagon. AndDorian.Aedion looked ready to

startrippingoutwitchthroatsas they reached the groundand slunk through the forestagain, heading for theclearing.Nesrynhadanarrownocked in her bow as sheslipped into the brush toprovidecover,her facegrave—readyforanything.Atleast

thatmadeoneofthem.Aelin fell into step beside

Chaol. “No matter what youseeorhear,donotmove.Weneed to assess Dorian beforeweact.JustoneofthoseValgprincesislethal.”“Iknow,”hesaid,refusing

to meet her stare. “You cantrustme.”“I need you to make sure

Lysandragetsout.Youknowthis forest better than any ofus.Gethersomewheresafe.”

Chaolnodded.“Ipromise.”Shedidn’tdoubt it.Notafterthiswinter.She reached out, paused—

and then put a hand on hisshoulder. “I won’t touchDorian,” she said. “I swearit.”His bronze eyes flickered.

“Thankyou.”Theykeptmoving.Aedion and Rowan had

themalldoublingbacktothearea they’d scouted earlier, a

little outcropping of boulderswith enough brush for themtocrouchunseenandobserveeverything that washappeningintheclearing.Slowly, like lovelywraiths

fromahell-realm,thewitchesappeared.The white-haired witch

strode to greet an older,black-haired female whocould only be theMatron ofthe Blackbeak Clan. Behindthe Matron, a cluster of

witches hauled a largecoveredwagon,muchliketheone theYellowlegs had onceparked before the glasspalace. The wyverns musthavecarrieditbetweenthem.It looked ordinary—paintedblack and blue and yellow—but Aelin had a feeling thatshedidn’twanttoknowwhatwasinside.Then the royal party

arrived.She didn’t know where to

look:at theKingofAdarlan,at the small, too-familiarprisonwagoninthecenteroftheriders…Or atDorian, riding at his

father’sside,thatblackcollararound his neck and nothinghumaninhisface.

58

Manon Blackbeak hated thisforest.The treeswere unnaturally

close—so close that they’dhad to leave the wyvernsbehindinorder tomaketheirway to the clearing a halfmile from the crumblingtemple. At least the humans

hadn’tbeen stupidenough topick the temple itself as ameeting site. It was tooprecariously perched, theravine too open to spyingeyes. Yesterday, Manon andthe Thirteen had scouted allthe clearings within a mileradius, weighing them fortheir visibility, accessibility,and cover, and finally settledon this one. Near enough towherethekinghadoriginallydemanded they meet—but a

farmoreprotectedspot.Ruleone of dealing with mortals:never let thempick theexactlocation.First, her grandmother and

her escort coven strodethrough the trees fromwherever they’d landed, acovered wagon in tow, nodoubt carrying the weaponshe’d created. She assessedManonwithaslashingglanceandmerelysaid,“Keepsilentand out of our way. Speak

only when spoken to. Don’tcause trouble, or I’ll rip outyourthroat.”Later,then.Shewouldtalk

tohergrandmotherabout theValglater.The kingwas late, and his

party made enough gods-damnednoiseastheytraipsedthrough the woods thatManon heard them a goodfiveminutesbeforetheking’smassive black warhorseappeared around the bend in

the path. The other ridersflowedbehindhimlikeadarkshadow.The scent of the Valg

slitheredalongherbody.They’d brought a prison

wagonwith them, containingaprisonertobetransferredtoMorath. Female, from thesmell of her—and strange.She’dnevercomeacrossthatscent before: not Valg, notFae, not entirely human.Interesting.

But the Thirteen werewarriors,notcouriers.Herhandsbehindherback,

Manon waited as hergrandmother glided towardthe king, monitoring hishuman-Valg entourage whilethey surveyed the clearing.The man closest to the kingdidn’t bother glancingaround. His sapphire eyeswent right to Manon, andstayedthere.He would have been

beautiful were it not for thedark collar around his throatand the utter coldness in hisperfectface.He smiled at Manon as

though he knew the taste ofherblood.Shestifledtheurgetobare

herteethandshiftedherfocusto theMatron,who had nowstopped before the mortalking. Such a reek from thesepeople. How was hergrandmothernotgrimacingas

shestoodbeforethem?“Your Majesty,” her

grandmother said, her blackrobes like liquidnight as shegave the slightest of bobs.Manonshutdownthebarkofprotest in her throat. Never—neverhadhergrandmotherbowedorcurtsiedorsomuchas nodded for another ruler,noteventheotherMatrons.Manon shoved the outrage

down deep as the kingdismounted in one powerful

movement. “HighWitch,”hesaid, angling his head in notquite a bow, but enough toshow some kernel ofacknowledgment. A massivesword hung at his side. Hisclothes were dark and rich,andhisface…Crueltyincarnate.Not the cold, cunning

crueltythatManonhadhonedand delighted in, but base,brute cruelty, the kind thatsent all those men to break

intohercottages,thinkingherinneedofalesson.Thiswasthemantowhom

theywere to bow. Towhomhergrandmotherhad loweredherheadafractionofaninch.Her grandmother gestured

behind her with an iron-tippedhand,andManonliftedherchin.“Ipresenttoyoumygranddaughter, Manon, heirof the Blackbeak Clan andWing Leader of your aerialcavalry.”

Manon stepped forward,enduring the raking gaze ofthe king. The dark-hairedyoungmanwhohadriddenathis side dismounted withfluid grace, still smirking ather.Sheignoredhim.“You do your people a

great service,Wing Leader,”the king said, his voice likegranite.Manon just stared at him,

keenly aware of the Matronjudginghereverymove.

“Aren’t you going to sayanything?” the kingdemanded,his thickbrows—onescarred—high.“I was told to keep my

mouth shut,” Manon said.Her grandmother’s eyesflashed.“Unlessyou’dpreferI get on my knees andgrovel.”Oh, there would certainly

behelltopayforthatremark.Her grandmother turned tothe king. “She’s an arrogant

thing, but you’ll find nodeadlierwarrior.”Butthekingwassmiling—

thoughitdidn’treachhisdarkeyes. “I don’t think you’veevergroveledforanything inyourlife,WingLeader.”Manon gave him a half

smileinreturn,herironteethout.Lethisyoungcompanionwethimselfatthesight.“Wewitches aren’t born to grovelbeforehumans.”The king chuckled

mirthlessly and faced hergrandmother, whose iron-tipped fingers had curved asif she were imagining themaroundManon’sthroat.“YouchoseourWingLeaderwell,Matron,” he said, and thengesturedtothewagonpaintedwith the Ironteeth banner.“Let us see what you’vebroughtforme.Ihopeitwillbe equally impressive—andworththewait.”Her grandmother grinned,

revealing iron teeth that hadbegun to rust in some spots,and ice licked up Manon’sspine.“Thisway.”Shouldersback,headhigh,

Manon waited at the bottomof thewagon steps to followthe Matron and the kinginside,buttheman—somuchtaller and wider than she upclose—frowned at the sightofher.“MysoncanentertaintheWingLeader.”And that was it—she was

shut out as he and hergrandmothervanishedwithin.Apparently,shewasn’ttoseethis weapon. At least, not asoneof thefirst,WingLeaderor not. Manon took a breathandcheckedhertemper.Half of the Thirteen

encircled the wagon for theMatron’s safety, while theothers dispersed to monitorthe royal party around them.Knowing their place, theirinadequacy in the faceof the

Thirteen, the escort covenfaded back into the tree line.Black-uniformed guardswatched them all, somearmedwithspears,somewithcrossbows,somewithviciousswords.The prince was now

leaningagainstagnarledoak.Noticing her attention, hegaveheralazygrin.It was enough.King’s son

or not, she didn’t give adamn.

Manon crossed theclearing, Sorrel behind her.On edge, but keeping herdistance.There was no one in

earshot as Manon stopped afew feet away from theCrown Prince. “Hello,princeling,”shepurred.

The world kept slipping outfromunderneathChaol’sfeet,

somuchsothathegrabbedahandful of dirt just toremember where he was andthat this was real, not somenightmare.Dorian.His friend; unharmed, but

—butnotDorian.Not even close to Dorian,

as the prince smirked at thatbeautiful,white-hairedwitch.Thefacewasthesame,but

the soul gazing out of thosesapphire eyes had not been

createdinthisworld.Chaol squeezed the dirt

harder.He had run. He had run

from Dorian, and let thishappen.Ithadn’tbeenhopethathe

carried when he fled, butstupidity.Aelin had been right. It

wouldbeamercytokillhim.With the king andMatron

occupied … Chaol glancedtowardthewagonandthenat

Aelin, lying on her stomachin the brush, a dagger out.She gave him a quick nod,hermouth a tight line. Now.If they were going to maketheir move to free Lysandra,itwouldhavetobenow.And for Nehemia, for the

friend vanished beneath aWyrdstone collar, he wouldnotfalter.

The ancient, cruel demonsquatting inside him beganthrashing as the white-hairedwitchsauntereduptohim.Ithadbeencontenttosneer

from afar.One of us, one ofours, it hissed to him. Wemadeit,sowe’lltakeit.Everystepclosermadeher

unbound hair shimmer likemoonlight on water. But thedemon began scramblingaway as the sun lit up hereyes.

Not too close, it said. Donotletthewitchlingtooclose.TheeyesoftheValgkings—“Hello, princeling,” she

said, her voice bedroom-softandfullofgloriousdeath.“Hello,witchling,”hesaid.And the words were his

own.For a moment he was so

stunned that he blinked. Heblinked.Thedemoninsideofhim recoiled, clawing at thewallsofhismind.Eyesofthe

Valg kings, eyes of ourmasters, it shrieked. Do nottouchthatone!“Is there a reason you’re

smiling atme,” she said, “orshall I interpret it as a deathwish?”Donotspeaktoit.He didn’t care.Let this be

another dream, anothernightmare. Let this new,lovely monster devour himwhole. He had nothingbeyondthehereandnow.

“Do I need a reason tosmileatabeautifulwoman?”“I’m not a woman.” Her

iron nails glinted as shecrossed her arms. “And you…” She sniffed. “Man ordemon?”“Prince,” he said. That’s

what the thing inside himwas;hehadnever learned itsname.Donotspeaktoit!He cocked his head. “I’ve

neverbeenwithawitch.”

Let her rip out his throatforthat.Endit.A row of iron fangs

snapped down over her teethashersmilegrew.“I’vebeenwith plenty of men. You’reallthesame.Tastethesame.”She lookedhimoveras ifhewerehernextmeal.“I dare you,” he managed

tosay.Her eyes narrowed, the

goldlikelivingembers.He’dnever seen anyone so

beautiful.This witch had been

crafted from the darknessbetweenthestars.“I think not, Prince,” she

said in her midnight voice.She sniffed again, her nosecrinklingslightly.“Butwouldyoubleedred,orblack?”“I’ll bleed whatever color

youtellmeto.”Step away, get away. The

demon prince inside himyankedsohardhetookastep.

But not away. Toward thewhite-hairedwitch.She let out a low, vicious

laugh. “What is your name,Prince?”Hisname.He didn’t know what that

was.She reached out, her iron

nails glimmering in thedappled sunlight. Thedemon’s screaming was soloud in his head that hewondered if his ears would

bleed.Iron clinked against stone

as she grazed the collararound his neck. Higher—ifshejustslashedhigher—“Like a dog,” she

murmured. “Leashed to yourmaster.”She ran a finger along the

curve of the collar, and heshuddered—in fear, inpleasure, in anticipation ofthe nails tearing into histhroat.

“What is your name.” Acommand, not a question, aseyesofpuregoldmethis.“Dorian,”hebreathed.Yournameisnothing,your

name is mine, the demonhissed, and a wave of thathuman woman’s screamingswepthimaway.

Crouched in the brush justtwenty feet from the prison

wagon,Aelinfroze.Dorian.It couldn’t have been.

There wasn’t a chance of it,not when the voice thatDorian had spoken with wassoempty,sohollow,but—Beside her, Chaol’s eyes

werewide.Had he heard theslightshift?The Wing Leader cocked

herhead,heriron-tippedhandstill touching the Wyrdstonecollar. “Do you want me to

killyou,Dorian?”Aelin’sbloodwentcold.Chaol tensed, his hand

going to his sword. Aelingripped the back of his tunicinsilentreminder.Shehadnodoubtthatacrosstheclearing,Nesryn’s arrow was alreadypointed with lethal accuracyattheWingLeader’sthroat.“I want you to do lots of

thingstome,”theprincesaid,raking his eyes along thewitch’sbody.

The humanity was goneagain.She’dimaginedit.Theway the king had acted …That was a man who heldpure control over his son,confident that there was nostruggleinside.A soft, joyless laugh, and

then the Wing Leaderreleased Dorian’s collar. Herred cloak flowed around heron a phantom wind as shesteppedback.“Comefindmeagain, Prince, and we’ll see

aboutthat.”A Valg prince inhabited

Dorian—butAelin’snosedidnotbleedinitspresence,andtherewas no creeping fog ofdarkness.Hadthekingmutedits powers so his son coulddeceive the world aroundhim? Or was that battle stillbeing waged inside theprince’smind?Now—they had to move

now, while the Matron andthe king remained in that

paintedwagon.Rowancuppedhishandsto

hismouthandsignaledwithabird’s call, so lifelike thatnone of the guards shifted.But across the clearing,Aedion and Nesryn heard,andunderstood.Shedidn’t knowhow they

managedtoaccomplishit,butaminutelater,thewyvernsoftheHighWitch’scovenwereroaring with alarm, the treesshuddering with the sound.

Every guard and sentinelturned toward the racket,awayfromtheprisonwagon.It was all the distraction

Aelinneeded.She’d spent two weeks in

one of those wagons. Sheknew the bars of the littlewindow,knewthehingesandthe locks. And Rowan,fortunately, knew exactlyhow to dispatch the threeguards stationed at the backdoorwithoutmakingasound.

Shedidn’tdarebreathetooloudlyassheclimbedthefewsteps to the back of thewagon, pulled out her lock-picking kit, and set to work.Onelookoverhere,oneshiftofthewind—There—the lock sprang

open,andsheeasedback thedoor, bracing for squeakyhinges. By some god’smercy,itmadenosound,andthe wyverns went onbellowing.

Lysandra was curledagainst thefarcorner,bloodyand dirty, her shortnightgown torn and her barelegsbruised.No collar. No ring on

eitherhand.Aelin bit back her cry of

relief and flicked her fingersto tell the courtesan tohurry—On near-silent feet,

Lysandra hurtled past her,rightintothespeckledbrown-

and-green cloak Rowan washolding out. Two heartbeatslater shewas down the stepsand into the brush. Anotherbeat, and the dead guardswere inside the wagon withthe door locked. Aelin andRowan slipped back into theforest amid the roars of thewyverns.Lysandra was shivering

whereshekneltinthethicket,Chaol before her, inspectingher wounds. He mouthed to

Aelin that she was fine andhelped the courtesan rise toher feet before hauling herdeeperintothewoods.It had taken less than two

minutes—andthankthegods,because a moment later thepainted wagon’s door wasflung open and the Matronand king stormed out to seewhatthenoisewasabout.A few paces from Aelin,

Rowanmonitoredeverystep,every breath their enemy

took. There was a flash ofmovement beside her, andthenAedionandNesrynwerethere, dirty and panting, butalive. The grin on Aedion’sface faltered as he peeredback at the clearing behindthem.The king stalked to the

heart of the clearing,demandinganswers.Butcheringbastard.And for a moment, they

wereagaininTerrasen,atthat

dinner table in her family’scastle, where the king hadeaten her family’s food,drunk their finest wine, andthen he’d tried to shatter hermind.Aedion’seyesmethers,his

body tremblingwith restraint—waitingforherorder.Sheknewshemightliveto

regret it,butAelin shookherhead. Not here—not now.There were too manyvariables, and too many

players on the board. TheyhadLysandra. Itwas time togo.Thekingtoldhissontoget

onto his horse and barkedorders to the others as theWing Leader backed awayfromtheprincewithacasual,lethal grace. The Matronwaited across the clearing,her voluminous black robesbillowing despite herstillness.Aelin prayed that she and

her companions would neverrun into theMatron—at leastnot without an army behindthem.Whatever the king had

seeninsidethepaintedwagonhad been important enoughthat theyhadn’t risked lettersaboutitsspecificdetails.Dorianmounted his horse,

hisfacecoldandempty.I’ll come back for you,

she’dpromisedhim.Shehadnotthoughtitwouldbeinthis

way.The king’s party departed

with eerie silence andefficiency, seeminglyunaware that they were nowmissing three of their own.Thestenchof theValgfadedas they vanished, clearedaway by a brisk wind as ifOakwald itself wanted towipeawayanytrace.Headed in the opposite

direction, the witchesprowled into the trees,

lugging the wagon behindthem with inhuman strength,until only the Wing Leaderand her horrifyinggrandmother remained in theclearing.Theblowhappenedsofast

that Aelin couldn’t detect it.EvenAedionflinched.The smack reverberated

through the forest, and theWing Leader’s face snappedtothesidetorevealfourlinesof blue blood now running

downhercheek.“Insolentfool,”theMatron

hissed. Lingering near thetrees, the beautiful, golden-haired lieutenant observedevery movement the Matronmade—so intensely thatAelinwondered if shewouldgo for the Matron’s throat.“Do you wish to cost meeverything?”“Grandmother, I sent you

letters—”“I received your whining,

sniveling letters. And Iburned them. You are underorderstoobey.Didyouthinkmy silence was notintentional? Do as the dukesays.”“How can you allow these

—”Another strike—four more

lines bleeding down thewitch’s face. “You darequestion me? Do you thinkyourself as good as a HighWitch,nowthatyou’reWing

Leader?”“No, Matron.” There was

no sign of that cocky,taunting tone of minutesbefore;onlycool,lethalrage.Akillerbybirthandtraining.But the golden eyes turnedtoward thepaintedwagon—asilentquestion.TheMatron leaned in, her

rusted iron teeth withinshredding distance of hergranddaughter’s throat. “Askit,Manon.Askwhat’s inside

thatwagon.”Thegolden-hairedwitchby

thetreeswasramrodstraight.But the Wing Leader—

Manon—bowed her head.“You’ll tell me when it’snecessary.”“Go look. Let’s see if it

meets my granddaughter’sstandards.”With that, the Matron

strode into the trees, thesecondcovenofwitchesnowwaitingforher.

Manon Blackbeak didn’twipe away the blue bloodsliding down her face as shewalked up the steps of thewagon, pausing on thelanding for only a heartbeatbefore entering the gloombeyond.It was as good a sign as

any to get the hell out.WithAedion and Nesryn guardingtheirbacks,AelinandRowanhurried for the spot whereChaolandLysandrawouldbe

waiting. Not without magicwould she take on the kingandDorian.Shedidn’thaveadeathwish—eitherforherselforherfriends.She found Lysandra

standing with a hand bracedagainst a tree, wide-eyed,breathinghard.Chaolwasgone.

59

Thedemonseizedcontrolthemoment the man whowieldedthecollarreturned.Itshovedhimbackintothatpitof memory until he was theonescreamingagain,untilhewas small and broken andfragmented.But those golden eyes

lingered.Come find me again,

Prince.A promise—a promise of

death,ofrelease.Comefindmeagain.The words soon faded,

swallowed up by screamingand blood and the demon’scold fingers running over hismind.Buttheeyeslingered—andthatname.Manon.Manon.

Chaol couldn’t let the kingtake Dorian back to thecastle. He might never getthischanceagain.He had to do it now. Had

tokillhim.Chaol hurtled through the

brush as quietly as he could,swordout,bracinghimself.A dagger through the eye

—adagger,andthen—Talking from ahead, along

withtherustlingofleavesandwood.Chaol neared the party,

beginning to pray, beginningto beg for forgiveness—forwhathewasabout todoandforhowhehadrun.He’dkilltheking later; let that kill behislast.Butthiswouldbethekillthatbrokehim.He drew his dagger,

cocking his arm. Dorian hadbeendirectlybehindtheking.One throw, to knock the

prince off the horse, then asweep of his sword, and itcould be over.Aelin and theothers could deal with theaftermath; he’d already bedead.Chaol broke through the

treesintoafield,thedaggeraburningweightinhishand.Itwasnot theking’sparty

that stood there in the tallgrassandsunlight.Thirteen witches and their

wyvernsturnedtohim.

Andsmiled.

AelinranthroughthetreesasRowan tracked Chaol byscentalone.Ifhegot themkilled, ifhe

gotthemhurt—They’d left Nesryn to

guard Lysandra, orderingthem to head for the forestacross the nearby templeravine and to wait under an

outcroppingofstones.BeforeherdingLysandrabetweenthetrees, Nesryn had tightlygrabbedAelin’sarmandsaid,“Bringhimback.”Aelin had only nodded

beforebolting.Rowan was a streak of

lightningthroughthetrees,somuch faster than her whenshe was stuck in this body.Aedion sprinted close behindhim.Sheranasquicklyasshecould,but—

Thepathveeredaway,andChaol had taken the wrongfork. Where the hell hadChaolevenbeengoing?She could scarcely draw

breathfastenough.Thenlightfloodedinthroughabreakinthe trees—the other side ofthewidemeadow.RowanandAedionstooda

few feet into the swayinggrass, their swords out—butdowncast.She saw why a heartbeat

later.Not thirty feet from them,

Chaol’s lip bled down hischinasthewhite-hairedwitchheld him against her, ironnails digging into his throat.The prison wagon was openbeyond them to reveal thethreedeadsoldiersinside.The twelvewitchesbehind

the Wing Leader were allgrinning with anticipatorydelightastheytookinRowanandAedion,thenher.

“What’s this?” the WingLeader said,akilling light inher golden eyes. “Spies?Rescuers? Where did youtakeourprisoner?”Chaol struggled, and she

dug her nails in farther. Hestiffened. A trickle of bloodleaked down his neck andontohistunic.Oh, gods. Think—think,

think,think.The Wing Leader shifted

those burnt-gold eyes to

Rowan.“Your kind,” the Wing

Leader mused, “I have notseenforatime.”“Let the man go,” Rowan

said.Manon’s smile revealed a

row of flesh-shredding ironteeth, far, far too close toChaol’s neck. “I don’t takeordersfromFaebastards.”“Let him go,” Rowan said

too softly. “Or it will be thelastmistakeyoumake,Wing

Leader.”In the field behind them,

the wyverns were stirring,their tails lashing, wingsshifting.The white-haired witch

peered at Chaol, whosebreathing had turned ragged.“Thekingisnottoofardownthe road. Perhaps I shouldhand you over to him.” Thecuts on her cheeks, scabbedin blue, were like brutal warpaint. “He’ll be furious to

learn you stole his prisonerfrom me. Maybe you’llappeasehim,boy.”Aelin and Rowan shared

all of one look before shestepped up to his side,drawing Goldryn. “If youwant a prize to give to theking,” Aelin said, “then takeme.”“Don’t,”Chaolgaspedout.Thewitchandalltwelveof

her sentinels now fixed theirimmortal,deadlyattentionon

Aelin.Aelin dropped Goldryn

into the grass and lifted herhands. Aedion snarled inwarning.“WhyshouldIbother?”the

Wing Leader said. “Perhapswe’ll take you all to theking.”Aedion’s sword lifted

slightly.“Youcantry.”Aelincarefullyapproached

thewitch, her hands still up.“You enter into a fight with

us, and you and yourcompanionswilldie.”The Wing Leader looked

her up and down. “Who areyou.” An order—not aquestion.“AelinGalathynius.”Surprise—and perhaps

something else, somethingAelin couldn’t identify—sparkedintheWingLeader’sgolden eyes. “The Queen ofTerrasen.”Aelinbowed,notdaringto

take her attention off thewitch.“Atyourservice.”Only three feet separated

herfromtheBlackbeakheir.The witch sliced a glance

atChaol, and then atAedionandRowan.“Yourcourt?”“What’sittoyou?”The Wing Leader studied

Aedion again. “Yourbrother?”“My cousin, Aedion.

Almost as pretty as me,wouldn’tyousay?”

Thewitchdidn’tsmile.But Aelin was now near

enough, so close that thespatters of Chaol’s blood layin the grass before the tip ofherboots.

TheQueenofTerrasen.Elide’s hope had not been

misplaced.Even if the young queen

was now toeing the dirt and

grass, unable to keep stillwhile she bargained for theman’slife.Behindher,theFaewarrior

observed every flicker ofmovement.He’d be the deadly one—

theonetolookoutfor.Ithadbeenfiftyyearssince

she’d fought a Fae warrior.Beddedhim,thenfoughthim.He’dleftthebonesofherarminpieces.She’d just left him in

pieces.But he had been young,

and arrogant, and barelytrained.This male … He might

very well be capable ofkilling at least a few of herThirteen if she so much asharmedahairon thequeen’shead.Andthentherewasthegolden-haired one—as largeas the Fae male, butpossessinghiscousin’sbrightarrogance and honed

wildness. He might beproblematic, if left alive toolong.The queen kept fidgeting

her foot in the grass. Shecouldn’tbemorethantwenty.And yet, she moved like awarrior, too—or she had,until the incessant shiftingaround. But she halted themovement,asifrealizingthatit gave away her nerves, herinexperience. The wind wasblowing in the wrong

directionforManontodetectthequeen’strueleveloffear.“Well,WingLeader?”Wouldthekingputacollar

around her fair neck, as hehadtheprince’s?Orwouldhekill her? It made nodifference. She would be aprize the king wouldwelcome.Manon shoved away the

captain, sending himstumbling toward the queen.Aelin reached out with an

arm,nudginghim to the side—behindher.Manonandthequeenstaredateachother.Nofearinhereyes—inher

pretty,mortalface.None.It’dbemoretroublethanit

wasworth.Manonhadbiggerthingsto

consider, anyway. Hergrandmother approved.Approvedofthebreeding,thebreakingofthewitches.Manon needed to get into

thesky,neededtoloseherselfin cloud and wind for a fewhours.Days.Weeks.“I have no interest in

prisoners or battling today,”Manonsaid.The Queen of Terrasen

gaveheragrin.“Good.”Manon turned away,

barkingatherThirteentogettotheirmounts.“I suppose,” the queen

went on, “that makes yousmarter than Baba

Yellowlegs.”Manon stopped, staring

straight ahead and seeingnothingofthegrassorskyortrees.Asterinwhirled. “What do

you know of BabaYellowlegs?”The queen gave a low

chuckle, despite the warninggrowlfromtheFaewarrior.Slowly, Manon looked

overhershoulder.Thequeentuggedapartthe

lapels of her tunic, revealinganecklaceofthinscarsasthewindshifted.The scent—iron and stone

and pure hatred—hit Manonlikearockto theface.EveryIronteeth witch knew thescentthatforeverlingeredonthosescars:WitchKiller.PerhapsManonwouldlose

herself in blood and goreinstead.“You’re carrion,” Manon

said,andlunged.

Onlytoslamface-firstintoaninvisiblewall.Andthenfreezeentirely.

“Run,” Aelin breathed,snatching up Goldryn andbolting for the trees. TheWing Leader was frozen inplace,hersentinelswide-eyedastheyrushedtoher.Chaol’s human blood

wouldn’t hold the spell for

long.“The ravine,”Aedion said,

not lookingback fromwherehesprintedaheadwithChaoltowardthetemple.They hurtled through the

trees, the witches still in themeadow, still trying to breakthe spell that had trappedtheirWingLeader.“You,” Rowan said as he

ranbesideher, “areoneveryluckywoman.”“Tell me that again when

we’re out of here,” shepanted, leaping over a fallentree.Aroaroffurysetthebirds

scattering from the trees, andAelin ran faster. Oh, theWing Leader was pissed.Really,reallypissed.Aelin hadn’t believed for

one moment that the witchwould have let them walkawaywithoutafight.Shehadneeded to buywhatever timetheycouldget.

Thetreescleared,revealingabarrenstretchoflandjuttingtoward the deep ravine andthetempleperchedonthespitof rock in the center.On theotherside,Oakwaldsprawledonward.Connected only by two

chain-and-wood bridges, itwas the sole way across theravineformiles.Andwiththedense foliage of Oakwaldblocking thewyverns, it wasthe only way to escape the

witches,whowouldnodoubtpursueonfoot.“Hurry,” Rowan shouted

as they made for thecrumblingtempleruins.The temple was small

enough that not even thepriestesses had dwelled here.The only decorations on thestone island were fiveweather-stained pillars and acrumbling, domed roof. Notevenanaltar—oratleastonethat had survived the

centuries.Apparently, people had

given up on Temis longbefore the King of Adarlancamealong.She just prayed that the

bridgesoneitherside—Aedionhurledhimself toa

stop before the firstfootbridge,Chaolthirtypacesbehind, Aelin and Rowanfollowing. “Secure,” Aedionsaid.Beforeshecouldbarkawarning,hethunderedacross.

The bridge bounced andswayed, but held—held evenas her damn heart stopped.Then Aedion was at thetempleisland,thesingle,thinpillar of rock carved out bythe rushing river flowing far,far below. He waved Chaolon. “One at a time,” heordered. Beyond him thesecondbridgewaited.Chaol hurried through the

stone pillars that flanked theentrance to the first bridge,

the thin iron chains on thesides writhing as the bridgebounced. He kept upright,flying toward the temple,faster than she’d ever seenhim run during all thosemorning exercises throughthecastlegrounds.Then Aelin and Rowan

were at the columns, and—“Don’t even try to argue,”Rowan hissed, shoving heraheadofhim.Gods above, that was a

wicked drop beneath them.The roar of the river wasbarelyawhisper.But she ran—ran because

Rowanwaswaiting,andtherewere the witches breakingthrough the trees with Faeswiftness.Thebridgebuckedand swayed as she shot overthe aging wooden planks.Ahead, Aedion had clearedthesecondbridgetotheotherside, and Chaol was nowsprinting across it. Faster—

she had to go faster. Sheleapedthefinalfewfeetontothetemplerock.Ahead, Chaol exited the

second bridge and drew hisbladeashejoinedAediononthe grassy cliff beyond, anarrownocked inhercousin’sbow—aimed at the treesbehind her. Aelin lunged upthe few stairs onto the baldtemple platform. The entirecircular space was barelymore than thirty feet across,

bordered on all sides by asheerplunge—anddeath.Temis,apparently,wasnot

theforgivingsort.Shetwistedtolookbehind.

Rowan was running acrossthe bridge, so fast that thebridgehardlymoved,but—Aelin swore. The Wing

Leaderhadreachedtheposts,flinging herself over andjumping through the air tolanda thirdof thewaydownthe bridge. Even Aedion’s

warning shot went long, thearrow imbedding where anymortal should have landed.Butnotawitch.Holyburninghell.“Go,” Rowan roared at

Aelin, but she palmed herfighting knives, bending herkneesas—As an arrow fired by the

golden-haired lieutenant shotforAelin from theother sideoftheravine.Aelin twisted to avoid it,

only to find a second arrowfrom thewitch already there,anticipatinghermaneuver.Awallofmuscleslammed

into her, shielding her andshovinghertothestones.And the witch’s arrow

went clean through Rowan’sshoulder.

60

For a moment, the worldstopped.Rowan slammed onto the

temple stones, his bloodsprayingontheagingrock.Aelin’s scream echoed

downtheravine.But then hewas up again,

running and bellowing at her

togo.Beneaththedarkarrowprotruding through hisshoulder, blood alreadysoakedhistunic,hisskin.If he had been one inch

farther behind, itwouldhavehithisheart.Not forty paces down the

bridge, the Wing Leaderclosed in on them. Aedionrainedarrowsonhersentinelswith preternatural precision,keeping them at bay by thetreeline.

Aelin wrapped an armaroundRowanandtheyracedacross the temple stones, hisface paling as the woundgushedblood.Shemighthavestill been screaming, orsobbing—there was such aroaringsilenceinher.Her heart—it had been

meantforherheart.And he had taken that

arrowforher.The killing calm spread

through her like hoarfrost.

She’dkillthemall.Slowly.They reached the second

bridge just as Aedion’sbarrage of arrows halted, hisquivernodoubtemptied.Sheshoved Rowan onto theplanks.“Run,”shesaid.“No—”“Run.”It was a voice that she’d

never heard herself use—aqueen’s voice—that cameout,alongwiththeblindyankshe made on the blood oath

thatboundthemtogether.Hiseyesflashedwithfury,

buthisbodymovedasthoughshe’d compelled him. Hestaggered across the bridge,justas—Aelin whirled, drawing

Goldryn and ducking just asthe Wing Leader’s swordswipedforherhead.It hit stone, the pillar

groaning, but Aelin wasalready moving—not towardthe second bridge but back

toward the first one, on thewitches’side.Where the other witches,

without Aedion’s arrows toblock them,werenowracingfromthecoverofthewoods.“You,” the Wing Leader

growled, attacking again.Aelin rolled—right throughRowan’s blood—againdodging the fatal blow. Sheuncurled to her feet right infront of the first bridge, andtwo swings of Goldryn had

thechainssnapping.The witches skidded to a

stopatthelipoftheravineasthe bridge collapsed, cuttingthemoff.The air behindher shifted,

and Aelin moved—but notfastenough.Cloth and flesh tore inher

upper arm, and she barkedoutacryasthewitch’sbladeslicedher.She whirled, bringing

Goldryn up for the second

blow.Steel met steel and

sparked.Rowan’s blood was at her

feet, smeared across thetemplestones.Aelin Galathynius looked

at Manon Blackbeak overtheir crossed swords and letoutalow,vicioussnarl.

Queen,savior,enemy,Manon

didn’tgiveashit.She was going to kill the

woman.Their laws demanded it;

honordemandedit.Even if she hadn’t

slaughteredBabaYellowlegs,Manonwouldhavekilledherjust for that spell she’d usedtofreezeherinplace.That was what she’d been

doing with her feet. Etchingsome foul spell with theman’sblood.

Andnowshewasgoingtodie.Wind-Cleaver pressed

againstthequeen’sblade.ButAelin held her ground andhissed,“I’mgoing to ripyoutoshreds.”Behind them, the Thirteen

gatheredontheravine’sedge,cut off. One whistle fromManon had half of themscrambling for the wyverns.She didn’t get to sound thesecondwhistle.

Faster than ahumanhadaright to be, the queen sweptout a leg, sending Manontripping back. Aelin didn’thesitate; she flipped thesword in her hand andlunged.Manondeflected theblow,

but Aelin got past her guardandpinnedher,slammingherheadagainststones thatweredamp with the Fae warrior’sblood. Splotches of darkbloomedinhervision.

Manon drew in breath forthe second whistle—the oneto call off Asterin and herarrows.Shewas interruptedby the

queen slamming her fist intoManon’sface.Black splintered further

across her vision—but shetwisted,twistedwitheverybitofher immortalstrength,andtheywent flipping across thetemple floor. The droploomed,andthen—

Anarrowwhizzedrightforthe queen’s exposed back asshelandedatopManon.Manon twisted again, and

the arrow bounced off thepillar instead. She threwAelinfromher,butthequeenwas instantly on her feetagain,nimbleasacat.“She’s mine,” Manon

barked across the ravine toAsterin.Thequeen laughed,hoarse

and cold, circling as Manon

gottoherfeet.Acrosstheothersideofthe

ravine, the two males werehelping the wounded Faewarrioroffthebridge,andthegolden-haired warriorcharged—“Don’t you dare,Aedion,”

Aelin said, throwing out ahandinthemale’sdirection.He froze halfway across

the bridge. Impressive,Manon admitted, to havethem under her command so

thoroughly.“Chaol, keep an eye on

him,”thequeenbarked.Then, holding Manon’s

gaze, Aelin sheathed hermightybladeacrossherback,thegiant ruby in thepommelcatchinginthemiddaylight.“Swords are boring,” the

queen said, and palmed twofightingknives.Manon sheathed Wind-

Cleaver along her own back.She flicked her wrists, the

iron nails shooting out. Shecracked her jaw, and herfangsdescended.“Indeed.”The queen looked at the

nails,theteeth,andgrinned.Honestly—it was a shame

thatManonhadtokillher.

ManonBlackbeak lunged, asswiftanddeadlyasanadder.Aelindartedback,dodging

each swipe of those lethal

iron nails. For her throat, forher face, for her guts. Back,andback, circlingaround thepillars.It was only a matter of

minutes before the wyvernsarrived.Aelin jabbed with her

daggers, and the witchsidesteppedher,onlytoslashwithhernails,rightatAelin’sneck.Aelin spun aside, but the

nails grazed her skin. Blood

warmed her neck andshoulders.The witch was so damn

fast.Andonehellofafighter.But Rowan and the others

were across the secondbridge.Now she just had to get

there,too.Manon Blackbeak feinted

leftandslashedright.Aelin ducked and rolled

aside.The pillar shuddered as

those ironclawsgouged fourlinesdeepintothestone.Manonhissed.Aelinmade

to drive her dagger into herspine; the witch lashed outwith a hand and wrapped itcleanaroundtheblade.Bluebloodwelled, but the

witchboredownonthebladeuntil it snapped into threepiecesinherhand.Godsabove.Aelin had the sense to go

inlowwithherotherdagger,

but the witch was alreadythere—and Aedion’s shoutrang in her ears as Manon’skneedroveupintohergut.The air knocked from her

in a whoosh, but Aelin kepther grip on the dagger, evenas the witch threw her intoanotherpillar.The stone column rocked

against theblow,andAelin’shead cracked, agony arcingthroughher,but—A slash, directly for her

face.Aelinducked.Again,thestoneshuddered

beneaththeimpact.Aelinsqueezedairintoher

body.Move—shehadtokeepmoving, smooth as a stream,smooth as the wind of hercarranam, bleeding and hurtacrosstheway.Pillar to pillar, she

retreated,rollingandduckinganddodging.Manonswipedandslashed,

slamming intoeverycolumn,a force of nature in her ownright.And then back around,

again and again, pillar afterpillar absorbing the blowsthatshouldhaveshreddedherface, her neck. Aelin slowedhersteps,letManonthinkshewastiring,growingclumsy—“Enough, coward,”Manon

hissed, making to tackleAelintotheground.ButAelin swung around a

pillarandonto the thin lipofbare rock beyond the templeplatform, the drop looming,just as Manon collided withthecolumn.Thepillargroaned,swayed

—and toppled to the side,hitting the pillar beside it,sending them both crackingtotheground.Along with the domed

roof.Manon didn’t even have

time to lunge out of theway

as the marble crashed downonher.One of the few remaining

witches on the other side oftheravinescreamed.Aelinwasalreadyrunning,

even as the rock island itselfbegan trembling, as ifwhatever ancient force heldthis temple togetherhaddiedthe moment the roofcrumbled.Shit.Aelin sprinted for the

second bridge, dust anddebris burning her eyes andlungs.The island jolted with a

thunderous crack, so violentthatAelinstumbled.Buttherewerethepostsandthebridgebeyond, Aedion waiting onthe other side—an arm heldout,beckoning.Theislandswayedagain—

widerandlongerthistime.It was going to collapse

beneaththem.

Therewasaflickerofblueand white, a flash of redcloth,aglimmerofiron—A hand and a shoulder,

grappling with a fallencolumn.Slowly, painfully, Manon

heavedherself onto a slabofmarble, her face coated inpale dust, blue blood leakingdownhertemple.Across the ravine, cut off

entirely, the golden-hairedwitch was on her knees.

“Manon!”I don’t think you’ve ever

groveledforanythinginyourlife, Wing Leader, the kinghadsaid.But therewasaBlackbeak

witch on her knees, beggingwhatever gods theyworshipped; and there wasManonBlackbeak,strugglingto rise as the temple islandcrumbledaway.Aelin took a step onto the

bridge.

Asterin—that was thegolden-haired witch’s name.She screamed for Manonagain, a plea to rise, tosurvive.Theislandjolted.Theremainingbridge—the

bridge to her friends, toRowan,tosafety—stillheld.Aelin had felt it before: a

threadintheworld,acurrentrunning between her andsomeone else. She’d felt itonenight,yearsago,andhad

given a young healer themoney to get the hell out ofthis continent. She’d felt thetug—and had decided to tugback.Here itwas again, that tug

—toward Manon, whosearmsbuckledasshecollapsedtothestone.Her enemy—her new

enemy, who would havekilledherandRowanifgiventhe chance. A monsterincarnate.

But perhaps the monstersneeded to look out for eachothereverynowandthen.“Run!”Aedionroaredfrom

acrosstheravine.Soshedid.Aelin ran for Manon,

leapingoverthefallenstones,heranklewrenchingonloosedebris.Theislandrockedwithher

every step, and the sunlightwasscalding,asifMalawereholding that island aloftwith

every last bit of strength thegoddess could summon inthisland.Then Aelin was upon

Manon Blackbeak, and thewitchliftedhate-filledeyestoher. Aelin hauled off stoneafterstonefromherbody,theislandbeneaththembuckling.“You’re toogooda fighter

to kill,” Aelin breathed,hooking an arm underManon’s shoulders andhauling her up. The rock

swayed to the left—but held.Oh,gods.“IfIdiebecauseofyou, I’ll beat the shit out ofyouinhell.”She could have sworn the

witch let out a broken laughasshegottoherfeet,nearlyadeadweightinAelin’sarms.“You—should letmedie,”

Manonraspedastheylimpedovertherubble.“I know, I know,” Aelin

panted,herslicedarmachingwiththeweightofthewitchit

supported.They hurried overthesecondbridge, thetemplerock swaying to the right—stretching the bridge behindthem tightly over the dropand the shining river far, farbelow.Aelin tugged at the witch,

grittingher teeth,andManonstumbled into a staggeringrun. Aedion remainedbetween the posts across theravine, an arm still extendedtoward her—while his other

lifted his sword high, readyfortheWingLeader’sarrival.The rock behind themgroaned.Halfway—nothing but a

death-plunge waiting forthem. Manon coughed blueblood onto thewooden slats.Aelinsnapped,“Whatthehellgood are your beasts if theycan’tsaveyoufromthiskindofthing?”The island veered back in

the other direction, and the

bridge went taut—oh, shit—shit, it was going to snap.Faster they ran, until shecould see Aedion’s strainingfingers and the whites of hiseyes.The rock cracked, so

loudly it deafened her. Thencame the tug and stretch ofthebridgeastheislandbeganto crumble into dust, slidingtotheside—Aelin lunged the last few

steps, gripping Manon’s red

cloak as the chains of thebridge snapped. The woodenslats dropped out frombeneath them, but they werealreadyleaping.Aelinletoutagruntasshe

slammed into Aedion. ShewhirledtoseeChaolgrabbingManon and hauling her overthelipoftheravine,hercloaktorn and covered in dust,flutteringinthewind.When Aelin looked past

the witch, the temple was

gone.

Manon gasped for air,concentrating on herbreathing, on the cloudlessskyaboveher.The humans left her lying

between the stone bridgeposts.Thequeenhadn’tevenbothered to say good-bye.She’d just dashed for theinjuredFaewarrior,hisname

likeaprayeronherlips.Rowan.Manon had looked up in

time to see the queen fall toher knees before the injuredwarrior in the grass,demanding answers from thebrown-haired man—Chaol—who pressed a hand to thearrow wound in Rowan’sshoulder to stanch thebleeding. The queen’sshoulderswereshaking.Fireheart, the Fae warrior

murmured. Manon wouldhave watched—would have,had she not coughed bloodonto the bright grass andblackedout.When she awoke, they

weregone.Onlyminuteshadpassed—

because then there werebooming wings, andAbraxos’s roar. And therewere Asterin and Sorrel,rushing for her before theirwyvernshadfullylanded.

TheQueenofTerrasenhadsaved her life.Manon didn’tknowwhattomakeofit.For she now owed her

enemyalifedebt.And she had just learned

how thoroughly hergrandmotherand theKingofAdarlan intended to destroythem.

61

The trek back throughOakwald was the longestjourney of Aelin’s miserablelife.Nesrynhad removed thearrow from Rowan’sshoulder, and Aedion hadfound some herbs to chewand shove into the openwoundtostanchthebleeding.

But Rowan still saggedagainst Chaol and Aedion asthey hurried through theforest.Nowhere to go. She had

nowhere to take an injuredFaemaleinthecapitalcity,inthisentireshit-holekingdom.Lysandra was pale and

shaking, but she’d squaredher shoulders and offered tohelp carry Rowan when oneof them tired. None of themaccepted.WhenChaolat last

asked Nesryn to take over,Aelin glimpsed the bloodsoakinghistunicandhands—Rowan’s blood—and nearlyvomited.Slower—every step was

slower as Rowan’s strengthflagged.“He needs to rest,”

Lysandra said gently. Aelinpaused, the towering oakspressinginaroundher.Rowan’s eyes were half-

closed,hisfacedrainedofall

color. He couldn’t even lifthishead.She should have let the

witchdie.“Wecan’tjustcampoutin

the middle of the woods,”Aelin said. “He needs ahealer.”“Iknowwherewecantake

him,” Chaol said. Shedragged her eyes to thecaptain.She should have let the

witchkillhim,too.

Chaol wisely averted hisgazeandfacedNesryn.“Yourfather’s country house—themanwhorunsitismarriedtoamidwife.”Nesryn’s mouth tightened.

“She’snotahealer,but—yes.Shemighthavesomething.”“Do you understand,”

Aelin said very quietly tothem, “that if I suspectthey’re going to betray us,theywilldie?”It was true, and maybe it

madeheramonstertoChaol,butshedidn’tcare.“I know,” Chaol said.

Nesryn merely nodded, stillcalm,stillsolid.“Thenleadtheway,”Aelin

said, her voice hollow. “Andpray they can keep theirmouthsshut.”

Joyous, frenzied barkinggreeted them,rousingRowan

from the half consciousnesshe’dfallenintoduringthelastfew miles to the little stonefarmhouse. Aelin had barelybreathedtheentiretime.Butdespiteherself,despite

Rowan’sinjuries,asFleetfootraced across the high grasstoward them, Aelin smiled alittle.The dog leaped upon her,

licking and whining andwaggingher feathery,goldentail.

She hadn’t realized howfilthy and bloody her handswere until she put them onFleetfoot’sshiningcoat.Aediongrunted as he took

all of Rowan’s weight whileChaolandNesryn jogged forthe large, brightly lit stonehouse, dusk having fallenfully around them. Good.Fewer eyes to see as theyexited Oakwald and crossedthe freshly tilled fields.Lysandra tried to help

Aedion, but he refused heragain. She hissed at him andhelpedanyway.Fleetfoot danced around

Aelin, then noticed Aedion,Lysandra, and Rowan, andthat tail became a bit moretentative. “Friends,” she toldher dog. She’d become hugesinceAelinhadlastseenher.She wasn’t sure why itsurprised her, wheneverythingelseinherlifehadchangedaswell.

Aelin’s assurance seemedgood enough for Fleetfoot,who trotted ahead, escortingthemtothewoodendoorthathad opened to reveal a tallmidwife with a no-nonsenseface that took one look atRowanandtightened.Oneword.Onedamnword

thatsuggestedshemightturnthemin,andshewasdead.But the woman said,

“Whoeverputthatbloodmosson the wound saved his life.

Get him inside—we need toclean it before anything elsecanbedone.”

IttookafewhoursforMarta,the housekeeper’s wife, toclean,disinfect,andpatchupRowan’swounds.Lucky, shekept saying—so lucky itdidn’thitanythingvital.Chaoldidn’tknowwhatto

do with himself other than

carry away the bowls ofbloodiedwater.Aelin just sat on a stool

beside the cot in the spareroom of the elegant,comfortable house, andmonitored everymoveMartamade.Chaol wondered if Aelin

knewthatshewasabloodiedmess. That she looked evenworsethanRowan.Her neck was brutalized,

blood had dried on her face,

her cheek was bruised, andthe left sleeve of her tunicwas torn open to reveal avicious slice. And then therewere the dust, dirt, and blueblood of the Wing Leadercoatingher.But Aelin perched on the

stool, never moving, onlydrinking water, snarling ifMarta so much as looked atRowanfunny.Marta, somehow, endured

it.

Andwhenthemidwifewasdone, she faced the queen.Withnoclueatallwhosatinher house, Marta said, “Youhave two choices: you caneither go wash up in thespigotoutside, oryoucan sitwiththepigsallnight.You’redirty enough that one touchcouldinfecthiswounds.”Aelin glanced over her

shoulderatAedion,whowasleaning against the wallbehind her. He nodded

silently.He’dlookafterhim.Aelinroseandstalkedout.“I’ll inspect your other

friend now,”Marta said, andhurried to where Lysandrahad fallen asleep in theadjoining room,curledupona narrow bed cot. Upstairs,Nesrynwasbusydealingwiththe staff—ensuring theirsilence. But he’d seen thetentative joy on their faceswhen they’d arrived: Nesrynand the Faliq family had

earnedtheirloyaltylongago.Chaol gave Aelin two

minutes, and then followedheroutside.The stars were bright

overhead, the full moonnearly blinding. The nightwind whispered through thegrass,barelyaudibleovertheclunk and sputter of thespigot.He found the queen

crouchedbeforeit,herfaceinthestreamofwater.

“I’msorry,”hesaid.Sherubbedatherfaceand

heaved the lever until morewaterpouredoverher.Chaol went on, “I just

wantedtoenditforhim.Youwereright—allthistime,youwereright.ButIwantedtodoit myself. I didn’t know itwould…I’msorry.”She released the lever and

pivotedtolookupathim.“I saved my enemy’s life

today,” she said flatly. She

uncoiled to her feet, wipingthewater fromher face.Andthough he stood taller thanher, he felt smaller as Aelinstared at him. No, not justAelin.QueenAelinAshryverGalathynius,he realized,wasstaringathim.“Theytriedtoshoot my… Rowan throughthe heart. And I saved heranyway.”“I know,” he said. Her

scream when that arrow hadgonethroughRowan…

“I’msorry,”hesaidagain.Shegazedupatthestars—

toward the North. Her facewas so cold. “Would youtrulyhavekilledhimifyou’dhadthechance?”“Yes,” Chaol breathed. “I

wasreadyforthat.”She slowly turned to him.

“We’lldoit—together.We’llfree magic, then you and Iwill go in there and end ittogether.”“You’renotgoingtoinsist

Istayback?”“How can I deny you that

lastgifttohim?”“Aelin—”Her shoulders sagged

slightly. “I don’t blame you.If it had been Rowan withthat collar aroundhis neck, Iwould have done the samething.”The words hit him in the

gutasshewalkedaway.Amonster,he’dcalledher

weeks ago. He had believed

it, and allowed it to be ashield against the bitter tangof disappointment andsorrow.Hewasafool.

They moved Rowan beforedawn.Bywhatever immortalgrace lingering in his veins,he’d healed enough to walkon his own, and so theyslipped out of the lovely

country house before any ofthe staff awoke. Aelin saidgood-bye only to Fleetfoot,who had slept curled by hersideduringthelongnightthatshe’dwatchedoverRowan.Then they were off, Aelin

and Aedion flanking Rowan,his arms slung over theirshoulders as they hurriedacrossthefoothills.The early-morning mist

cloaked them as they madetheir way into Rifthold one

lasttime.

62

Manon didn’t bother lookingpleasant as she sent Abraxosslamming into the ground infrontof theking’sparty.Thehorses whinnied and buckedwhile the Thirteen circledabove the clearing in whichthey’dspottedtheparty.“Wing Leader,” the king

said from astride hiswarhorse,notatallperturbed.Beside him, his son—Dorian—cringed.Cringedthewaythatblond

thing inMorath had when itattackedthem.“Was there something you

wanted?” the king askedcoolly.“OrareasonyoulookhalfwaytoHellas’srealm?”Manon dismounted

Abraxos and walked towardthe king and his son. The

prince focusedonhis saddle,careful not tomeet her eyes.“There are rebels in yourwoods,”shesaid.“Theytookyour littleprisoneroutof thewagon, and then tried toattackmeandmyThirteen. Islaughtered them all. I hopeyou don’t mind. They leftthreeofyourmendeadinthewagon—thoughitseemstheirlosswasn’tnoticed.”The king merely said,

“Youcameallthiswaytotell

methat?”“Icameall thiswayto tell

you that when I face yourrebels, your enemies, I shallhave no interest in prisoners.And the Thirteen are not acaravan to transport them asyouwill.”She stepped closer to the

prince’s horse. “Dorian,” shesaid. A command and achallenge.Sapphire eyes snapped to

hers.Notraceofotherworldly

darkness.Justamantrappedinside.She faced the king. “You

should send your son toMorath. It’d be his sort ofplace.”Beforethekingcouldreply,Manonwalkedback toAbraxos.She’d planned on telling

the king about Aelin. Aboutthe rebels who calledthemselves Aedion andRowanandChaol.But … they were human

andcouldnottravelswiftly—notiftheywereinjured.Sheowedherenemyalife

debt.Manon climbed into

Abraxos’s saddle. “Mygrandmother might be HighWitch,” she said to the king,“but I ride at theheadof thearmies.”The king chuckled.

“Ruthless.IthinkIratherlikeyou,WingLeader.”“That weapon my

grandmother made—themirrors.Youtrulyplantouseshadowfirewithit?”The king’s ruddy face

tightened with warning. Thereplica inside the wagon hadbeena fractionof the sizeofwhat was depicted in theplansnailedtothewall:giant,transportable battle towers, ahundred feet high, theirinsides lined with the sacredmirrors of the Ancients.Mirrors that were once used

tobuildandbreakandmend.Now they would beamplifiers, reflecting andmultiplying any power thekingchosetounleash,untilitbecame a weapon that couldbeaimedatany target. If thepower were Kaltain’sshadowfire…“You ask too many

questions,WingLeader,” thekingsaid.“I don’t like surprises,”

was her only reply. Except

this—thishadbeenasurprise.The weapon wasn’t for

winning glory or triumph orthe love of battle. It was forextermination. A full-scaleslaughter that would involvelittle fighting at all. Anyopposing army—even Aelinand her warriors—would bedefenseless.The king’s face was

turning purple withimpatience.But Manon was already

taking to the skies, Abraxosbeating his wings hard. Shewatched the prince until hewasaspeckofblackhair.Andwonderedwhatitwas

like tobe trappedwithin thatbody.

Elide Lochan waited for thesupplywagon.Itdidn’tcome.A day late; two days late.

She hardly slept for fear it

would arrive when she wasdozing. When she awoke onthe thirdday,hermouthdry,it was already habit to hurrydown to help in the kitchen.She worked until her legnearlygaveout.Then, just before sunset,

thewhinnyofhorsesand theclatter of wheels and theshouts of men bounced offthe dark stones of the longKeepbridge.Elide slipped from the

kitchen before they couldnotice her, before the cookcould conscript her intoperforming some new task.She hurried up the steps asbestshecouldwithherchain,her heart in her throat. Sheshould have kept her thingsdownstairs, should havefoundsomehidingspot.Up and up, into Manon’s

tower. She’d refilled thewater skein each morning,and had amassed a little

supply of food in a pouch.Elide threwopen the door toManon’s room, surging forthepalletwhere shekepthersupplies.ButVernonwasinside.He sat on the edge of

Manon’sbedasifitwerehisown.“Going somewhere,

Elide?”

63

“Whereonearthcouldyoubeheaded?” Vernon said as hestood,smugasacat.Panic bleated in her veins.

Thewagon—thewagon—“Was that the plan all

along? To hide among thosewitches,andthenrun?”Elide backed toward the

door. Vernon clicked histongue.“We both know there’s no

point in running. And theWingLeaderisn’tgoingtobehereanytimesoon.”Elide’skneeswobbled.Oh,

gods.“Butismybeautiful,clever

niecehuman—orwitch-kind?Such an important question.”Hegrabbedherbytheelbow,asmallknifeinhishand.Shecould do nothing against the

stinging slice in her arm, theredbloodthatwelled.“Notawitchatall,itseems.”“I am aBlackbeak,” Elide

breathed.Shewouldnotbowtohim,wouldnotcower.Vernon circled her. “Too

bad they’re all up north andcan’tverifyit.”Fight, fight, fight, her

blood sang—do not let himcage you. Your mother wentdown fighting. She was awitch, and you are a witch,

andyoudonotyield—youdonotyield—Vernon lunged, faster than

shecouldavoidinherchains,one hand gripping her underthe arm while the otherslammed her head into thewood so hard that her bodyjust—stopped.That was all he needed—

that stupid pause—to pin herother arm, gripping both inhishandwhile theothernowclenched on her neck hard

enough to hurt, to make herrealize that her uncle hadoncetrainedasherfatherhad.“You’recomingwithme.”“No.” The word was a

whisperofbreath.Hisgriptightened,twisting

herarmsuntil theybarked inpain. “Don’t you knowwhata prize you are? What youmightbeabletodo?”He yanked her back,

opening the door. No—no,shewouldn’tlethimtakeher,

wouldn’t—But screaming would do

her no good. Not in a Keepfull of monsters. Not in aworld where no oneremembered she existed, orbothered to care. She stilled,and he took that asacquiescence. She could feelhis smile at the back of herhead as he nudged her intothestairwell.“Blackbeak blood is in

your veins—along with our

family’s generous line ofmagic.”He hauled her downthestairs,andbileburnedherthroat. There was no onecoming for her—because shehadbelongedtonoone.“Thewitchesdon’thavemagic,notlike us.But you, a hybrid ofboth lines …” Vernongrippedher armharder, rightover the cut he’d made, andshe cried out. The soundechoed, hollow and small,down the stone stairwell.

“You do your house a greathonor,Elide.”

Vernon left her in a freezingdungeoncell.Nolight.No sound, save for the

drippingofwatersomewhere.Shaking,Elide didn’t even

have the words to beg asVernon tossed her inside.“You brought this upon

yourself,youknow,”hesaid,“when you allied with thatwitch and confirmed mysuspicions that their bloodflows through your veins.”He studied her, but she wasgobbling down the details ofthe cell—anything, anythingto get her out. She foundnothing. “I’ll leave you hereuntil you’re ready. I doubtanyone will notice yourabsence,anyway.”He slammed the door, and

darkness swallowed herentirely.Shedidn’tbothertryingthe

handle.

ManonwassummonedbythedukethemomentshesetfootinMorath.The messenger was

cowering in the archway totheaerie,andcouldbarelygetthe words out as he took in

the blood and dirt and dustthatstillcoveredManon.She’d contemplated

snappingherteethathimjustfor trembling likea spinelessfool,butshewasdrained,herhead was pounding, andanything more than basicmovement required far toomuchthought.None of the Thirteen had

dared say anything about hergrandmother—that she hadapprovedofthebreeding.

Sorrel and Vesta trailingmerestepsbehindher,Manonflung open the doors to theduke’s council chamber,letting the slamming woodsay enough about what shethought of being summonedimmediately.The duke—only Kaltain

beside him—flicked his eyesover her. “Explain your …appearance.”Manonopenedhermouth.IfVernonheard thatAelin

Galathyniuswas alive—if hesuspected for one heartbeatthedebtthatAelinmightfeeltoward Elide’s mother forsavingherlife,hemightverywelldecidetoendhisniece’slife. “Rebels attacked us. Ikilledthemall.”Thedukechuckedafileof

papers onto the table. Theyhit the glass and slid,spreading out in a fan. “Formonths now, you’ve wantedexplanations.Well, here they

are. Status reports on ourenemies, larger targets for ustostrike…HisMajestysendshisbestwishes.”Manon approached. “Did

he also send that demonprince into my barracks toattack us?” She stared at theduke’sthickneck,wonderinghow easily the rough skinwouldtear.Perrington’smouth twisted

to the side. “Roland hadoutlived his usefulness.Who

bettertotakecareofhimthanyourThirteen?”“Ihadn’t realizedwewere

tobeyourexecutioners.”Sheshould indeed rip out histhroat for what he’d tried todo. Beside him, Kaltain waswhollyblank,ashell.Butthatshadowfire … Would shesummon it if the duke wereattacked?“Sit and read the files,

WingLeader.”She didn’t appreciate the

command,and letouta snarltotellhimso,butshesat.Andread.Reports on Eyllwe, on

Melisande,onFenharrow,ontheRedDesert,andWendlyn.AndonTerrasen.According to the report,

Aelin Galathynius—longbelieved to be dead—hadappeared in Wendlyn andbested four of the Valgprinces, including a lethalgeneral in the king’s army.

Usingfire.Aelinhadfiremagic,Elide

had said. She could havesurvivedthecold.But—but that meant that

magic…Magic still workedinWendlyn.Andnothere.Manon would bet a great

deal of the gold hoarded atBlackbeakKeepthatthemanin frontofher—and thekingin Rifthold—was the reasonwhy.Then a report of Prince

Aedion Ashryver, formergeneralofAdarlan,kintotheAshryversofWendlyn,beingarrested for treason. Forassociating with rebels. Hehad been rescued from hisexecutionmereweeksagobyunknownforces.Possible suspects: Lord

RenAllsbrookofTerrasen…And Lord Chaol Westfall

of Adarlan, who had loyallyservedthekingashisCaptainoftheGuarduntilhe’djoined

forces with Aedion this pastspringand fled the castle theday of Aedion’s capture.They suspected the captainhadn’t gone far—and that hewould try to freehis lifelongfriend,theCrownPrince.Freehim.Theprincehadtauntedher,

provokedher—as if trying toget her to kill him. AndRolandhadbeggedfordeath.If Chaol and Aedion were

both now with Aelin

Galathynius, all workingtogether…They hadn’t been in the

foresttospy.Buttosavetheprince.And

whoever that female prisonerhadbeen.They’drescuedonefriend,atleast.The duke and the king

didn’t know. They didn’tknow how close they’d beento all their targets, or howclosetheirenemieshadcometoseizingtheirprince.

That was why the captainhadcomerunning.He had come to kill the

prince—the only mercy hebelievedhecouldofferhim.Therebelsdidn’tknowthat

themanwasstillinside.“Well?” the duke

demanded.“Anyquestions?”“You have yet to explain

the necessity of the weaponmy grandmother is building.A tool like that could becatastrophic. If there’s no

magic, then surelyobliterating the Queen ofTerrasen can’t be worth theriskofusingthosetowers.”“Better to be overprepared

than surprised. We have fullcontrolofthetowers.”Manon tapped an iron nail

ontheglasstable.“This is a base of

information, Wing Leader.Continue to prove yourself,andyouwillreceivemore.”Prove herself? She hadn’t

doneanythinglatelytoproveherself,except—exceptshredoneofhisdemonprincesandbutcher that mountain tribefor no good reason.A shiverof rage went through her.Unleashing the prince in thebarracks hadn’t been amessage, then, but a test. Tosee if she could hold upagainst his worst, and stillobey.“Have you picked a coven

forme?”

Manon forced herself togive a dismissive shrug. “Iwas waiting to see whobehaved themselves the bestwhile I was away. It’ll betheirreward.”“You have until

tomorrow.”Manon stared him down.

“The moment I leave thisroom,I’mgoingtobatheandsleepforaday.Ifyouoryourlittle demon cronies botherme before then, you’ll learn

just how much I enjoyplaying executioner.The dayafter that, I’ll make mydecision.”“Youwouldn’tbeavoiding

it,wouldyou,WingLeader?”“Why should I bother

handingout favors to covensthat don’t deserve them?”Manon didn’t give herselfone heartbeat to contemplatewhat the Matron was lettingthesemendoasshegatheredupthefiles,shovedtheminto

Sorrel’sarms,andstrodeout.She had just reached the

stairs to her tower when shespotted Asterin leaningagainst the archway, pickingatherironnails.SorrelandVestasuckedin

theirbreath.“What is it?” Manon

demanded, flicking out herownnails.Asterin’s face was amask

of immortal boredom. “Weneedtotalk.”

SheandAsterinflewintothemountains, and she let hercousin lead—let Abraxosfollow Asterin’s sky-bluefemale until they were farfrom Morath. They alightedon a little plateau covered inpurple and orangewildflowers, its grasseshissing in thewind.Abraxoswas practically gruntingwithjoy, and Manon, her

exhaustion as heavy as thered cloak she wore, didn’tbothertoreprimandhim.They left their wyverns in

the field.Themountainwindwas surprisingly warm, theday clear and the sky full offat, puffy clouds. She’dordered Sorrel and Vesta toremain behind, despite theirprotests. If things had gottento the point where Asterincould not be trusted to bealonewithher…Manondid

notwanttoconsiderit.Perhaps that was why she

hadagreedtocome.Perhaps it was because of

thescreamAsterinhadissuedfrom the other side of theravine.It had been so like the

screamoftheBluebloodheir,Petrah,whenherwyvernhadbeen ripped to shreds. LikethescreamofPetrah’smotherwhenPetrahandherwyvern,Keelie,had tumbled into thin

air.Asterinwalkedtotheedge

of the plateau, thewildflowers swaying abouthercalves,herridingleathersshininginthebrightsun.Sheunbraided her hair, shakingout the golden waves, thenunbuckled her sword anddaggers and let them thud tothe ground. “I need you tolisten,andnot talk,” shesaidas Manon came to standbesideher.

Ahighdemandtomakeofher heir, but there was nochallenge,nothreatinit.AndAsterin had never spoken toher like that. So Manonnodded.Asterin stared out across

the mountains—so vibranthere, now that they were farfromthedarknessofMorath.A balmy breeze flittedbetween them, rufflingAsterin’s curls until theylooked like sunshine given

form.“WhenIwas twenty-eight,

IwasoffhuntingCrochansina valley just west of theFangs. Ihadahundredmilestogobefore thenextvillage,andwhenastormrolledin,Ididn’t feel like landing. So Itried to outrace the storm onmybroom,triedtoflyoverit.Butthestormwentonandon,upandup. Idon’tknow if itwasthelightningorthewind,but suddenly I was falling. I

managedtogetcontrolofmybroom long enough to land,but the impact was brutal.Before I blacked out, I knewmy arm was broken in twodifferent places, my ankletwisted beyond use, and mybroomshattered.”Over eighty years ago—

this had been over eightyyears ago, and Manon hadneverheardof it.She’dbeenoff on her own mission—where, she couldn’t

remember now. All thoseyears she’d spent huntingCrochans had blurredtogether.“WhenIawoke,Iwasina

human cabin, my broom inpieces beside the bed. Themanwho had foundme saidhe’d been riding homethroughthestormandsawmefall from the sky. He was ayoung hunter—mostly ofexotic game,whichwaswhyhehadacabinoutinthedeep

wild. I think I would havekilled him if I’d had anystrength, if only because Iwanted his resources. But Ifaded in and out ofconsciousness fora fewdayswhile my bones knittedtogether, and when I awokeagain … he fed me enoughthat he stopped looking likefood.Orathreat.”Alongsilence.“I stayed there for five

months.Ididn’thuntasingle

Crochan. I helped him stalkgame, found ironwood andbegan carving a new broom,and … And we both knewwhat I was, what he was.That Iwas long-lived andhewashuman.Butwewere thesameageatthatmoment,andwe didn’t care. So I stayedwithhimuntilmyordersbademe report back to BlackbeakKeep. And I told him … Isaid I’d come back when Icould.”

Manon could hardly think,hardly breathe over thesilence in her head. She’dnever heard of this. Not awhisper. For Asterin to haveignored her sacred duties …Forhertohavetakenupwiththishumanman…“I was a month pregnant

when I arrived back atBlackbeakKeep.”Manon’skneeswobbled.“Youwerealreadygone—

off on your next mission. I

toldnoone,notuntil Iknewthat the pregnancy wouldactually survive those firstfewmonths.”Not unexpected, as most

witches lost their offspringduring that time. For thewitchling to grow past thatthreshold was a miracle initself.“But I made it to three

months, thenfour.AndwhenI couldn’t hide it anymore, Itold your grandmother. She

was pleased, and orderedmeon bed rest in the Keep, sonothing disturbed me or thewitchlinginmywomb.Itoldher Iwanted to go back out,butsherefused.Iknewbetterthan to tell her I wanted toreturn to that cabin in theforest. Iknewshe’dkillhim.SoIremainedinthetowerformonths,apamperedprisoner.You even visited, twice, andshe didn’t tell you I wasthere.Not until thewitchling

wasborn,shesaid.”Along,unevenbreath.It wasn’t uncommon for

witches to be overprotectiveof those carrying witchlings.And Asterin, bearing theMatron’s bloodline, wouldhave been a valuedcommodity.“I made a plan. The

momentIrecoveredfromthebirth,themomenttheylookedaway, I’d take the witchlingto her father and present her

tohim.Ithoughtmaybealifein the forest, quiet andpeaceful,would be better formy witchling than thebloodshed we had. I thoughtmaybe it would be better…forme.”Asterin’s voice broke on

the last two words. Manoncouldn’tbringherself tolookathercousin.“I gave birth. The

witchlingalmostrippedmeintwo coming out. I thought it

was because she was afighter, because she was atrue Blackbeak. And I wasproud. Even as I wasscreaming, even as I wasbleeding, I was so proud ofher.”Asterin fell silent, and

Manonlookedatheratlast.Tears were rolling down

hercousin’sface,gleaminginthe sunshine. Asterin closedher eyes and whispered intothewind. “Shewas stillborn.

I waited to hear that cry oftriumph, but there was onlysilence. Silence, and thenyour grandmother …” Sheopened her eyes. “Yourgrandmother struck me. Shebeatme.Againandagain.AllI wanted was to see mywitchling, and she orderedthem to have her burnedinstead.Sherefusedtoletmesee her. I was a disgrace toevery witch who had comebeforeme;Iwastoblamefor

a defective witchling; I haddishonored theBlackbeaks; Ihad disappointed her. Shescreamed it at me again andagain,andwhenIsobbed,she…she…”Manon didn’t knowwhere

to stare,what to dowith herarms.A stillborn was a witch’s

greatest sorrow—and shame.Butforhergrandmother…Asterin unbuttoned her

jacketandshruggeditoffinto

theflowers.Sheremovedhershirt, and the one beneath,until her golden skin glowedin the sunlight, her breastsfull and heavy. Asterinturned,andManonfelltoherkneesinthegrass.There, branded on

Asterin’sabdomeninvicious,crudeletterswasoneword:UNCLEAN“She branded me. Had

them heat up the iron in thesame flame where my

witchlingburnedandstampedeach letterherself.Shesaid Ihadnobusinessevertryingtoconceive a Blackbeak again.That most men would takeone look at the word andrun.”Eighty years. For eighty

yearsshehadhiddenthis.ButManon had seen her naked,had—No.No,shehadn’t.Notfor

decades and decades. Whentheywerewitchlings,yes,but

…“In my shame, I told no

one. Sorrel and Vesta …Sorrelknewbecauseshewasin that room. Sorrel foughtfor me. Begged yourgrandmother. Yourgrandmothersnappedherarmandsentherout.ButaftertheMatron chucked me into thesnow and told me to crawlsomewhere and die, Sorrelfoundme.ShegotVesta,andthey brought me to Vesta’s

aerie deep in the mountains,andtheysecretlytookcareofme for the months that I …thatIcouldn’tgetoutofbed.Thenoneday,Ijustwokeupanddecidedtofight.“I trained. I healed my

body. I grew strong—strongerthanI’dbeenbefore.AndIstoppedthinkingaboutit. A month later I wenthunting for Crochans, andwalked back into the Keepwiththreeof theirhearts ina

box.Ifyourgrandmotherwassurprised I hadn’t died, shedidn’t show it. You werethere that night I came back.Youtoastedinmyhonor,andsaid youwere proud to havesuchafineSecond.”Still on her knees, the

damp earth soaking into herpants, Manon stared at thathideousbrand.“I never went back to the

hunter. I didn’t knowhow toexplain the brand. How to

explainyourgrandmother,orapologize. I was afraid he’dtreatmeasyourgrandmotherhad. So I never went back.”Hermouthwobbled. “I’d flyoverhead every few years,just…justtosee.”Shewipedat her face. “He nevermarried. And even when hewas an old man, I’dsometimes seehimsittingonthatfrontporch.Asifhewerewaitingforsomeone.”Something … something

was cracking and aching inManon’s chest, caving in onitself.Asterin sat among the

flowersandbeganpullingonherclothes.Shewasweepingsilently, but Manon didn’tknowifsheshouldreachout.She didn’t know how tocomfort,howtosoothe.“Istoppedcaring,”Asterin

said at last. “About anythingand everything. After that, itwas all a joke, and a thrill,

andnothingscaredme.”That wildness, that

untamed fierceness … Theyweren’t born of a free heart,but of one that had knowndespair so complete thatliving brightly, livingviolently,wastheonlywaytooutrunit.“But I told myself”—

Asterinfinishedbuttoningherjacket—“Iwoulddedicatemylife wholly to being yourSecond. To serving you. Not

your grandmother. Because Iknew your grandmother hadhidden me from you for areason. I think sheknewyouwould have fought for me.And whatever yourgrandmother saw in you thatmade her afraid … It wasworth waiting for. Worthserving.SoIhave.”That day Abraxos had

made theCrossing,whenherThirteen had looked ready tofighttheirwayoutshouldher

grandmothergivetheordertokillher…Asterin met her stare.

“Sorrel, Vesta, and I haveknown for a very long timewhat your grandmother iscapable of. We never saidanything because we fearedthat if you knew, it couldjeopardize you. The day yousavedPetrahinsteadoflettingher fall … You weren’t theonly one who understoodwhy your grandmother made

you slaughter that Crochan.”Asterinshookherhead.“Iambeggingyou,Manon.Donotlet your grandmother andthese men take our witchesandusethemlikethis.Donotlet them turn our witchlingsinto monsters. What they’vealreadydone…Iambeggingyoutohelpmeundoit.”Manon swallowed hard,

her throat achingly tight. “Ifwedefythem,theywillcomeafter us, and they will kill

us.”“I know. We all know.

That’swhatwewantedtotellyoutheothernight.”Manon looked at her

cousin’sshirt,as ifshecouldsee through to the brandbeneath.“Thatiswhyyou’vebeenbehavingthisway.”“Iamnotfoolishenoughto

pretend that I don’t have aweak spot where witchlingsareconcerned.”This was why her

grandmother had pushed fordecades to have Asterindemoted.“I don’t think it’s a weak

spot,” Manon admitted, andglanced over her shoulder towhere Abraxos was sniffingatthewildflowers.“You’retobereinstatedasSecond.”Asterinbowedherhead.“I

amsorry,Manon.”“You have nothing to be

sorry for.” She dared add,“Are there others whom my

grandmother treated thisway?”“NotintheThirteen.Butin

other covens. Most letthemselves die when yourgrandmother cast them out.”And Manon had never beentold.Shehadbeenliedto.Manon gazed westward

across the mountains. Hope,Elide had said—hope for abetterfuture.Forahome.Not obedience, brutality,

discipline.Buthope.

“We need to proceedcarefully.”Asterin blinked, the gold

flecks in her black eyesglittering. “What are youplanning?”“Something very stupid, I

think.”

64

Rowan barely rememberedanythingoftheagonizingtripbacktoRifthold.Bythetimetheyhadsnuckacrossthecitywalls and through the alleysto reach the warehouse, hewas so exhausted that he’dhardlyhit themattressbeforeunconsciousnessdraggedhim

under.He awoke that night—or

was it the next?—withAelinandAedionsittingonthesideofthebed,talking.“Solsticeisinsixdays;we

needtohaveeverythinglinedup by then,” she was sayingtohercousin.“So you’re going to ask

Ress andBrullo to just leaveabackdooropen soyoucansneakin?”“Don’t be so

simpleminded. I’m going towalk in through the frontdoor.”Ofcourse shewas.Rowan

letoutagroan,histonguedryandheavyinhismouth.She whirled to him, half

lungingacrossthebed.“Howareyoufeeling?”Shebrusheda hand over his forehead,testing for fever. “You seemallright.”“Fine,” he grunted. His

arm and shoulder ached. But

he’d endured worse. Theblood loss had been whatknocked his feet out fromunder him—more blood thanhe’deverlostatonce,atleastso quickly, thanks to hismagicbeingstifled.HerananeyeoverAelin.Herfacewasdrawn and pale, a bruisekissed her cheekbone, andfour scratches marred herneck.Hewas going to slaughter

thatwitch.

Hesaidasmuch,andAelinsmiled. “If you’re in themood for violence, then Isupposeyou’rejustfine.”Butthewordswerethick,andhereyesgleamed.Hereachedoutwithhisgoodarmtogriponeof her hands and squeezedtightly.“Pleasedon’teverdothatagain,”shebreathed.“Next time, I’ll ask them

not to fire arrowsat you—orme.”Her mouth tightened and

wobbled, and she rested herbrow on his good arm. Helifted the other arm, sendingburning pain shootingthroughhimashestrokedherhair. It was still matted in afewspotswithbloodanddirt.She must not have evenbotheredwithafullbath.Aedion cleared his throat.

“We’ve been thinking up aplan for freeing magic—andtaking out the king andDorian.”

“Just—tell me tomorrow,”Rowan said, a headachealready blooming. The merethoughtofexplainingtothemagain that every time he’dseenhellfireusedithadbeenmoredestructive thananyonecould anticipate made himwant to go back to sleep.Gods, without his magic …Humanswereremarkable.Tobe able to survive withoutleaning on magic…He hadtogivethemcredit.

Aedion yawned—thelousiestattemptatoneRowanhad ever seen—and excusedhimself.“Aedion,”Rowansaid,and

the general paused in thedoorway.“Thankyou.”“Anytime, brother.” He

walkedout.Aelinwaslookingbetween

them,herlipspursedagain.“What?”hesaid.She shook her head.

“You’retoonicewhenyou’re

wounded.It’sunsettling.”Seeing the tears shine in

her eyes just nowhad nearlyunsettled him. If magic hadalready been freed, thosewitches would have beenashes themoment that arrowhithim.“Go takeabath,”hegrowled. “I’m not sleepingnext to you while you’recovered in that witch’sblood.”She examined her nails,

still slightly lined with dirt

and blue blood. “Ugh. I’vewashed them ten timesalready.” She rose from herseatonthesideofthebed.“Why,” he asked. “Why

didyousaveher?”She dragged a hand

through her hair. A whitebandage around her upperarm peeked through her shirtwith the movement. Hehadn’t even been consciousforthatwound.Hestifledtheurge to demand to see it,

assess the injury himself—andtughercloseagainsthim.“Because that golden-

haired witch, Asterin … ,”Aelin said. “She screamedManon’s name the way Iscreamedyours.”Rowan stilled. His queen

gazed at the floor, as ifrecallingthemoment.“How can I take away

somebody who means theworldtosomeoneelse?Evenif she’s my enemy.” A little

shrug. “I thought you weredying.Itseemedlikebadlucktoletherdieoutofspite.And…”shesnorted.“Fallingintoa ravine seemed like aprettyshittywaytodieforsomeonewho fights thatspectacularly.”Rowan smiled, drinking in

the sight of her: the pale,grave face; the dirty clothes;theinjuries.Yethershoulderswere back, chin high. “Youmakemeproudtoserveyou.”

A jaunty slant to her lips,but silver lined her eyes. “Iknow.”

“You look like shit,”Lysandra said toAelin.Thenshe remembered Evangeline,who stared at herwide-eyed,andwinced.“Sorry.”Evangeline refolded her

napkin in her lap, every inchthe dainty little queen. “You

said I’m not to use suchlanguage—andyetyoudo.”“I can curse,” Lysandra

said as Aelin suppressed asmile, “because I’m older,and I know when it’s mosteffective.Andrightnow,ourfriend looks like absoluteshit.”Evangeline lifted her eyes

to Aelin, her red-gold hairbright in the morning sunthrough the kitchen window.“You lookevenworse in the

morning,Lysandra.”Aelin choked out a laugh.

“Careful, Lysandra. You’vegotahelliononyourhands.”Lysandra gave her young

ward a long look. “If you’vefinishedeatingthetartscleanoffourplates,Evangeline,goonto the roof and raise hellforAedionandRowan.”“Take care with Rowan,”

Aelin added. “He’s still onthemend.Butpretendthatheisn’t. Men get pissy if you

fuss.”Awickedgleaminhereye,

Evangeline bounded for thefront door. Aelin listened tomakesurethegirldidindeedgo upstairs, and then turnedtoherfriend.“She’sgoingtobe a handful when she’solder.”Lysandra groaned. “You

think I don’t know that?Eleven years old, and she’salready a tyrant. It’s anendlessstreamofWhy?andI

wouldprefernot to andwhy,why,whyandno,Ishouldnotlike to listen to your goodadvice, Lysandra.” Sherubbedhertemples.“Atyrant,butabraveone,”

Aelin said. “I don’t thinkthere are many eleven-year-oldswhowould dowhat shedid to save you.” Theswelling had gone down, butbruises still marredLysandra’s face, and thesmall, scabbed cut near her

lip remained an angry red.“And I don’t think there aremanynineteen-year-oldswhowould fight tooth and nail tosaveachild.”Lysandrastareddown at the table. “I’msorry,” Aelin said. “Eventhough Arobynn orchestratedit—I’msorry.”“You came for me,”

Lysandra said so quietly thatitwashardlyabreath.“Allofyou—youcameforme.”ShehadtoldNesrynandChaolin

detailofherovernightstayinahiddendungeonbeneaththecity streets; already, therebels were combing thesewers for it. Sheremembered little of the rest,having been blindfolded andgagged. Wondering if theywould put a Wyrdstone ringon her finger had been theworst of it, she said. Thatdread would haunt her for awhile.“You thoughtwewouldn’t

comeforyou?”“I’ve never had friends

who cared what happened tome, other than Sam andWesley. Most people wouldhave let me be taken—dismissedme as just anotherwhore.”“I’ve been thinking about

that.”“Oh?”Aelin reached into her

pocket and pushed a foldedpiece of paper across the

table.“It’sforyou.Andher.”“We don’t need—”

Lysandra’seyesfelluponthewax seal. A snake inmidnightink:Clarisse’ssigil.“Whatisthis?”“Openit.”Glancing between her and

the paper, Lysandra crackedthesealandreadthetext.“I, Clarisse DuVency,

herebydeclare thatanydebtsowedtomeby—”Thepaperbeganshaking.

“AnydebtsowedtomebyLysandra and Evangeline arenow paid in full. At theirearliest convenience, theymayreceivetheMarkoftheirfreedom.”The paper fluttered to the

table as Lysandra’s handsslackened. She raised herheadtolookatAelin.“Och,”Aelin said, evenas

her own eyes filled. “I hateyou for being so beautiful,evenwhenyoucry.”

“Do you know how muchmoney—”“Did you think I’d leave

youenslavedtoher?”“I don’t … I don’t know

what to say to you. I don’tknowhowtothankyou—”“Youdon’tneedto.”Lysandra put her face in

herhandsandsobbed.“I’msorryifyouwantedto

do theproudandnoble thingand stick it out for anotherdecade,”Aelinbegan.

Lysandraonlyweptharder.“But you have to

understand that there was norutting way I was going toleavewithout—”“Shutup,Aelin,”Lysandra

said throughher hands. “Just—shut up.” She lowered herhands, her face now puffyandsplotchy.Aelin sighed. “Oh, thank

the gods. You can lookhideouswhenyoucry.”Lysandra burst out

laughing.

Manon andAsterin stayed inthe mountains all day andnight after her Secondrevealedherinvisiblewound.They caught mountain goatsfor themselves and theirwyverns and roasted themover a fire that night as theycarefully considered whattheymightdo.

When Manon eventuallydozed off, curled againstAbraxos with a blanket ofstars overhead, her head feltclearerthanithadinmonths.Andyetsomethingnaggedather,eveninsleep.She knew what it was

when she awoke. A loosethread in the loom of theThree-FacedGoddess.“Youready?”Asterinsaid,

mounting her pale-bluewyvern and smiling—a real

smile.Manonhadneverseenthat

smile. She wondered howmany people had. Wonderedifsheherselfhadeversmiledthatway.Manon gazed northward.

“There’ssomethingIneed todo.”Whensheexplainedittoher Second, Asterin didn’thesitate to declare that shewouldgowithher.SotheystoppedbyMorath

long enough to get supplies.

They let Sorrel and Vestaknow the bare details, andinstructed them to tell thedukeshe’dbeencalledaway.Theywere airbornewithin

an hour, flying hard and fastabove the clouds to keephidden.Mile after mile they flew.

Manoncouldn’t tellwhy thatthread kept yanking, why itfeltsourgent,butshepushedthem hard, all the way toRifthold.

Four days.Elide had been inthis freezing, festeringdungeonforfourdays.It was so cold that she

could hardly sleep, and thefood they chucked in wasbarely edible. Fear kept heralert, prompting her to testthedoor, towatchtheguardswhenever they opened it, tostudy the halls behind them.Shelearnednothinguseful.

Four days—and Manonhadnotcomeforher.NoneoftheBlackbeakshad.She didn’t know why she

expected it. Manon hadforced her to spy on thatchamber,afterall.Shetriednottothinkabout

whatmightawaithernow.Tried, and failed. She

wondered if anyone wouldeven remember her namewhen she was dead. If itwould ever be carved

anywhere.Sheknewtheanswer.And

knew there was no onecomingforher.

65

Rowan was more tired thanhe’d admit to Aelin orAedion, and in the flurry ofplanning, he hardly had amomentalonewiththequeen.Ithad takenhim twodaysofrestandsleepinglikethedeadbefore he was back on hisfeet and able to go through

his trainingexerciseswithoutbeingwinded.After finishinghis evening

routine, hewas so exhaustedby the timehestaggered intobedthathewasasleepbeforeAelin had finished washingup. No, he hadn’t givenhumans nearly enough creditalltheseyears.It would be such a damn

relief tohavehismagicback—if their plan worked.Consideringthefactthatthey

were using hellfire, thingscould go very, very wrong.Chaol hadn’t been able tomeetwithRessorBrulloyet,but tried every day to getmessages to them. The realdifficulty,itseemed,wasthatover half the rebels had fledasmoreValgsoldierspouredin. Three executions a daywas the new rule: sunrise,noon, and sunset. Formermagic-wielders, rebels,suspected rebel sympathizers

—ChaolandNesrynmanagedtosavesome,butnotall.Thecawing of crows could nowbeheardoneverystreet.A male scent in the room

snapped Rowan from sleep.He slid his knife out fromunder his pillow and sat upslowly.Aelin slumbered beside

him, her breathing deep andeven, yet again wearing oneof his shirts. Some primalpart of him snarled in

satisfaction at the sight, atknowing she was covered inhisscent.Rowan rolled to his feet,

hisstepssilentashescannedtheroom,knifeattheready.Butthescentwasn’tinside.

It was drifting in frombeyond.Rowan edged to the

window and peered out. Noone on the street below; noone on the neighboringrooftops.

Which meant Lorcan hadtobeontheroof.

His old commander waswaiting, arms crossed overhis broad chest.He surveyedRowan with a frown, notingthe bandages and his baretorso.“ShouldIthankyouforputting on pants?” Lorcansaid, his voice barely morethanamidnightwind.

“I didn’t want you to feelinadequate,” Rowan replied,leaningagainsttheroofdoor.Lorcan huffed a laugh.

“Didyourqueenclawyouup,or are the wounds from oneof those beasts she sent afterme?”“I was wondering who

would ultimately win—youortheWyrdhounds.”A flash of teeth. “I

slaughteredthemall.”“Why’d you come here,

Lorcan?”“You think I don’t know

that the heir of Mala Fire-Bringer is planningsomething for the summersolstice in two days? Haveyou fools considered myoffer?”A carefully worded

question, to bait him intorevealing what Lorcan hadonlyguessedat. “Aside fromdrinking the first of thesummer wine and being a

pain inmy ass, I don’t thinkshe’s planning anything atall.”“So that’swhy the captain

is trying to set up ameetingwithguardsatthepalace?”“How am I supposed to

keep up with what he does?The boy used to serve theking.”“Assassins,whores,traitors

—what fine company youkeepthesedays,Rowan.”“Better than being a dog

leashed by a psychoticmaster.”“Is that what you thought

ofus?Allthoseyearsthatweworked together, killed menandbeddedfemalestogether?Ineverheardyoucomplain.”“I didn’t realize there was

anythingtocomplainabout.Iwasasblindasyou.”“And then a fiery princess

flounced into your life, andyou decided to change forher, right?” A cruel smile.

“Did you tell her aboutSollemere?”“Sheknowseverything.”“Does she now. I suppose

her own history makes hereven more understanding ofthehorrorsyoucommittedonourqueen’sbehalf.”“Your queen’s behalf.

What is it, exactly, aboutAelin that gets under yourskin, Lorcan? Is it that she’snotafraidofyou,orisitthatIwalked away from you for

her?”Lorcansnorted.“Whatever

you’re planning, it won’twork. You’ll all die in theprocess.”Thatwashighlylikely,but

Rowan said, “I don’t knowwhatyou’retalkingabout.”“You owe me more than

thathorseshit.”“Careful,Lorcan,oryou’ll

sound like you care aboutsomeoneotherthanyourself.”As a discarded bastard child

growing up on the backstreets of Doranelle, Lorcanhad lost that ability centuriesbeforeRowanhadevenbeenborn. He’d never pitied himfor it, though. Not whenLorcan had been blessed inevery other regard by Hellashimself.Lorcanspatontheroof.“I

was going to offer to bringyour body back to yourbeloved mountain to beburiedalongsideLyriaonceI

finishwiththekeys.NowI’lljust let you rot here.Alongside your pretty littleprincess.”Hetriedtoignoretheblow,

thethoughtofthatgraveatophis mountain. “Is that athreat?”“Why would I bother? If

you’re truly planningsomething, I won’t need tokill her—she can do that allon her own.Maybe the kingwill put her in one of those

collars.Justlikehisson.”Achordofhorrorstruckso

deep in Rowan that hisstomach turned. “Mind whatyousay,Lorcan.”“I bet Maeve would offer

goodcoinforher.Andifshegets her hands on thatWyrdkey…Youcanimaginejust aswell as Iwhat sort ofpower Maeve would wieldthen.”Worse—so much worse

than he could imagine if

MaevewantedAelinnotdeadbut enslaved. A weaponwithoutlimitinonehand,andtheheirofMalaFire-Bringerin her other. Therewould benostoppingher.Lorcan read the hesitation,

the doubt. Gold gleamed inhis hand. “You know me,Prince. You know I’m theonly one qualified to huntdownanddestroythosekeys.Let your queen take on thearmygatheringinthesouth—

leave this task to me.” Thering seemed to glow in themoonlight as Lorcanextended it. “Whatever she’splanning, she’llneed this.Orelse you can say good-bye.”Lorcan’s eyes were chips ofblackice.“Weallknowhowwellyouhandledsaying it toLyria.”Rowan leashed his rage.

“Swearit.”Lorcan smiled, knowing

he’dwon.

“SwearthatthisringgrantsimmunitytotheValg,andI’llgive it to you,” Rowan said,and he pulled the Amulet ofOrynthfromhispocket.Lorcan’s focus snapped to

the amulet, to theotherworldly strangeness itradiated,andswore.A blade flashed, and then

the scent of Lorcan’s bloodfilledtheair.Heclenchedhisfist,liftingit.“Iswearonmyblood and honor that I have

not deceived you in any ofthis. The ring’s power isgenuine.”Rowan watched the blood

driponto the roof.Onedrop;two;three.Lorcan might have been a

prick, but Rowan had neverseen him break an oathbefore. His word was hisbond; it had always been theonecurrencyhevalued.They bothmoved at once,

chucking the amulet and the

ring into the space betweenthem.Rowan caught the ringand swiftly pocketed it, butLorcan just stared at theamulet in his hands, his eyesshadowed.Rowanavoidedtheurgeto

hold his breath and stayedsilent.Lorcan slid the chain

around his neck and tuckedthe amulet into his shirt.“You’re all going to die.Carrying out this plan, or in

thewarthatfollows.”“You destroy those keys,”

Rowansaid,“andtheremightnotbeawar.”Afool’shope.“There will be a war. It’s

too late to stop it now. Toobad that ringwon’t keepanyof you from being spiked onthecastlewalls.”The image flashed through

hishead—madealltheworse,perhaps,becauseofthetimeshe’d seen it himself, done ithimself. “What happened to

you,Lorcan?Whathappenedinyourmiserableexistencetomake you this way?” He’dneveraskedforthefullstory,had never cared to. It hadn’tbothered him until now.Before, hewould have stoodbesideLorcanandtauntedthepoor fool who dared defytheir queen. “You’re a bettermalethanthis.”“Am I? I still serve my

queen,evenifshecannotseeit. Who was the one who

abandonedherthefirsttimeapretty human thing openedherlegs—”“Thatisenough.”ButLorcanwasgone.Rowan waited a few

minutes before going backdownstairs, turning the ringoverandoverinhispocket.Aelinwasawakeinthebed

when he entered, thewindows shut and curtained,the hearth dark. “Well?” shesaid, thewordbarely audible

above the rustling of theblankets as he climbed inbesideher.His night-keen eyes

allowed him to see thescarred palm she held out ashe dropped the ring into it.She slid it onto her thumb,wriggled her fingers, andfrowned when nothingparticularly excitinghappened.A laugh caught inhisthroat.“HowmadisLorcangoing

to be,” Aelin murmured asthey lay down face-to-face,“whenheeventuallyopensupthat amulet, finds the Valgcommander’sringinside,andrealizeswegavehimafake?”

The demon ripped down theremaining barriers betweentheir souls as though theywere paper, until only oneremained,atinyshellofself.

He did not rememberwaking, or sleeping, oreating. Indeed, there werevery few moments when hewas even there, looking outthrough his eyes.Onlywhenthe demon prince fed on theprisoners in the dungeons—whenheallowedhimtofeed,to drink alongside him—thatwas the only time he nowsurfaced.Whatever control he’d had

thatday—

Whatday?He could not remember a

timewhenthedemonhadnotbeenthereinsideofhim.Andyet—Manon.Aname.Donot think of that one—

do not think of her. Thedemonhatedthatname.Manon.Enough.We do not speak

of them, the descendants ofourkings.

Speakofwhom?Good.

“You’re ready fortomorrow?” Aelin said toChaol as they stood on theroofofherapartment,gazingtowardtheglasscastle.Inthesetting sun, it was awash ingoldandorangeandruby—asifitwerealreadyaflame.Chaol prayed it wouldn’t

come to that, but … “AsreadyasIcanbe.”He’d tried not to look too

hesitant,toowary,whenhe’darrived minutes ago to runthrough tomorrow’s plan onelast time and Aelin hadinsteadaskedhim to joinheruphere.Alone.She was wearing a loose

white shirt tucked into tightbrown pants, her hairunbound, and hadn’t evenbothered to put on shoes.He

wondered what her peoplewould think of a barefootqueen.Aelin braced her forearms

on the roof rail, hooking oneankle over the other as shesaid,“YouknowthatIwon’tunnecessarily endanger anylives.”“Iknow.Itrustyou.”She blinked, and shame

washed through him at theshock on her face. “Do youregret,” she said, “sacrificing

your freedom to get me toWendlyn?”“No,” he said, surprising

himself to find it true.“Regardless of whathappenedbetweenus,Iwasafool to serve the king. I liketo think I would have leftsomeday.”He needed to say that to

her—had needed to say itfrom the moment she’dreturned.“With me,” she said, her

voice hoarse. “You wouldhave left with me—when IwasjustCelaena.”“But you were never just

Celaena, and I think youknew that, deep down, evenbeforeeverythinghappened.Iunderstandnow.”She studied himwith eyes

that were far older thannineteen. “You’re still thesameperson,Chaol, thatyouwere before you broke theoathtoyourfather.”

Hewasn’t surewhether ornot that was an insult. Hesupposedhedeservedit,afterallhe’dsaidanddone.“MaybeIdon’twant tobe

that person anymore,” hesaid. That person—thatstupidly loyal,uselessperson—had lost everything. Hisfriend, the woman he loved,his position, his honor. Losteverything,withonlyhimselftoblame.“I’m sorry,” he said.

“About Nehemia—abouteverything.” It wasn’tenough.Itneverwouldbe.But she gave him a grim

smile, eyes darting to thefaint scar on his cheek. “I’msorryImauledyourface,thentried to kill you.”She turnedtotheglasscastleagain.“It’sstill hard for me, to thinkabout what happened thiswinter. But in the end I’mgrateful you sent me toWendlyn, and made that

bargain with your father.”Sheclosedhereyesand tooka shallow breath. When sheopened her eyes, the settingsun filled them with liquidgold. Chaol braced himself.“It meant something to me.What you and I had. Morethan that, your friendshipmeant something to me. InevertoldyouthetruthaboutwhoIwasbecauseIcouldn’tface that truth. I’m sorry ifwhat I said to you on the

docks thatday—that I’dpickyou—made you think I’dcome back, and it would allbe fixed. Things changed. Ichanged.”He’d waited for this

conversation for weeks now,months now—and he’dexpected himself to yell, orpace, or just shut her outentirely. But there wasnothingbutcalminhisveins,asteady,peacefulcalm.“Youdeservetobehappy,”hesaid.

And meant it. She deservedthe joy he so often glimpsedonherfacewhenRowanwasnear—deserved the wickedlaughter she shared withAedion, the comfort andteasing with Lysandra. Shedeserved happiness, perhapsmorethananyone.She flicked her gaze over

his shoulder—to whereNesryn’sslimsilhouettefilledthe doorway onto the roof,whereshe’dbeenwaitingfor

thepast fewminutes. “Sodoyou,Chaol.”“You know she and I

haven’t—”“I know. But you should.

Faliq—Nesryn is a goodwoman. You deserve eachother.”“This is assuming she has

anyinterestinme.”Aknowinggleam in those

eyes.“Shedoes.”Chaol again glanced

towardNesryn,whogazedat

theriver.Hesmiledabit.But then Aelin said, “I

promiseI’llmakeitquickandpainless.ForDorian.”His breathing locked up.

“Thank you. But—if I ask…”Hecouldn’tsayit.“Then the blow is yours.

Just say the word.” She ranher fingers over the Eye ofElena,itsbluestonegleamingin the sunset. “We do notlookback,Chaol. Ithelpsnooneandnothingtolookback.

Wecanonlygoon.”There she was, that queen

looking out at him, a hint ofthe ruler she was becoming.Anditknockedthebreathoutof him, because itmade himfeel so strangely young—whenshenowseemedsoold.“What ifwegoon,”he said,“only to more pain anddespair? What if we go on,only to find a horrible endwaitingforus?”Aelinlookednorthward,as

ifshecouldseeallthewaytoTerrasen. “Then it is not theend.”

“Only twenty of them left. Ihope to hell they’re readytomorrow,”Chaol said underhis breath as he and Nesrynleft a covert gathering ofrebels at a run-down innbeside the fishing docks.Eveninsidetheinn,thecheap

alehadn’tbeenable tocoverthe reekof fish coming fromboth the guts still splatteredonthewoodenplanksoutsideand the hands of thefishmongers who shared thetavernroom.“Betterthanonlytwo—and

they will be,” Nesryn said,herstepslightonthedockasthey strode down theriverfront. Lanterns on theboats docked alongside thewalkwaybobbedand swayed

with the current; from faracross the Avery, the faintsoundofmusic trickled fromone of the pretty countryestates on its banks. A partyon the eve of the summersolstice.Once, a lifetime ago, he

andDorianhadgonetothoseparties, dropping by severalin one night. He’d neverenjoyed it, had only gone tokeepDoriansafe,but…Heshouldhaveenjoyed it.

Heshouldhavesavoredeverysecondwithhisfriend.He’d never realized how

precious the calm momentswere.But—buthewouldn’tthink

about it, what he had to dotomorrow. What he’d saygood-byeto.They walked in silence,

until Nesryn turned down asidestreetandwalkeduptoasmall stone temple wedgedbetween two market

warehouses. The gray rockwas worn, the columnsflanking the entranceimbeddedwith various shellsandbitsofcoral.Goldenlightspilled from the inside,revealingaround,openspacewith a simple fountain in itscenter.Nesryn climbed the few

stepsanddroppedacoinintothesealedbinbesideapillar.“Comewithme.”Andmaybe itwasbecause

hedidn’twant to sit alone inhisapartmentandbroodoverwhatwas tocome tomorrow;maybeitwasbecausevisitinga temple, however useless,couldn’thurt.Chaolfollowedherinside.Atthishour,theSeaGod’s

temple was empty. A smalldoorat thebackof thespacewas padlocked. Even thepriest and priestess had goneto sleep for a few hoursbefore they had to awake

ahead of the dawn,when thesailors and fishermen wouldmake their offerings, reflect,or ask for blessings beforesettingoffwiththesun.Two lanterns, crafted from

sun-bleached coral, hungfrom the domed ceiling,setting the mother-of-pearltiles above them glimmeringlike the surface of the sea.Nesryn tooka seatononeoffour benches set along thecurved walls—a bench for

each direction a sailor mightjourneyin.Shepickedsouth.“For the Southern

Continent?” Chaol asked,sitting beside her on thesmoothwood.Nesryn stared at the little

fountain, the bubbling waterthe only sound. “Wewent totheSouthernContinentafewtimes. Twice when I was achild, tovisit family;once tobury my mother. Her whole

life, I’d always catch hergazingsouth.Asifshecouldseeit.”“Ithoughtonlyyourfather

camefromthere.”“Yes. But she fell in love

with it, and said it felt morelikehomethanthisplace.Myfather never agreedwith her,no matter how many timesshe begged him to moveback.”“Doyouwishhehad?”Hernight-darkeyesshifted

toward him. “I’ve never feltas though I had a home.Either here, or in the MilasAgia.”“The…god-city,”hesaid,

recalling the history andgeography lessons that hadbeen drilled into him. It wasmore frequently called by itsother name—Antica—andwas the largest city on theSouthern Continent, home toa mighty empire in its ownright, which claimed it had

been built by the hands ofgods.AlsohometotheTorreCesme, the best mortalhealers in the world. He’dneverknownNesryn’sfamilyhadbeenfromthecityitself.“Wheredoyouthinkhome

mightbe?”heasked.Nesryn braced her

forearms on her knees. “Idon’t know,” she admitted,twistingherheadtolookbackathim.“Anyideas?”You deserve to be happy,

Aelin had said earlier thatnight. An apology and ashove out the door, hesupposed.Hedidn’twanttowastethe

calmmoments.Sohereachedforherhand,

slidingcloserasheinterlacedtheirfingers.Nesrynstaredattheir hands for a heartbeat,then sat up. “Maybe once allthis … once everything isover,” Chaol said hoarsely,“we could figure that out.

Together.”“Promise me,” she

breathed, hermouth shaking.Indeed, thatwas silver liningher eyes, which she closedlong enough to masterherself. Nesryn Faliq,movedto tears. “Promise me,” sherepeated, looking at theirhands again, “that you willwalk out of that castletomorrow.”He’d wondered why she’d

broughthiminhere.TheSea

God—andtheGodofOaths.Hesqueezedherhand.She

squeezedback.Gold light rippled on the

surface of the Sea God’sfountain, and Chaol offeredup a silent prayer. “Ipromise.”

Rowan was in bed, casuallytesting his left shoulder withcareful rotations. He’d

pushed himself hard todaywhile training, and sorenessnowthrobbed inhismuscles.Aelin was in her closet,preparing for bed—quiet, asshe’d been all day andevening.With two urns of hellfire

now hidden a block away inan abandoned building,everyone should be tiptoeingaround. One small accident,andtheywouldbeincineratedso thoroughly that no ash

wouldremain.But he’d made sure that

wasn’t her concern.Tomorrow, he and Aedionwouldbetheonesbearingtheurns through the network ofsewer tunnels and into thecastleitself.Aelin had tracked the

Wyrdhounds to their secretentrance—the one that fedrighttotheclocktower—andnowthatshe’dtrickedLorcaninto killing them all for her,

the way would be clear forhim and Aedion to plant thevats, set the fuses, and usetheirFae swiftness toget thehell out before the towerexploded.Then Aelin … Aelin and

the captain would play theirpart, the most dangerous ofall. Especially since theyhadn’t been able to get amessage in to the palacebeforehand.And Rowan wouldn’t be

theretohelpher.He’d gone over the plan

with her again and again.Things could go wrong soeasily, and yet she hadn’tlooked nervous as shedowned her dinner. But heknewherwell enough to seethe storm brewing beneaththe surface, to feel its chargeevenfromacrosstheroom.Rowanrotatedhisshoulder

again, and soft footstepssounded on the carpet. “I’ve

been thinking,” Rowanstarted, and then forgoteverything he was going tosay as he bolted upright inbed.Aelin leaned against the

closet doorway, clad in anightgownofgold.Metallic gold—as he’d

requested.It could have been painted

on her for how closely ithugged every curve and dip,forallthatitconcealed.

Alivingflame,that’swhatshe looked like. He didn’tknow where to look, wherehewantedtotouchfirst.“If I recall correctly,” she

drawled, “someone said toremind him to prove mewrongaboutmyhesitations.Ithink I had two options:words,ortongueandteeth.”Alowgrowlrumbledinhis

chest.“DidInow.”She took a step, and the

fullscentofherdesirehithim

likeabricktotheface.He was going to rip that

nightgowntoshreds.He didn’t care how

spectacular it looked; hewantedbareskin.“Don’t even think about

it,” she said, taking anotherstep,asfluidasmoltenmetal.“Lysandralentittome.”His heartbeat thundered in

hisears.Ifhemovedaninch,he’d be on her, would takeher in his arms and begin

learning just what made theHeirofFirereallyburn.But he got out of bed,

risking all of one step,drinkingdownthesightofthelong, bare legs; the curve ofher breasts, peaked despitethe balmy summer night; thebob of her throat as sheswallowed.“You said that things had

changed—thatwe’ddealwithit.” Her turn to dare anotherstep.Another.“I’mnotgoing

to ask you for anythingyou’renotreadyorwillingtogive.”He froze as she stopped

directly before him, tippingback her head to study hisface as her scent twinedaroundhim,awakeninghim.Gods, that scent. From the

moment he’d bitten her neckinWendlyn,themomenthe’dtasted her blood and loathedthe beckoning wildfire thatcrackled in it, he’d been

unable to get it out of hissystem. “Aelin, you deservebetter than this—than me.”He’d wanted to say it for awhilenow.She didn’t so much as

flinch. “Don’t tellmewhat Ido and don’t deserve. Don’ttell me about tomorrow, orthefuture,oranyofit.”He took her hand; her

fingers were cold—shakingslightly. What do you wantmetotellyou,Fireheart?

She studied their joinedhands, and the gold ringencircling her thumb. Hesqueezed her fingers gently.Whensheliftedherhead,hereyes were blazing bright.“Tell me that we’ll getthrough tomorrow. Tell methat we’ll survive the war.Tell me—” She swallowedhard. “Tellme that even if Ileadusall toruin,we’llburninhelltogether.”“We’re not going to hell,

Aelin,” he said. “Butwherever we go, we’ll gotogether.”Her mouth wobbled

slightly, and she released hishand only to brace her ownonhischest.“Justonce,”shesaid. “Iwant tokissyou justonce.”Every thoughtwent out of

his head. “That sounds likeyou’re expecting not to do itagain.”The flicker of fear in her

eyes told him enough—toldhim that her behavior atdinner might have beenmostly bravado to keepAedion calm. “I know theodds.”“You and I have always

relisheddamningtheodds.”She tried and failed to

smile.Heleanedin,slidingahand around her waist, thelace and silk smooth againsthis fingers, her body warmand firm beneath it, and

whispered in her ear, “Evenwhen we’re apart tomorrow,I’llbewithyoueverystepoftheway.Andeverystepafter—whereverthatmaybe.”Shesuckedinashuddering

breath,andhepulledbackfarenough for them to sharebreath. Her fingers shook asshe brushed them against hismouth,andhiscontrolnearlyshreddedapartrightthere.“What are you waiting

for?”he said, thewordsnear

guttural.“Bastard,” she murmured,

andkissedhim.Her mouth was soft and

warm, and he bit back agroan. His body went still—hisentireworldwentstill—atthat whisper of a kiss, theanswer to a question he’dasked for centuries. Herealized he was staring onlywhen she withdrew slightly.His fingers tightened at herwaist.

“Again,”hebreathed.Sheslidoutofhisgrip.“If

we live through tomorrow,you’llgettherest.”Hedidn’tknowwhetherto

laughorroar.“Areyoutryingtobribemeintosurviving?”She smiled at last. And

damnifitdidn’tkillhim,thequietjoyinherface.They had walked out of

darknessandpainanddespairtogether. They were stillwalking out of it. So that

smile… It struckhim stupidevery time he saw it andrealizeditwasforhim.Rowan remained rooted to

the center of the room asAelin climbed into bed andblew out the candles. Hestared at her through thedarkness.Shesaidsoftly,“Youmake

mewant to live,Rowan.Notsurvive;notexist.Live.”He didn’t have the words.

Not when what she said hit

him harder and deeper thananykiss.Soheclimbedintobedand

held her tightly all throughthenight.

66

Aelinventuredoutatdawntosnag breakfast from thevendorsinthemainmarketofthe slums. The sun wasalready warming the quietstreets, and her cloak andhood quickly turned stuffy.Atleastitwasaclearday;atleast that bit had gone right.

Despite the crows cacklingover the corpses in theexecutionsquares.The sword at her sidewas

a dead weight. Too soonshe’dbeswingingit.Too soon she’d face the

man who had murdered herfamily and enslaved herkingdom. Too soon shewould put an end to herfriend’slife.Maybe she wouldn’t even

walkoutofthecastlealive.

Orperhapsshewouldwalkoutwearing ablack collarofher own, if Lorcan hadbetrayedthem.Everything was prepared;

every possible pitfall hadbeen considered; everyweaponhadbeensharpened.Lysandra had taken

Evangeline to have theirtattoos formally stamped offyesterday, and then collectedher belongings from thebrothel. Now they were

staying in an upscale innacross the city, paid forwiththe small savings Lysandrahadsquirreledawayforyears.Thecourtesanhadofferedherhelp again and again, butAelin ordered her to get thehell out of the city and tohead for Nesryn’s countryhome. The courtesan warnedher tobecareful,kissedbothher cheeks, and set off withher ward—both of thembeaming, both of them free.

Hopefully theywere on theirwayoutnow.Aelin bought a bag of

pastries and somemeat pies,barelylisteningtothemarketaround her, already abuzzwith early revelers out tocelebrate the solstice. Theyweremoresubduedthanmostyears, but given theexecutions, she didn’t blamethem.“Miss?”Shestiffened,goingforher

sword—and realized that thepie vendor was still waitingforhiscoppers.Heflinchedandretreateda

few stepsbehindhiswoodencart.“Sorry,” she mumbled,

dumping the coins into hisoutstretchedhand.The man gave her a wary

smile. “Everyone’s a bitjumpy this morning, itseems.”She half turned. “More

executions?”The vendor jerked his

round chin toward a streetleading off themarket. “Youdidn’t see the message onyour way in?” She gave asharp shake of the head. Hepointed. She’d thought thecrowd by the corner waswatching some streetperformer.“Oddest thing.Noonecanmakeanysenseofit.They say it’swritten inwhatlooks like blood, but it’s

darker—”Aelinwas already heading

towardthestreetthemanhadindicated, following thethrong of people pressing toseeit.She trailed the crowd,

weaving around curiousrevelers and vendors andcommon market guards untilthey all flowed around acornerintoabrightlylitdead-endalley.Thecrowdhadgatheredat

thepalestonewallatitsend,murmuringandmillingabout.“What does it mean?”

“Whowroteit?”“Soundslikebad news, especially on thesolstice.”“Therearemore,allsaying the same thing, rightnear every major market inthecity.”Aelin pushed through the

crowd, an eye on herweapons and purse lest apickpocketgetanybadideas,andthen—

The message had beenwritten in giant black letters,thereekcomingoffthemsureenoughthatofValgblood,asif someone with very, verysharp nails had ripped openone of the guards and usedhimasapaintbucket.Aelin turned on her heel

andran.She hurtled through the

bustling city streets and theslums, alley after alley, untilshe reached Chaol’s decrepit

house and flung open thedoor,shoutingforhim.The message on the wall

hadonlybeenonesentence.Paymentforalifedebt.OnesentencejustforAelin

Galathynius; one sentencethatchangedeverything:

WITCHKILLER—THEHUMANISSTILL

INSIDEHIM

67

Aelin and Chaol helpedRowan andAedion carry thetwo urns of hellfire into thesewers, all of them barelybreathing, none of themtalking.Nowtheystoodinthecool,

reeking dark, not daring aflame with the two vats

sitting next to them on thestone walkway. Aedion andRowan, with their Faeeyesight, wouldn’t need atorch,anyway.Rowan shook Chaol’s

hand, wishing him luck.When the Fae Prince turnedtoAelin, she focused insteadon a torn corner of his cloak—as if it had snagged onsome long-ago obstacle andbeen ripped off. She keptstaring at that ripped-off bit

ofcloakassheembracedhim—quickly, tightly, breathingin his scent perhaps for thelast time. His hands lingeredon her as if he’d hold her amoment longer, but sheturnedtoAedion.Ashryver eyes met her

own,andshetouchedthefacethatwastheothersideofherfaircoin.“ForTerrasen,”shesaidto

him.“Forourfamily.”

“ForMarion.”“Forus.”Slowly, Aedion drew his

blade and knelt, his headbowedasheliftedtheSwordof Orynth. “Ten years ofshadows,butnolonger.Lightupthedarkness,Majesty.”She did not have room in

herheartfor tears,wouldnotalloworyieldtothem.Aelin took her father’s

sword fromhim, itsweightasteady,solidreassurance.

Aedion rose, returning tohisplacebesideRowan.She looked at them, at the

three males who meanteverything—more thaneverything.Thenshesmiledwithevery

last shred of courage, ofdesperation, of hope for theglimmer of that gloriousfuture. “Let’s go rattle thestars.”

68

Lysandra’s carriagemeandered through thepacked city streets. Everyblock took thrice as long asusual,thankstothestreamingcrowdsheadedtothemarketsand squares to celebrate thesolstice. None of them wereaware of what was to occur,

or whowasmaking her wayacrossthecity.Lysandra’s palms turned

sweatywithinhersilkgloves.Evangeline, drowsy with themorning heat, dozed lightly,her head resting onLysandra’sshoulder.They should have left last

night,but…Butshe’dhadtosaygood-bye.Brightly dressed revelers

pushedpast the carriage, andthedrivershoutedtoclearout

of the street. Everyoneignoredhim.Gods, if Aelin wanted an

audience, she’d picked theperfectdayforit.Lysandra peered out the

window as they halted in anintersection. The streetoffered a clear view of theglass palace, blinding in themidmorning sun, its upperspireslikelancespiercingthecloudlesssky.“Are we there yet?”

Evangelinemumbled.Lysandra stroked her arm.

“Awhileyet,pet.”And she began praying—

prayingtoMalaFire-Bringer,whoseholidayhaddawnedsobright and clear, and toTemis, who never forgot thecagedthingsofthisworld.Butshewasnolongerina

cage. For Evangeline, shecould stay in this carriage,andshecould leave thiscity.Even if it meant leaving her

friendsbehind.

Aedion gritted his teethagainst theweightheheldsodelicatelybetweenhishands.It was going to be a damnlong trek to the castle.Especially when they had toease across waterways andover crumbling bits of stonethat made even their Faebalanceunsteady.

But this was the way theWyrdhoundshadcome.Evenif Aelin and Nesryn hadn’tprovided a detailed path, thelingering stench would haveledtheway.“Careful,” Rowan said

over his shoulder as hehoisted the vat he carriedhigher and edged around aloose bit of rock. Aedion bitbackhis retortat theobviousorder.But he couldn’t blamethe prince. One tumble, and

they’d risk the varioussubstancesmixinginside.A few days ago, not

trusting Shadow Marketquality, Chaol and Aedionhadfoundanabandonedbarnoutsidethecity to testanurnbarely a tenth the size of theonestheycarried.Ithadworked toowell.As

they’d hurried back toRifthold before curious eyescould see them, the smokecouldbeseenformiles.

Aedion shuddered to thinkaboutwhatavatthissize—letalonetwoofthem—mightdoiftheyweren’tcareful.Butbythetimetheyrigged

upthetriggeringmechanismsand ignited the wicks theywould trail a long, longdistance away … Well,Aedion just prayed he andRowanwereswiftenough.They entered a sewer

tunnel so dark that it tookeven his eyes a moment to

adjust. Rowan just continuedahead.Theyweredamnluckythat Lorcan had killed thoseWyrdhounds and cleared theway. Damn lucky that Aelinhad been ruthless and cleverenough to trick Lorcan intodoingitforthem.He didn’t stop to consider

what might happen if thatruthlessness and clevernessfailedhertoday.They turned down another

pathway, the reek now

smothering. Rowan’s sharpsniffwastheonlysignofhismutualdisgust.Thegateway.The iron gates were in

shambles, but Aedion couldstill make out the markingsetchedinthem.Wyrdmarks. Ancient, too.

Perhaps thishadoncebeenapath Gavin had used to visitthe Sin-Eater’s templeunseen.Theotherworldlystenchof

the creatures pushed and

pulled at Aedion’s senses,and he paused, scanning thedarkness of the loomingtunnel.Here thewaterended.Past

the gates, a broken, rockypaththatlookedmoreancientthan any they’d yet seensloped up into theimpenetrablegloom.“Watch where you step,”

Rowan said, scanning thetunnel. “It’s all loose stoneanddebris.”

“I can see just as well asyou,” Aedion said, unable tostop the retort this time. Herotated his shoulder, the cuffof his tunic slipping up toreveal the Wyrdmarks Aelinhad instructed them to paintin their own blood all overtheirtorsos,arms,andlegs.“Let’s go,” was Rowan’s

only reply as he hauled hisvat along as if it weighednothing.Aediondebatedsnappinga

response,but…perhaps thatwas why the warrior-princekept giving him stupidwarnings. To piss him offenough to distract him—andmaybeRowanhimself—fromwhat was happening abovethem. What they carriedbetweenthem.The Old Ways—to look

out for their queen and theirkingdom—but also for eachother.Damn, it was almost

enough tomake himwant toembracethebastard.So Aedion followed

Rowanthroughtheirongates.And into the castle

catacombs.

Chaol’s chains clanked, themanacles already rubbing hisskinrawasAelintuggedhimdown the crowded street, adaggerpoisedtosinkintohis

side. One block remaineduntil they reached the ironfence that surrounded thesloping hill on which thecastleperched.Crowds streamed past, not

noticing the chained man intheir midst or the black-cloaked woman who hauledhim closer and closer to theglasscastle.“Youremember theplan?”

Aelinmurmured,keepingherhead down and her dagger

pressedagainsthisside.“Yes,” he breathed. It was

the only word he couldmanage.Dorianwas still in there—

still holding on. It changedeverything.Andnothing.The crowds quieted near

the fence, as if wary of theblack-uniformed guards thatsurely monitored theentrance. The first obstaclethey’dencounter.Aelin stiffened almost

imperceptibly and paused sosuddenly that Chaol almostslammedintoher.“Chaol—”The crowd shifted, and he

beheldthecastlefence.There were corpses

hanging from the toweringwrought-ironbars.Corpses in red and gold

uniforms.“Chaol—”He was already moving,

and she swore and walkedwith him, pretending to lead

him by the chains, keepingthedaggertighttohisribs.He didn’t know how he

hadn’t heard the crowsjabbering as they picked atthedeadfleshtiedalongeachironpost.Withthecrowd,hehadn’t thought to notice. Ormaybe he’d just gotten usedtothecawingineverycornerofthecity.Hismen.Sixteen of them. His

closest companions, hismost

loyalguards.Thefirstonehadthecollar

of his uniform unbuttoned,revealingachestcrisscrossedwith welts and cuts andbrands.Ress.Howlonghadtheytortured

him—tortured all the men?SinceAedion’srescue?He racked his mind to

think of the last time they’dhad contact. He’d assumedthe difficulty was because

they were lying low. Notbecause—because they werebeing—Chaol noticed the man

strungupbesideRess.Brullo’s eyes were gone,

either from torture or thecrows. His hands wereswollen and twisted—part ofhisearwasmissing.Chaolhadnosoundsinhis

head,nofeelinginhisbody.Itwasamessage,butnotto

Aelin Galathynius or Aedion

Ashryver.Hisfault.His.He andAelin didn’t speak

astheynearedtheirongates,the death of those menlingering over them. Everystepwasaneffort.Everystepwastoofast.Hisfault.“I’m sorry,” Aelin

murmured, nudging himcloser to the gates, whereblack-uniformed guardswereindeedmonitoringevery face

thatpassedonthestreet.“I’msosorry—”“The plan,” he said, his

voiceshaking.“Wechangeit.Now.”“Chaol—”Hetoldherwhatheneeded

to do.Whenhe finished, shewiped away her tears as shegripped his hand and said,“I’llmakeitcount.”Thetearsweregonebythe

time they broke from thecrowd,nothingbetweenthem

and those familiar gates butopencobblestones.Home—thishadoncebeen

hishome.He did not recognize the

guards standing watch at thegates he had once protectedso proudly, the gates he hadridden through not even ayear ago with an assassinnewly freed from Endovier,herchainstiedtohissaddle.Nowsheledhiminchains

through those gates, an

assassinonelasttime.Her walk became a

swagger,andshemovedwithfluid ease toward the guardswho drew their swords, theirblack rings gobbling up thesunlight.Celaena Sardothien halted

a healthy distance away andlifted her chin. “Tell HisMajesty that his Championhas returned—and she’sbrought him one hell of aprize.”

69

Aelin’s black cloak flowedbehind her as she led thefallen Captain of the Guardthrough the shining halls ofthe palace. Hidden at herbackwas her father’s sword,itspommelwrapped inblackcloth.Noneoftheirten-guardescort bothered to take her

weapons.Why would they, when

Celaena Sardothien wasweeks early for her expectedreturn, and still loyal to kingandcrown?The halls were so quiet.

Even the queen’s court wassealed and silent.Rumorhadit the queen had beencloistered in the mountainssince Aedion’s rescue andhad takenhalfhercourtwithher.Theresthadvanishedas

well, to escape either therising summer heat—or thehorrors thathadcometo ruletheirkingdom.Chaolsaidnothing,though

he put on a good show oflooking furious, like apursuedmandesperatetofinda way back to freedom. Nosign of the devastation thathad been on his face uponfindinghismenhangingfromthegates.He jerked against the

chains, and she leaned inclose. “I don’t think so,Captain,” she purred. Chaoldidn’tdeignaresponse.Theguardsglanced at her.

Wyrdmarks written inChaol’s blood covered herbeneath her clothes, itshuman scent hopefullymasking any hints of herheritage that the Valg mightotherwise pick up. Therewereonlytwodemonsinthisgroup—asmallmercy.

So they went, up and up,intotheglasscastleitself.The halls seemed too

bright to contain such evil.Thefewservantstheypassedaverted their eyes andscurriedalong.HadeveryonefledsinceAedion’srescue?Itwasanefforttonotlook

too long at Chaol as theyneared the massive red-and-gold glass doors, alreadyopen to reveal the crimson-marbled floor of the king’s

councilroom.Alreadyopen to reveal the

king, seated on his glassthrone.And Dorian standing

besidehim.

Theirfaces.They were faces that

tuggedathim.Human filth, the demon

hissed.

The woman—herecognized that face as sheyanked back her dark hoodand knelt before the dais onwhichhestood.“Majesty,” she said. Her

hair was shorter than heremembered.No—hedidnot remember.

Hedidnotknowher.And the man in chains

beside her, bloodied andfilthy…Screaming,wind,and—

Enough, the demonsnapped.Buttheirfaces—He did not know those

faces.Hedidnotcare.

The King of Adarlan, themurderer of her family, thedestroyer of her kingdom,lounged in his glass throne.“Isn’t this an interesting turn

ofevents,Champion.”She smiled, hoping the

cosmetics she’d dabbedaround her eyes would mutethe turquoiseandgoldofheririses,andthatthedrabshadeof blond she’d dyed her hairwould disguise its near-identical hue with Aedion’s.“Do you want to hear aninteresting story, YourMajesty?”“Does it involve my

enemies in Wendlyn being

dead?”“Oh,that,andmuch,much

more.”“Why has word not

arrived,then?”The ring on his finger

seemed to suck in the light.But shecould spyno signofthe Wyrdkeys, couldn’t feelthem here, as she’d felt thepresence of the one in theamulet.Chaol was pale, and kept

glancing at the floor of the

room.Thiswaswhereeverything

had happened. Where they’dmurdered Sorscha. WhereDorian had been enslaved.Where, once upon a time,she’dsignedhersoulawaytothekingunderafakename,acoward’sname.“Don’t blame me for the

piss-poor messengers,” shesaid. “I sent word the daybefore I left.” She pulled outtwo objects from her cloak

and lookedoverhershoulderattheguards,jerkingherchinatChaol.“Watchhim.”She strode to the throne

andextendedherhand to theking.Hereachedforward,thereekofhim—Valg.Human.Iron.Blood.Shedroppedtworingsinto

his palm. The clink ofmetalonmetalwastheonlysound.“ThesealringsoftheKing

and Crown Prince ofWendlyn. I’d have brought

their heads, but …Immigration officials can getsopissy.”Thekingpluckeduponeof

the rings, his face stony.Lysandra’s jeweler had yetagain done a stunning job ofre-creating the royal crest ofWendlyn and then wearingdown the rings until theylooked ancient, likeheirlooms. “And where wereyouduringNarrok’sattackonWendlyn?”

“Was I supposed to beanywhere but hunting myprey?”The king’s black eyes

boredintohers.“I killed them when I

could,”shewenton,crossingher arms, careful of thehidden blades in the suit.“Apologies for notmaking itthe grand statement youwanted.Nexttime,perhaps.”Dorian hadn’t moved a

muscle, his features stone-

cold above the collar aroundhisneck.“Andhowdidyouwindup

withmyCaptainoftheGuardinchains?”Chaol was only gazing at

Dorian, and she didn’t thinkhis distraught, pleading facewasanact.“Hewaswaiting formeat

the docks, like a good dog.When I saw that he waswithout his uniform, I gothim toconfess toeverything.

Everylastlittleconspiratorialthinghe’sdone.”Theking eyed the captain.

“Didhe,now.”Aelin avoided the urge to

check the grandfather clocktickinginthefarcorneroftheroom, or the position of thesun beyond the floor-to-ceiling window. Time. Theyneededtobidetheirtimeabitlonger.Butsofar,sogood.“I do wonder,” the king

mused, leaning back on his

throne, “who has beenconspiringmore: the captain,oryou,Champion.OrshouldIcallyouAelin?”

70

Thisplacesmelledlikedeath,likehell, likethedarkspacesbetweenthestars.Centuries of training kept

Rowan’sstepslight,kepthimfocused on the lethal weighthe carried as he and thegeneralcreptthroughthedry,ancientpassageway.

The ascending stone pathhad been gouged by brutalclaws, the space so dark thateven Rowan’s eyes werefailing him. The generaltrailed close behind, makingno sound save for theoccasional pebble skitteringfrombeneathhisboots.Aelin would be in the

castle by now, the captain intow as her ticket into thethroneroom.Only a fewminutesmore,

ifthey’dcalculatedright,andthen they could ignite theirdeadlyburdenandgetthehellout.Minutes after, he’d be at

her side, rifewithmagic thathe’d use to choke the aircleanoutof theking’s lungs.And then he’d enjoywatching as she burned himalive.Slowly.Though he knew his

satisfaction would pale incomparison to what the

general would feel. WhateverychildofTerrasenwouldfeel.They passed through a

door of solid iron that hadbeen peeled back as ifmassive, clawed hands hadripped it off its hinges. Thewalkwaybeyondwassmoothstone.Aedion sucked in a breath

at the same moment thepounding struck Rowan’sbrain,rightbetweenhiseyes.

Wyrdstone.Aelin had warned him of

thetower—thatthestonehadgivenheraheadache,butthis…Shehadbeeninherhuman

bodythen.Itwasunbearable,asifhis

very blood recoiled at thewrongnessofthestone.Aedioncursed,andRowan

echoedit.Buttherewasawidesliver

in the stone wall ahead, and

openairbeyondit.Not daring to breathe too

loudly, Rowan and Aedioneasedthroughthecrack.A large, round chamber

greeted them, flanked byeight open iron doors. Thebottomof the clock tower, iftheir calculations werecorrect.The darkness of the

chamber was nearlyimpenetrable, but Rowandidn’t dare light the torch

he’d brought with them.Aedion sniffed, awet sound.Wet,because—Blood dribbled down

Rowan’s lip and chin. Anosebleed.“Hurry,” he whispered,

setting down his vat at theoppositeendofthechamber.Justafewmoreminutes.Aedionstationedhisvatof

hellfire across fromRowan’sat the chamber entrance.Rowan knelt, his head

pounding, worse and worsewitheachthrob.He kept moving, shoving

the pain down as he set thefuse wire and led it over towhereAedion crouched. Thedripping of their nosebleedson the black stone floor wastheonlysound.“Faster,” Rowan ordered,

and Aedion snarled softly—no longer willing to beannoyed with warnings as adistraction.Hedidn’tfeellike

telling the general he’dstoppeddoingitminutesago.Rowan drew his sword,

making for the doorwaythroughwhichthey’dentered.Aedion backed toward him,unspoolingthejoinedfusesashe went. They had to be farenough away before theycould light it, or else they’dbeturnedtoash.He sent up a silent prayer

toMalathatAelinwasbidingher time—and that the king

was too focused on theassassin and the captain toconsider sending anyonebelow.Aedion reached him,

unrolling inch after inch offuse, the line a white streakthrough the dark. Rowan’sothernostrilbeganbleeding.Gods, the smell of this

place.Thedeathandreekandmiseryof it.Hecouldhardlythink. It was like having hisheadinavise.

They retreated into thetunnel, that fuse their onlyhopeandsalvation.Somethingdrippedontohis

shoulder.Anearbleed.Hewiped it awaywithhis

freehand.Butitwasnotbloodonhis

cloak.Rowan and Aedion went

rigidasa lowgrowlingfilledthepassage.Something on the ceiling

moved,then.

Sevensomethings.Aedion dropped the spool

anddrewhissword.A piece of fabric—gray,

small, worn—dropped fromthe maw of the creatureclinging to the stone ceiling.His cloak—the missingcornerofhiscloak.Lorcanhadlied.He hadn’t killed the

remainingWyrdhounds.He’d just given them

Rowan’sscent.

Aelin Ashryver GalathyniusfacedtheKingofAdarlan.“Celaena, Lillian, Aelin,”

she drawled, “I don’tparticularly care what youcallme.”Noneof theguardsbehind

themstirred.She could feel Chaol’s

eyesonher,feeltherelentlessattention of the Valg princeinsideDorian.

“Did you think,” the kingsaid, grinning like a wolf,“that I could not peer insidemy son’smind and askwhathe knows, what he saw thedayofyourcousin’srescue?”Shehadn’tknown,andshe

certainly hadn’t planned onrevealing herself this way.“I’msurprisedittookyouthislong to notice who you’d letin by the front door.Honestly, I’m a littledisappointed.”

“Soyourpeoplemightsayof you. What was it like,Princess, to climb into bedwith my son? Your mortalenemy?” Dorian didn’t somuchasblink. “Didyouendit with him because of theguilt—or because you’dgainedafootholdinmycastleandnolongerneededhim?”“Is that fatherly concern I

detect?”Alowlaugh.“Whydoesn’t

the captain stop pretending

that he’s stuck in thosemanacles and come a bitcloser.”Chaol stiffened. But Aelin

gavehimasubtlenod.The king didn’t bother

glancing at his guards as hesaid,“Getout.”As one, the guards left,

sealingthedoorbehindthem.Theheavyglassgroanedshut,the floor shuddering.Chaol’sshackles clattered to theground, and he flexed his

wrists.“Such traitorous filth,

dwelling in my own home.And to think I once had youin chains—once had you soclose to execution, and hadno idea what prize I insteadsentenced to Endovier. TheQueen of Terrasen—slaveandmyChampion.”Thekingunfurledhisfisttolookatthetwo rings in his palm. Hechucked them aside. Theybounced on the red marble,

pingingfaintly.“Toobadyoudon’t have your flames now,AelinGalathynius.”Aelin tugged the cloth

from the pommel of herfather’s blade and drew theSwordofOrynth.“Where are the

Wyrdkeys?”“Atleastyou’redirect.But

whatshallyoudotome,heirof Terrasen, if I do not tellyou?”HegesturedtoDorian,and the prince descended the

steps of the dais, stopping atthebottom.Time—she needed time.

The tower wasn’t down yet.“Dorian,”Chaolsaidsoftly.Theprincedidn’trespond.The king chuckled. “No

runningtoday,Captain?”Chaol leveled his stare at

theking,anddrewDamaris—Aelin’sgifttohim.Thekingtappedafingeron

the armof his throne. “Whatwould the noble people of

Terrasen say if they knewAelin of the Wildfire hadsuchabloodyhistory?Iftheyknewthatshehadsignedherservices over to me? Whathope would it give them toknowthateventheirlong-lostprincesswascorrupted?”“Youcertainly like tohear

yourselfspeak,don’tyou?”Theking’sfingerstilledon

the throne. “I’ll admit that Idon’t know how I didn’t seeit. You’re the same spoiled

child who strutted about hercastle. And here I was,thinkingI’dhelpedyou.Isawinto your mind that day,AelinGalathynius.Youlovedyour home and yourkingdom,butyouhadsuchawish to be ordinary, such awish for freedom from yourcrown, even then. Have youchangedyourmind?Iofferedyou freedom on a platter tenyearsago,andyetyouwoundupaslaveanyway.Funny.”

Time, time, time. Let himtalk…“You had the element of

surprise then,” Aelin said.“But now we know whatpoweryouwield.”“Do you? Do you

understand the cost of thekeys?Whatyoumustbecometouseone?”She tightened her grip on

theSwordofOrynth.“Would you like to go

head-to-head with me, then,

AelinGalathynius? To see ifthe spells you learned, thebooksyoustolefromme,willhold out? Little tricks,Princess,comparedtotherawpowerofthekeys.”“Dorian,”Chaolsaidagain.

The prince remained fixatedon her, a hungry smile nowonthosesensuouslips.“Let me demonstrate,” the

king said. Aelin bracedherself,hergutclenching.He pointed at Dorian.

“Kneel.”The prince dropped to his

knees. She hid her wince attheimpactofboneonmarble.The king’s brows knotted.Adarkness began to build,cracking from the king likeforksoflightning.“No,” Chaol breathed,

stepping forward. Aelingrabbed the captain by thearm before he could dosomethingincrediblystupid.Atendrilofnightslammed

into Dorian’s back and hearched,groaning.“I think there ismore that

you know, AelinGalathynius,” the king said,that too-familiar blacknessgrowing. “Things thatperhaps only the heir ofBrannon Galathynius mighthavelearned.”ThethirdWyrdkey.“You wouldn’t dare,”

Aelinsaid.Theprince’sneckwas taut as he panted, as the

darknesswhippedhim.Once—twice.Lashings.She knew that pain. “He’s

yourson—yourheir.”“Youforget,Princess,” the

king said, “that I have twosons.”Dorian screamed as

another whip of darknessslashed his back. Blacklightning flitted across hisexposedteeth.She lunged—and was

thrown back by the very

wards she’d drawn on herbody. An invisible wall ofthat black pain lay aroundDoriannow, andhis screamsbecameunending.Like a beast snapped from

itsleash,Chaolflunghimselfagainst it, roaring Dorian’sname, the blood crumblingfrom the cuff of his jacketwitheachattempt.Again.Again.Again.Dorian was sobbing,

darkness pouring out of his

mouth, shackling his hands,brandinghisback,hisneck—Thenitvanished.The prince sagged to the

floor, chest heaving. Chaolhalted midstrike, hisbreathingragged,facedrawn.“Rise,”thekingsaid.Dorian got to his feet, his

black collar gleaming as hischestheaved.“Delicious,”thething inside the prince said.BileburnedAelin’sthroat.“Please,” Chaol said

hoarsely to the king, and herheart cracked at theword, atthe agony and desperation.“Free him.Name your price.I’llgiveyouanything.”“Would you hand over

yourformerlover,Captain?IseenouseinlosingaweaponifIdon’tgainoneinreturn.”The king waved a handtoward her. “You destroyedmy general and three of myprinces. I can think of a fewotherValgwhoareachingto

get their claws into you forthat—who would very muchenjoy the chance to slip intoyourbody.It’sonlyfair.”Aelin dared a glance

toward the window. The sunclimbedhigher.“You came into my

family’s home andmurderedthem in their sleep,” Aelinsaid. The grandfather clockbegan chiming twelve. Aheartbeat later, themiserable,off-kilter clanging of the

clock tower sounded. “It’sonly fair,” she said to theking as she backed a steptoward the doors, “that Idestroyyouinreturn.”She tugged the Eye of

Elena from under her suit.Theblue stoneglowed likeasmallstar.Not just a ward against

evil.Butakey in itsown right,

that could be used to unlockErawan’stomb.

Theking’seyeswentwideand he rose from his throne.“You’ve just made themistakeofyourlife,girl.”Hemighthaveapoint.The noontime bells were

ringing.Yet the clock tower still

stood.

71

Rowan swung his sword andthe Wyrdhound fell back,howling as his blade piercedthrough stone and into thetender flesh beneath.But notenough to keep it down, tokill it. Another Wyrdhoundleaped. Where they lunged,Rowanstruck.

Side by side, he andAedion had been pushedagainstawall,concedingfootafter foot of the passage—driven farther and fartherfromthespooloffuseAedionhadbeenforcedtodrop.A clanging, miserable

noiserangout.Inthespanbetweenclangs,

Rowan slashed for twodifferentWyrdhounds, blowsthat would havedisemboweledmostcreatures.

Theclocktower.Noon.The Wyrdhounds were

herding them back, dodgingsure-kill blows, keeping outoftheirreach.Tokeepthemfromgetting

tothefuse.Rowansworeandlaunched

into an assault that engagedthreeofthematonce,Aedionflanking him. TheWyrdhoundsheldtheirline.Noon, he had promised

Aelin. As the sun began to

reachitsapexonthesolstice,they’d bring the towercrashingdown.Thefinalclangoftheclock

towersounded.Noonhadcomeandgone.And his Fireheart, his

queen, was in that castleabove them—left with onlyher mortal training and witstokeepheralive.Perhapsnotformuchlonger.The thought was so

abhorrent,sooutrageous,that

Rowanroaredhisfury,louderthantheshrieksofthebeasts.The bellow cost his

brother. One creature shotpast Rowan’s guard, leaping,and Aedion barked out acurse and staggered back.Rowan smelled Aedion’sbloodbeforehesawit.Itmusthavebeenadinner

bell to theWyrdhounds, thatdemi-Faeblood.Fourofthemleapedforthegeneralasone,their maws revealing flesh-

shreddingstoneteeth.The three others whirled

for Rowan, and there wasnothinghecoulddo toget tothatfuse.To save the queen who

held his heart in her scarredhands.

A few steps ahead of him,Chaol watched Aelin backtowardtheglassdoors,justas

they’d planned after seeinghismendead.The king’s attention was

fixed on the Eye of Elenaaround her neck. Sheremoved it, holding it in asteady hand. “Been lookingfor this, have you? PoorErawan, locked in his littletombforsolong.”Itwasaneffort toholdhis

position as Aelin keptretreating.“Wheredidyoufindthat?”

thekingseethed.Aelin reached Chaol,

brushing against him, acomfort and a thank-you anda good-bye as she continuedpast.“Turnsoutyourancestordidn’t approve of yourhobbies. We Galathyniuswomen stick together, youknow.”Forthefirsttimeinhislife,

Chaolsawtheking’s facegoslack.But then themansaid,“Anddidthatancientfooltell

you what will happen if youwield the other key youalreadypossess?”She was so close to the

doors. “Let the prince go, orI’ll destroy this right here,and Erawan can stay lockedup.” She slid the chain intoherpocket.“Verywell,”thekingsaid.

He looked at Dorian, whoshowed no sign of evenremembering his own name,despite what the witch had

written on the walls of theircity.“Go.Retrieveher.”Darkness surged from

Dorian, leaking like blood inwater,andChaol’sheadgaveaburstofpainas—Aelin ran, exploding

throughtheglassdoors.Faster than he should be,

Dorian raced after her, icecoating the floor, the room.The cold of it knocked thebreath from him. ButDoriandidn’t glance once in his

directionbeforehewasgone.Thekingtookastepdown

the dais, his breath cloudinginfrontofhim.Chaol lifted his sword,

holding his position betweenthe open doors and theconqueroroftheircontinent.Thekingtookanotherstep.

“More heroic antics? Don’tyou ever get bored of them,Captain?”Chaol did not yield. “You

murdered my men. And

Sorscha.”“Andagoodmanymore.”Another step. The king

stared over Chaol’s shoulderto the hallway where AelinandDorianhadvanished.“Itendsnow,”Chaolsaid.

The Valg princes had beenlethal inWendlyn.Butwheninhabiting Dorian’s body,withDorian’smagic…

Aelin hurtled down thehallway, glass windowsflanking her, marble beneath—nothing but open skyaroundher.Andbehind,chargingafter

her like a black storm, wasDorian.Ice spread from him,

hoarfrostsplinteringalongthewindows.The moment that ice hit

her, Aelin knew she wouldnotrunanotherstep.

She’d memorized everyhallway and stairwell thankstoChaol’smaps.Shepushedherself harder, praying thatChaolboughther timeassheneared a narrow flight ofstairs and hurled herself up,taking the steps by twos andthrees.Icecrackedalongtheglass

rightbehindher,andcoldbitatherheels.Faster—faster.Aroundandaround,upand

upsheflew.Itwaspastnoon.IfsomethinghadgonewrongwithRowanandAedion…Shehitthetopofthestairs,

and ice made the landing soslick that she skidded, goingsideways,goingdown—She caught herself with a

hand against the floor, herskin ripping open on the ice.Sheslammedintoaglasswalland rebounded, then shewasrunning again as the iceclosedinaroundher.

Higher—she had to gethigher.AndChaol,facingtheking

—Shedidn’t letherself think

about that.Spearsof ice shotout from the walls, narrowlymissinghersides.Her breath was a flame in

herthroat.“I told you,” a cold male

voicesaidfrombehind,notatallwinded. Ice spiderwebbedacross thewindowsoneither

side. “I told you that youwouldregretsparingme.ThatI would destroy everythingyoulove.”She reached a glass-

covered bridge that stretchedbetween two of the highestspires. The floor was utterlytransparent, so clear that shecould see every inch of theplunge to the ground far, farbelow.Hoarfrost coated the

windows,groaning—

Glass exploded, and a cryshatteredfromherthroatasitslicedintoherback.Aelin veered to the side,

for the now-broken window,its too-small iron frame, andthedropbeyond.She flung herself through

it.

72

Bright, open air, the windroaringinherears,then—Aelin landed on the open

glass bridge a level below,her knees popping as sheabsorbed the impact androlled. Her body shrieked inagony at the slices in herarms and back where bits of

glass stuckclean throughhersuit, but she was alreadysprintingforthetowerdoorattheotherendofthebridge.She looked in time to see

Dorian hurtle right throughthe space she’d cleared, hiseyesfixedonher.Aelin flung open the door

astheboomofDorianhittingthebridgesounded.She slammed the door

behind her, but even thatcouldn’tsealoutthegrowing

cold.Justalittlefarther.Aelin raced up the

spiraling tower stairs, halfsobbing through her grittedteeth.Rowan.Aedion.Chaol.Chaol—The door shattered off its

hingesatthebaseofthespireand cold exploded through,stealingherbreath.But Aelin had reached the

top of the tower. Beyond it,

anotherglass footbridge, thinandbare, stretched faracrosstooneoftheotherspires.It was still shaded as the

suncreptacrosstheothersideofthebuilding,theuppermostturrets of the glass castlesurrounding and smotheringherlikeacageofdarkness.

Aelin had gotten out, andtakenDorianwithher.

Chaol had bought her thattime, in one final attempt tosavehisfriendandhisking.When she had burst into

his house this morning,sobbing and laughing, she’dexplained what the WingLeader had written, thepayment thewitch had givenin exchange for saving herlife.Dorianwasstillinthere,stillfighting.She had planned to take

them both on at once, the

king and the prince, and hehadagreedtohelpher, to tryto talk Dorian back intohumanity, to try to convincethe prince to fight.Until thatmoment he’d seen his menhangingfromthegates.Now he had no interest in

talking.If Aelin were to stand a

chance—any chance—offreeing Dorian from thatcollar, she needed the kingout of the picture. Even if it

costherthevengeanceforherfamilyandkingdom.Chaol was glad to settle

thatscoreonherbehalf—andonthebehalfofmanymore.ThekinglookedatChaol’s

sword, then at his face, andlaughed.“You’ll kill me, Captain?

Suchdramatics.”They’dgottenaway.Aelin

had gotten Dorian out, herbluff so flawless even Chaolhad believed the Eye in her

handswastherealthing,withthe way she’d angled it intothe sun so the blue stoneglowed. He had no ideawhere she’dput the realone.Ifshewasevenwearingit.Allof it—all that theyhad

done,andlost,andfoughtfor.Allofitforthismoment.Thekingkeptapproaching,

and Chaol held his swordbefore him, not yielding onestep.For Ress. For Brullo. For

Sorscha. For Dorian. ForAelin, and Aedion, and theirfamily, for the thousandsmassacred in those laborcamps.AndforNesryn—whohe’d lied to,whowouldwaitfor a return that wouldn’tcome, for time theywouldn’thavetogether.He had no regrets but that

one.Awave of black slammed

intohim,andChaolstaggeredback a step, the marks of

protection tingling on hisskin.“You lost,” Chaol panted.

The blood was flaking awaybeneathhisclothes,itching.Another wave of black,

identical to the one that hadstruckDorian—whichDorianhadn’t been able to standagainst.Chaol felt it that time: the

throbof unending agony, thewhisperofpaintocome.The king approached.

Chaolliftedhisswordhigher.“Your wards are failing,

boy.”Chaolsmiled,tastingblood

in his mouth. “Good thingsteellastslonger.”The sun through the

windows warmed Chaol’sback—asifinanembrace,asif in comfort. As if it to tellhimitwastime.I’ll make it count, Aelin

hadpromisedhim.Hehadboughthertime.

Awaveofblackrearedupbehind the king, sucking thelightoutoftheroom.Chaolspreadhisarmswide

as the darkness hit him,shatteredhim,obliteratedhimuntil there was nothing butlight—burning blue light,warmandwelcoming.Aelin and Dorian had

gottenaway.Itwasenough.When the pain came, he

wasnotafraid.

73

Itwasgoingtokillher.Hewanteditto.Herface—thatface—Henearedthewoman,step

by step across the narrow,shaded bridge, the turretshigh above them gleamingwithblindinglight.Blood covered her arms,

andshepantedasshebackedawayfromhim,herhandsoutbefore her, a gold ringshining on her finger. Hecould smell her now—theimmortal,mightybloodinherveins.“Dorian,”shesaid.He did not know that

name.And he was going to kill

her.

74

Time. She needed to buymore time, or steal it, whilethebridgestilllayinshadow,while the sun slowly, slowlymoved.“Dorian,” Aelin pleaded

again.“I’mgoingtoripyouapart

from the inside out,” the

demonsaid.Ice spread across the

bridge.Theglass inherbackshifted and ripped into herwith each step she retreatedtowardthetowerdoor.Still the clock tower had

notcomedown.But the king had not yet

arrived.“Yourfatheriscurrentlyin

his council room,” she said,fighting the pain splinteringthrough her. “He is in there

withChaol—withyourfriend—and your father has likelyalreadykilledhim.”“Good.”“Chaol,” Aelin said, her

voice breaking.Her foot slidagainstapatchofice,andtheworld tilted as she steadiedher balance. The drop to theground hundreds of feetbelow hit her in the gut, butshe kept her eyes on theprince even as agony rippleddownherbodyagain.“Chaol.

You sacrificed yourself. Youletthemputthatcollaronyou—sohecouldgetout.”“I’mgoingtolethimputa

collar on you, and then wecanplay.”She hit the tower door,

fumblingforthelatch.Butitwasicedover.She clawed at the ice,

glancing between the princeandthesunthathadbeguntopeekaroundthecornerofthetower.

Dorianwastenstepsaway.She whirled back around.

“Sorscha—her name wasSorscha, and she loved you.Youlovedher.Andtheytookherawayfromyou.”Fivesteps.There was nothing human

in that face, no flicker ofmemory in those sapphireeyes.Aelinbeganweeping,even

as blood leaked down hernose from his nearness. “I

camebackforyou.JustlikeIpromised.”Adaggeroficeappearedin

hishand,itslethaltipglintinglike a star in the sunlight. “Idon’tcare,”Doriansaid.Sheshovedahandbetween

themasifshecouldpushhimaway, grabbing one of hisownhandstight.Hisskinwassocoldasheusedtheothertoplungetheknifeintoherside.

Rowan’s blood sprayed fromhis mouth as the creatureslammed into him, knockinghimtotheground.Four were dead, but three

remained between him andthefuse.Aedion bellowed in pain

and fury, holding the line,keepingtheotherthreeatbayas Rowan drove his bladehome—The creature flipped back,

awayoutofreach.Thethreebeastsconverged

again, wild with the Faeblood now covering thepassage.Hisblood.Aedion’s.The general’s face wasalreadypale from the loss ofit. They couldn’t stand thismuchlonger.But he had to get that

towerdown.Asthoughtheywereofone

mind, one body, the threeWyrdhounds lunged, driving

him and Aedion apart, oneleaping for the general, twosnappingforhim—Rowanwentdownasstone

jawsclampedontohisleg.Bone snapped, and black

crushedin—He roared against the

darknessthatmeantdeath.Rowan slammed his

fighting knife into thecreature’seye,drivingupanddeep,justasthesecondbeastlunged for his outstretched

arm.But something massive

slammed into the creature,andityelpedasitwasthrownagainst the wall. The deadone was hurled away aheartbeatlater,andthen—AndthentherewasLorcan,

swords out and swinging, abattle cry on his lips as hetore into the remainingcreatures.Rowan bellowed against

theagony inhis lower legas

he got to his feet, balancinghis weight. Aedion wasalreadyup,his face abloodymessbuthiseyesclear.Oneofthecreatureslunged

for Aedion, and Rowanhurled his fighting knife—hurled it hard and true, rightinto its gaping mouth. TheWyrdhound hit the groundnot six inches from thegeneral’sfeet.Lorcanwasawhirlwindof

steel, his fury unmatched.

Rowan drew his other knife,readyingtothrowit—Just as Lorcan drove his

sword clean down into thecreature’sskull.Silence—utter silence in

thebloodiedtunnel.Aedionscrambled,limping

and swaying, for the fusetwenty paces away. It wasstillattachedtothespool.“Now,”Rowan barked.He

didn’t care if they didn’tmake it out. For all he knew

—A phantom pain lanced

through his ribs, brutallyviolentandnauseating.His knees buckled. Not

pain from a wound of his—butanother’s.No.No,no,no,no,no.He might have been

screamingit,mighthavebeenroaringit,ashesurgedforthepassage exit—as he felt thatagony,thatlickofcold.

Thingshadgonevery,verywrong.He made it another step

beforehisleggaveout,anditwas only that invisible bond,straining and fraying, thatkept him conscious. A hard,blood-soaked body slammedinto his, an arm wrappingaroundhiswaist,haulinghimup. “Run, you stupid fool,”Lorcan hissed, hauling himfromthefuse.Aedionwas crouched over

it,hisbloodyhandssteadyashe grasped the flint andstruck.Once.Twice.Then a spark, and a flame

thatwent roaringoff into thedarkness.Theyranlikehell.“Faster,” Lorcan said, and

Aedion caught up to them,taking Rowan’s other armand adding his strength andspeed.Downthepassage.Pastthe

broken iron gates, into thesewers.Therewasnotenoughtime

and space between them andthetower.AndAelin—Thebondstretched tighter,

splintering.No.Aelin—They heard it before they

feltit.The utter lack of sound,

like the world had paused.Followed by a cracking

boom.“Move,” Lorcan said, a

barkedorder thathadRowanblindlyobeyingjustashehadforcenturies.Then the wind—the dry,

burning wind that flayed hisskin.Then a flash of blinding

light.Then heat—such heat that

Lorcan swore, shoving themintoanalcove.The tunnels shook; the

worldshook.Theceilingscamecrashing

down.When the dust and debris

cleared,whenRowan’s bodywassingingwithpainandjoyand power, the way into thecastle was blocked. Andbehind them, stretching intothegloomofthesewers,werea hundred Valg commandersand foot soldiers, armed andsmiling.

Reeking to Hellas’s realmwithValg blood,Manon andAsterin were soaring downthecontinent,backtoMorath,when—A soft wind, a shudder in

theworld,asilence.Asterin barked a cry, her

wyvernbankingrightasifthereins had been yanked.Abraxos loosed a yelp of hisown, but Manon just peered

downattheland,wherebirdswere taking flight at theshimmer that seemed to rushpast…At the magic that now

rippled through the world,free.Darknessembraceher.Magic.Whatever had happened,

however it had been freed,Manondidn’tcare.Thatmortal,humanweight

vanished. Strength coursed

through her, coating herbones like armor. Invincible,immortal,unstoppable.Manon tipped her head

back to the sky, spread herarmswide,androared.

The Keep was in chaos.Witches and humans wererunningaround,shouting.Magic.Magicwasfree.

Notpossible.But she could feel it, even

with the collar around herneckandthatscaronherarm.The loosing of some great

beastinsideher.A beast who purred at the

shadowfire.

Aelincrawledawayfromthedoor stained with her blood,away from the Valg prince

who laughed as she clutchedather side and inchedacrossthebridge,herbloodasmearbehindher.The sun was still creeping

aroundthattower.“Dorian,”shesaid,herlegs

pushingagainst theglass,herblood dribbling out frombetween her freezing fingers,warmingthem.“Remember.”The Valg prince stalked

her, smiling faintly as shecollapsedontoherfrontinthe

center of the bridge. Theshadowed spires of the glasscastle loomed around her—atomb.Hertomb.“Dorian, remember,” she

gasped out. He’d missed herheart—barely.“He said to retrieve you,

but perhaps I’ll havemy funfirst.”Twoknivesappearedinhis

hands,curvedandvicious.Thesunbeganglintingjust

abovethetoweroverhead.

“Remember Chaol,” shebegged.“RememberSorscha.Rememberme.”A boom shook the castle

fromsomewhereontheothersideofthebuilding.And then a great wind, a

softwind,alovelywind,asifthe heart-song of the worldwerecarriedonit.She closed her eyes for a

momentandpressedherhandagainstherside,drawinginabreath.

“We get to come back,”Aelin said, pushing her handharder and harder into herwound until the bloodstopped,until itwasonlyhertearsthatflowed.“Dorian,weget to come back from thisloss—fromthisdarkness.Wegettocomeback,andIcamebackforyou.”She was weeping now,

weeping as that wind fadedaway and her wound knittedclosed.

The prince’s daggers hadgoneslackinhishands.Andonhis finger,Athril’s

goldenringglowed.“Fight it,” shepanted.The

sun angled closer. “Fight it.Wegettocomeback.”Brighter and brighter, the

golden ring pulsed at hisfinger.The prince staggered back

astep,hisfacetwisting.“Youhumanworm.”He had been too busy

stabbinghertonoticetheringshe’d slipped onto his fingerwhenshe’dgrabbedhishandasiftoshovehimaway.“Take it off,” he growled,

trying to touch it—andhissing as though it burned.“Takeitoff!”Icegrew,spreadingtoward

her, fast as the rays ofsunlight that now shotbetween the towers,refracting across every glassparapetandbridge,fillingthe

castle with Mala Fire-Bringer’sgloriouslight.The bridge—this bridge

that she and Chaol hadselected for this purpose, forthis one moment at the apexofthesolstice—wassmackinthemiddleofit.The light hit her, and it

filledherheartwiththeforceofanexplodingstar.With a roar, the Valg

prince sent awaveof ice forher, spears and lances aimed

atherchest.So Aelin flung her hands

outtowardtheprince,towardher friend, and hurled hermagicathimwitheverythingshehad.

75

Therewasfire,andlight,anddarkness,andice.But the woman—the

woman was there, halfwayacross the bridge, her handsout before her as she got toherfeet.No blood leaked from

where the ice had stabbed

her.Onlyclean,polishedskinpeeked through the blackmaterialofhersuit.Healed—withmagic.All around him there was

so much fire and light,tuggingathim.We get to come back, she

said.Asifsheknewwhatthisdarkness was, what horrorsexisted.Fightit.A lightwas burning at his

finger—a light that crackedinsidehim.

Alightthatcrackedasliverintothedarkness.Remember,shesaid.Herflamestoreathim,and

the demon was screaming.But it did not hurt him. Herflamesonlykeptthedemonatbay.Remember.A sliver of light in the

blackness.Acrackeddoorway.Remember.Over the demon’s

screaming, he pushed—pushed, and looked outthroughitseyes.Hiseyes.And saw Celaena

Sardothien standing beforehim.

Aedion spat blood onto thedebris. Rowan was barelyremaining conscious as heleaned against the cave-inbehind them, while Lorcan

triedtocutapaththroughtheonslaughtofValgfighters.More and more poured in

from the tunnels, armed andbloodthirsty, alerted by theblast.Drained and unable to

summon the full depths oftheir magic so soon, evenRowan and Lorcan wouldn’tbe able to keep the Valgoccupiedforlong.Aedionhadtwoknivesleft.

Heknewtheyweren’tgetting

outofthesetunnelsalive.The soldiers came in like

an unending wave, theirhollow eyes lit withbloodlust.Even down here, Aedion

could hear the peoplescreaming in the streets,either from the explosion orthe magic returning to floodtheirland.Thatwind…he’dnever smelled anything likeit,neverwouldagain.They’dtakenoutthetower.

They’ddoneit.Nowhisqueenwouldhave

hermagic.Maybenowshe’dstandachance.Aedion gutted the Valg

commander nearest him,blackbloodsplatteringonhishands, and engaged the twothatsteppedintoreplacehim.Behindhim,Rowan’sbreathswererasping.Toolabored.The prince’s magic,

draining with his blood loss,had begun falteringmoments

ago, no longer able to chokethe air out of the soldiers’lungs. Now it was no morethan a cold wind shovingagainst them, keeping thebulkatbay.Aedion hadn’t recognized

Lorcan’s magic as it hadblasted from him in near-invisible dark winds. Butwhereitstruck,soldierswentdown.Anddidnotrise.It,too,hadnowfailedhim.Aedion could scarcely lift

his sword arm. Just a littlelonger; just a few moreminutes of keeping thesesoldiers engaged so that hisqueen could remaindistraction-free.With a grunt of pain,

Lorcan was engulfed by halfa dozen soldiers and shovedout of sight into theblackness.Aedion kept swinging and

swinging until there were noValg before him, until he

realized that the soldiers hadpulled back twenty feet andregrouped.A solid line of Valg foot

soldiers, their numbersstretching away into thegloom, stood watching him,holdingtheirswords.Waitingfor the order to strike. Toomany.Toomanytoescape.“It’s been an honor,

Prince,” Aedion said toRowan.Rowan’s only reply was a

raspingbreath.The Valg commander

stalkedtothefrontoftheline,his own sword out.Somewhere back in thesewer, soldiers beganscreaming. Lorcan—thatselfish prick—must have cutapaththroughthemafterall.Andrun.“Chargeonmymark,” the

commander said, his blackring glinting as he lifted ahand.

Aedion stepped in front ofRowan, useless as it wouldbe. They’d kill Rowan oncehewas dead, anyway.But atleast he’d go down fighting,defending his brother. Atleasthewouldhavethat.Peoplewerestillscreaming

on the street above—shrieking with blind terror,the sounds of their panicgrowingcloser,louder.“Steady,” the commander

saidtotheswordsmen.

Aediontookabreath—oneofhislast,herealized.Rowanstraightenedasbesthecould,stalwartagainstthedeaththatnow beckoned, and Aedioncould have sworn the princewhispered Aelin’s name.More shouting from thesoldiers in the back; some inthe front turning to see whatthe panic was about behindthem.Aedion didn’t care. Not

with a row of swords before

them,gleaming like the teethofsomemightybeast.The commander’s hand

camedown.And was ripped clean off

byaghostleopard.

For Evangeline, for herfreedom,forherfuture.Where Lysandra lunged,

slashing with claws andfangs,soldiersdied.

She’d made it halfwayacrossthecitybeforeshegotout of that carriage. She toldEvangeline to take it all theway to the Faliqs’ countryhouse, to be a good girl andstay safe. Lysandra hadsprinted two blocks towardthe castle, not caring if shehad little to offer them intheir fight, when the windslammed into her and awildsongsparkledinherblood.Then she shed her human

skin, that mortal cage, andran,trackingthescentsofherfriends.The soldiers in the sewer

were screaming as she toreintothem—adeathforeveryday in hell, a death for thechildhoodtakenfromherandfrom Evangeline. She wasfury, shewaswrath, shewasvengeance.Aedion and Rowan were

backedupagainstthecave-in,theirfacesbloodyandgaping

as she leaped upon the backof a sentry and shredded hisspinecleanoutofhisskin.Oh,shelikedthisbody.More soldiers rushed into

the sewers and Lysandrawhirled toward them, givingherself wholly to the beastwhose form she wore. Shebecamedeathincarnate.Whentherewerenoneleft,

when blood soaked her palefur—blood that tasted vile—shepausedatlast.

“The palace,” Rowangasped from where he’dslumped against the stones,Aedion pressing a hand to awound in the Fae warrior’sleg. Rowan pointed to theopen sewer behind them,littered with gore. “To thequeen.”Anorderandaplea.Lysandra nodded her furry

head, that disgusting bloodleaking fromhermaw, blackgore in her fangs, and bolted

backthewayshe’dcome.People screamed at the

ghost leopard that shot downthe street, sleek as an arrow,dodging whinnying horsesandcarriages.The glass castle loomed,

halfshroudedbythesmokingruins of the clock tower, andlight—fire—explodedbetweenitsturrets.Aelin.Aelin was still alive, and

fightinglikehell.Theirongatesofthecastle

appeared ahead, strung withreekingcorpses.Fireanddarknessslammed

into each other atop thecastle, and people fell silentas they pointed. Lysandraraced for the gates, and thecrowd spied her at last,scrambling and bleating toget out of her way. Theycleared a path right to theopenentrance.Revealing thirty Valg

guardsarmedwithcrossbows

lined up in front of it, readytofire.They all trained their

weaponsonher.Thirty guardswith bolts—

and beyond them, an openpathtothecastle.ToAelin.Lysandra leaped. The

closest guard fired a clean,spiraling shot right for herchest.She knew, with that

leopard’ssenses,thatitwouldhithome.

YetLysandradidnotslow.Shedidnotstop.For Evangeline. For her

future. For her freedom. Forthefriendswhohadcomeforher.Theboltnearedherheart.Andwasknockedfromthe

airbyanarrow.Lysandra landed on the

guard’s face and shredded itwithherclaws.There was only one

sharpshooterwiththatsortof

aim.Lysandraloosedaroar,and

becameastormofdeathuponthe guards nearest her whilearrowsrainedontherest.When Lysandra dared

look, it was in time to seeNesryn Faliq draw anotherarrow atop the neighboringrooftop, flanked by herrebels, and fire it cleanthrough the eye of the finalguard between Lysandra andthecastle.

“Go!”Nesrynshoutedoverthepanickingcrowd.Flame and nightwarred in

the highest spires, and theearthshuddered.Lysandra was already

running up the sloped,curving path between thetrees.Nothing but the grass and

thetreesandthewind.Nothing but this sleek,

powerful body, her shape-shifter’s heart burning,

glowing, singing with eachstep, each curve she took,fluidandswiftandfree.Faster and faster, every

movement of that leopard’sbodyajoy,evenasherqueenbattled for her kingdom andtheirworldhigh,highabove.

76

Aelinpanted,fightingagainstthethrobbinginherhead.Toosoon;toomuchpower

toosoon.Shehadn’thadtimeto draw it up the safe way,spiralingslowlytoitsdepths.Shifting into her Fae form

hadn’t helped—it had onlymadetheValgsmellworse.

Dorian was on his knees,clawing at his hand, wherethe ring kept glowing,brandinghisflesh.He sent darkness snapping

forheragainandagain—andeach time, she slammed itawaywithawallofflame.Butherbloodwasheating.“Try,Dorian,”shebegged,

her tongue like paper in herparchedmouth.“I will kill you, you Fae

bitch.”

A low laugh soundedbehindher.Aelin half turned—not

daring to put her back toeither of them, even if itmeantexposingherselftotheopenfall.TheKingofAdarlanstood

in the open doorway at theotherendofthebridge.Chaol—“Such a noble effort from

thecaptain.Totrytobuyyoutime so you might save my

son.”She’dtried—tried,but—“Punish her,” the demon

hissed from the other end ofthebridge.“Patience.” But the king

stiffened as he took in thegoldringburningonDorian’shand. That harsh, brutal facetightened. “What have youdone?”Dorian thrashed,

shuddering, and let out ascream that set her Fae ears

ringing.Aelin drew her father’s

sword. “You killed Chaol,”shesaid,thewordshollow.“The boy didn’t even land

asingleblow.”HesmirkedattheSwordofOrynth.“Idoubtyouwill,either.”Dorianwentsilent.Aelin snarled, “You killed

him.”The king approached, his

footfalls thudding on theglassbridge.

“My one regret,” the kingsaid to her, “is that I did notgettotakemytime.”Shebackedupastep—just

one.The king drew Nothung.

“I’ll take my time with you,though.”Aelin lifted her sword in

bothhands.Then—“Whatdidyousay?”Dorian.The voice was hoarse,

broken.The king and Aelin both

turnedtowardtheprince.ButDorian’seyeswereon

his father, and they wereburning like stars. “What didyousay.AboutChaol.”The king snapped.

“Silence.”“Did you kill him.” Not a

question.Aelin’s lips began

trembling, and she tunneleddown, down, down inside

herself.“And if I did?” the king

said,browshigh.“DidyoukillChaol?”The light atDorian’s hand

burnedandburned—But the collar remained

aroundhisneck.“You,” theking snapped—

and Aelin realized he meantherjustasaspearofdarknessshotforhersofast,toofast—The darkness shattered

againstawallofice.

Dorian.HisnamewasDorian.Dorian Havilliard, and he

was the Crown Prince ofAdarlan.AndCelaena Sardothien—

AelinGalathynius, his friend… she had come back forhim.She faced him, an ancient

swordinherhands.“Dorian?”shebreathed.

Thedemoninsidehimwasscreaming and pleading,ripping at him, trying tobargain.Awave of black slammed

into the shield of ice he’dthrown up between theprincess and his father. Soon—soon thekingwouldbreakthroughit.Dorian lifted his hands to

the Wyrdstone collar—cold,smooth,thrumming.Don’t,thedemonshrieked.

Don’t!There were tears running

downAelin’s face as Doriangripped the black stoneencirclinghisthroat.And, bellowing his grief,

hisrage,hispain,hesnappedthecollarfromhisneck.

77

The Wyrdstone collar brokein two—severing along ahairline fracture where thering’s power had slicedthrough.Dorian was panting, and

blood was running from hisnose,but—“Aelin,”hegaspedout,and

thevoicewashis.Itwashim.She ran, sheathing the

Sword of Orynth, reachinghis side as the wall of iceexploded beneath a hammerofdarkness.The king’s power surged

forthem,andAelinflungoutasinglehand.Ashieldoffireblastedintoexistence,andthedarknesswasshovedback.“Neitherofyouareleaving

herealive,” thekingsaid,hisrough voice slithering

throughthefire.Dorian sagged against her,

and Aelin slipped a handaroundhiswaist to hold himup.Pain flickered in her gut,

anda throbbingbegan inherblood.Shecouldn’tholdout,not so unprepared, even asthesunheldat itspeak,as ifMala herself willed it tolinger just a little longer toamplify the gifts she’dalready showered on a

PrincessofTerrasen.“Dorian,” Aelin said, pain

lancing down her spine asburnoutneared.Heturnedhishead,aneye

still on thewall of flickeringflames. Such pain, and grief,and rage in those eyes. Yet,somehow, beneath it all—asparkofspirit.Ofhope.Aelinextendedherhand—

aquestionandanofferandapromise.“To a better future,” she

said.“Youcameback,”hesaid,

asifthatwereananswer.Theyjoinedhands.Sotheworldended.Andthenextonebegan.

Theywereinfinite.They were the beginning

and the ending; they wereeternity.The king standing before

them gaped as the shield offlamediedouttorevealAelinand Dorian, hand in hand,glowinglikenewborngodsastheirmagicentwined.“You’re mine,” the man

raged. He became darkness;foldedhimselfintothepowerhe carried, as if he werenothingbutmaliceon adarkwind.Hestruckthem,swallowed

them.But they held tighter to

each other, past and presentandfuture;flickeringbetweenanancienthall inamountaincastle perched aboveOrynth,a bridge suspended betweenglass towers, and anotherplace, perfect and strange,where they had been craftedfromstardustandlight.A wall of night knocked

themback.Buttheycouldnotbecontained.The darkness paused for

breath.

Theyerupted.

Rowan blinked against thesunlight as it poured frombeyondAedion.Soldiers had infiltrated the

sewers again, even afterLysandra had saved theirsorry asses. Lorcan hadrushed back, bloodied, andtold them the way out wasbarred, and whatever way

Lysandra had gotten in wasnowoverrun.With battlefield efficiency,

Rowan had healed his leg asbest he could with hisremainingpower.Whilehe’dpatchedhimselfup,boneandskin knitting together hastilyenough to make him bark inpain, Aedion and Lorcanclawed a path through thecave-in,justasthesewerhadfilled with the sounds of thesoldiers rushing in. They’d

hauled ass back to the castlegrounds, where they hitanother cave-in. Aedion hadstartedrippingatthetopofit,shouting and roaring at theearthasifhiswillalonecouldmoveit.But now therewas a hole.

ItwasallRowanneeded.Rowan shifted, his leg

flashing in agony as heexchanged his limbs forwingsandtalons.Heloosedacry, shrill and raging. A

white-tailed hawk soared outof the small opening, pastAedion.Rowandidnotlingerashe

took in his surroundings.Theywere somewhere in thecastle gardens, the glasscastle looming beyond. Thereek of the smoke from theruin of the clock towercloggedhissenses.Light exploded from the

uppermost castle spires, sobrightthathewasblindedfor

amoment.Aelin.Alive. Alive. He flapped,

bending the wind to his willwith the dregs of his magic,soaring faster and faster. Hesentanotherwind toward theclock tower, rerouting thesmoketowardtheriver,awayfromthem.Rowan rounded the corner

ofthecastle.Hehad nowords forwhat

hesaw.

The King of AdarlanbellowedasAelinandDorianfracturedhispower.Togethertheybrokedownevery spell,everyounceof evil thathe’dbent and shackled to hiscommand.Infinite—Dorian’s power

wasinfinite.Theywere full of light, of

fire and starlight andsunshine. They overflowed

with it as they snapped thefinal tether on the king’spower and cleaved hisdarkness away, burning it upuntilitwasnothing.The king fell to his knees,

the glass bridge thuddingwiththeimpact.Aelin released Dorian’s

hand.Coldemptinessfloodedhersoviolently thatshe, too,felltotheglassfloor,gulpingdownair,reelingherselfbackin, remembering who she

was.Dorian was staring at his

father: the man who hadbrokenhim,enslavedhim.In a voice she had never

heard, the king whispered,“Myboy.”Doriandidn’treact.The king gazed up at his

son, his eyeswide—bright—andsaidagain,“Myboy.”Then the king looked to

where shewas on her knees,gaping at him. “Have you

cometosavemeatlast,AelinGalathynius?”

78

Aelin Galathynius stared atthebutcherofherfamily,herpeople,hercontinent.“Don’t listen to his lies,”

Doriansaid,flatandhollow.Aelin studied the king’s

hand,wherethedarkringhadbeen shattered away. Only apale band of skin remained.

“Who are you?” she saidquietly.Human—more and more,

the king looked … human.Softer.Theking turned toDorian,

exposing his broad palms.“Everything Idid—itwasalltokeepyousafe.Fromhim.”Aelinwentstill.“Ifoundthekey,”theking

went on, thewords tumblingout. “I found the key andbrought it toMorath.Andhe

… Perrington. We wereyoung,andhetookmeunderthe Keep to show me thecrypt, even though it wasforbidden. But I opened itwith the key…” Tears, realand clear, flowed down hisruddy face. “I opened it, andhecame;hetookPerrington’sbody—and …” He gazed athis bare hand. Watched itshake.“Helethisminiontakeme.”“That’s enough,” Dorian

said.Aelin’s heart stumbled.

“Erawan is free,” shebreathed.Andnotonlyfree—Erawanwas Perrington. TheDark King himself hadmanhandledher, lived in thiscastle with her—and hadneverknown,byluckorFateor Elena’s own protection,that she was here. She hadnever known, either—neverdetected it on him. Godsabove,Erawanhadforcedher

to bow that day in Endovierand neither of them hadscented or marked what theotherwas.The king nodded, setting

his tears splattering on histunic. “The Eye—you couldhavesealedhimbackinwiththeEye…”Thelookontheking’sface

when she’d revealed thenecklace…He’dbeenseeinga tool not of destruction, butofsalvation.

Aelin said, “How is itpossible he’s been insidePerrington all this time andnoonenoticed?”“Hecanhideinsideabody

like a snail in its shell. Butcloaking his presence alsostifles his own abilities toscent others—like you. Andnow you are back—all theplayers in the unfinishedgame.TheGalathyniusline—and the Havilliard, which hehas hated so fiercely all this

time. Why he targeted myfamily,andyours.”“You butchered my

kingdom,” she managed tosay. That night her parentsdied, there had been thatsmell in the room … Thescent of the Valg. “Youslaughteredmillions.”“I tried to stop it.” The

king braced a hand on thebridge, as if to keep fromcollapsing under the weightoftheshamenowcoatinghis

words. “They could find youbased on your magic alone,and wanted the strongest ofyou for themselves. Andwhenyouwereborn…”Hiscraggy features crumpled ashe again addressed Dorian.“You were so strong—soprecious. I couldn’t let themtake you. I wrested controlawayforjustlongenough.”“Todowhat,”Dorian said

hoarsely.Aelinglancedatthesmoke

wafting toward the river farbeyond.“Toorderthetowersbuilt,”shesaid,“andusethatspell to banish magic.” Andnow that they had freedmagic… themagic-wielderswouldbesniffedoutbyeveryValgdemoninErilea.The king gasped a

shuddering breath. “But hedidn’t knowhow I’ddone it.He thought the magicvanishedaspunishment fromourgodsandknewnothingof

why the towers were built.All this time I used mystrength to keep theknowledge of it away fromhim—from them. All mystrength—soIcouldnotfightthe demon, stop it when …when it did those things. Ikeptthatknowledgesafe.”“He’s a liar,” Dorian said,

turning on his heel. Therewasnomercyinhisvoice.“Istillwoundupabletousemymagic—it didn’t protect me

atall.He’llsayanything.”The wicked will tell us

anything to haunt ourthoughts longafter,Nehemiahadwarnedher.“I didn’t know,” the king

pleaded. “Usingmy blood inthespellmusthavemademyline immune. It was amistake.I’msorry.I’msorry.Myboy—Dorian—”“Youdon’tget tocallhim

that,” Aelin snapped. “Youcame to my home and

murderedmyfamily.”“Icametofindyou.Icame

to have you burn it out ofme!” thekingsobbed.“Aelinof theWildfire. I tried togetyoutodoit.Butyourmotherknocked you unconsciousbeforeyoucouldkillme,andthe demon … The demonbecamedevotedtowipingoutyourlineafterthat,sonofirecould ever cleanse him fromme.”Aelin’sbloodturnedtoice.

No—no, it couldn’t be true,couldn’tberight.“Allofitwastofindyou,”

thekingsaid toher.“Soyoucouldsaveme—soyoucouldendmeatlast.Please.Doit.”The king was weeping now,andhisbodyseemedtowasteaway bit by bit, his cheekshollowing out, his handsthinning.As ifhis life forceand the

demonprince insidehimhadindeed been bonded—and

one could not exist withouttheother.“Chaol is alive,” the king

murmured through hisemaciated hands, loweringthem to reveal red-rimmedeyes,alreadymilkywithage.“Broken, but I didn’t makethe kill. There was—a lightaroundhim.Ilefthimalive.”A sob ripped from her

throat. She had hoped, hadtried to give him a shot atsurvival—

“You are a liar,” Doriansaidagain,hisvoicecold.Socold.“Andyoudeservethis.”Light sparked at Dorian’sfingertips.Aelin mouthed his name,

trying to reelherselfback in,gather her wits. The demoninsidethekinghadhuntedhernot because of the threatTerrasen posed—but for thefireinherveins.Thefirethatcouldendthemboth.SheliftedahandasDorian

stepped toward his father.They had to ask more, learnmore—The Crown Prince tipped

his head back to the sky androared, and it was the battlecryofagod.Then the glass castle

shattered.

79

The bridge exploded frombeneath her, and the worldturned into shards of flyingglass.Aelinplummetedintoopen

air, towers crashing downaroundher.Sheflungouthermagicin

acocoon,burningthroughthe

glass as she fell and fell andfell.People were screaming—

screaming as Dorian broughtthecastledownforChaol,forSorscha,andsentatidalwaveof glass rushing toward thecitylyingbelow.Down and down Aelin

went, the ground surging up,the buildings around herrupturing, the light so brightonallthefragments—Aelinpulledoutevery last

drop of her magic as thecastle collapsed, the lethalwave of glass cascadingtowardRifthold.Wildfire raced for the

gates,racedagainstthewind,againstdeath.And as the wave of glass

crested the iron gates,shreddingthroughthecorpsestied there as if they werepaper, a wall of fire eruptedbefore it, shooting sky-high,spreadingwide.Haltingit.

Awindshovedagainsther,brutal and unforgiving, herbones groaning as it pushedher up, not down.She didn’tcare—not when she yieldedtheentiretyofhermagic, theentirety of her being, toholding the barrier of flamenow shielding Rifthold. Afew more seconds, then shecoulddie.Thewindtoreather,andit

sounded like it was roaringhername.

Wave after wave of glassand debris slammed into herwildfire.But she kept that wall of

flameburning—fortheRoyalTheater.And the flowergirlsat themarket. For the slavesand the courtesans and theFaliqfamily.Forthecitythathadofferedher joyandpain,deathandrebirth,forthecitythat had given her music,Aelin kept that wall of fireburningbright.

There was blood rainingdown among the glass—bloodthatsizzledonherlittlecocoon of flame, reeking ofdarknessandpain.The wind kept blowing

until it swept thatdarkbloodaway.Still Aelin held the shield

aroundthecity,heldontothefinal promise she’d made toChaol.I’llmakeitcount.She held on until the

groundroseuptomeether—And she landed softly in

thegrass.Then darkness slammed

intothebackofherhead.

Theworldwassobright.AelinGalathynius groaned

asshepushedherselfontoherelbows,thesmallhillofgrassbeneath her untouched andvibrant. Only a moment—

she’d been out for only amoment.She raised her head, her

skullthrobbingassheshovedher unbound hair from hereyes and looked at what shehaddone.WhatDorianhaddone.Theglasscastlewasgone.Only the stone castle

remained, its gray stoneswarming under the middaysun.And where a cascade of

glass and debris should havedestroyed a city, a massive,opaquewallglittered.A wall of glass, its upper

lip curvedas if it indeedhadbeenacrestingwave.Theglass castlewasgone.

The king was dead. AndDorian—Aelin scrambled up, her

arms buckling under her.There, not three feet away,was Dorian, sprawled on thegrass,eyesclosed.

But his chest was risingandfalling.Beside him, as if some

benevolent god had indeedbeen looking after them, layChaol.His face was bloody, but

hebreathed.Nootherwoundsthatshecoulddetect.She began shaking. She

wondered if he had noticedwhen she’d slipped the realEye of Elena into his pocketasshe’dfledthethroneroom.

Thescentofpineandsnowhither, and she realizedhowtheyhadsurvivedthefall.Aelin got to her feet,

swaying.The sloping hill down to

thecityhadbeendemolished,its trees and lampposts andgreenery shredded by theglass.She didn’t want to know

about the people who hadbeen on the grounds—or inthecastle.

Sheforcedherselftowalk.Toward the wall. Toward

the panicked city beyond.Toward the new world thatbeckoned.Two scents converged,

then a third. A strange, wildscent that belonged toeverythingandnothing.But Aelin did not look at

Aedion, or Rowan, orLysandra as she descendedthehilltothecity.Every step was an effort,

every breath a trial to pullherself back from the brink,to hold on to the here andnow, and what had to bedone.Aelin approached the

towering glasswall that nowseparated the castle from thecity, that separated deathfromlife.She punched a battering

ramofblueflamethroughit.More yelling arose as the

flame ate away at the glass,

forminganarchway.Thepeoplebeyond, crying

and holding one another orgripping their heads orcovering their mouths, wentquiet as she strode throughthedoorshe’dmade.Thegallowsstillstoodjust

beyond the wall. It was theonly raised surface that shecouldsee.Betterthannothing.Aelin ascended the

butchering block, her court

falling into rank behind her.Rowan was limping, but shedidn’t allow herself toexamine him, to even ask ifhewasallright.Notyet.Aelin kept her shoulders

back, her face grave andunyielding as she stopped attheedgeoftheplatform.“Your king is dead,” she

said. The crowd stirred.“Yourprincelives.”“All hail Dorian

Havilliard,”someoneshouted

down the street. No one elseechoedit.“My name is Aelin

Ashryver Galathynius,” shesaid.“AndIamtheQueenofTerrasen.”The crowd murmured;

someonlookerssteppedawayfromtheplatform.“Your prince is in

mourning. Until he is ready,thiscityismine.”Absolutesilence.“If you loot, if you riot, if

you cause one lick oftrouble,” she said, looking afew in the eye, “I will findyou, and I will burn you toash.” She lifted a hand, andflames danced at herfingertips. “If you revoltagainstyournewking,ifyoutrytotakehiscastle,thenthiswall”—she gesturedwith herburning hand—“will turn tomolten glass and flood yourstreets, your homes, yourthroats.”

Aelin lifted her chin, hermouth cutting a hard,unforgiving line as shesurveyedthecrowdfillingthestreets, people craning to seeher, see the Fae ears andelongated canines, see theflames flickering around herfingers.“I killed your king. His

empire is over. Your slavesarenowfreepeople.IfIcatchyou holding on to yourslaves, if I hear of any

household keeping themcaptive, you are dead. If Ihearofyouwhippingaslave,or trying to sell one, you aredead. So I suggest that youtellyourfriends,andfamilies,and neighbors. I suggest thatyou act like reasonable,intelligent people. And Isuggestthatyoustayonyourbest behavior until your kingisreadytogreetyou,atwhichtime I swear on my crownthatIwillyieldcontrolofthis

city to him. If anyone has aproblemwithit,youcantakeit up with my court.” Shemotionedbehindher.Rowan,Aedion, and Lysandra—bloodied, battered, filthy—grinned like hellions. “Or,”Aelin said, the flameswinking out on her hand,“youcantakeitupwithme.”Notaword.Shewondered

whethertheywerebreathing.But Aelin didn’t care as

she strode off the platform,

back through the gate she’dmade,andall thewayup thebarren hillside to the stonecastle.She was barely inside the

oak doors before shecollapsed to her knees andwept.

80

Elide had been in thedungeon so long that she’dlosttrackoftime.Butshe’dfeltthatripplein

the world, could have swornshe heard the wind singingher name, heard panickedshouts—andthennothing.No one explained what it

was, and no one came. Noonewascomingforher.She wondered how long

Vernonwouldwaitbeforehegave her to one of thosethings. She tried countingmeals to track time, but thefood they gave her was thesame for breakfast anddinner, and her meal timeschangedaround…Asiftheywantedhertolosetrack.Asifthey wanted her to foldherself into the darkness of

the dungeon so that whenthey came for her, she’d bewilling, desperate just to seethesunagain.Thedoortohercellclicked

open, and she staggered toher feet as Vernon slippedinside. He left the door ajarbehind him, and she blinkedat the torchlight as it stungher eyes. The stone hallwaybeyond was empty. Heprobably hadn’t broughtguards with him. He knew

how futile running would beforher.“I’m glad to see they’ve

been feeding you. A shameaboutthesmell,though.”She refused to be

embarrassedby it.Smellwastheleastofherconcerns.Elide pressed herself

against the slick, freezingstonewall.Maybe if she gotlucky,she’dfindawaytogetthechainaroundhisthroat.“I’llsendsomeonetoclean

you up tomorrow.” Vernonbegan to turn, as if hisinspectionweredone.“For what?” she managed

toask.Hervoicewasalreadyhoarsewithdisuse.He looked over his thin

shoulder. “Now that magichasreturned…”Magic. That was what the

ripplehadbeen.“I want to learn what lies

dormant in your bloodline—our bloodline.Theduke is

even more curious what willcomeofit.”“Please,” she said. “I’ll

disappear. I’ll never botheryou. Perranth is yours—it’sall yours. You’ve won. Justletmego.”Vernonclickedhis tongue.

“I do like it when you beg.”He glanced into the hallbeyond and snapped hisfingers.“Cormac.”Ayoungman stepped into

view.

Hewasamanofunearthlybeauty, with a flawless facebeneath his red hair, but hisgreen eyes were cold anddistant.Horrific.There was a black collar

aroundhisthroat.Darkness leaked from him

in tendrils. And as his eyesmetwithhers…Memories tugged at her,

horrible memories, of a legthat had slowly broken, ofyearsofterror,of—

“Leash it,” Vernonsnapped.“Orshe’llbenofunforyoutomorrow.”The red-haired youngman

suckedthedarknessbackintohimself, and the memoriesstopped.Elidevomitedherlastmeal

ontothestones.Vernon chuckled. “Don’t

besodramatic,Elide.Alittleincision, a few stitches, andyou’llbeperfect.”The demon prince smiled

ather.“You’ll be given into his

care afterward, to make surethat everything takes as itshould. But with magic sostronginyourbloodline,howcould it not? Perhaps you’lloutshine those Yellowlegs.After the first time,” Vernonmused,“maybeHisHighnesswill even perform his ownexperiments with you. Theacquaintance that sold himout mentioned in his letter

that Cormac enjoyed …playing with young women,whenhelivedinRifthold.”Oh, gods. Oh, gods.

“Why?”shebegged.“Why?”Vernon shrugged.

“BecauseIcan.”Hewalked out of the cell,

takingthedemonprince—herbetrothed—withhim.Assoonasthedoorclicked

shut, Elide bolted for it,yanking on the handle,tugging until the metal bit

into her hands and rubbedthem raw, begging Vernon,begging anyone, to hear her,rememberher.Buttherewasnoone.

Manon was more than readyto fall into bed at last. Afterall thathadhappened…Shehoped that the young queenwas lingering aroundRifthold, and had understood

themessage.ThehallsoftheKeepwere

in an uproar, bustling withmessengers who avoidedlooking at her. Whatever itwas, she didn’t care. Shewanted to bathe, and thensleep.Fordays.Whensheawoke,she’dtell

Elide what she’d learnedabout her queen. The finalpiece of the life debt sheowed.Manonshoulderedintoher

room. Elide’s pallet of haywas tidy, the room spotless.The girl was probablyskulking about somewhere,spying on whoever seemedmostusefultoher.Manonwashalfway to the

bathing room when shenoticedthesmell.Orlackofit.Elide’s scent was worn—

stale. As if she hadn’t beenherefordays.Manon looked toward the

fire.Noembers.She reacheda hand over it. Not a hint ofwarmth.Manonscannedtheroom.Nosignsofastruggle.But

…Manon was out the door

the next moment, headedbackdownstairs.She made it three steps

beforeherprowlturnedintoafull-on sprint. She took thestairs twoand threeata timeand leaped the last ten feet

onto the landing, the impactshuddering through her legs,now strong, so wickedlystrong,withmagicreturned.Iftherehadbeenatimefor

Vernontogetbackatherfortaking Elide from him, itwould have been while shewas away. And if magic ranin Elide’s family along withthe Ironteeth blood in herveins…Itsreturnmighthaveawakenedsomething.They want kings, Kaltain

hadsaidthatday.Hall after hall, stairwell

after stairwell, Manon ran,her ironnailssparkingasshegripped corners to swingherself around. Servants andguardsdartedoutofherway.She reached the kitchens

momentslater,ironteethout.Everyonewentdeadsilentasshe leaped down the stairs,heading right for the headcook.“Whereisshe?”Theman’sruddyfacewent

pale.“W-who?”“Thegirl—Elide.Where is

she?”Thecook’sspoonclattered

to the floor.“Idon’tknow; Ihaven’t seen her in days,WingLeader.Shesometimesvolunteers at the laundry, somaybe—”Manon was already

sprintingout.The head laundress, a

haughtybull,snortedandsaidshe hadn’t seen Elide, and

perhapsthecripplehadgottenwhat was coming to her.Manon left her screaming onthe floor, four lines gougedacrossherface.Manonhurtledupthestairs

and across an open stonebridge between two towers,theblackrocksmoothagainstherboots.She had just reached the

other side when a womanshouted from the oppositeend of the bridge, “Wing

Leader!”Manon slammed to a stop

so hard she almost collidedwith the tower wall. Whenshewhirled,ahumanwomanin a homespun gown wasrunning for her, reeking ofwhatever soaps anddetergents they used in thelaundry.The woman gulped down

great breaths of air, her darkskinflushed.Shehadtobraceher hands on her knees to

catchherbreath,butthensheliftedherheadandsaid,“Oneof the laundresses sees aguardwhoworksintheKeepdungeons. She said thatElide’slockedupdownthere.No one’s allowed in but heruncle. Don’t know whatthey’re planning to do, but itcan’tbegood.”“What dungeons?” There

werethreedifferentoneshere—along with the catacombsin which they kept the

Yellowlegscoven.“She didn’t know. He’ll

only tell her so much. Someofusgirlsweretryingto—tosee if there was anything tobedone,but—”“Tellnoonethatyouspoke

tome.”Manon turned.Threedungeons,threepossibilities.“Wing Leader,” the young

woman said. Manon lookedover her shoulder. Thewoman put a hand on herheart.“Thankyou.”

Manon didn’t let herselfthink about the laundress’sgratitude,orwhatitmeantforthose weak, helpless humansto have even consideredtryingtorescueElideontheirown.She did not think that

woman’s blood would bewateryortasteoffear.Manon launched into a

sprint—not to the dungeon,buttothewitches’barracks.TotheThirteen.

81

Elide’s uncle sent two stone-faced female servants downto scrub her, both bearingbucketsofwater.Shetriedtofightwhen they stripped her,but thewomenwerewallsofiron. Any sort of Blackbeakblood in Elide’s veins, sherealized,hadtobethediluted

kind. When she was nakedbeforethem,theydumpedthewateronherandattackedherwith their brushes and soaps,not even hesitating as theywashedhereverywhere,evenwhensheshriekedat themtostop.A sacrificial offering; a

lambtotheslaughter.Shaking, weak from the

effort of fighting them,Elidehad hardly any strength toretaliate as they dragged

combs through her hair,yankinghardenoughthathereyes watered. They left itunbound,anddressedherinaplain green robe. Withnothingbeneath.Elide begged them, over

andover.Theymightaswellhavebeendeaf.Whentheyleft,shetriedto

squeezeoutthecelldoorafterthem.Theguards shovedherbackinwithalaugh.Elide backed up until she

was pressed against the wallofhercell.Everyminutewascloserto

herlast.A stand. She’d make a

stand. She was a Blackbeak,and her mother had secretlybeen one, and they wouldboth go down swinging.Force themtoguther, tokillher before they could touchher,beforetheycouldimplantthat stone inside her, beforeshe could birth those

monsters—The door clicked open.

Fourguardsappeared.“The prince is waiting in

thecatacombs.”Elidedroppedtoherknees,

shackles clanking. “Please.Please—”“Now.”Two of them shoved into

the cell, and she couldn’tfight back against the handsthat grabbed under her armsand dragged her toward that

door.Herbarefeettoreonthestones as she kicked andthrashed, despite the chain,tryingtoclawfree.Closer and closer, they

hauled her like a buckinghorse toward the open celldoor.The two waiting guards

sniggered,eyesontheflapofthe robe that fellopenas shekicked, revealing her thighs,her stomach, everything tothem. Elide sobbed, even as

she knew the tearswould doher no good. They justlaughed, devouring her withtheireyes—Untilahandwithglittering

ironnailsshoved through thethroat of one of them,puncturing it wholly. Theguards froze, the one at thedoorwhirling at the spray ofblood—He screamed as his eyes

were slashed into ribbons byonehand,histhroatshredded

byanother.Both guards collapsed to

the ground, revealingManonBlackbeak standing behindthem.Bloodrandownherhands,

herforearms.AndManon’s golden eyes

glowedasif theywerelivingembers as she looked at thetwoguardsgrippingElide.Asshe beheld the disheveledrobe.TheyreleasedElidetograb

their weapons, and shesaggedtothefloor.Manon just said, “You’re

alreadydeadmen.”Andthenshemoved.Elidedidn’tknowifitwas

magic, but she’d never seenanyone in her life move likethat,asifshewereaphantomwind.Manonsnappedtheneckof

the first guard with a brutalcrunch.Asthesecondlungedfor her, Elide scrambling out

of the way, Manon onlylaughed—laughed andtwirledaway,movingbehindhim to plunge her hand intohisback,intohisbody.His shriek blasted through

thecell.Flesh tore, revealingawhitecolumnofbone—hisspine—which she gripped,hernailsshreddingdeep,andbrokeintwo.Elidetrembled—attheman

who fell to the ground,bleeding and broken, and at

the witch standing over him,bloodied and panting. Thewitchwhohadcomeforher.“We need to run,”Manon

said.

Manon knew rescuing Elidewould be a statement—andknew there were others whowould want to make it withher.But chaos had broken out

in theKeepas shehad racedto summon her Thirteen.Newshadcome.The King of Adarlan was

dead. Destroyed by AelinGalathynius.Shehadshatteredhisglass

castle, used her fire to sparethe city from a deadly waveofglass,anddeclaredDorianHavilliardKingofAdarlan.TheWitchKillerhaddone

it.People were in a panic;

even the witches werelooking to her for answers.Whatwouldtheydonowthatthe mortal king was dead?Wherewould they go?Weretheyfreeoftheirbargain?Later—Manonwouldthink

ofthosethingslater.Nowshehadtoact.So she had found her

Thirteenandordered themtoget the wyverns saddled andready.Threedungeons.

Hurry, Blackbeak,whispered a strange, softfemalevoice inherhead thatwas at once old and youngand wise. You race againstdoom.Manon had hit the nearest

dungeon,Asterin,Sorrel,andVesta at her back, the green-eyed demon twins behindthem.Menbegandying—fastandbloody.Nousearguing—notwhen

the men took one look at

themanddrewtheirweapons.Thedungeonheldrebelsof

all kingdoms, who pleadedfor death when they sawthem, in such states ofunspeakable torment thateven Manon’s stomachturned.ButnosignofElide.They had swept the

dungeon, Faline and Fallonlingering to make sure theyhadn’tmissedanything.The second dungeon held

more of the same. Vesta

stayed this time to sweep itagain.Faster, Blackbeak, that

wise female voice beggedher, as if there were only somuch she might interfere.Faster—Manonranlikehell.The third dungeon was

above the catacombs, and soheavily guarded that blackblood became a mist aroundthem as they launchedthemselves into tier after tier

ofsoldiers.Not one more. Not one

morefemalewouldsheallowthemtotake.SorrelandAsterinplunged

into the soldiers, plowing apath for her. Asterin rippedout the throat of one manwith her teeth while sheguttedanotherwithhernails.Black blood sprayed fromAsterin’s mouth as shepointed to the stairs aheadandroared,“Go!”

So Manon had left herSecond and Third behind,leaping down the stairs,aroundandaround.Therehadto be a secret entrance fromthese dungeons into thecatacombs,somequietwaytotransportElide—Faster, Blackbeak! that

sagevoicebarked.Andasalittlewindpushed

atManon’s feetas if itcouldhurry her along, she knewthat itwasagoddesspeering

over her shoulder, a lady ofwisethings.WhoperhapshadwatchedoverElideherentirelife, muted without magic,butnowthatitwasfree…Manonhit the lowest level

of the dungeon, amere floorabove the catacombs. Sureenough,attheendofthehall,a door opened onto adescendingstaircase.Between her and that

staircase were two guardssniggering at an open cell

door as a young womanbeggedfortheirmercy.ItwasthesoundofElide’s

weeping—that girl of quietsteelandquicksilverwitwhohad not wept for herself orher sorry life, only faced itwith grim determination—that made Manon snapentirely.She killed those guards in

thehall.She saw what they had

been laughing at: the girl

gripped between two otherguards,her robe tuggedopento reveal her nakedness, thefull extent of that ruined leg—Her grandmother had sold

themtothesepeople.She was a Blackbeak; she

wasnoone’sslave.Noone’sprizehorsetobreed.NeitherwasElide.Her wrath was a song in

her blood, and Manon hadmerely said, “You’re already

dead men,” before sheunleashedherselfonthem.When she’d chucked the

last guard’s body onto theground, when she wascovered in black and blueblood, Manon looked at thegirlonthefloor.Elide tugged her green

robe shut, shaking so badlyManon thought she’d puke.She could smell vomitalready in the cell. They hadkept her here, in this rotting

place.“We need to run,”Manon

said.Elide tried to rise, but

couldn’tsomuchasgettoherknees.Manon stalked to her,

helping the girl to her feet,leaving a smear of blood onher forearm. Elide swayed,butManonwaslookingattheoldchainaroundherankles.With a swipe of her iron

nails,shesnappedthroughit.

She’d unlock the shackleslater. “Now,” Manon said,tuggingElideintothehall.There were more soldiers

shouting from the way she’dcome, and Asterin andSorrel’s battle cries rang outdown the stairs. But behindthem, from the catacombsbelow…Moremen—Valg—curious

about the clamor leaking infromabove.Bringing Elide into the

melee might very well killher, but if the soldiers fromthe catacombs attacked frombehind … Worse, if theybrought one of their princes…Regret. It had been regret

she’d felt that night she’dkilled the Crochan. Regretand guilt and shame, foractingonblindobedience,forbeing a coward when theCrochan had held her headhighandspokentruth.

They have made you intomonsters.Made,Manon.Andwefeelsorryforyou.Itwasregretthatshe’dfelt

whensheheardAsterin’stale.Fornotbeingworthyoftrust.And for what she had

allowed to happen to thoseYellowlegs.She did not want to

imagine what she might feelshouldshebringElide toherdeath.Orworse.Brutality. Discipline.

Obedience.It did not seem like a

weakness to fight for thosewho could not defendthemselves. Even if theyweren’t truewitches.Even iftheymeantnothingtoher.“We’re going to have to

battle our way out,” ManonsaidtoElide.Butthegirlwaswide-eyed,

gapingatthecelldoorway.Standing there, her dress

flowingaroundherlikeliquid

night,wasKaltain.

82

Elidestaredatthedark-hairedyoungwoman.AndKaltainstaredback.Manon let out a warning

snarl. “Unless you want todie,gettheruttinghelloutoftheway.”Kaltain, her hair unbound,

herfacepaleandgaunt,said,

“They are coming now. Tofind outwhy she has not yetarrived.”Manon’s bloodied hand

was sticky and damp as itclamped around Elide’s armand tugged her toward thedoor. The single step, thefreedom of movementwithout that chain … Elidealmostsobbed.Untilsheheardthefighting

ahead.Behindthem,fromthedarkstairwellattheotherend

ofthehall,therushingfeetofmore men approached fromfarbelow.Kaltain stepped aside as

Manonpushedpast.“Wait,” Kaltain said.

“They will turn this Keepupsidedownlookingforyou.Evenifyougetairborne,theywill sendout ridersafteryouand use your own peopleagainstyou,Blackbeak.”Manon dropped Elide’s

arm. Elide hardly dared to

breathe as the witch said,“How long has it been sinceyou destroyed the demoninsidethatcollar,Kaltain?”A low, broken laugh. “A

while.”“Doesthedukeknow?”“My dark liege sees what

hewants to see.”She shiftedhereyestoElide.Exhaustion,emptiness, sorrow, and ragedanced there together.“Remove your robe and giveittome.”

Elide backed up a step.“What?”Manon looked between

them.“Youcan’ttrickthem.”“They see what they want

tosee,”Kaltainsaidagain.The men closing in on

either side grew nearer witheveryunevenheartbeat.“Thisis insane,” Elide breathed.“It’llneverwork.”“Take off your robe and

give it to the lady,” Manonordered.“Doitnow.”

No room fordisobedience.SoElide listened,blushingather own nakedness, trying tocoverherself.Kaltain merely let her

black dress slip from hershoulders. It rippled on theground.Her body—what they had

done toherbody, thebruisesonher,thethinness…Kaltainwrapped herself in

the robe, her face emptyagain.

Elide slid on the gown, itsfabric horribly cold when itshouldhavebeenwarm.Kaltainkneltbeforeoneof

the dead guards—oh, gods,those were corpses lyingthere—andranherhandoverthe hole in the guard’s neck.She smeared and flickedbloodoverherface,herneck,herarms, therobe.Sheranitthrough her hair, tugging itforward,hidingherfaceuntilbits of blood were all that

could be seen, folding hershouldersinward,until—Until Kaltain looked like

Elide.You could be sisters,

Vernon had said. Now theycouldbetwins.“Please—come with us,”

Elidewhispered.Kaltain laughed quietly.

“Dagger,Blackbeak.”Manonpulledoutadagger.Kaltain sliced it deep into

the hideous scarred lump in

her arm. “In your pocket,girl,” Kaltain said to her.Elide reached into the dressandpulledoutascrapofdarkfabric, frayed and ripped atthe edges, as if it had beentornfromsomething.Elide held it toward the

lady as Kaltain reached intoher arm, no expression ofpain on that beautiful,bloodied face, andpulledouta glimmering sliver of darkstone.

Kaltain’sredblooddrippedoff it. Carefully, the lady setit onto the scrap of fabricElide held out, and foldedElide’sfingersaroundit.A dull, strange thudding

poundedthroughElideasshegraspedtheshard.“What is that?” Manon

asked,sniffingsubtly.Kaltain just squeezed

Elide’s fingers. “You findCelaenaSardothien.Giveherthis.Nooneelse.Nooneelse.

Tell her that you can openanydoor,ifyouhavethekey.Andtellher torememberherpromise to me—to punishthemall.Whensheaskswhy,tellherIsaidthattheywouldnotletmebringthecloakshegaveme,butIkeptapieceofit.Toremember thatpromiseshe made. To remember torepayherforawarmcloakinacolddungeon.”Kaltainsteppedaway.“Wecantakeyouwithus,”

Elidetriedagain.A small, hateful smile. “I

havenointerestinliving.Notafter what they did. I don’tthinkmy body could survivewithout theirpower.”Kaltainhuffedalaugh.“Ishallenjoythis,Ithink.”ManontuggedElidetoher

side. “They’ll notice youwithoutthechains—”“They’ll be dead before

they do,” Kaltain said. “Isuggestyourun.”

Manon didn’t askquestions, and Elide didn’thave time to say thank youbefore thewitch grabbed herandtheyran.

Shewasawolf.Shewasdeath,devourerof

worlds.The guards found her

curled up in the cell,shuddering at the carnage.

They didn’t ask questions,didn’t look twice at her facebefore they hauled her downthe hall and into thecatacombs.Suchscreaminghere.Such

terror and despair. But thehorrors under the othermountains were worse. Somuch worse. Too bad shewould not have theopportunity to also sparethem,slaughterthem.She was a void, empty

without that sliver of powerthat built and ate and toreapartworldsinsideofher.His precious gift, his key,

he had called her. A livinggate, he promised. Soon, hehad said he would add theother.Andthenfindthethird.Sothatthekinginsidehim

mightruleagain.They led her into a

chamber with a table in thecenter.Awhitesheetcoveredit, and men watched as they

shoved her onto the table—the altar. They chained herdown.Withthebloodonher,they

did not notice the cut on herarm,orwhosefaceshewore.One of the men came

forward with a knife, cleanand sharp and gleaming.“This won’t take but a fewminutes.”Kaltain smiled up at him.

Smiledbroadly,nowthattheyhad brought her into the

bowelsofthishellhole.Themanpaused.A red-haired young man

walkedintotheroom,reekingof the cruelty born in hishumanheartandamplifiedbythe demon inside him. Hefrozeashesawher.Heopenedhismouth.KaltainRompierunleashed

hershadowfireuponthemall.This was not the ghost of

shadowfiretheyhadmadeherkill with—the reason why

theyhadfirstapproachedher,lied toherwhen they invitedher to that glass castle—butthe real thing. The fire shehadharboredsincemagichadreturned—golden flame nowturnedtoblack.Theroombecamecinders.Kaltain pushed the chains

off her as though they werecobwebsandarose.Shedisrobedasshewalked

outoftheroom.Letthemseewhat had been done to her,

thebodythey’dwasted.Shemade it twosteps into

the hall before they noticedher, and beheld the blackflamesripplingoffher.Death,devourerofworlds.The hallway turned to

blackdust.She strode toward the

chamberwherethescreamingwas loudest, where femalecries leaked through the irondoor.The iron did not heat, did

notbendtohermagic.Soshemelted an archway throughthestones.Monsters and witches and

menanddemonswhirled.Kaltain flowed into the

room, spreading her armswide, and becameshadowfire, became freedomand triumph, became apromise hissed in a dungeonbeneathaglasscastle:Punishthemall.Sheburnedthecradles.She

burned the monsters within.Sheburnedthemenandtheirdemonprinces.And then sheburned the witches, wholookedatherwithgratitudeintheir eyes and embraced thedarkflame.Kaltain unleashed the last

ofhershadowfire,tippingherface to the ceiling, toward askyshe’dneverseeagain.She took out every wall

and every column. As shebrought it all crashing and

crumbling around them,Kaltain smiled, and at lastburned herself into ash on aphantomwind.

Manonran.ButElidewassoslow—sopainfullyslowwiththatleg.If Kaltain unleashed her

shadowfire before they gotout…Manon grabbed Elide and

hauled her over a shoulder,the beaded dress cutting intoManon’shandasshesprintedupthestairs.Elide didn’t say aword as

Manon reached the dungeonlanding and beheld Asterinand Sorrel finishing off thelast of the soldiers. “Run!”shebarked.They were coated in that

blackblood,butthey’dlive.Upandup,theyhurtledout

of the dungeons, even as

Elidebecameaweightborneonpuredefianceof thedeathsurely racing toward themfromlevelsbelow.Therewasashudder—“Faster!”HerSecondmade it to the

giant dungeon doors andhurled herself against them,heaving them open. Manonand Sorrel dashed through;Asterin shoved them sealedwith a bang. It would onlydelay the flame a second, if

that.Up and up, toward the

aerie.Another shudder and a

boom—Screaming,andheat—Down the halls they flew,

as if the god of wind werepushingattheirheels.They hit the base of the

aerie tower. The rest of theThirteenweregatheredinthestairwell,waiting.“Into the skies,” Manon

ordered as they took thestairs,oneafterone,Elidesoheavy now that she thoughtshe’d drop her. Only a fewmore feet to the top of thetower, where the wyvernswere hopefully saddled andprepared.Theywere.ManonhurtledforAbraxos

and shoved the shudderinggirl into the saddle. Sheclimbedupbehindheras theThirteenscrambledontotheirmounts. Wrapping her arms

aroundElide,Manondugherheels into Abraxos’s side.“Flynow!”sheroared.Abraxosleapedthroughthe

opening, soaring up and out,the Thirteen leaping withthem, wings beating hard,beatingwildly—Morathexploded.Black flame erupted,

taking out stone and metal,racing higher and higher.Peopleshoutedandthenweresilenced,asevenrockmelted.

The air hollowed out andrupturedinManon’sears,andshe curled her body aroundElide’s, twisting them so theheat of the blast singed herownback.The aerie tower was

incinerated, and crumbledawaybehindthem.The blast sent them

tumbling,butManongrippedthe girl tight, clenching thesaddlewithherthighsashot,dry wind blasted past them.

Abraxos screeched, shiftingandsoaringintothegust.When Manon dared to

look,athirdofMorathwasasmolderingruin.Where those catacombs

had once been—where thoseYellowlegshadbeen torturedand broken, where they hadbred monsters—there wasnothingleft.

83

Aelinsleptforthreedays.Three days, while Rowan

satbyherbed,healinghislegas best he could while theabyssofhispowerrefilled.Aedionassumedcontrolof

the castle, imprisoning anysurviving guards. Most,Rowan had been viciously

pleased to learn, had beenkilled in the storm of glassthe prince had called down.Chaolhad survived,by somemiracle—probablytheEyeofElena, which they’d foundtuckedintohispocket.Itwasaneasyguesswhohadput itthere. Though Rowanhonestly wondered if, whenthecaptainwokeup,hemightwish he hadn’t made it afterall.He’dencounteredenoughsoldierswhofeltthatway.

After Aelin had sospectacularly leashed thepeople of Rifthold, theyfound Lorcan waiting by thedoorstothestonecastle.Thequeen hadn’t even noticedhimas she sank toherkneesand cried and cried, untilRowan scooped her into hisarms and, limping slightly,carried her through thefrenzied halls, servantsdodging them as Aedion ledthewaytoheroldrooms.

Itwastheonlyplacetogo.Bettertoestablishthemselvesin their enemy’s formerstronghold than retreat to thewarehouseapartment.A servant named Philippa

was asked to look after theprince, who had beenunconscious the last timeRowan had seen him—whenhe plummeted to earth andRowan’s wind stopped hisfall.He didn’t know what had

happened in the castle.Through her weeping, Aelinhadn’tsaidanything.She had been unconscious

by the time Rowan reachedherlavishsuiteofrooms,noteven stirring as he kickedopenthelockeddoor.Hisleghadburnedinpain,theroughhealing he’d done barelyholding the wound together,but he didn’t care. He’dbarely set Aelin on the bedbeforeLorcan’sscenthithim

again, and he whirled,snarling.But there was already

someone in Lorcan’s face,blocking the warrior’s pathinto thequeen’sbedchamber.Lysandra.“May I help you?” the

courtesan had said sweetly.Her dresswas in shreds, andblood both black and redcoated most of her, but sheheld her head high and herback straight. She’d made it

as far as the upper levels ofthe stone castle before theglass one above it hadexploded. And showed noplans of leaving anytimesoon.Rowanhadthrownashield

of hard air around Aelin’sroom as Lorcan stared downat Lysandra, his blood-splattered face impassive.“Outofmyway,shifter.”Lysandra had held up a

slender hand—and Lorcan

paused. The shape-shifterpressed her other handagainsther stomach,her faceblanching. But then shesmiled and said, “You forgottosay‘please.’”Lorcan’s dark brows

flattened. “I don’t have timefor this.” He made to steparoundher,shoveheraside.Lysandra vomited black

bloodalloverhim.Rowan didn’t know

whether tolaughorcringeas

Lysandra, panting, gaped atLorcan, and at the blood onhis neck and chest. Slowly,too slowly, Lorcan lookeddownathimself.She pressed a hand over

her mouth. “I am—so sorry—”Lorcandidn’tevenstepout

of the way as Lysandravomited on him again, blackbloodandbitsofgorenowonthewarriorandonthemarblefloor.

Lorcan’s dark eyesflickered.Rowandecidedtodothem

botha favorand joined themin the antechamber, shuttingthe queen’s bedroom doorbehind him as he steppedaround the puddle of blood,bile,andgore.Lysandra gagged again,

and wisely darted to whatlooked to be a bathing roomoffthefoyer.Allofthemenanddemons

she’d wasted, it seemed, didnot sit well in her humanstomach. The sounds of herpurging leaked out frombeneath the bathing roomdoor.“You deserved that,”

Rowansaid.Lorcan didn’t so much as

blink. “That’s the thanks Iget?”Rowan leaned against the

wall, crossing his arms andkeeping the weight off his

now-healing leg. “You knewwe’d try to use thosetunnels,” Rowan said, “andyet you lied about theWyrdhounds being dead. Ishould rip out your gods-damnedthroat.”“Goahead.Try.”Rowan remained against

the door, calculating everymove of his formercommander. A fight righthere, rightnowwouldbe toodestructive, and too

dangerous with his queenunconscious in the roombehindhim.“Iwouldn’thavegiven a shit about it if it hadjust been me. But when youletmewalkintothattrap,youendangered my queen’s life—”“Looks like she did just

fine—”“—andthelifeofabrother

inmycourt.”Lorcan’s mouth tightened

—barely.

“That’s why you came tohelp, isn’t it?” Rowan said.“You saw Aedion when welefttheapartment.”“I did not know Gavriel’s

son would be in that tunnelwith you. Until it was toolate.”Of course, Lorcan would

never have warned themabout the trap after learningAedion would be there. Notin a thousand years wouldLorcan ever admit to a

mistake.“I wasn’t aware that you

evencared.”“Gavriel is still my

brother,” Lorcan said, hiseyes flashing. “I would havefaced him with dishonor if Ihadlethissondie.”Only for honor, for the

blood bond between them—not for saving this continent.The same twisted bond wasleading him now to destroythe keys beforeMaeve could

acquire them.Rowan had nodoubtthatLorcanmeanttodoit, even if Maeve killed himforitlater.“What are youdoinghere,

Lorcan?Didn’t you getwhatyouwanted?”A fair question—and a

warning. The male was nowinside his queen’s suite,closerthanmostpeopleinhercourtwould ever get.Rowanbegan a silent countdown inhis head. Thirty seconds

seemed generous. Then hewould throw Lorcan out onhisass.“It’snotover,” thewarrior

said.“Notevenclose.”Rowan lifted his brows.

“Idle threats?” But Lorcanhad only shrugged andwalked out, covered inLysandra’svomit,anddidnotlookbackbeforedisappearingdownthehall.That had been three days

ago. Rowan hadn’t seen or

scented Lorcan since.Lysandra, mercifully, hadstoppedhurlinghergutsup—or someone else’s guts, hesupposed. The shape-shifterhad claimed a room acrossthe hall, between the twochambersinwhichtheCrownPrinceandChaolstillslept.After what Aelin and the

Crown Prince had done, themagic they’d wieldedtogetherandalone,threedaysof sleep was hardly

surprising.Yet it droveRowanoutof

hismind.Thereweresomanythings

he needed to say to her—thoughperhapshewouldjustaskhowthehellshe’dgottenstabbed in the side. She’dhealed herself, and hewouldn’t have even knownwereitnotfor therips in theribs, back, and arms of thatblackassassin’ssuit.When the healer had

inspected the sleepingqueen,she’d found that Aelin hadhealed herself too quickly,too desperately—and hadsealedher flesharoundsomeshards of glass in her back.Watching as the healerstripped her naked, thenbegan carefully opening thedozensoflittlewoundstodigout the glass almost madehimteardownthewalls.Aelin slept through it,

which he supposed was a

mercy, given how deep thehealer had to dig to get theglassout.She’s lucky it didn’t hit

anything permanent, thehealerhadsaid.Once every shard was

gone, Rowan had used hisstrainedmagic to slowly—soslowly, damn him—heal thewounds again. It left thetattooonherbackinribbons.He’dhavetofillitinwhen

she recovered.And teachher

more about battlefieldhealing.Ifsheeverwokeup.Sittinginachairbesideher

bed,Rowantoedoffhisbootsand rubbed at the faint,lingering soreness in his leg.Aedion had just finishedgiving a report about thecurrent status of the castle.Three days later, the generalstillhadn’tspokenaboutwhathad happened—that he’dbeenwilling to lay down his

life to protect Rowan fromtheValgfootsoldiers,orthatthe King of Adarlan wasdead. As far as the former,Rowan had thanked him forthat in theonlywayheknewhow: offering Aedion one ofhis own daggers, forged bythe greatest of Doranelle’sblacksmiths. Aedion hadinitially refused, insisting heneeded no thanks, but hadworn the blade at his sideeversince.

But in regard to the latter… Rowan had asked, justonce, what the general feltabout the king being dead.Aedion had merely said hewished the bastard hadsufferedlonger,butdeadwasdead, so it was fine by him.Rowan wondered if he trulymeant it, but Aedion wouldtell him when he was goodand ready. Not all woundscould be healed with magic.Rowan knew that too well.

Buttheydidheal.Eventually.And the wounds on this

castle, on the city—thosewould heal, too. He’d stoodon battlefields after thekillinghad stopped, theearthstillwetwithblood,andlivedto see the scars slowly heal,decade after decade, on theland, the people. So, too,wouldRiftholdheal.Even if Aedion’s latest

reportonthecastlewasgrim.Most of the staff had

survived, along with a fewcourtiers,butitseemedthatagood number of those whohad remained at court—courtiers Aedion had knownto be worthless, schemingdevils—hadn’tmade it.As ifthe prince had wiped cleanthestainfromhiscastle.Rowan shuddered at the

thought, gazing at the doorsAedion had vacated. TheCrown Prince had suchtremendous power. Rowan

had never seen its like.He’dneed to findaway to train it—hone it—or risk itdestroyinghim.And Aelin—that brilliant,

insane fool—had taken atremendous risk in weavingher power with his. Theprince had raw magic thatcould be shaped intoanything. Aelin could haveburntherselfoutinasecond.Rowanturnedhisheadand

glaredather.

And found Aelin glaringback.

“I save the world,” Aelinsaid, her voice like gravel,“and yet I wake up to youbeingpissy.”“It was a group effort,”

Rowan said from a chairnearby. “And I’m pissy forabout twenty differentreasons,mostofthemhaving

to dowith youmaking someofthemostrecklessdecisionsI’veever—”“Dorian,” she blurted. “Is

Dorian—”“Fine. Asleep. He’s been

outaslongasyou.”“Chaol—”“Asleep. Recovering. But

alive.”A weight eased from her

shoulders. And then … shelooked at the Fae Prince andunderstood that he was

unharmed,thatshewasinheroldroom,thattheyweren’tinchainsorcollars,andthattheking … What the king hadsaidbeforehedied…“Fireheart,” Rowan

murmured, starting from hischair,butsheshookherhead.The movement made herskullthrob.She took a steadying

breath, wiping at her eyes.Gods, her arm ached, herbackached,hersideached…

“No more tears,” she said.“No more weeping.” Shelowered her hands to theblankets. “Tell me—everything.”So he did. About the

hellfire,andtheWyrdhounds,andLorcan.Andthenthepastthreedays,oforganizingandhealingandLysandra scaringthelivingshitoutofeveryoneby shifting into a ghostleopard anytime one ofDorian’scourtierssteppedout

ofline.When he’d finished,

Rowansaid,“Ifyoucan’ttalkaboutit,youdon’t—”“Ineedtotalkaboutit.”To

him—if only to him. Thewords tumbled out, and shedid not cry as she explainedwhat the king had said,whathe’d claimed. What Dorianhad still done. Rowan’s faceremained drawn, thoughtful,throughout.At last, she said,“Threedays?”

Rowan nodded gravely.“Distracting Aedion withrunning thecastle is theonlyway I’ve kept him fromchewingonthefurniture.”She met those pine-green

eyes, and he opened hismouth again, but shemade asmall noise. “Before we sayanything else …” Sheglanced at the door. “I needyou to help me get to thebathing room. Or else I’mgoingtowetmyself.”

Rowanburstoutlaughing.Sheglaredathimagainas

she sat up, the movementagonizing, exhausting. Shewasnaked save for the cleanundergarments someone hadstuffed her into, but shesupposed she was decentenough.He’dseeneverypartofher,anyway.Rowan was still chuckling

as he helped her up, lettingher lean against him as herlegs—useless, wobbling like

a newborn fawn—tried towork. It took her so long togo three steps that shedidn’tobjectwhenhe swept her upandcarriedhertothebathingroom. She growled when hetried to set her on the toiletitself, and he left with hishands upraised, his eyesdancingas if to sayCan youblame me for trying? Youmight very well fall into itinstead.He laughed once more at

the profanities in her eyes,andwhen shewas done, shemanaged to stand and walkthe three steps to the doorbefore he hefted her in hisarms again. No limp, sherealized—his leg, mercifully,wasmostlyhealed.Her arms draped around

him,shepressedherfaceintohis neck as he carried hertoward thebed, andbreathedinhisscent.Whenhemadetoset her down, she held on to

him,asilentrequest.So Rowan sat on the bed,

holding her in his lap as hestretched out his legs andsettled into the rows ofpillows. For a moment, theysaidnothing.Then, “So this was your

room.Andthatwasthesecretpassage.”A lifetime ago, a whole

otherpersonago.“Youdon’tsoundimpressed.”“After all your stories, it

justseemsso…ordinary.”“Mostpeoplewouldhardly

callthiscastleordinary.”Ahuffoflaughterwarmed

herhair.Shegrazedhernoseagainst the bare skin of hisneck.“I thought you were

dying,”hesaidroughly.She held him tighter, even

if it made her back ache. “Iwas.”“Please don’t ever do that

again.”

Itwasherturntopuffoutalaugh. “Next time, I’ll justaskDoriannottostabme.”But Rowan pulled back,

scanningherface.“Ifeltit—Ifelteverysecondofit.Iwentoutofmymind.”Shebrushedafingeralong

his cheek. “I thoughtsomething had gone wrongfor you, too—I thought youmightbedead,orhurt.Anditkilledmenottobeabletogotoyou.”

“Nexttimeweneedtosavetheworld,wedoittogether.”Shesmiledfaintly.“Deal.”He shifted his arm so he

couldbrushherhairback.Hisfingers lingered along herjaw. “Youmakeme want tolive, too,AelinGalathynius,”he said. “Not exist—butlive.” He cupped her cheek,andtookasteadyingbreath—asifhe’dthoughtabouteveryword these past three days,overandoveragain.“I spent

centuries wandering theworld, from empires tokingdoms to wastelands,neversettling,neverstopping—not foronemoment. Iwasalways looking toward thehorizon, always wonderingwhat waited across the nextocean, over the nextmountain. But I think … Ithink that whole time, allthose centuries, I was justlookingforyou.”He brushed away a tear

that escaped her then, andAelingazedattheFaePrincewho held her—at her friend,who had traveled throughdarkness and despair and iceandfirewithher.Shedidn’tknowwhichone

ofthemmovedfirst,butthenRowan’smouthwasonhers,and Aelin gripped his shirt,pulling him closer, claiminghimasheclaimedher.His arms wrapped tighter

around her, but gently—so

careful of the wounds thatached.Hebrushedhistongueagainst hers, and she openedher mouth to him. Eachmovementof their lipswasawhisperofwhatwastocomeonce they were both healed,andapromise.The kiss was slow—

thorough. As if they had allthetimeintheworld.As if they were the only

onesinit.

Realizing he’d forgotten totell Rowan about the letterhe’d received from theBane,AedionAshryverwalkedintoAelin’ssuiteofroomsintimeto see that Aelin was awake—finally awake, and liftingher face to Rowan’s. Theyweresittingonthebed,Aelinin Rowan’s lap, the Faewarrior’sarms lockedaroundher as he looked at her the

way she deserved to belooked at. And when theykissed, deeply, withouthesitation—Rowan didn’t so much as

glanceAedion’swaybeforeawind snapped through thesuite, slamming the bedroomdoorinAedion’sface.Pointtaken.A strange, ever-changing

female scent hit him, andAedion found Lysandraleaning against the hallway

door. Tears gleamed in hereyesevenasshesmiled.She gazed at the closed

bedroomdoor,asifshecouldstill see theprinceandqueeninside.“That,”shesaid,moreto herself than to him. “ThatiswhatIamgoingtofindoneday.”“AgorgeousFaewarrior?”

Aedionsaid,shiftingabit.Lysandrachuckled,wiping

awayhertears,andgavehima knowing look before

walkingaway.

Apparently, Dorian’s goldenring was gone—and Aelinknew exactly who had beenresponsible for themomentary blackness whenshe’d hit the ground as thecastle collapsed, who hadbestowed theunconsciousnesscourtesyofablowtothebackofherhead.

She didn’t know whyLorcan hadn’t killed her, butshedidn’tparticularly care—not when he was long gone.She supposed he’d neverpromisednot tosteal theringback.Though he’d also never

made them verify that theAmulet of Orynth wasn’t afake. Too bad she wouldn’tbe there toseehis facewhenherealizedit.Thethoughtwasenoughto

make Aelin smile the nextday, despite the door shestood before—despite whowaitedbehindit.Rowan lingered at the end

of the hallway, guarding theonlyway in or out. He gaveheranod,andevenfromthedistance, she read the wordsinhiseyes.I’llberighthere.Oneshout,andI’llbeatyourside.Sherolledhereyesathim.

Overbearing, territorial Fae

beast.She’d lost track of how

long they’d kissed for, howlongshe’dlostherselfinhim.Butthenshe’dtakenhishandand laid it onherbreast, andhe’d growled in a way thatmade her toes curl and herback arch…and thenwinceat the remnant of painflickeringinherbody.Hehadpulledbackat that

wince, and when she’d triedto convince him to keep

going, he’d told her that hehadno interest inbeddinganinvalid, and since they’dalreadywaited this long, shecouldcoolherheelsandwaitsome more. Until she wasable to keep up with him,he’d added with a wickedgrin.Aelin shoved away the

thoughtwithanotherglare inRowan’s direction, loosed asteadying breath, and pusheddownonthehandle.

He was standing by thewindow overlooking thewrecked gardens whereservants were struggling torepair the catastrophicdamagehe’dcaused.“Hello,Dorian,”shesaid.

84

Dorian Havilliard hadawoken alone, in a room hedidn’trecognize.But he was free, even

though a pale band of skinnowmarredhisneck.For amoment, hehad lain

inbed,listening.Noscreaming.Nowailing.

Just a few birds tentativelychirping outside thewindow,summer sunshine leaking in,and…silence.Peace.There was such an

emptiness in his head. Ahollownessinhim.He’devenputahandover

his heart to see if it wasbeating.The rest was a blur—and

he lost himself in it, ratherthan think about thatemptiness. He bathed, he

dressed, and he spoke toAedion Ashryver, wholooked at him as if he hadthree heads and who wasapparently now in charge ofcastlesecurity.Chaol was alive but still

recovering, the general said.Not yet awake—and maybethat was a good thing,because Dorian had no ideahowhe’dfacehisfriend,howhe’dexplaineverything.Evenwhen most of it was mere

shards ofmemory, pieces heknew would further breakhim if he ever put themtogether.A few hours later, Dorian

was still in that bedroom,working up the nerve tosurvey what he’d done. Thecastle he’d destroyed; thepeoplehe’dkilled.He’dseenthewall:proofofhisenemy’spower…andmercy.Nothisenemy.Aelin.

“Hello, Dorian,” she said.He turned from the windowasthedoorshutbehindher.She lingered by the door,

in a tunic of deep blue andgold, unbuttoned withcarelessgraceattheneck,herhair loose at her shoulders,herbrownboots scuffed.Buttheway she held herself, theway she stood with utterstillness … A queen lookedoutathim.He didn’t know what to

say.Wheretobegin.She prowled for the little

sitting area where he stood.“Howareyoufeeling?”Even the way she talked

was slightly different. He’dalreadyheardwhatshe’dsaidto his people, the threatsshe’d made and the ordershe’ddemanded.“Fine,”hemanagedtosay.

His magic rumbled deepinside him, but it was barelymore than a whisper, as if it

was drained. As if it was asemptyashim.“Youwouldn’tbehidingin

here, would you?” she said,slumping intooneof the lowchairs on the pretty, ornaterug.“Yourmenputme inhere

sotheycouldkeepaneyeonme,” he said, remaining bythewindow. “Iwasn’t awarethat Iwas allowed to leave.”Perhapsthatwasagoodthing—considering what the

demon prince had made himdo.“You can leave whenever

youplease.Thisisyourcastle—yourkingdom.”“Isit?”hedaredask.“You’re the King of

Adarlan now,” she saidsoftly, but not gently. “Ofcourseitis.”His father was dead. Not

evenabodywaslefttorevealwhatthey’ddonethatday.Aelinhadpubliclydeclared

she’d killed him, but Dorianknew he’d ended his fatherwhen he shattered the castle.HehaddoneitforChaol,andfor Sorscha, and he knewshe’dclaimedthekillbecausetotellhispeople…totellhispeople that he’d killed hisfather—“I still have to be

crowned,”hesaidatlast.Hisfather had stated such wildthings in those last fewmoments;thingsthatchanged

everythingandnothing.She crossed her legs,

leaning back in her seat, butthere was nothing casual inher face. “You say that likeyouhopeitdoesn’thappen.”Dorian stifled the urge to

touch his neck and confirmthat the collar was still goneand clenched his handsbehind his back. “Do Ideserve to be king after all Idid?Afterallthathappened?”“Onlyyoucananswer that

question.”“Do you believe what he

said?”Aelin sucked on her teeth.

“I don’t know what tobelieve.”“Perrington’s going towar

withme—with us.My beingkingwon’tstopthatarmy.”“We’ll figure it out.” She

loosed a breath. “But yourbeingking is the first stepofit.”Beyond the window, the

day was bright, clear. Theworld had ended and begunanew, and yet nothing at allhad changed, either. The sunwould still rise and fall, theseasons would still change,heedless of whether he wasfree or enslaved, prince orking, heedless of who wasaliveandwhowasgone.Theworldwouldkeepmovingon.It didn’t seem right,somehow.“She died,” he said, his

breathing ragged, the roomcrushing him. “Because ofme.”Aelin got to her feet in a

smooth movement andwalked towherehe stoodbythewindow, only to tug himdown onto the sofa besideher. “It is going to take awhile.And itmightneverberight again.But you…”Shegripped his hand, as if hehadn’t used those hands tohurt and maim, to stab her.

“Youwilllearntofaceit,andto endure it.What happened,Dorian,wasnotyourfault.”“Itwas. I tried tokill you.

Andwhathappened toChaol—”“Chaol chose.He chose to

buy you time—because yourfather was to blame. Yourfather, and the Valg princeinside him, did that to you,andtoSorscha.”He almost vomited at the

name. It would dishonor her

toneversayitagain,toneverspeak of her again, but hedidn’t know if he could letout those two syllableswithout a part of him dyingoverandoveragain.“You’re not going to

believe me,” Aelin went on.“What I’ve just said, you’renot going to believe me. Iknow it—and that’s fine. Idon’t expect you to. Whenyou’reready,I’llbehere.”“You’re the Queen of

Terrasen.Youcan’tbe.”“Says who? We are the

mastersofourownfates—wedecide how to go forward.”She squeezed his hand.“You’remyfriend,Dorian.”Aflickerofmemory, from

thehazeofdarknessandpainandfear.Icamebackforyou.“Youboth cameback,” he

said.Her throat bobbed. “You

pulledme out of Endovier. Ifigured I could return the

favor.”Dorian looked at the

carpet, at all the threadswoven together. “What do Ido now?” They were gone:the woman he’d loved—andthe man he’d hated. He mether stare. No calculation, nocoldness, no pity in thoseturquoise eyes. Justunflinching honesty, as therehad been from the very startwithher.“WhatdoIdo?”Shehad to swallowbefore

she said, “You light up thedarkness.”

Chaol Westfall opened hiseyes.The Afterworld looked an

awful lot like a bedroom inthestonecastle.There was no pain in his

body, at least. Not like thepain that had slammed intohim, followed by warring

blacknessandbluelight.Andthennothingatall.He might have yielded to

theexhaustionthatthreatenedto drag him back intounconsciousness, butsomeone—a man—let out arasping breath, and Chaolturnedhishead.There were no sounds, no

words in him as he foundDorian seated in a chairbeside the bed. Bruisedshadows were smudged

beneathhiseyes;hishairwasunkempt, as if he’d beenrunning his hands through it,but—but beyond hisunbuttoned jacket, there wasno collar. Only a pale linemarringhisgoldenskin.And his eyes… Haunted,

butclear.Alive.Chaol’s vision burned and

blurred.Shehaddoneit.Aelinhad

doneit.Chaol’sfacecrumpled.

“I didn’t realize I lookedthat bad,” Dorian said, hisvoiceraw.He knew then—that the

demon inside the prince wasgone.Chaolwept.Dorian surged from the

chair and dropped to hisknees beside the bed. Hegrabbed Chaol’s hand,squeezingitashepressedhisbrow against his. “Youweredead,” the prince said, his

voice breaking. “I thoughtyouweredead.”Chaol at last mastered

himself, and Dorian pulledback far enough to scan hisface.“IthinkIwas,”hesaid.“What—whathappened?”SoDoriantoldhim.Aelinhadsavedhiscity.And saved his life, too,

whenshe’dslippedtheEyeofElenaintohispocket.Dorian’s hand gripped

Chaol’s a bit tighter. “How

doyoufeel?”“Tired,” Chaol admitted,

flexing his free hand. Hischest ached from where theblasthadhithim,buttherestofhimfelt—Hedidn’tfeelanything.He couldn’t feel his legs.

Histoes.“The healers that

survived,” Dorian said veryquietly, “said you shouldn’teven be alive.Your spine—Ithinkmy father broke it in a

fewplaces.TheysaidAmithymight have been able to…”A flicker of rage. “But shedied.”Panic, slow and icy, crept

in. He couldn’t move,couldn’t—“Rowan healed two of the

injurieshigherup.Youwouldhave been … paralyzed”—Dorian choked on the word—“from the neck downotherwise. But the lowerfracture…Rowansaiditwas

too complex, and he didn’tdare trying to heal it, notwhen he could make itworse.”“Tell me there’s a ‘but’

coming,” Chaol managed tosay.If he couldn’t walk—if he

couldn’tmove—“We won’t risk sending

you to Wendlyn, not withMaeve there. But the healersat theTorreCesme could doit.”

“I’m not going to theSouthern Continent.” Notnow that he’d gotten Dorianback, not now that they’d allsomehow survived. “I’llwaitforahealerhere.”“There are no healers left

here. Not magically giftedones. My father andPerrington wiped them out.”Cold flickered in thosesapphire eyes. Chaol knewthat what his father hadclaimed,whatDorianhadstill

donetohimdespiteit,wouldhaunttheprinceforawhile.Nottheprince—theking.“The Torre Cesme might

beyouronlyhopeofwalkingagain,”Doriansaid.“I’m not leaving you. Not

again.”Dorian’s mouth tightened.

“You never left me, Chaol.”He shook his head once,sending tears slipping downhisface.“Youneverleftme.”Chaolsqueezedhisfriend’s

hand.Dorian glanced toward the

door a moment before ahesitant knock sounded, andsmiled faintly. Chaolwondered just what Dorian’smagic allowedhim todetect,butthenthekingwipedawayhis tears and said,“Someone’sheretoseeyou.”Thehandlequietlylowered

and the door cracked open,revealing a curtain of inkyblack hair and a tan, pretty

face. Nesryn beheld Dorianand bowed deeply, her hairswayingwithher.Dorian rose to his feet,

waving a hand in dismissal.“Aedion might be the newhead of castle security, butMiss Faliq is my temporaryCaptain of the Guard. Turnsout, theguardsfindAedion’sstyle of leadership to be …What’stheword,Nesryn?”Nesryn’s mouth twitched,

but her eyes were on Chaol,

as if hewere amiracle, as ifhe were an illusion.“Polarizing,” Nesrynmurmured, striding right forhim, her gold-and-crimsonuniform fitting her like aglove.“There’s never been a

woman in the king’s guardbefore,”Doriansaid,headingfor the door. “And sinceyou’re now Lord ChaolWestfall, the King’s Hand, Ineeded someone to fill the

position.Newtraditionsforanewreign.”Chaol broke Nesryn’s

wide-eyedstaretogapeathisfriend.“What?”ButDorianwasatthedoor,

opening it. “If I have to bestuck with king duty, thenyou’regoingtobestuckrightthere with me. So go to theTorre Cesme and heal fast,Chaol. Because we’ve gotworktodo.”Theking’sgazeflicked to Nesryn.

“Fortunately, you alreadyhaveaknowledgeableguide.”Thenhewasgone.Chaol staredupatNesryn,

whowasholdingahandoverhermouth.“Turns out I wound up

breaking my promise to youafter all,” he said. “Since Itechnically can’t walk out ofthiscastle.”Sheburstintotears.“Remindmetonevermake

ajokeagain,”hesaid,evenas

thecrushing,squeezingpanicset in. His legs—no. No …They wouldn’t be sendinghim to the Torre Cesmeunlesstheyknewtherewasapossibility he would walkagain. He would accept nootheralternative.Nesryn’s thin shoulders

shookasshewept.“Nesryn,” he croaked.

“Nesryn—please.”She slid onto the floor

besidehisbedandburiedher

faceinherhands.“Whenthecastleshattered,”shesaid,hervoice cracking, “I thoughtyou were dead. And when Isawtheglasscomingforme,I thought I’d be dead. Butthen the fire came, and Iprayed … I prayed she’dsomehowsavedyou,too.”Rowan had been the one

who’d done that, but Chaolwasn’tabouttocorrecther.She lowered her hands, at

last looking at his body

beneath the blankets. “Wewillfixthis.WewillgototheSouthern Continent, and Iwillmakethemhealyou.I’veseenthewonderstheycando,and I know they can do it.And—”He reached for her hand.

“Nesryn.”“And now you’re a lord,”

she went on, shaking herhead. “You were a lordbefore, Imean, but—you arethe king’s second in

command. I know it’s—Iknowwe—”“We’llfigureitout,”Chaol

said.Shemethisstareatlast.“I

don’t expect anything of you—”“We’ll figure it out. You

might not even want acrippledman.”She pulled back. “Do not

insult me by assuming I’mthatshalloworfickle.”He choked on a laugh.

“Let’s have an adventure,NesrynFaliq.”

85

Elide couldn’t stop crying asthewitchesflewnorthward.She didn’t care that she

was flying, or that deathloomedoneveryside.WhatKaltain had done…

She didn’t dare open herclenched fist for fear thefabric and the little stone

would be ripped away in thewind.At sunset, they landed

somewhereinOakwald.Elidedidn’t care about that, either.Shelaydownandpassedintoa deep sleep, still wearingKaltain’s dress, that bit ofcloakclutchedinherhand.Someone covered herwith

acloakinthenight,andwhensheawoke,therewasasetofclothes—flying leathers, ashirt, pants, boots—beside

her. The witches weresleeping, their wyverns amass of muscle and deatharound them. None of themstirred as Elide strode to thenearest stream, stripped offthat dress, and sat in thewater, watching the twopieces of her loose chainswaying in the current untilherteethwerechattering.Whenshehaddressed, the

clothes a bit big, but warm,Elide tucked that scrap of

cloak and the stone itcontained into one of herinnerpockets.CelaenaSardothien.She’d never heard that

name—didn’tknowwhere tostartlooking.ButtorepaythedebtsheowedKaltain…“Don’twasteyourtearson

her,”Manonsaid froma fewfeet away, a pack danglingfrom her clean hands. Shemust have washed off theblood and dirt the night

before. “She knew what shewas doing, and it wasn’t foryoursake.”Elide wiped at her face.

“She still saved our lives—andput an end to thosepoorwitchesinthecatacombs.”“She did it for herself. To

free herself. And she wasentitled to. After what theydid,shewasentitledtoriptheentiredamnworldtoshreds.”Instead, she’d taken out a

thirdofMorath.

Manon was right. Kaltainhadn’tcaredifthey’dclearedthe blast. “What do we donow?”“We’re going back to

Morath,”Manonsaidplainly.“Butyou’renot.”Elidestarted.“This is as far as we can

take you without raisingsuspicions,” Manon said.“When we return, if youruncle survived, I’ll tell himyou must have been

incineratedintheblast.”And with that blast, all

evidenceofwhatManonandher Thirteen had done to getElide out of the dungeonswouldalsohavebeenerased.But to leave her here …

The world opened wide andbrutalaroundher.“WheredoI go?” Elide breathed.Endless woods and hillssurrounded them. “I—I can’tread,andIhavenomap.”“Gowhereyouwill,but if

I were you, I’d head north,and stick to the forest. Stayout of the mountains. KeepgoinguntilyouhitTerrasen.”Thathadneverbeenpartof

the plan. “But—but the king—Vernon—”“The King of Adarlan is

dead,” Manon said. Theworld stopped. “AelinGalathynius killed him andshatteredhisglasscastle.”Elide covered her mouth

with a hand, shaking her

head.Aelin…Aelin…“She was aided,” Manon

went on, “by Prince AedionAshryver.”Elidebegansobbing.“And rumor has it Lord

Ren Allsbrook is working intheNorthasarebel.”Elideburiedherfaceinher

hands.Thentherewasahard,iron-tipped hand on hershoulder.Atentativetouch.“Hope,” Manon said

quietly.Elide lowered her hands

and found the witch smilingather.Barelyatilttoherlips,but—asmile,softandlovely.Elide wondered if Manonevenknewshewasdoingit.But to go to Terrasen …

“Thingswillgetworse,won’tthey,”Elidesaid.Manon’s nod was barely

perceptible.South—she could still go

south,runfar,faraway.Now

that Vernon thought she wasdead, no one would evercome looking for her. ButAelin was alive. And strong.And maybe it was time tostop dreaming of running.Find Celaena Sardothien—she would do that, to honorKaltain and the gift she’dbeengiven,tohonorthegirlslike them, locked in towerswith no one to speak forthem, no one whorememberedthem.

But Manon hadrememberedher.No—shewouldnotrun.“Go north, Elide,” Manon

said, reading the decision inElide’s eyes and extendingthe pack. “They are inRifthold,butIbettheywon’tbe there for long. Get toTerrasen and lie low. Keepoff the roads, avoid inns.There’s money in that pack,but use it sparingly. Lie andstealandcheatifyouhaveto,

but get to Terrasen. Yourqueen will be there. I’dsuggest not mentioning yourmother’sheritagetoher.”Elide considered,

shouldering the pack.“Having Blackbeak blooddoes not seem like such ahorrible thing,” she saidquietly.Thosegoldeyesnarrowed.

“No,” Manon said. “No, itdoesnot.”“HowcanIthankyou?”

“It was a debt alreadyowed,” Manon said, shakingher head when Elide openedher mouth to ask more. Thewitch handed her threedaggers, showing her whereto tuck one into her boot,storing one in her pack, andthensheathingtheotheratherhip.Finally,shebadeElidetotake off her boots, revealingthe shackles she’d squeezedinside. Manon removed asmall skeleton key and

unlocked the chains, stillclampedtoherankles.Cool, soft air caressed her

bareskin,andElidebitherlipto keep from weeping againas she tuggedherbootsbackon.Through the trees, the

wyverns were yawning andgrumbling,and thesoundsofthe Thirteen laughing flittedpast. Manon looked towardthem, that faint smilereturningtohermouth.When

Manon turned back, the heirof theBlackbeakWitch-Clansaid, “When war comes—which it will if Perringtonsurvived—you should hopeyou do not see me again,ElideLochan.”“All thesame,”Elidesaid,

“I hope I do.” She bowed totheWingLeader.Andtohersurprise,Manon

bowedback.“North,” Manon said, and

Elide supposed it was as

muchofagood-byeas she’dget.“North,” Elide repeated,

andsetoffintothetrees.Within minutes, she’d

passed beyond the sounds ofthewitchesandtheirwyvernsand was swallowed up byOakwald.She gripped the straps of

herpackasshewalked.Suddenly,theanimalswent

silent, and the leaves rustledand whispered. A moment

later, thirteen great shadowspassedoverhead.Oneofthem—the smallest—lingered,sweepingbackasecondtime,asifinfarewell.Elide didn’t know if

Abraxos could see throughthe canopy, but she raised ahand in farewell anyway. Ajoyous, fierce cry echoed inresponse, and then theshadowwasgone.North.To Terrasen. To fight, not

run.To Aelin and Ren and

Aedion—grown and strongandalive.Shedidnotknowhowlong

itwould take or how far shewould have to walk, but shewouldmakeit.Shewouldnotlookback.Walking under the trees,

theforestbuzzingaroundher,Elide pressed a hand againstthe pocket inside her leatherjacket, feeling the hard little

lump tucked there. Shewhispered a short prayer toAnneith for wisdom, forguidance—and could havesworn a warm hand brushedher brow as if in answer. Itstraightened her spine, liftedherchin.Limping, Elide began the

longjourneyhome.

86

“This is the last of yourclothes,” Lysandra said,toeing the trunk that one oftheservantshad justdroppedoff. “I thought I had ashoppingproblem.Don’tyoueverthrowanythingaway?”From her perch on the

velvet ottoman in the center

oftheenormouscloset,Aelinstuckouther tongue. “Thankyou for getting it all,” shesaid. There was no point inunpacking the clothesLysandra had brought fromher old apartment, just asthere was no point inreturning there. Itdidn’thelpthat Aelin couldn’t bringherselftoleaveDorianalone.Evenifshe’dfinallymanagedto get him out of that roomand walking around the

castle.He looked like the living

dead, especially with thatwhite line around his goldenthroat. She supposed he hadeveryrightto.She’dbeenwaitingforhim

outside of Chaol’s room.WhensheheardChaol speakat last, she had summonedNesryn as soon as she’dmastered the tears of reliefthat had threatened tooverwhelmher.AfterDorian

had emerged, when he’dlooked at her and his smilehadcrumpled,she’dtakentheking right back into hisbedroomandsatwithhimforagoodlongwhile.The guilt—that would be

asheavyaburdenforDorianashisgrief.Lysandraputherhandson

herhips.“Anyothertasksforme before I retrieveEvangelinetomorrow?”AelinowedLysandramore

than she could begin toexpress,but—She pulled a small box

fromherpocket.“There’s one more task,”

Aelin said, holding the boxout to Lysandra. “You’llprobably hateme for it later.But you can start by sayingyes.”“Proposing to me? How

unexpected.” Lysandra tooktheboxbutdidn’topenit.Aelin waved a hand, her

heart pounding. “Just—openit.”With a wary frown,

Lysandra opened the lid andcocked her head at the ringinside—themovementpurelyfeline.“Areyouproposing tome,AelinGalathynius?”Aelin held her friend’s

gaze. “There’s a territory inthe North, a small bit offertile land that used tobelong to the Allsbrookfamily. Aedion took it upon

himselftoinformmethattheAllsbrookshavenouseforit,soit’sbeensittingopenforawhile.” Aelin shrugged. “Itcouldusealady.”The blood drained from

Lysandra’sface.“What.”“It’s plagued by ghost

leopards—hence theengraving on the ring. But Isuppose if therewereanyonecapableofhandlingthem,it’dbeyou.”Lysandra’s hands shook.

“And—and the key symbolabovetheleopard?”“To remind you of who

now holds your freedom.You.”Lysandra covered her

mouth, staring at the ring,thenatAelin.“Areyououtofyourmind?”“Most people would

probably think so.But as theland was officially releasedbytheAllsbrooksyearsago,Ican technically appoint you

ladyofit.WithEvangelineasyour heir, should you wishit.”Her friend had not voiced

any plans for herself or herward beyond retrievingEvangeline, had not asked tocomewiththem,tostartoverin a new land, a newkingdom.Aelin had hoped itmeant she wanted to jointheminTerrasen,but—Lysandra sank to the

carpeted floor, staring at the

box,atthering.“Iknowit’llbeagreatdeal

ofwork—”“I don’t deserve this. No

one will ever want to serveme. Your people will resentyouforappointingme.”Aelinslidontotheground,

knee tokneewithher friend,and took the box from theshape-shifter’s tremblinghands. She pulled out thegold ring that she’dcommissioned weeks ago. It

had only been ready thismorning, when Aelin andRowan had slipped out toretrieveit,alongwiththerealWyrdkey.“There is no one who

deservesitmore,”Aelinsaid,grabbing her friend’s handand putting the ring on herfinger. “There is no one elseI’dwantguardingmyback.Ifmy people cannot see theworth of a woman who soldherself into slavery for the

sakeofachild,whodefendedmycourtwithno thought forherownlife,thentheyarenotmy people. And they canburninhell.”Lysandra traced a finger

over the coat of arms thatAelin had designed. “What’stheterritorycalled?”“I have no idea,” Aelin

said. “‘Lysandria’ soundsgood. So does ‘Lysandrius,’ormaybe‘Lysandraland.’”Lysandra gaped at her.

“Youareoutofyourmind.”“Willyouaccept?”“I don’t know the first

thing about ruling a territory—aboutbeingalady.”“Well, I don’t know the

first thing about ruling akingdom. We’ll learntogether.” She flashed her aconspirator’sgrin.“So?”Lysandragazedatthering,

thenliftedhereyestoAelin’sface— and threw her armsaround her neck, squeezing

tight.Shetookthatasayes.Aelin grimaced at the dull

throb of pain, but held on.“Welcome to the court,Lady.”

Aelin honestly wantednothing more than to climbinto bed that evening,hopefullywithRowanbesideher. But as they finished updinner—their first meal

together as a court—a knocksoundedon thedoor.AedionwasansweringitbeforeAelincould so much as set downherfork.HereturnedwithDorianin

tow, the king glancingbetween them all. “I wantedtoseeifyou’deaten—”Aelinpointedwithherfork

to the empty seat besideLysandra.“Joinus.”“Idon’twanttoimpose.”“Sit your ass down,” she

toldthenewKingofAdarlan.That morning he’d signed adecree freeing all theconquered kingdoms fromAdarlan’s rule. She’dwatched him do it, Aedionholding her hand tightlythroughout, and wished thatNehemia had been there toseeit.Dorianmoved to the table,

amusement sparking in thosehaunted sapphire eyes. Sheintroduced him again to

Rowan,who bowed his headdeeper than Aelin expected.Then she introducedLysandra,explainingwhoshewasandwhatshehadbecometoAelin,tohercourt.Aedion watched them, his

facetight,hislipsathinline.Theireyesmet.Ten years later, and they

were all sitting together at atable again—no longerchildren, but rulers of theirown territories. Ten years

later, and here they were,friendsdespitetheforcesthathad shattered and destroyedthem.Aelin looked at the kernel

of hope glowing in thatdining room and lifted herglass.“To a new world,” the

QueenofTerrasensaid.TheKingofAdarlanlifted

his glass, such endlessshadowsdancing in his eyes,but—there.Aglimmeroflife.

“Tofreedom.”

87

The duke survived. So didVernon.AthirdofMorathhadbeen

blown out, and a goodnumber of guards andservants with it, along withtwocovensandElideLochan.Asolidloss,butnotnearly

as devastating as it might

havebeen.Manonherselfhadspilledthreedropsofherownblood in thanks to theThree-Faced Goddess that most ofthecovenshadbeenoutonatrainingexercisethatday.Manonstood in theduke’s

council chamber, handsbehind her back as the manranted.Amajorsetback,hehissed

at the other men who wereassembled: war leaders andcouncilmen. It would take

months to repairMorath,andwithsomanyoftheirsuppliesincinerated, they would havetoputtheirplansonhold.Dayandnight,menhauled

away the stones piled highabove the ruins of thecatacombs—searching,Manonknew,forthebodyofa woman who was no morethanash, and the stone she’dborne. Manon had not eventold her Thirteen who nowlimped northward with that

stone.“Wing Leader,” the duke

snapped, and Manon lazilyturned her eyes toward him.“Your grandmother will bearrivingintwoweeks.Iwantyour covens trained with thelatestbattleplans.”She nodded. “As you will

it.”Battles. There would be

battles, because even nowthat Dorian Havilliard wasking,thedukehadnoplansto

let go—not with this army.Assoonasthosewitchtowerswere built and he foundanothersourceofshadowfire,Aelin Galathynius and herforceswouldbeobliterated.Manon quietly hoped that

Elide would not be on thosebattlefields.The council meeting was

soonover,andManonpausedasshewalkedpastVernononher way out. She put a handon his shoulder, her nails

digging into his skin, and heyelpedasshebroughtherironteeth close to his ear. “Justbecausesheisdead,Lord,donot think that I will forgetwhatyoutriedtodotoher.”Vernon paled. “You can’t

touchme.”Manon dug her nails in

deeper. “No, I can’t,” shepurred into his ear. “ButAelin Galathynius is alive.And I hear that she has ascore to settle.” She yanked

outhernailsandsqueezedhisshoulder, setting the bloodrunningdownVernon’sgreentunicbeforeshestalkedfromtheroom.

“Whatnow?”Asterin saidasthey studied the new aeriethey’d commandeered fromone of the lesser covens.“Your grandmother arrives,and then we fight in this

war?”Manongazedout theopen

archway to the ashy skybeyond. “For now, we stay.Wewait formygrandmothertobringthosetowers.”She didn’t know what

she’d do when she saw hergrandmother. She glancedsidelongatherSecond.“Thathumanhunter…Howdidhedie?”Asterin’s eyes gleamed.

For a moment she said

nothing.Then:“Hewasold—veryold.Ithinkhewentintothe woods one day and laydown somewhere and nevercame back. He would haveliked that, I think. I neverfoundhisbody.”Butshe’dlooked.“Whatwasitlike?”Manon

askedquietly.“Tolove.”For love was what it had

been—what Asterin perhapsalone of all the Ironteethwitcheshadfelt,hadlearned.

“It was like dying a littleevery day. It was like beingalive, too. It was joy socomplete it was pain. Itdestroyedmeandunmademeand forged me. I hated it,because I knew I couldn’tescape it, and knew itwouldforever changeme. And thatwitchling…Ilovedher, too.IlovedherinawayIcannotdescribe—other than to tellyou that it was the mostpowerful thing I’ve ever felt,

greater than rage, than lust,than magic.” A soft smile.“I’m surprised you’re notgiving me the ‘Obedience.Discipline. Brutality’speech.”Madeintomonsters.“Things are changing,”

Manonsaid.“Good,” Asterin said.

“We’re immortals. Thingsshould change, and often, orthey’llgetboring.”Manon lifted her brows,

andherSecondgrinned.Manonshookherheadand

grinnedback.

88

With Rowan circling highabove the castle on watch,and with their departurescheduled for dawn, Aelintook it upon herself to makeone last trip to Elena’s tombastheclockstrucktwelve.Her plans, however, were

ruined: the way to the tomb

was blocked by rubble fromthe explosion. She’d spentfifteen minutes searching forawayin,withbothherhandsand her magic, but had noluck.SheprayedMorthadn’tbeen destroyed—thoughperhaps the skull doorknocker would haveembraced his strange,immortalexistencecomingtoanendatlast.The sewers of Rifthold,

apparently, were as clear of

theValgas thecastle tunnelsand catacombs, as if thedemons had fled into thenight when the king hadfallen. For the moment,Riftholdwassafe.Aelin emerged from the

hidden passageway, wipingthe dust off her. “You twomake so much noise, it’sridiculous.” With her Faehearing, she’d detected themminutesago.Dorian and Chaol were

seated before her fireplace,thelatterinaspecialwheeledchair that they’dacquiredforhim.The king looked at her

pointed ears, the elongatedcanines, and lifted a brow.“You look good, Majesty.”Shesupposedhehadn’treallynoticed that day on the glassbridge,andshe’dbeeninherhuman form until now. Shegrinned.Chaol turnedhishead.His

face was gaunt, but a flickerofdetermination shone there.Hope. He would not let hisinjurydestroyhim.“I always look good,”

Aelin said,ploppingonto thearmchair across fromDorian’s.“Find anything interesting

downthere?”Chaolasked.She shook her head. “I

figured it wouldn’t hurt tolook one last time. For oldtime’ssake.”Andmaybebite

Elena’s head off. After shegot answers to all herquestions. But the ancientqueen was nowhere to befound.Thethreeofthemlookedat

eachother,andsilencefell.Aelin’s throat burned, so

sheturnedtoChaolandsaid,“WithMaeve and Perringtonbreathingdownournecks,wemight need allies soonerrather than later,especially ifthe forces in Morath block

access to Eyllwe. An armyfrom the Southern Continentcould cross the Narrow Seawithinafewdaysandprovidereinforcements—pushPerrington from the southwhile we hammer from thenorth.”Shecrossedherarms.“So I’m appointing you anofficial Ambassador forTerrasen. I don’t care whatDorian says. Make friendswith the royal family, woothem, kiss their asses, do

whateveryouhavetodo.Butweneedthatalliance.”ChaolglancedatDorianin

silent request. The kingnodded, barely a dip of hischin.“I’lltry.”Itwasthebestanswer she could hope for.Chaolreachedintothepocketof his tunic and chucked theEyetowardher.Shecaughtitinahand.Themetalhadbeenwarped, but the blue stoneremained. “Thank you,” hesaidhoarsely.

“He was wearing that formonths,” Dorian said as shetucked the amulet into herpocket, “yet it never reacted—eveninperil.Whynow?”Aelin’s throat tightened.

“Courage of the heart,” shesaid.“Elenaoncetoldmethatcourageof theheartwasrare—and to let it guide me.WhenChaolchoseto…”Shecouldn’t formthewords.Shetried again. “I think thatcourage savedhim,made the

amulet come alive for him.”It had been a gamble, and afool’s one, but—it hadworked.Silencefellagain.Dorian said, “So here we

are.”“The end of the road,”

Aelinsaidwithahalfsmile.“No,”Chaol said, his own

smile faint, tentative. “Thebeginningofthenext.”

Thefollowingmorning,Aelinyawnedassheleanedagainsther gray mare in the castlecourtyard.Once Dorian and Chaol

had left last night, Lysandrahadenteredandpassedoutinher bed with no explanationfor why or what she’d beendoing beforehand. And sinceshe was utterly unconscious,Aelin had just climbed intobed beside her. She had no

ideawhereRowanhadcurledup for the night, but shewouldn’thavebeensurprisedto look out her window andspy a white-tailed hawkperchedonthebalconyrail.Atdawn,Aedionhadburst

in, demanding why theyweren’treadytoleave—togohome.Lysandrahadshiftedintoa

ghostleopardandchasedhimout. Then she returned,lingering in her massive

feline form, and againsprawled beside Aelin. Theymanagedtogetanotherthirtyminutes of sleep beforeAedion came back andchuckedabucketofwateronthem.He was lucky to escape

alive.Buthewasright—theyhad

little reason to linger. Notwith so much to do in theNorth, so much to plan andhealandoversee.

They would travel untilnightfall, where they’d pickup Evangeline at the Faliqs’country home and thencontinue north, hopefullyuninterrupted, until theyreachedTerrasen.Home.Shewasgoinghome.Fear and doubt curled in

her gut—but joy flickeredalongsidethem.They’d readied themselves

quickly,andnowallthatwas

left,shesupposed,wasgood-bye.Chaol’s injuries made

taking the stairs impossible,but she’dcrept intohis roomthatmorningtosaygood-bye—only to find Aedion,Rowan,andLysandraalreadythere, chatting with him andNesryn. When they’d left,Nesryn following them out,the captain had merelysqueezed Aelin’s hand andsaid,“CanIseeit?”

She knew what he meant,and had held up her handsbeforeher.Ribbons and plumes and

flowers of red and gold firedanced through his room,bright and glorious andelegant.Chaol’s eyes had been

lined with silver when theflames winked out. “It’slovely,”hesaidatlast.She’d only smiled at him

and left a rose of gold flame

burning on his nightstand—where it would burn withoutheat until she was out ofrange.And for Nesryn, who had

been called away on captainduty, Aelin had left anothergift: an arrow of solid gold,presentedtoherlastYulemasasablessingofDeanna—herown ancestor. Aelin figuredthe sharpshooter would loveand appreciate that arrowmore than she ever would

have,anyway.“Do you need anything

else? More food?” Dorianasked,comingtostandbesideher. Rowan, Aedion, andLysandra were alreadymounting their horses.They’d packed light, takingonly the barest supplies.Mostly weapons, includingDamaris, which Chaol hadgiventoAedion,insistingtheancientbladeremainontheseshores. The rest of their

belongingswould be shippedtoTerrasen.“With this group,” Aelin

saidtoDorian,“it’llprobablybeadaily competition to seewhocanhuntthebest.”Dorian chuckled. Silence

fell, and Aelin clicked hertongue. “You’re wearing thesame tunicyouhadona fewdaysago.Idon’tthinkIeversawyouwear thesame thingtwice.”A flicker in those sapphire

eyes. “I think I have biggerthingstoworryaboutnow.”“Willyou—willyoubeall

right?”“Do I have any option but

tobe?”She touched his arm. “If

you need anything, sendword. It’ll be a few weeksbefore we reach Orynth, but—I suppose with magicreturned, you can find amessenger togetword tomequickly.”

“Thanks to you—and toyourfriends.”She glanced over her

shoulder at them. Theywereall trying their best to looklike they weren’teavesdropping.“Thankstoallofus,”shesaidquietly.“Andtoyou.”Dorian gazed toward the

cityhorizon,therollinggreenfoothills beyond. “If youhadaskedmeninemonthsagoifIthought …” He shook his

head. “So much haschanged.”“Andwillkeepchanging,”

she said, squeezing his armonce. “But … There arethings that won’t change. Iwillalwaysbeyourfriend.”His throat bobbed. “Iwish

I could see her, just one lasttime. To tell her … to saywhatwasinmyheart.”“She knows,” Aelin said,

blinking against the burninginhereyes.

“I’ll miss you,” Doriansaid. “Though I doubt thenext timewemeetwillbe insuch … civilizedcircumstances.”She triednottothinkaboutit.Hegesturedover her shoulder to hercourt. “Don’tmake them toomiserable. They’re onlytryingtohelpyou.”She smiled. To her

surprise,akingsmiledback.“Sendme any good books

thatyouread,”shesaid.

“Onlyifyoudothesame.”Sheembracedhimonelast

time. “Thank you—foreverything,”shewhispered.Dorian squeezed her, and

then stepped away as Aelinmounted her horse andnudgeditintoawalk.She moved to the head of

the company, where Rowanrode a sleek black stallion.The Fae Prince caught hereye.Areyouallright?She nodded. I didn’t think

sayinggood-byewouldbe sohard. And with everythingthat’stocome—We’ll face it together. To

whateverend.She reached across the

spacebetweenthemandtookhishand,grippingittightly.Theyheldontoeachother

as theyrodedownthebarrenpath, through the gatewayshe’dmade in theglasswall,and into the city streets,where people paused what

theyweredoingandgapedorwhisperedorstared.But as they rode out of

Rifthold, that city that hadbeen her home and her helland her salvation, as shememorized each street andbuilding and face and shop,each smell and the coolnessoftheriverbreeze,shedidn’tseeoneslave.Didn’thearonewhip.And as they passed by the

domed Royal Theater, there

was music—beautiful,exquisite music—playingwithin.

Dorian didn’t know whatawoke him. Perhaps it wasthat the lazy summer insectshad stopped their nighttimebuzzing,orperhapsitwasthechilled wind that slitheredinto his old tower room,rufflingthecurtains.

The moonlight gleamingon the clock revealed it wasthreeinthemorning.Thecitywassilent.He rose from the bed,

touchinghisneckyetagain—just tomake sure.Wheneverhewokefromhisnightmares,it took himminutes to tell ifhewasindeedawake—orifitwas merely a dream and hewas still trapped in his ownbody, enslaved to his fatherand thatValgprince.Hehad

nottoldAelinorChaolaboutthe nightmares. Part of himwishedhehad.He could still barely

rememberwhathadhappenedwhile he’d worn that collar.He’dturnedtwenty—andhadno recollection of it. Therewere only bits and pieces,glimpses of horror and pain.Hetriednottothinkaboutit.Didn’twant toremember.Hehadn’t told Chaol or Aelinthat,either.

Healreadymissedher,andthechaosandintensityofhercourt. He missed havinganyone around at all. Thecastlewas too big, too quiet.And Chaol was to leave intwo days. He didn’t want tothink aboutwhatmissing hisfriendwouldbelike.Dorian padded onto his

balcony, needing to feel theriver breeze on his face, toknow that this was real andhewasfree.

He opened the balconydoors, the stones cool on hisfeet,andgazedoutacrosstherazed grounds. He’d donethat. He loosed a breath,taking in the glass wall as itsparkledinthemoonlight.There was a massive

shadow perched atop it.Dorianfroze.Not a shadow but a giant

beast, its claws gripping thewall,itswingstuckedintoitsbody, shimmering faintly in

the glow of the full moon.Shimmering like the whitehairoftherideratopit.Evenfromthedistance,he

knewshewasstaringrightathim,herhairstreamingtotheside like a ribbon ofmoonlight,caughtintheriverbreeze.Dorian lifted a hand, the

other rising to his neck. Nocollar.The rider on the wyvern

leaned down in her saddle,

saying something to herbeast. It spread its massive,glimmeringwingsandleapedinto the air. Each beat of itswings sent a hollowed-out,boominggustofwindtowardhim.It flapped higher, her hair

streaming behind her like aglittering banner, until theyvanished into the night, andhe couldn’t hear its wingsbeating anymore. No onesounded the alarm. As if the

world had stopped payingattentionforthefewmomentsthey’dlookedateachother.And through the darkness

of hismemories, through thepain and despair and terrorhe’d tried to forget, a nameechoedinhishead.

ManonBlackbeak sailed intothe starrynight sky,Abraxoswarmandswiftunderher,the

blazingly bright moon—theMother’s full womb—aboveher.Shedidn’tknowwhyshe’d

bothered to go; why she’dbeencurious.But there had been the

prince, no collar to be seenaroundhisneck.Andhehad liftedhishand

in greeting—as if to say Irememberyou.The winds shifted, and

Abraxos rode them, rising

higher into the sky, thedarkened kingdom belowpassingbyinablur.Changing winds—a

changingworld.Perhaps a changing

Thirteen,too.Andherself.She didn’t know what to

makeofit.But Manon hoped they’d

allsurviveit.Shehoped.

89

For three weeks they rodestraightnorth,keepingoffthemain roads and out of thevillages. There was no needto announce that Aelin wasonherwaybacktoTerrasen.Not until she saw herkingdomforherselfandknewwhat she faced, both from

within and from whatgathered down in Morath.Notuntil shehadsomewheresafetohidethegreat,terriblethinginhersaddlebag.With her magic, no one

noticed the Wyrdkey’spresence. But Rowan wouldoccasionally glance at thesaddlebagandanglehisheadin inquiry. Each time, she’dsilentlytellhimshewasfine,and that she hadn’t noticedanything strange regarding

the amulet. Or regarding theEye of Elena, which sheagainwore at her throat.Shewondered if Lorcan wasindeed on his way to huntdown the second and thirdkeys, perhaps wherePerrington—Erawan—hadheld them all along. If thekinghadn’tbeenlying.She had a feeling Lorcan

would start looking inMorath. And prayed the Faewarrior would defy the odds

stacked against him andemerge triumphant. It wouldcertainlymakeherlifeeasier.Evenifhe’donedaycometokick her ass for deceivinghim.The summer days grew

cooler the farther north theyrode. Evangeline, to hercredit, kept pace with them,never complaining abouthaving to sleep on a bedrollnightafternight.Sheseemedperfectly happy to curl up

with Fleetfoot, her newprotectorandloyalfriend.Lysandra used the journey

to test out her abilities—sometimesflyingwithRowanoverhead, sometimes runningas a pretty black dogalongside Fleetfoot,sometimes spending days inher ghost leopard form andpouncing on Aedionwheneverheleastexpectedit.Three weeks of grueling

travel—but also three of the

happiest weeks Aelin hadever experienced. She wouldhave preferred a little moreprivacy, especially withRowan, who kept looking atherinthatwaythatmadeherwant to combust. Sometimeswhen no one was watching,he’dsneakupbehindherandnuzzleherneckor tugatherearlobewithhis teeth,or justslidehisarmsaroundherandhold her against him,breathingherin.

One night—just one gods-damned night with him wasallshewanted.Theydidn’tdarestopatan

inn, so she was left to burn,and to endure Lysandra’squietteasing.The terrain grew steeper,

hillier, and the world turnedlushandgreenandbright,therocks becoming jaggedgraniteoutcroppings.Thesunhadbarelyrisenas

Aelin walked beside her

horse, sparing it fromhavingto carry her up a particularlysteephill.Shewasalreadyonhersecondmealoftheday—already sweaty and dirty andcranky. Fire magic, it turnedout, came in rather handywhiletraveling,keepingthemwarm on the chill nights,lighting their fires, andboiling their water. Shewould have killed for a tubbig enough to fillwithwaterand bathe in, but luxuries

couldwait.“It’s just up this hill,”

Aedionsaidfromherleft.“What is?” she asked,

finishing her apple andchucking the remains behindher. Lysandra, wearing theformof a crow, squawked inoutrage as the core hit her.“Sorry,”Aelincalled.Lysandracawedandsoared

skyward, Fleetfoot barkingmerrily at her as Evangelinegiggledfromatophershaggy

pony.Aedion pointed to the

hillcrestahead.“You’llsee.”Aelin looked at Rowan,

whohadbeenscoutingaheadfor part of the morning as awhite-tailed hawk. Now hewalked beside her, guidinghis black stallion along. Helifted his brows at her silentdemand for information. I’mnotgoingtotellyou.She glowered at him.

Buzzard.

Rowan grinned. But withevery step, Aelin did thecalculationsaboutwhatdayitwas,and—They crested the hill and

halted.Aelin released the reins

and took a staggering step,the emerald grass softunderfoot.Aedion touched her

shoulder. “Welcome home,Aelin.”A land of towering

mountains—the Staghorns—spread before them, withvalleysandriversandhills;alandofuntamed,wildbeauty.Terrasen.And the smell—of pine

and snow … How had shenever realized that Rowan’sscent was of Terrasen, ofhome? Rowan came closeenough tograzeher shoulderand murmured, “I feel as ifI’ve been looking for thisplacemyentirelife.”

Indeed—with the wickedwind flowing fast and strongbetween the gray, jaggedStaghorns in the distance,with the dense spread ofOakwaldtotheirleft,andtherivers and valleys sprawlingtoward those great northernmountains—it was paradiseforahawk.Paradiseforher.“Rightthere,”Aedionsaid,

pointing to a small, weather-worn granite boulder carvedwith whorls and swirls.

“Once we pass that rock,we’reonTerrasensoil.”Notquitedaringtobelieve

shewasn’t still asleep,Aelinwalked toward that rock,whispering the Song ofThanks to Mala Fire-Bringerfor leading her to this place,thismoment.Aelin ran a hand over the

rough rock, and the sun-warmedstone tingledas if ingreeting.Then she stepped beyond

thestone.And at long last, Aelin

Ashryver Galathynius washome.

ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

I think it’s commonknowledge by now that I’dcease to functionwithoutmysoul-twin,Jaegercopilot,andThreadsister,SusanDennard.Sooz, you are my light in

dark places. You inspire andchallengemetonotonlybeabetterwriter,but toalsobeabetter person. Your

friendship gives me strengthand courage and hope. Nomatter what happens, nomatterwhatmightbewaitingaround the next bend in theroad, I know I can face it, Ican endure and triumph,because I have you at myside. There is no greatermagic than that. I can’t waitto bemajestic tiger-vampireswith you for the rest ofeternity.Tomyfellowlady-in-arms

and appreciator of all thingsferal/shape-shifting, AlexBracken: How can I everthankyouenoughforreadingthisbook (andallmyothers)somanytimes?AndhowcanI ever thank you enough forthe years of e-mails, thecountlesslunches/drinks/dinners, andforalwayshavingmyback?Idon’t think I would haveenjoyedthiswildjourneyhalfas much without you—and I

don’t think I would havesurvived this long withoutyour wisdom, kindness, andgenerosity. Here’s to writingmany more scenes withflimsy excuses for havingshirtlessdudes.These books would not

exist (I would not exist!)without my hardworking,supremely badass teams atthe Laura Dail LiteraryAgency, CAA, andBloomsbury worldwide. So

myeternal loveandgratitudego to Tamar Rydzinski, CatOnder, Margaret Miller, JonCassir, Cindy Loh, CristinaGilbert, Cassie Homer,Rebecca McNally, NatalieHamilton, Laura Dail,Kathleen Farrar, EmmaHopkin, Ian Lamb, EmmaBradshaw, Lizzy Mason,Sonia Palmisano, EricaBarmash,EmilyRitter,GraceWhooley, Charli Haynes,Courtney Griffin, Nick

Thomas, Alice Grigg, EliseBurns, JennyCollins,LinetteKim, Beth Eller, KerryJohnson, and the tireless,wonderful foreign rightsteam.To my husband, Josh:

Every daywith you is a giftand a joy. I’m so lucky tohave such a loving, fun, andspectacular friend to go onadventures with around theworld.Here’stomany,manymore.

ToAnnie, aka the greatestdog of all time: Sorry foraccidentally eating all yourturkey jerky that one time.Let’s nevermention it again.(Also,I loveyouforeverandever.Let’sgocuddle.)To my marvelous parents:

Thankyouforreadingmeallthose fairy-tales—and fornevertellingmeIwastoooldto believe in magic. Thesebooksexistbecauseofthat.To my family: thank you,

asalways,fortheendlessandunconditional love andsupport.TotheMaasThirteen:You

guys are beyond amazing.Thank you so much for allyour support and enthusiasmand for shouting about thisseries from rooftops all overthe world. To Louisse Ang,Elena Yip, Jamie Miller,Alexa Santiago, KimPodlesnik,DamarisCardinali,and Nicola Wilkinson: you

areallsogenerousandlovely—thank you for all that youdo!To Erin Bowman, Dan

Krokos, Jennifer L.Armentrout,ChristinaHobbs,and Lauren Billings: Youguys are the best. I mean it.Theultimatebest.IthanktheUniverse every day that I’mblessedtohavesuchtalented,funny, loyal, and wonderfulfriendsinmylife.And to all my Throne of

Glass readers: There aren’tenoughwords in the Englishlanguage to properly conveythe depth of my gratitude. Ithas been such an honor tomeetyouateventsacrosstheglobe, and interact with somany of you online. Yourwords, artwork, and musickeep me going. Thank you,thank you, thank you foreverything.Lastly, thanks so much to

the incredible readers who

submitted content to be partoftheHeirofFiretrailer:Abigail Isaac, Aisha

Morsy, Amanda Clarity,Amanda Riddagh, AmyKersey, Analise Jensen,Andrea Isabel MunguíaSánchez, Anna Vogl, BeccaFowler,Béres Judit,BrannonTison, Bronwen Fraser,Claire Walsh, Crissie Wood,Elena Mieszczanski, ElenaNyBlom, Emma Richardson,GerakouYiota,IsabelCoyne,

Isabella Guzy-Kirkden,Jasmine Chau, KristenWilliams,LauraPohl,LinneaGear,NataliaJagielska,PaigeFirth, Rebecca Andrade,Rebecca Heath, SuzanahThompson, Taryn Cameron,and Vera Roelofs.Bloomsbury Publishing,Oxford, London, New York,NewDelhiandSydney

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