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Mayıs 2024 tarihinde katıldı
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A New demi fey
“How?” she said, stumbling away a step.
“You first,” he snarled, but whipped his head toward the forest behind
them. She followed his gaze. Saw nothing.
When she looked at his harsh face, a sword lay against her throat.
She tried to fall back, but he gripped her arm, holding her as steel bit
into her skin. “Why do you smell of one of them? Why do they chase you?”
She’d pocketed the stone, or else she might have shown him. But
movement might cause him to strike—and that small voice whispered to
keep the stone concealed.
She offered another truth. “Because I have spent the past several months
in Morath, living amongst that scent. They seek me because I managed to
get free. I flee north—to safety.”
Faster than she could see, he lowered his blade—only to slice it across
her arm. A scratch, barely more than a whisper of pain.
They both watched as her red blood surged and dribbled.
It seemed answer enough for him.
“You can call me Lorcan,” he said, though she hadn’t asked. And with
that, he hauled her over his broad shoulder like a sack of potatoes and ran.
Elide knew two things within seconds:
That the remaining creatures—however many there were—had to be on
their trail and closing in fast. Had to have realized she’d bluffed her way
free.
And that the man, moving swift as a wind between the oaks, was demiFae.
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How is this rational?
Darrow ignored her and jerked his chin at Aedion. “You’re rather quiet
tonight.”
“I don’t think you particularly want to hear my thoughts right now,
Darrow,” Aedion replied.
“Your blood oath is stolen by a foreign prince, your queen is an assassin
who appoints common whores to serve her, and yet you have nothing to
say?”
Aedion’s chair groaned, and Aelin dared a look—to find him gripping
the sides of it so hard his knuckles were white.
Lysandra, though stiff-backed, did not give Darrow the pleasure of
blushing with shame.
And she was done. Sparks danced at her fingertips beneath the table.
But Darrow went on before Aelin could speak or incinerate the room.
“Perhaps, Aedion, if you hope to still gain an official position in Terrasen,
you could see if your kin in Wendlyn have reconsidered the betrothal
proposition of so many years ago. See if they’ll recognize you as family.
What a difference it might have made, if you and our beloved Princess
Aelin had been betrothed—if Wendlyn had not rejected the offer to formally
unite our kingdoms, likely at Maeve’s behest.” A smile in Rowan’s
direction.
Her world tilted a bit. Even Aedion had paled. No one had ever hinted
that there had been an official attempt at betrothing them. Or that the
Ashryvers had truly left Terrasen to war and ruin.
“Whatever will the adoring masses say of their savior princess,” Darrow
mused, putting his hands flat on the table, “when they hear of how she has
spent her time while they suffered?” A slap in the face, one after another.
“But,” Darrow added, “you’ve always been good at whoring yourself out,
Aedion. Though I wonder if Princess Aelin knows what—”
Aelin lunged.
Not with flame, but steel.
She is the Queen
She cleared the stream in one bound and carefully studied what the
faerie had left.
Fashioned with twigs, cobwebs, and fish scales, the tiny wyvern was
unnervingly accurate, its wings spread wide and thorn-fanged mouth
roaring.
Aelin left the wyvern where it was, but her eyes shifted southward,
toward the ancient flow of Oakwald, and Morath looming far beyond it. To
Erawan reborn, waiting for her with his host of Ironteeth witches and Valg
foot soldiers.
And Aelin Galathynius, Queen of Terrasen, knew the time would soon
come to prove just how much she’d bleed for Erilea.
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, bir kitap okuduPuan vermedi·667 syf.·
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·7 günde okudu
·Okunma: 05 Nisan 2026 12:44
·2026 12. kitabı
Home...
Aedion touched her shoulder. “Welcome home, Aelin.”
A land of towering mountains—the Staghorns—spread before them,
with valleys and rivers and hills; a land of untamed, wild beauty.
Terrasen.
And the smell—of pine and snow … How had she never realized that
Rowan’s scent was of Terrasen, of home? Rowan came close enough to
graze her shoulder and murmured, “I feel as if I’ve been looking for this
place my entire life.”
Indeed—with the wicked wind flowing fast and strong between the
gray, jagged Staghorns in the distance, with the dense spread of Oakwald
to their left, and the rivers and valleys sprawling toward those great
northern mountains—it was paradise for a hawk. Paradise for her.
“Right there,” Aedion said, pointing to a small, weather-worn granite
boulder carved with whorls and swirls. “Once we pass that rock, we’re
on Terrasen soil.”
Not quite daring to believe she wasn’t still asleep, Aelin walked
toward that rock, whispering the Song of Thanks to Mala Fire-Bringer
for leading her to this place, this moment.
Aelin ran a hand over the rough rock, and the sun-warmed stone
tingled as if in greeting.
Then she stepped beyond the stone.
And at long last, Aelin Ashryver Galathynius was home.
