Elide faced Maeve, who did not deign to glance her way. “Please, please
—”
Aelin simply nodded at the Fae Queen. Her acceptance and surrender.
Maeve bowed her head, triumph dancing on her red lips. “Lorcan,
release her.”
The warrior’s hands slackened at his sides.
And because she had won, Maeve even loosened her power’s grip on
Aelin’s bones. Allowed Aelin to turn to Elide and say, “Go with Manon.
She will take care of you.”
Elide began crying, shoving away from Lorcan. “I’ll go with you, I’ll
come with you—”
The girl would. The girl would face Cairn, and Maeve … But Terrasen
would need that sort of courage. If it was to survive, if it was to heal,
Terrasen would need Elide Lochan.
“Tell the others,” Aelin breathed, trying to find the right words. “Tell the
others that I am sorry. Tell Lysandra to remember her promise, and that I
will never stop being grateful. Tell Aedion … Tell him it is not his fault, and
that …” Her voice cracked. “I wish he’d been able to take the oath, but
Terrasen will look to him now, and the lines must not break.”
Elide nodded, tears sliding down her blood-splattered face.
“And tell Rowan …”
Aelin’s soul splintered as she saw the iron box the escorts now carried
between them. An ancient, iron coffin. Big enough for one person. Crafted
for her.
“And tell Rowan,” Aelin said, fighting her own sob, “that I’m sorry I
lied. But tell him it was all borrowed time anyway. Even before today, I
knew it was all just borrowed time, but I still wish we’d had more of it.”
She fought past her trembling mouth. “Tell him he has to fight. He must
save Terrasen, and remember the vows he made to me. And tell him … tell
him thank you—for walking that dark path with me back to the light.”