When the Ocean Rose glittered like a pale jewel a block ahead, Aelin
paused in the shadows beside a chimney and murmured, “There is no room
for error.”
Rowan laid a hand on her shoulder. “I know. We’ll make it count.”
Her eyes burned. “We’re playing a game against two monarchs who
have ruled and schemed longer than most kingdoms have existed.” And
even for her, the odds of outsmarting and outmaneuvering them … “Seeing
the cadre, how Maeve contains them … She came so close to separating us
this spring. So close.”
Rowan traced his thumb over her mouth. “Even if Maeve had kept me
enslaved, I would have fought her. Every day, every hour, every breath.” He
kissed her softly and said onto her lips, “I would have fought for the rest of
my life to find a way to return to you again. I knew it the moment you
emerged from the Valg’s darkness and smiled at me through your flames.”
She swallowed the tightness in her throat and raised a brow. “You were
willing to do that before all this? So few benefits back then.”
Amusement and something deeper danced in his eyes. “What I felt for
you in Doranelle and what I feel for you now are the same. I just didn’t
think I’d ever get the chance to act on it.”
She knew why she needed to hear it—he knew, too. Darrow’s and
Rolfe’s words danced around in her head, an endless chorus of bitter
threats. But Aelin only smirked at him. “Then act away, Prince.”
Rowan let out a low laugh, and said nothing else as he claimed her
mouth, nudging her back against the crumbling chimney. She opened for
him, and his tongue swept in, thorough, lazy.
Oh, gods—this. This was what drove her out of her mind—this fire
between them.
They could burn the entire world to ashes with it. He was hers and she
was his, and they had found each other across centuries of