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anyone. As much as her own mate.
Aelin didn’t let the thoughts travel further.
Not as she finished her bread and came to the
window, leaning against Rowan’s side. He slid
an arm around her shoulders, casual and easy.
None of them mentioned Maeve.
Elide and Fenrys continued eating in
silence, giving them what privacy they could
in the small, bare room they’d be sharing,
sleeping on bedrolls. The Lord of Anielle, it
seemed, did not share her appreciation for
luxury. Or basic comforts for his guests. Like
hot baths. Or beds.
“The men are terrified,” Rowan said,
gazing out at the levels of the keep below.
“You can smell it.”
“They’ve held this keep for days now. They
know what’s waiting for them at dawn.”
“Their fear,” Rowan said, his jaw
tightening, “is proof they do not trust our