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No one spoke for a good minute.
Aelin sighed up at the ceiling. “What’s
another fancy title, I suppose?”
They didn’t answer, and Aelin tried not to
let the weight of that title settle too heavily.
All it implied. That she might not only look
after the Little Folk on this continent, but with
the cadre, begin a new homeland for any Fae
who might wish to join them. For any of the
Fae who had survived the slaughter in
Terrasen ten years ago and might wish to
return.
A fool’s dream. One that she would likely
not come to see. To create.
“The Faerie Queen of the West,” Aelin
said, tasting the words on her tongue.
Wondering how long she’d get to call
herself such.
From the heavy quiet, she knew her
companions were contemplating the same.