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his snout into someone else’s business.
Fenrys held up his hands. “You can be
brutal, when you want something.”
“I’d never force her to tell me anything she
wasn’t ready to say.” It had been their bargain
from the start. Part of why he’d fallen in love
with her.
He should have known then, during those
days in Mistward, when he found himself
sharing parts of himself, his history, that he’d
never told anyone. When he found himself
needing to tell her, in fragments and pieces,
yes, but he’d wanted her to know. And Aelin
had wanted to hear it. All of it.
They discovered Aelin and Elide already at
the buffet table, grim-faced as they plucked
up pieces of bread and cheese and dried fruit.
No sign of Gavriel or Lorcan.
Rowan came up behind his mate and
pressed a kiss to her neck. Right to where his