1564024802

Really good,” he added, pulling a blade from
its sheath. He glanced at Rowan. “This was
forged by an Asterion blacksmith.”
“From a different age,” Rowan mused,
marveling at the flawless blade, its
impeccable condition. “When Fae were not so
feared.”
“Are we just going to take it? Without even
Chaol’s permission?” Elide chewed on her lip.
Aelin snickered. “Let’s consider ourselves
swords-for-hire. And as such, we have fees
that need to be paid.” She hefted a round,
golden shield, its edges beautifully engraved
with a motif of waves. Also Asterion-made,
judging by the craftsmanship. Likely for the
Lord of Anielle—the Lord of the Silver Lake.
“So, we’ll take what we’re owed for today’s
battle, and spare His Lordship the task of
having to come down here himself.”
Gods, he loved her.