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Farasha did not balk from the Morath soldiers
who made it onto the battlements. From the
ones who emerged from the second siege
tower that docked down the wall, or those who
made it up the ladders.
No, that magnificent horse trampled them,
fearless and wicked, just as Chaol had
predicted. A horse whose name meant
butterfly—stomping all over Valg foot
soldiers.
Had his breath not been a rasp in his chest,
Chaol might have smiled. Had men not been
cut down around him, he might have laughed
a bit, too.
But Morath was launching itself at the
walls and gates with a furor they had not yet
witnessed. Perhaps they knew who had come
to Anielle and now hewed them down. Aelin
and Rowan fought back-to-back, and Fenrys
had plowed his way down the battlements to