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arrive, if they would indeed head northward to
Terrasen. If today had been enough to win
them over.
Two shapes took form in the sky. Kadara
and Salkhi, soaring for the keep at an almost
unchecked speed.
People scrambled out of the ruks’ way as
Sartaq and Nesryn landed on the battlements,
sliding off their saddles and stalking right up
to them.
“We have a problem,” Nesryn said, her
face ashen.
Indeed, Sartaq’s lips were bloodless. Both
of their scents were drenched in fear.
The wheels of Chaol’s chair splashed
through puddled blood. “What is it?”
Aelin straightened, Gavriel and Fenrys
going still.
Nesryn pointed across the city, to the wall
of mountains. “We intercepted a group of