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Aelin, a few feet away, gazed toward it as
well, her blood-soaked hair ripping free of its
braid in the harsh wind. Flowing toward those
mountains, the destruction that would soon be
unleashed.
She said nothing. Had done nothing since
Nesryn and Sartaq brought the news. Her
exact sort of nightmare, he realized, to be
unable to help, to be forced to watch while
others suffered. No words could comfort her,
no words could fix this. Stop this.
“I could try to track him,” Gavriel offered.
Rowan shook off his creeping dread. “I’ll
fly out, try to pinpoint him, and signal back to
you—”
“Don’t bother,” said Princess Hasar, and
Rowan was about to snarl his retort when she
pointed to the battlefield. “She’s already
ahead of you.”
Rowan whirled, the others following suit.