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A flash of light.
Aelin inhaled through her nose, exhaled
through her mouth, over and over. Barely
registered the beautiful dark-haired male who
now stood in place of the wolf. Bronze-
skinned like his twin, but without the
wildness, without the mischief shining from
his face. He wore a warrior’s layered clothes,
black to Fenrys’s usual gray, twin knives
hanging at his sides.
The white wolf stared up at his twin, rooted
to the spot by that invisible bond.
“Speak freely, Connall,” Maeve said, her
faint smile remaining. The barn owl perched
on the back of her throne watched with
solemn, unblinking eyes. “Let your brother
know these words are your own and not of my
command.”
A booted foot nudged Aelin’s spine, a
subtle jab forward. Harder into the glass.