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“I’ll get them out,” he said, and she
couldn’t tell him, couldn’t start to explain that
it wasn’t the glass, the shredded skin down to
the bone.
He wasn’t coming. He wasn’t coming to
get her.
She should be glad. Should be relieved. She
was relieved. And yet ... and yet ...
Fenrys drew out a pair of pincers from the
tool kit that Cairn had left on a table nearby.
“I’ll be as quick as I can.”
Biting her lip hard enough to draw blood,
Aelin turned her head away while the first
piece of glass slid from her knee. Flesh and
sinew sundered anew.
Salt overpowered the tang of her blood, and
she knew he was crying. The scent of their
tears filled the tiny room as he worked.
Neither of them said a word.