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from foe.
Their lines held. At least they had that
much.
Shield to shield and shoulder to shoulder in
the snowy field that had since become a mud
pit, they’d met the legion Erawan had
marched through Eldrys.
Aedion had picked the field, the hour, the
angle of this battle. The others had pushed for
instant attack, but he’d let Morath march far
enough inland—right to where he wanted
them. Location was as important as numbers,
was all he’d said.
Not to Lysandra, of course. He barely said
a damn word to her these days.
Now certainly wasn’t the time to think of
it. To care.
Their allies and soldiers believed Aelin
Galathynius remained en route to them,
allowing Lysandra to don the ghost leopard’s