the injury, then the corpse. “Nasty little
pricks, aren’t they?”
Aelin would have had some swaggering
answer to set them all chuckling, but Lysandra
couldn’t find the words. She just nodded as
the black stain inched over the tent floor. The
Fae royals sniffed at the reek, grimacing.
“Clean up this mess,” Darrow ordered no
one in particular. Even as his hands shook
slightly.
By the tent flaps, Nox was gaping at the
decapitated Valg. His gray eyes met hers,
searching, and then lowered. “He didn’t have
a ring,” Nox murmured.
Snatching up a dangling edge of tablecloth
from the untouched refreshment table, Aedion
wiped the Sword of Orynth clean. “He didn’t
need one.”
Erawan knew Aelin was not with them. That a