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when it gave her freedom to learn as she
would. But her husband’s libraries contained
knowledge even he did not realize was held
within. Lore and wisdom from worlds long
since turned to dust. She learned that there
were indeed other worlds. Not the dark,
blasted realm in which they lived, but worlds
beyond that, living atop one another and never
realizing it. Worlds where the sun was not a
watery trickle through the ash-clouds, but a
golden stream of warmth. Worlds where green
existed. She had never heard of such a color.
Green. Nor had she heard of blue—not the
shade of sky that was described. She could not
so much as picture it.”
Aelin frowned. “A pitiful existence.”
Maeve nodded grimly. “It was. And the
more she read about these other worlds, where
long-dead wayfarers had once roamed, the
more she wanted to see them. To know the