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hands, her wrists. As if expecting them to be
there.
She had never felt a shackle’s bite in her
life. And yet she stared at the empty place on
her wrist where she could have sworn there
was a scar. Only smooth, sun-kissed skin
remained.
“If this world were at risk, if those three
terrible kings threatened to destroy it, where
would you go to find the keys?”
Aelin looked up at her aunt.
Another world. There was another world.
Like a fragment of a dream, there was another
world, and in it, she had a wrist with a scar on
it. Had scars all over.
And her mate, perched overhead ... He had
a tattoo down his face and neck and arm in
that world. A sad story—his tattoo told a sad,
awful story. About loss. Loss caused by a dark
queen—