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Anneith herself. Or at least had been tipped
off by the scent on Elide’s clothes.
“You think we can trust her?” Elide asked
Lorcan, though she knew the answer.
Lorcan’s dark eyes shifted to her. “Yes,
though I don’t see why she’d bother.”
“She’s a good female, that’s why,” Rowan
said. At Elide’s lifted brow, he explained,
“Essar visited Mistward this spring. She met
Aelin.” He cut a glare toward Lorcan. “And
asked me to tell you that she sends her best.”
Elide hadn’t seen anything that came close
to pining in Essar’s face, but gods, she was
beautiful. And smart. And kind. And Lorcan
had let her go, somehow.
Gavriel cut in, “If we move on the eastern
camp, we need to figure out our plan now. Get
into position. It’s miles away.”
Rowan gazed again toward that distant
camp.