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Make it count. Aelin had said as much back
in those initial days after he’d been freed of
the collar. He tried not to wonder whether the
icy bite of Wyrdstone would soon clamp
around his neck once more.
“I am not a softhearted Crochan. I will
never be, even if I wear their crown of stars.”
He’d heard the whispers about that crown
amongst the Crochans this week—about
whether it would be found at last. Rhiannon
Crochan’s crown of stars, stolen from her
dying body by Baba Yellowlegs herself.
Where it had gone after Aelin had killed the
Matron, Dorian had not the faintest idea. If it
had stayed with that strange carnival she’d
traveled with, it could be anywhere. Could
have been sold for quick coin.
Manon went on, “If that is what the
Crochans expect me to become before they
join in this war, then I will let them venture to