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The fool didn’t realize who he faced. What
he faced.
That it wasn’t a fire-breathing queen bound
in iron who charged at him, but an assassin.
With a twist, arms lifting, Aelin met that
sword head-on.
Just as she’d planned.
The male’s sword fell short of his intended
target, but hit precisely where she wished.
In the center of the chains that bound her
hands.
Iron snapped.
Then the male’s sword was in her freed
hands. Then his throat was spraying blood.
Aelin whirled, slamming into the other
soldiers who stood between her and freedom.
Even as he ran for her, Lorcan could only gape
at what unfolded.
She struck before they knew where to turn.
Slash, duck, lunge.