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for them.”
Aelin, as if her body didn’t quite belong to
her, lifted her shackled, metal-encased hands.
The chain linking them had been severed, and
hung in pieces off either manacle. The same
with those at her ankles.
She tugged at one of the metal gauntlets. It
didn’t budge.
She tugged again. The gauntlet didn’t so
much as shift.
“Take it off.”
Her voice was low, gravelly.
Elide didn’t know which one of them she’d
ordered, but before she could cross the
clearing, Lorcan gripped the queen’s wrist to
examine the locks.
One corner of his mouth tightened. There
was no easy way to free them, then.
Elide approached, her limp deep once more
with Gavriel’s magic occupied.