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Then she dropped the dagger into the moss.
Began clawing at the shackles on her arms,
the gauntlets on her hands, the mask on her
face. “Take it off,” she begged as she
scratched and tugged and yanked. “Take it
off!”
Elide reached a hand for her, to stop her
before she ripped the skin clean off her bones,
but Aelin dodged away, staggering deeper into
the clearing.
The queen dropped to her knees, bowing
over them, and clawed at the mask.
It didn’t so much as move.
Elide glanced to Lorcan. He was frozen,
eyes wide as Aelin knelt in the moss, as her
breathing became edged with sobs.
He had done this. Led them to this.
Elide stepped toward Aelin.
The queen’s gauntlets drew blood where
they scraped into her neck, her jaw, as she