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Elide held her breath as both males
strained, arms shaking.
Nothing.
They tried again. Aelin’s breathing hitched.
Elide tightened her hand on the queen’s knee.
“She managed to snap the chains on her
ankles and hands,” Gavriel observed. “They’re
not indestructible.”
But with the chains on the mask so close to
her head, a swipe of a sword was impossible.
Or perhaps the mask had been made from far
stronger iron.
Rowan and Lorcan grunted as they heaved
against the chains. It was of little use.
Panting softly, they paused. Red welts
shone on their hands.
They’d tried to use their magic to break the
iron.
Silence fell through the clearing. They
couldn’t linger here—not for much longer.