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revealed.
Aelin again blinked twice with that strange
intentionality.
Rowan snarled at the chains, heaving again.
But Aelin stretched out a hand to the moss
and traced a shape.
“What is that?” Elide leaned forward as the
queen did it again, her hollow face
unreadable.
The Fae males paused at her question, and
watched Aelin’s finger move through the
green.
“A Wyrdmark,” Rowan said softly. “To
open.”
Aelin traced it again, mute and still. As if
none of them stood there.
“They work on iron?” Gavriel asked,
tracking Aelin’s finger.
“She unlocked iron doors in Adarlan’s
royal library with that symbol,” Rowan