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drifting—it was being tugged. He could just
barely make out two dark forms slithering
beneath the surface.
Aelin didn’t hesitate, yet her strokes
remained steady as she swam for him. She
didn’t balk at the hand he extended, and he
wrapped his cloak around her while the boat
ambled past.
Black, eel-like creatures about the size of a
mortal man pulled it. Their fins drifted behind
them like ebony veils, and with each
propelling sweep of their long tails, he
glimpsed milky-white eyes. Blind.
They led the flat-bottomed vessel large
enough for fifteen Fae males right to the edge
of the lake. A flash of short, spindly bodies
through the dimness and the Little Folk had it
moored to a nearby stalagmite.
The others must have heard his order to
Aelin, because they emerged, swords out. A