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monitoring from the starboard side, his jaw
tight. Fenrys and Elide dozed, the lady’s head
leaning against his flank, inky black hair
spilling over a coat of whitest snow.
Aelin glanced to Rowan, seated beside her,
but not touching. Her fingers curled in her lap.
A blink into the gloom was the only indication
that he was aware of her every movement.
Aelin breathed in his scent, let its strength
settle into her a bit deeper.
Dorian and Manon might be anywhere. To
hunt for the witch and king would be a fool’s
errand. Their paths would meet again, or they
would not. And if he found the final key and
then brought it to her, she would pay what the
gods demanded. What she owed Terrasen, the
world.
Yet if Dorian chose to end it himself, to
forge the Lock ... her stomach churned. He
had the power. As much as she did, if not