He’d said his piece. If she wanted to wash
her hands of him forever, then he would find a
way to respect that. Live with it.
Somehow.
The cave ascended for a few feet, then leveled
out and wended into the stone. A rough-hewn
passage carved not by water or age, Rowan
realized, but by mortal hands. Perhaps the
long-dead kings and lords had taken the
subterranean river to deposit their dead before
sealing the tombs to sunlight and air above,
the knowledge of the pathways dying off with
their kingdoms.
A faint glow pulsed from the lantern Aelin
held, bathing the cave walls in blue. He’d
quickly caught up to her, and now strode at
her side, Fenrys trotting at her heels and
Gavriel taking up the rear.
Rowan hadn’t bothered to free his