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need to fund our travels. And the gods know
what else.”
Rowan arched a brow.
Aelin shrugged and shoved the gold into
the pocket of her cloak. “Unless the pitiful
clinking I heard from your coin purse didn’t
indicate you were low on funds.”
That spark of wry humor, the taunting ...
She was trying. For his sake, or the others’,
maybe her own, she was trying.
He could offer her nothing less, too. Rowan
inclined his head. “We are indeed in dire need
of replenishing our coffers.”
Gavriel coughed. “This does belong to the
dead, you know.”
Aelin added another fistful of coins to her
pocket, beginning a circuit around the
treasure-laden tomb. “The dead don’t need to
buy passage on a ship. Or horses.”
Rowan gave the Lion a slashing grin. “You