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Aelin and Rowan emerged from the passage.
Goldryn hung at the queen’s side,
undoubtedly given back to her by the prince.
Its glittering ruby looked like an amethyst in
the blue lantern light, bobbing with each of
Aelin’s steps.
They’d barely stepped onto the boat when a
hissing flitted from the passage they’d
vacated.
Tensing, Rowan and Gavriel swiftly shoved
the boat from the shore. The creatures tugging
them along lurched into motion, pulling them
farther into the river.
Blades gleamed, all the immortal warriors
deathly still.
Aelin didn’t draw Goldryn, though. Didn’t
lift a burning hand. She merely lingered by
Elide, her face like stone.
The hissing grew louder. Shadowed,
scabbed hands clawed at the passage archway,