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It didn’t matter if she still offered him a
home in Perranth, if the queen spoke true.
But what did matter was that Aelin
Galathynius had meant her promise: he was
too powerful, his allegiances too murky, for
her to allow him to roam with her, to enter her
kingdom unfettered. She’d let him go, keep
him out of Terrasen, even if Erawan’s hordes
were descending, just to avoid the other threat
at their backs: Maeve.
And Elide would not survive it, this war, if
all of them were dead.
He couldn’t accept it, that possibility.
Foolish and useless as it was, he couldn’t
allow it to pass. To have either Erawan’s
beasts or her uncle Vernon come to claim her
again.
Fool. He was an ancient, stupid fool.
Yet the god at his shoulder did not tell him
to run, or to fight.