found herself opening her mouth to speak to
him. Watching him as he listened to Aelin’s
lessons on the Wyrdmarks. Or while he
trained with the queen, the rare moments
when the two of them weren’t at each other’s
throats.
Aelin had been returned to them. Was
recovering as best she could.
Elide didn’t taste her next bite of porridge.
Gavriel, thankfully, said nothing.
And Anneith didn’t speak, either. Not a
whisper of guidance.
It was better that way. To listen to herself.
Better that Lorcan kept his distance, too.
Elide ate the rest of her porridge in silence.
Rowan was right: she nearly vomited after
breakfast. Five minutes in the courtyard and
she’d had to stop, that miserable gruel rising
in her throat.