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smoothness of the skin at her neck. The lack
of scars. The missing scars on her hands, her
palms. “Later,” Aelin said softly. She
straightened her shoulders, and another
golden-haired male came forward. Beautiful.
That was the only way to describe him.
“Fenrys ... You know, I don’t actually know
your family name.”
Fenrys threw a roguish wink at the queen.
“Moonbeam.”
“It is not,” Aelin hissed, choking on a
laugh.
Fenrys laid a hand on his heart. “I am
blood-sworn to you. Would I lie?”
Another blood-sworn Fae male in her
court. Across the tent, Sartaq cursed in his
own tongue. As if he’d heard of Lorcan, and
Gavriel, and Fenrys.
Aelin gave Fenrys a vulgar gesture that set
Hasar chuckling, and faced the royals.