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wayfarers. World-walkers.
Maeve had told her. Perhaps a skewed,
biased tale, but she’d told her. Why? Why do
it at all? Some way to win her—or to make
her hesitate, should it ever come to this?
“But Maeve hates the Valg kings,” Elide
said, and even from the silent, drifting place
to which Aelin had gone, she could see the
razor-sharp mind churning behind Elide’s
eyes. “She’s hidden for this long. Surely she
wouldn’t ally with them.”
“She ran at the chance to get hold of a Valg
collar,” Fenrys said darkly. “Seemed
convinced that she could control the prince
inside it.”
Not only through Maeve’s power, but
because she was a demon queen.
Aelin forced herself to take another breath.
Another. Her fingers curled, gripping an
invisible weapon.