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“They defied her in their own way,” Fenrys
went on. “Sometimes, she’d order them to
bring you back to consciousness. Often, they
claimed they couldn’t, that you’d fallen too
deeply into oblivion. But I knew—I think
Maeve did, too—that they put you there. For
as long as possible. To buy you time.”
She swallowed. “Did she punish them?”
“I don’t know. It was never the same
healers.”
Maeve likely had. Had likely ripped their
minds apart for their defiance.
Aelin’s grip tightened on the sword at her
side.
Helpless. She had been helpless. As so
many in this city, in Terrasen, in this
continent, were helpless.
Goldryn’s hilt warmed in her hand.
She wouldn’t be that way again. For
whatever time she had left.