over the army, then over the sea of darkness
spread between it and the ancient city, even
that wise voice who had whispered for the
entirety of her life had gone quiet.
Nesryn lingered by Salkhi, a hand on her
mount’s feathered side, and watched the party
soar into the skies. The twenty ruks hadn’t
just been bearing Aelin Galathynius and her
companions, Chaol and Yrene included, but
also more healers, supplies, and a few horses,
hooded and corralled into wooden pens that
the birds could carry. Including Chaol’s own
horse, Farasha.
“I wish I could go with them,” Borte sighed
from where she was rubbing down Arcas. “To
fight alongside the Fae.”
Nesryn gave her an amused, sidelong
glance. “You’ll get that opportunity soon
enough, if we march to Terrasen after this.”