pillow. “Elide.” Her name was a rasp on his
tongue.
The last he remembered, they’d ridden
through the gates, Aelin Galathynius’s unholy
power spent. Then oblivion had swept in.
“Helping with the healing in the Great
Hall,” Fenrys said, stretching out his legs
before him.
Lorcan closed his eyes, something tight in
his chest easing.
“Well, since you’re not dead,” Fenrys
began, but Lorcan was already asleep.
Lorcan awoke later. Hours, days, he didn’t
know.
The candle was still burning on the narrow
windowsill, down to its base. Hours, then.
Unless he’d slept so long they’d replaced the
candle altogether.
He didn’t care. Not when the dim light