bringing back a pheasant to its master.”
Dorian laughed, and her eyes flashed. “It was
you who just posed this alliance between us,
not me. But consider this: Shall you kneel, or
shall you rule, Maeve?” He tapped his neck,
right over the pale band across it. “I have
knelt, and found I have no interest in doing so
again. Not for Erawan, or for Aelin, or
anyone.” Another shrug. “The woman I love is
dead. My kingdom is in pieces. What do I
have to lose?” He let some of the old ice, the
hollowness in his chest, rise to his face. “I’m
willing to play this game. Are you?”
Maeve fell silent again. And slowly, those
phantom hands crept into the corners of his
mind.
He let her see. See the truth she sought.
He withstood it, that probing touch.
At last, Maeve loosed a breath through her
nose. “You came to Morath for a key and will
lily
(lily)
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