be nearly impossible. At least until his Fae
heritage healed him—faster than mortal men.
That he hadn’t died of blood loss and could
attempt to move his arm as he ordered his
armor strapped back on him and stumbled into
the city streets, aiming for the wall, was
thanks to that Fae heritage. His mother’s, yes,
but mostly from his father.
Had Gavriel heard, across the sea or
wherever their hunt for Aelin had taken him,
that Terrasen was about to fall? Would he
care?
It didn’t matter. Even if part of him wished
the Lion were there. Rowan and the others
certainly, but the steady presence of Gavriel
would have been a balm to these men. Perhaps
to him.
Aedion gritted his teeth, swaying as he
scaled the blood-slick stairs to the city walls,
dodging bodies both human and Valg. An hour
lily
(lily)
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