Kingdom of Ash

between them, “You have already helped me
so many times.”
And you have given much yourself, Heir of
Brannon. We who remember him know he
would have made such a choice, had he been
able to do so. Oakwald shall never forget
Brannon, or his Heir.
Aelin straightened, scanned the trees, the
snow-whipped wind.
Dryad. That was the word he sought.
Dryad. A tree spirit.
“What is your cost?” Aelin asked, her
voice louder now.
“Do you really want to ask?” Fenrys
muttered. Rowan snarled at him.
But Aelin had gone still as she waited for
the dryad to answer. The voice of Oakwald, of
the Little Folk and creatures who had long
cared for it.
A better world, the dryad replied at last.