clearly see it. What sent the soldiers racing
toward them with renewed urgency.
Morath was picking up speed.
As if realizing that their prey was on its
last legs and not wishing to let them recover.
Chaol glanced to Dorian, and they reined
their horses back toward the city walls. The
khagan’s soldiers did so as well, running
down the hills they’d been scaling.
Back toward the battlements. And the hell
soon to be unleashed upon it once more.
Slumped against a dead wyvern, Aelin drained
the last of her waterskin.
Beside her, Ansel of Briarcliff panted
through her gritted teeth while healer’s magic
pulled the edges of her wound together. A
nasty, deep slice to Ansel’s arm.
Bad enough that Ansel hadn’t been able to
hold a weapon. So they had halted, just as the