decided as she stood in a near-empty, dusty
chamber and smiled at her allies. Her friends.
Ansel of Briarcliff, bruised and scratched,
smiled back. “Your shifter was a good liar,”
she said. “I’m ashamed I didn’t notice it
myself.”
Prince Galan, equally battered, huffed a
laugh. “In my defense, I’ve never met you.”
He inclined his head to Aelin. “So, hello,
cousin.”
Aelin, leaning against the half-decayed
desk that served as the lone piece of furniture
in the room, smirked at him. “I saw you from
a distance—once.”
Galan’s Ashryver eyes sparked. “I’m going
to assume it was during your former
profession and thank you for not killing me.”
Aelin chuckled, even as Rolfe rolled his
eyes. “Yes, Privateer?”
Rolfe waved a tattooed hand, blood still
lily
(lily)
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