once more. Would not let her forget.
Aelin picked up the crown they had laid at
her feet, gaping toward the small gathering
who clustered in the shadows beyond the
pews, their dark, wide eyes blinking.
“The Faerie Queen of the West,” Elide said
softly, though all heard.
Aelin’s fingers trembled, her heart filling
to the point of pain, as she surveyed the
ancient, glimmering crown. Then looked to
the Little Folk. “Yes,” she said to them. “I
will serve you, too. Until the end of my days.”
And Aelin bowed to them then. The near-
invisible people who had saved her so many
times, and asked for nothing. The Lord of the
North, who had survived, as she had, against
all odds. Who had never forgotten her. She
would serve them, as she would serve any
citizen of Terrasen.
Everyone on the dais bowed, too. Then
lily
(lily)
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