guide her to the front. Then Manon
Blackbeak. Elide Lochan. Lysandra.
Evangeline. Nesryn Faliq. Borte and Hasar
and Ansel of Briarcliff.
All the women who had fought by her side,
or from afar. Who had bled and sacrificed and
never given up hope that this day might come.
“Walk with me,” Aelin said to them, the
men and males falling into step behind. “My
friends.”
The bells still ringing, Aelin nodded to the
guards at the castle gates.
They opened at last, and the roar from the
gathered crowds was loud enough to rattle the
stars.
As one, they walked out. Into the cheering
city.
Into the streets, where people danced and
sang, where they wept and clasped their hands
to their hearts at the sight of the parade of
lily
(lily)
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