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“I have seen many wars. Sent my warriors
to fight in them, end them. I have seen how
destructive they are. The very glass you lay on
comes from one of those wars, you know.
From the glass mountains in the South. They
once were sand dunes, but dragons burned
them to glass during an ancient and bloody
conflict.” A hum of amusement. “Some claim
it’s the hardest glass in the world. The most
unyielding. I thought, given your own fire-
breathing heritage, you might appreciate its
origins.”
A click of the tongue, and then Cairn was
there again, hands on her shoulders.
Pushing.
Harder and harder. Gods, gods, gods—
There were no gods to save her. Not really.
Aelin’s screams echoed off rock and water.
Alone. She was alone in this. It would be of
no use to beg the white wolf to help her.