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Maeve snapped her fingers. “We’re done
here.”
Cairn’s hands wrapped around the chains.
Her legs buckled, feet splitting open anew.
She barely felt it, barely felt it through the
rage and the sea of fire down deep, deep
below.
But as Cairn hauled her up, his savage
hands roving, she struck.
Two blows.
A shard of glass plunged into the side of
his neck. He staggered back, cursing as blood
sprayed.
Aelin whirled, glass ripping her soles apart,
and hurled the shard in her other hand. Right
at Maeve.
It missed by a hairsbreadth. Scraping
Maeve’s pale cheek before clattering off the
throne behind her. The owl perched just above
it screeched.