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“He knows,” she breathed. He whirled to
face her, finding his cousin—finding
Lysandra shaking. Not Aelin, though she’d
been plenty convincing today. Better than
usual. “He knows what I am.”
Aedion rubbed his face. “He also seems to
know we’re going to Orynth. Wants us to do
just that.”
She slumped onto his cot, as if her knees
couldn’t hold her upright. For a heartbeat, the
urge to sit beside her, to pull her to him, was
so strong he nearly yielded to it.
The tang of her blood filled the space,
along with the wild, many-faced scent of her.
It dragged a sensual finger down his skin,
whetting his rage into something so deadly he
might have very well killed the next male who
entered this tent.
“Erawan might hear the news and worry,”
Aedion said when he could think again. “He