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might wonder why she isn’t here, and if she’s
about to do something that will hurt him. It
could force him to show his hand.”
“Or to strike us now, with his full might,
when he knows we’re weakest.”
“We’ll have to see.”
“Orynth will be a slaughterhouse,” she
whispered, her shoulders curving beneath the
weight—not just of being a woman thrust into
this conflict, but a woman playing another,
who might be able to pretend, but only so far.
Who did not truly have the power to halt the
hordes marching north. She’d been willing to
shoulder that burden, though. For Aelin. For
this kingdom.
Even if she’d lied to him about it, she’d
been willing to accept this weight.
Aedion slumped down beside her and
stared blankly at the tent walls. “We’re not
going to Orynth.”