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So were the allies she’d gathered. And the
forces of Ren Allsbrook and Ravi and Sol of
Suria.
And so, apparently, was Nox Owen.
Yet it was Lysandra, not Aedion, who made
their flight possible.
She’d been walking back to her own tent—
to Aelin’s tent, not fit for a queen, but an
army captain—when Nox fell into step beside
her. Silent and graceful. Well-trained. And
likely more lethal than he appeared.
“So, Erawan knows you’re not Aelin.”
She whipped her head to him. “What?” A
quick, vague question to buy herself time. Had
Aedion risked telling him the truth?
Nox gave her a half smile. “I figured as
much when I saw the surprise on that demon’s
face.”
“You must be mistaken.”
“Am I? Or do you not remember me at