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Even as a word took form on her tongue.
Please.
She tried to swallow it. Tried to keep it
locked in as Cairn crouched beside the table,
flint raised.
You do not yield.
You do not yield.
You do not yield.
“Wait.”
The word was a rasp.
Cairn paused. Rose from his crouch.
“Wait?”
Aelin shook, her breathing ragged. “Wait.”
Cairn crossed his arms. “Do you have
something you’d like to say at last?”
He’d let her promise anything to him, to
Maeve. And then would still light those fires.
Maeve would not hear of her yielding for
days.
Aelin made herself meet his stare, her