1564024802

Gavriel sped off, a predator ready to
pounce unseen when Lorcan attacked head-on.
Death glimmered. Whitethorn was nearly
at the camp’s center. And that force
approaching their eastern entrance ...
To hell with waiting.
Lorcan broke from the cover of trees, dark
power swirling, primed to meet whatever
broke through the line of tents.
Freeing the sword at his side, he searched
the sky, the camp, the world as death
flickered, as the rising sun gilded the rolling
grasses and set the dew steaming.
Nothing. No indication of what, of who—
He’d reached the first of the hollows that
flowed to the camp edge, the dips narrow and
steep, when Aelin Galathynius appeared.
Lorcan didn’t expect the sob in his throat
as she raced between the tents, as he beheld
the iron mask and the chains on her, hands