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his bloodied maw. Rowan had barely entered
the clearing before he set down the wolf and
stalked for Aelin.
The prince was covered in blood. From his
unhindered steps, Elide knew it wasn’t his.
From the blood coating his chin, his neck
... She didn’t want to know.
Aelin ripped at the immovable mask, either
unaware or uncaring of the prince before her.
Her consort, husband, and mate.
“Aelin.”
Take it off, take it off, take it off.
Her screams were unbearable. Worse than
those that day on the beach in Eyllwe.
Gavriel came to stand beside Elide, his
golden skin pale as he took in the frantic
queen.
Slowly, Rowan knelt before her. “Aelin.”
She only tipped her head up to the forest
canopy and sobbed.