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Blood ran down her neck from the
scratches she’d dug into her skin, mingling
with what already coated her.
Rowan reached out a trembling hand, the
only sign of the agony Elide had little doubt
was coursing through him. Gently, he laid his
hands on her wrists; gently, he closed his
fingers around them. Halting the brutal
clawing and digging.
Aelin sobbed, her body shuddering with the
force of it. “Take it off. ”
Rowan’s eyes flickered, panic and
heartbreak and longing shining there. “I will.
But you have to be still, Fireheart. Just for a
few moments.”
“Take it off. ” The sobs ebbed, tricking into
something broken and raw. Rowan ran his
thumbs over her wrists, over those iron
shackles. As if it were nothing but her skin.
Slowly, her shaking eased.