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one.
Behind Aelin, Rowan’s blood-splattered
face was grim while he studied the lock
fastening the mask’s chains to the back of her
head. His nostrils flared slightly. Rage—
frustration.
“I’ve never seen a lock like this,” Gavriel
murmured.
Aelin began shaking again.
Elide put a hand on her knee. Aelin had
scraped it raw, mud and grass stuck in her
blood-crusted skin.
She waited for the queen to shove her hand
away, but Aelin didn’t move. Kept her eyes
shut, her ragged breathing holding steady.
Rowan gripped one of the chains binding
the mask and nodded to Lorcan. “The other
one.”
Silently, Lorcan grasped the opposite end.
They’d sever the iron if they had to.