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and flames carved and embossed along its
ancient surface.
A flare of light, a click of metal, and then it
slid free.
Her face was pale—so pale, all traces of
the sun-kissed coloring gone.
And empty. Aware, and yet not.
Wary.
Elide kept still, letting the queen survey
her. The males moved to face her, and Aelin
looked upon them in turn. Gavriel, who bowed
his head. Lorcan, who stared right back at her,
his dark gaze unreadable.
And Rowan. Rowan, whose breathing
became jagged, his swallow audible. “Aelin?”
The name, it seemed, was an unlocking,
too.
Not of the queen she’d so briefly known,
but the power inside her.
Elide flinched as flame, golden and