A miracle—that’s what had happened with
the queen and the wolf.
Though Fenrys seemed drained, his eyes
were clear as the Little Folk gathered.
Aelin barely looked toward them.
A pale, spindly hand rose over a moss-
speckled boulder and curled. Come.
Rowan asked, voice like granite, “You wish
us to follow you?”
Again, the hand made the motion. Come.
Gavriel murmured, “They know this forest
better than even we do.”
“And you trust them?” Lorcan demanded.
Rowan’s eyes settled on Aelin. “They
saved her life once.” That night Erawan’s
assassin had returned for Aelin. “They will do
so again now.”
Silent and unseen, they passed through the
trees and rocks and streams of the ancient