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Or else they’d rise again. And remember
who had tried to kill them.
“If we retreat northward,” Aedion went on,
“get to Perranth and cross the river, we could
force them to make the crossing, too. Pick
them off that way.”
“Is there a bridge?” Galan’s face tightened
as one of the two remaining Valg princes sent
a wave of dark power for a cluster of their
soldiers. Men wilted like flowers in a frost.
A blast of wind and ice answered—Sellene
or Endymion. Maybe one of their many
cousins.
“No bridge big enough. But the river’s
frozen solid—we might cross it, then melt it.”
“With Aelin.” A doubtful, careful question.
Aedion gestured toward the source of that
answering blast of magic, now warring with
the Valg princes’ power. “If the Fae royals
can make ice, then they can unfreeze it. Right