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words. Made himself voice them. “No—it was
real. Or Maeve thought it was. But the collars,
the Valg presence ... It was a lie that we
crafted. To draw Maeve out, hopefully away
from you and Doranelle.”
Only the faint lapping of water sounded.
“There was no collar?”
Rowan lowered himself to his knees and
shook his head. “I—Aelin, if I’d known what
she’d do with the knowledge, what you’d
decide to do—”
He might have lost her. Not from Maeve or
the gods or the Lock, but from his own
damned choices. The lie he’d spun.
Aelin drifted beneath the surface again. So
deep that when the flare happened, it was little
more than a flutter.
The light burst from her, rippling across
the lake, illumining the stones, the slick
ceiling above. A silent eruption.