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But Fenrys looked away, toward the looming
dark, his tail curling around him.
Aelin staggered a step closer to the crown.
“It—it fell into the river.”
Rowan didn’t want to know how she’d
encountered it, why she’d seen it fall into a
river. Maeve had kept her sisters’ two crowns
under constant guard, only bringing them out
to be displayed in her throne room on state
occasions. In memory of her siblings, she’d
intoned. Rowan had sometimes wondered if it
was a reminder that she had outlasted them,
had kept the throne for herself in the end.
The grayish hand slipped over the rock’s
edge again and nudged the crown in silent
gesture. Take it.
“You want to know why?” Gavriel softly
asked Lorcan as Aelin strode for the rock.
Nothing but solemn reverence on her face.
“Because she is not only Brannon’s Heir, but