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Mab’s, too.”
A throwback to her great-great-
grandmother, Maeve had taunted her. Who
had inherited her strength, her immortal
lifespan.
Aelin’s fingers closed around the crown,
lifting it gently. It sparkled like living
moonlight between her hands.
My sister Mab’s line ran true, Elide
claimed Maeve had said on the beach. In
every way, it seemed.
But Aelin made no move to don the crown
while she approached him once more, her gait
steadier this time. Trying not to dwell on the
unbearable smoothness of her hand as it
wrapped around his, Rowan helped her
aboard, then climbed in himself before freeing
the ropes tethering them to the shore.
Gavriel went on, awe in every word, “And
that makes her their queen, too.”