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the back of the boat, Fenrys dozing at the
queen’s feet. It was large enough for each of
them to lie down amongst the benches, or
gather near the prow to eat the stockpile of
fruits and cheeses. “And we don’t know how
directly these passageways flow. Several days
might be a conservative guess.”
“It would take three weeks on foot if we
were above,” Gavriel explained, his golden
hair silvered by the lantern’s light. “Perhaps
longer.”
Elide fiddled with the ring on her finger,
twisting the band around and around. She’d
rather travel for a month on foot than remain
trapped in these dark, airless passages.
But they had no choice. Anneith had not
whispered in warning—had not said anything
at all before they’d climbed into this boat.
Before Aelin had been given an ancient Faerie
Queen’s crown, her birthright and heritage.