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might come to this.
One shift, one change into a wyvern’s
form, and she’d destroy the ilken. But she
remained in Aelin’s body. Held that sword,
her only weapon, upraised.
Terrasen was her home. And Aelin her
queen.
She’d die to keep this army together. To
keep the lines from breaking. To rally their
soldiers one last time.
Her leg leaked blood onto the snow, and
the two ilken sniffed, laughing again. They
knew—what lurked under her skin. That it
was not the queen they faced.
She held her ground. Did not yield one inch
to the ilken, who advanced another step.
For Terrasen, she would do this. For Aelin.
He took it back. He took it all back.
Aedion was barely a hundred feet away
when the ilken struck.