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they bowed back, the portrait of courtly grace.
“My father,” Sartaq said, “remained in the
khaganate to oversee our lands, along with our
siblings Duva and Arghun. But my brother
Kashin sails with the rest of the army. He was
not two weeks behind us when we left.”
Aelin glanced to Chaol, and he nodded.
Something glittered in her eyes at the
confirmation, but the queen jerked her chin at
Hasar. “Did you get my letter?”
The letter that Aelin had sent months ago,
begging for aid and promising only a better
world in return.
Hasar picked at her nails. “Perhaps. I get
far too many letters from fellow princesses
these days to possibly remember or answer all
of them.”
Aelin smirked, as if the two of them spoke
a language no one else could understand, a
special code between two equally arrogant and