asked. “Why not bring the keys north and use
them, destroy the army, and—”
“The keys cannot be wielded,” Dorian cut
in. “Not without destroying the bearer. We’re
not entirely sure a mortal could withstand the
power.” He nodded toward Aelin, silent and
watchful while it took all of Rowan’s training
not to hurl up his guts. “Just putting them
back in the gate requires everything.” He
added tightly, “From one of us.”
Rowan knew he should be arguing against
this, should be bellowing.
Dorian went on, “I should do it.”
“No.” The word broke from Chaol—and
Aelin. Her first word since this debate had
begun.
But it was Fenrys who asked Chaol, voice
deadly soft, “You’d rather my queen die than
your king?”
Chaol stiffened. “I’d rather neither of my
lily
(lily)
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