Even for us.
The army was a flurry of activity as it hauled
itself into preparing to march—to race
northward.
But Aelin dragged Rowan into their tent.
To the pile of books Chaol and Yrene had
brought from the southern continent.
She ran a finger over the titles, searching,
scanning.
“What are you doing?” her mate asked.
Aelin ignored the question and hummed as
she found the book she sought. She leafed
through it, careful not to tear the ancient
pages. “A stupid cow I might be,” she
muttered, rotating the book to show Rowan
the page she sought, “but not without
options.”
Rowan’s eyes danced. You’re including me
in this particular scheme, Princess?