Fenrys sobbed again, and Maeve glanced
toward him.
Aelin slid her hand along Rowan’s hatchet,
the pain a whisper through her body.
Her mate trembled, fighting the mind that
had invaded his once more.
“What a waste,” Maeve said, turning back
to them. “For these fine males to leave my
service, only to wind up bound to a queen with
hardly more than a few drops of power to her
name.”
Aelin closed her hand around Rowan’s.
A door flung open between them. A door
back to himself, to her.
His fingers locked around hers.
Aelin let out a low laugh. “I may have no
magic,” she said, “but my mate does.”
Waiting to strike from the other side of
that dark doorway, Rowan hauled Aelin to her
feet as their powers, their souls, fused.
lily
(lily)
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