Kingdom of Ash

and wolf-riders wreaking havoc on the
spiders. “Long live the queen.” The Faerie
Queen of the West.
Maeve snarled, and it was not the sound of
a Fae or human. But Valg. Pure, undiluted
Valg.
“Well, look who stopped pretending,”
Aelin said.
“I will go anywhere you choose to banish
me to,” Maeve seethed. “Just take it out.”
“Anywhere?” Aelin asked, and let go of
Rowan’s hand.
The lack of his magic, his strength, hit her
like plunging into an ice-cold lake.
But she had plenty of her own.
Not magic, never again as it had been, but a
strength greater, deeper than that.
Fireheart, her mother had called her.
Not for her power. The name had never
once been about her power.