Page 408 of Kingdom of Ash

Glennis bowed her head. “And so the curse is broken. And so we shall go home together—as one people.”

The curse was broken.

Manon just stared at them, her breathing turning jagged.

Then she roused Abraxos, and was in the saddle within heartbeats. She did not offer them any explanation, any farewell, as they leaped into the thinning night.

As she guided her wyvern to the bit of blasted earth on the battlefield. Right to its heart.

And smiling through her tears, laughing in joy and sorrow, Manon laid that precious flower from the Wastes upon the ground.

In thanks and in love.

So they would know, so Asterin would know, in the realm where she and her hunter and child walked hand in hand, that they had made it.

That they were going home.

Aelin wanted to, but could not sleep. Had ignored the offers to find her a room, a bed, in the chaos of the castle.

Instead, she and Rowan had gone to the Great Hall, to talk to the wounded, to offer what help they could for those who needed it most.

The lost Fae of Terrasen, their giant wolves and adopted human clan with them, wanted to speak to her as much as the citizens of Orynth. How they had found the Wolf Tribe a decade ago, how they’d fallen in with them in the wilds of the mountains and hinterlands beyond, was a tale she’d soon learn. The world would learn.

Their healers filled the Great Hall, joining the Torre women. All descended from those in the southern continent—and apparently trained by them, too. Dozens of fresh healers, each bearing badly needed supplies. They fell seamlessly into work alongside those from the Torre. As if they had been doing so for centuries.

And when the healers both human and Fae had shooed them out, Aelin had wandered.

Each hallway and floor, peering into the rooms so full of ghosts and memory. Rowan had walked at her side, a quiet, unfaltering presence.

Level by level they went, rising ever higher.

They were nearing the top of the north tower when dawn broke.

The morning was brutally cold, even more so atop the tower standing high over the world, but the day would be clear. Bright.

“So there it is,” Aelin said, nodding toward the dark stain on the balcony stones. “Where Erawan met his end at the hands of a healer.” She frowned. “I hope it will wash off.”

Rowan snorted, and when she looked over her shoulder, the wind whipping her hair, she found him leaning against the stairwell door, his arms crossed.

“I mean it,” she said. “It’ll be odious to have his mess there. And I plan to use this balcony to sun myself. He’ll ruin it.”

Rowan chuckled, and pushed off the door, going to the balcony rail. “If it doesn’t wash off, we’ll throw a rug over it.”

Aelin laughed, and joined him, leaning into his warmth as the sun gilded the battlefield, the river, the Staghorns. “Well, now you’ve seen every hall and room and stairwell. What do you make of your new home?”

“A little small, but we’ll manage.”

Aelin nudged him with an elbow, and jerked her chin to the nearby western tower. Where the north tower was tall, the western tower was wide. Grand. Near its upper levels, hanging over the perilous drop, a walled stone garden glowed in the sunlight. The king’s garden.

Queen’s, she supposed.

There had been nothing left but a tangle of thorns and snow. Yet she still remembered it, when it had belonged to Orlon. The roses and drooping latticework of wisteria, the fountains that had streamed right over the edge of the garden and into the open air below, the apple tree with blossoms like clumps of snow in the spring.

“I never realized how convenient it would be for Fleetfoot,” she said ofthe secret, private garden. Reservedonlyfor the royal family. Sometimes just for the king or queen themselves. “To not have to run down the tower stairs every time she needs to pee.”

“I’m sure your ancestors had canine bathroom habits in mind when they built it.”

“I would have,” Aelin grumbled.

---