Page 404 of Kingdom of Ash

She’d reached the door when Rowan knelt as well. And began to sing the ancient words—the words of mourning, as old and sacred as Terrasen itself. The same prayers she’d once sung and chanted while he’d tattooed her.

Rowan’s clear, deep voice filling the room, Aelin looped her arm through Aedion’s, and let him lean on her as they walked back to the Great Hall. “Darrow called me ‘Your Majesty,’ ” she said after a minute.

Aedion slid his red-rimmed eyes to her. But a spark lit them—just a bit. “Should we be worried?”

Aelin’s mouth curved. “I thought the same damn thing.”

So many witches. There were so many witches, Ironteeth and Crochan, in the halls of the castle.

Elide scanned their faces as she worked with the healers in the Great Hall. A dark lord and dark queen defeated—yet the wounded remained. And since she had strength left in her, she would help in whatever way she could.

But when a white-haired witch limped into the hall, an injured Crochan slung between her and another witch Elide did not recognize … Elide was halfway across the space, across the hall where she had spent so many happy childhood days, by the time she realized she’d moved.

Manon paused at the sight of her. Gave the wounded Crochan over to her sister-in-arms. But made no move to approach.

Elide saw the sorrow on her face before she reached her. The dullness and pain in the golden eyes.

She went still. “Who?”

Manon’s throat bobbed. “All.”

All of the Thirteen. All those fierce, brilliant witches. Gone.

Elide put a hand to her heart, as if it could stop it from cracking.

But Manon closed the distance between them, and even with that grief in her battered, bloodied face, she put a hand on Elide’s shoulder. In comfort.

As if the witch had learned how to do such things.

Elide’s vision stung and blurred, and Manon wiped away the tear that escaped.

“Live, Elide,” was all the witch said to her before striding out of the hall once more. “Live.”

Manon vanished into the teeming hallway, braid swaying. And Elide wondered if the command had been meant for her at all.

Hours later, Elide found Lorcan standing vigil by Gavriel’s body.

When she’d heard, she had wept for the male who had shown her such kindness. And from the way Lorcan knelt before Gavriel, she knew he had just finished doing the same.

Sensing her in the doorway, Lorcan rose to his feet, an aching, slow movement of the truly exhausted. There was indeed sorrow on his face. Grief and regret.

She held open her arms, and Lorcan’s breath heaved out of him as he pulled her against him.

“I hear,” he said onto her hair, “that you’re to thank for Erawan’s destruction.”

Elide withdrew from his embrace, leading him from that room of sadness and candlelight. “Yrene is,” she said, walking until she found a quiet spot near a bank of windows overlooking the celebrating city. “I just came up with the idea.”

“Without the idea, we’d be filling the bellies of Erawan’s beasts.”

Elide rolled her eyes, despite all that had happened, all that lay before them. “It was a group effort, then.” She bit her lip. “Perranth—have you heard anything from Perranth?”

“A ruk rider arrived a few hours ago. It is the same there as it is here: with Erawan’s demise, the soldiers holding the city either collapsed or fled. Its people have reclaimed control, but those who were possessed will need healers. A group of them will be flown over tomorrow to begin.”

Relief threatened to buckle her knees. “Thank Anneith for that. Or Silba, I suppose.”

“They’re both gone. Thank yourself.”

Elide waved him off, but Lorcan kissed her.

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