Nesryn sipped from her tea, considering her words. Her aunt and uncle, at least, gave her the gift of waiting for her to speak. Her sister would have been shaking her shoulders by now, demanding an answer. There was an attack at the Torre the other night. A young healer was killed by an intruder. The murderer has not yet been found.
She cant do it with the iron, Elide said. If its on her hands. It interferes with the magic in the blood.A blink from her, in that silent language.
Its why she put them on you, isnt it, Elide said, her chest straining. To be sure you couldnt use your own blood with the Wyrdmarks to free yourself. As if all the other iron wasnt already enough.Another blink, her face still so hollow and cold. Tired.Rowans jaw clenched. But he just dipped his finger into the blood in his palm and offered his hand to her. Show me, Fireheart, he said again.
Elide could have sworn he shuddered, and not from fear, as Aelins metal-crusted hand closed around his.In halting, small movements, she guided his finger to trace the symbol onto the shackle around her ankle.
A soft flare of greenish light, then—
The hiss and sigh of the lock filled the clearing. The shackle tumbled to the moss.She watched him in silence. He is fine now, though.
I dont know. He is free—he is alive. But is he fine? He suffered. Greatly. In ways I cant begin to … His throat tightened to the point of pain. It should have been me. I had always planned for it to be me instead.A tear slid over the bridge of her nose.
Chaol scooped it up with his finger before it could slide to the other side.Yrene held his stare for a long moment, her tears turning those eyes near-radiant in the sun. He didnt know how long had passed. How long it had taken for her to even attempt to cleave that darkness—just a little.