Empire of Storms (Throne of Glass #5) by Sarah J. Maas

Lysandra stormed to tend to Gavriel, who had the good sense not to flinch at her still-snarling face, and Lorcan looked to Aedion to find the young general already watching him.

Hatred shone in Aedion’s eyes. Pure hatred. “Even before you got the order to stand down, you did nothing to help her. You summoned Maeve here. I will never forget that.”

Then he was striding for the beach—to where Rowan knelt in the sand.





Asterin was alive.

The Thirteen were alive. And it was joy in Manon’s heart—joy, she realized, as she beheld those smiling faces and smiled back.

She said to Asterin, all of them standing among their wyverns on a dune overlooking the sea, “How?”

Asterin brushed a hand over Elide’s hair as the girl wept into her shoulder. “Your grandmother’s bitches gave us one hell of a chase, but we managed to gut them. We’ve spent the past month looking for you. But Abraxos found us and seemed to know where you were, so we followed him.” She scratched at some dried blood on her cheek. “And saved your ass, apparently.”

Not soon enough, Manon thought, seeing Elide’s silent tears, the way the humans and Fae were either standing or arguing or just doing nothing.

Not soon enough to stop this. To save Aelin Galathynius.

“What do we do now?” Sorrel asked from where she leaned against her bull’s flank, wrapping up a slice in her forearm.

The Thirteen all looked to Manon, all waited.

She dared to ask, “Did you hear what my grandmother said before … everything?”

“The Shadows told us,” Asterin said, eyes dancing.

“And?”

“And what?” Sorrel grunted. “So you’re half Crochan.”

“Crochan Queen.” And heir to Rhiannon Crochan’s likeness. Had the Ancients noted it?

Asterin shrugged. “Five centuries of pure-blooded Ironteeth couldn’t bring us home. Maybe you can.”

A child not of war … but of peace.

“And will you follow me?” Manon asked them quietly. “To do what needs to be done before we can return to the Wastes?”

Aelin Galathynius had not beseeched Elena for another fate. She had only asked for one thing, one request of the ancient queen:

Will you come with me? For the same reason Manon had now asked them.

As one, the Thirteen lifted their fingers to their brows. As one, they lowered them.

Manon looked toward the sea, her throat tight.

“Aelin Galathynius willingly handed over her freedom so an Ironteeth witch could walk free,” Manon said. Elide straightened, pulling from Asterin’s arms. But Manon continued, “We owe her a life debt. And more than that … It is time that we became better than our foremothers. We are all children of this land.”

“What are you going to do?” Asterin breathed, her eyes so bright.

Manon looked behind them. To the north.

“I am going to find the Crochans. And I am going to raise an army with them. For Aelin Galathynius. And her people. And for ours.”

“They’ll never trust us,” Sorrel said.

Asterin drawled, “Then we’ll have to just be our charming selves.”

Some of them smirked; some of them shifted on their feet.

Manon said again to her Thirteen, “Will you follow me?”

And when they all touched their fingers to their brows again, Manon returned the gesture.





Rowan and Aedion were sitting silently on the beach. Gavriel had recovered enough from the shock of the oath’s severing that he and Lorcan were now standing atop the bluff, talking quietly; Lysandra was sitting alone, in ghost leopard form, amongst the waving seagrasses; and Dorian was just … watching them from the apex of a dune.

What Aelin had done … what she’d lied about …

Some of the blood on the ground had dried.

If Aelin was gone, if her life would indeed be the cost if she ever got free …

“Maeve doesn’t have the two keys,” Manon said from Dorian’s side, having crept up silently. Her coven lingered behind her, Elide ensconced within their ranks. “In case you were concerned.”

Lorcan and Gavriel turned toward them. Then Lysandra.

Dorian dared to ask, “Then where are they?”

“I have them,” Manon said simply. “Aelin slid them into my pocket.”

Oh, Aelin. Aelin. She’d worked Maeve into such a frenzy, made the queen so focused on capturing her that she hadn’t thought to confirm if Aelin held the keys before she vanished.

She’d been dealt such a wicked, impossible hand—and yet Aelin had made it count. One last time, she’d made it count.

“It’s why I couldn’t do anything about it,” Manon said. “To help her. I had to look uninvolved. Neutral.” From where he sat on the beach below, Aedion had twisted toward them, his keen Fae hearing feeding him every word. Manon said to all of them, “I am sorry. I’m sorry I couldn’t help.”

She reached into the pocket of her riding leathers and extended the Amulet of Orynth and a sliver of black stone to Dorian. He balked.

“Elena said Mala’s bloodline can stop this. It runs in both your houses.”

The golden eyes were weary—heavy. He realized what Manon was asking.

Aelin had never planned to see Terrasen again.