Empire of Storms

Dramatic rescues give him purpose and fulfillment in his dull, immortal life.”

Unleashing a cry that set the world trembling, Prince Rowan Whitethorn Galathynius, Consort of the Queen of Terrasen, began the hunt to find his wife.

“When we are done, I will join you in Terrasen, Aedion,” the King of Adarlan promised. “So that when you get back, Rowan—when both of you get back—there will be something left to fight for.”

Aelin Galathynius had raised an army not just to challenge Morath … but to rattle the stars.

Fight her. I am coming for you. Even if it takes me a thousand years. I will find you, I will find you, I will find you.

“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.”

Rowan hissed, “Where is my wife?”

Lorcan swayed where he knelt.

Wife.

Wife.

“I strip you of the blood oath. I strip you of your assets and your titles and your properties. You, like Gavriel, are released with dishonor and shame. You are exiled from Doranelle for your disobedience, your treachery. Should you step foot inside my borders, you will die.”

“My sister Mab’s line ran true. The full powers, shifting abilities, and the immortality of the Fae. You’re likely about five years away from Settling.”

“At Temis’s temple,” Aelin admitted, glancing to Manon. “The moment the arrow went through his shoulder. Months ago.”