Kingdom of Ash (Throne of Glass) by Sarah J. Maas

Author:Sarah J. Maas [Maas, Sarah J.]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
ISBN: 9781619636101
Publisher: Bloomsbury Publishing
Published: 2018-10-23T00:00:00+00:00

This first battle would set the tone.

It would set the tone, and send a message. Not to Morath.

Impress us, Hasar had said.

So she would. So she’d picked the golden armor and her battle-crown. And waited until dawn, until that siege tower slammed into the battlements, before unleashing herself.

To keep the men here from breaking, to wipe away the fear festering in their eyes.

To convince the khaganate royals of what she might do, what she could do. Not a threat, but a reminder.

She was no helpless princess. She had never been.

Goldryn sang with each swipe, her mind as cool and sharp as the blade while she assessed each enemy soldier, their weapons, and took them down accordingly. She dimly knew that Rowan fought at her side, Gavriel and Fenrys battling near her left flank.

But she was keenly aware of the mortal men who leaped into the fray with cries of defiance. They’d made it this far. They would survive today, too. And the khaganate royals would know it.

Galloping hooves drowned out the battle, and then Chaol was there, sword flashing, driving into the unending tide that rushed from the tower’s entrance.

“To Lord Chaol! To the queen!”

How far they both were from Rifthold. From the assassin and the captain.

Arrows rose from the army beyond the wall, but a wave of icy wind snapped them into splinters before they could find any marks.

A dark blur plunged past, and then Lorcan was at the siege tower’s mouth, his sword swinging so fast Aelin could barely follow it. He battled his way across the metal bridge of the tower, into the stairwell beyond. Like he’d fight his way down the ramps and onto the battlefield itself.

Below, a boom began. Morath had brought in their battering ram.

Aelin smiled grimly. She’d bring them all down. Then Erawan. And then she’d unleash herself upon Maeve.

At the opposite end of the field, the khagan’s army pushed, gaining the field step by step.

Not helpless. Not contained. Never again.

Death became a melody in her blood, every movement a dance as the tide of soldiers pouring from the tower slowed. As if Lorcan was indeed forcing his way down the interior. Those who got past him met her blade, or Rowan’s. A flash of gold, and Gavriel had slaughtered his way into the siege tower as well, twin blades a whirlwind.

What Lorcan and the Lion would do upon reaching the bottom, how they’d dislodge the tower, she didn’t know. Didn’t think about it.

Not from this place of killing and movement, of breath and blood. Of freedom.

Death had been her curse and her gift and her friend for these long, long years. She was happy to greet it again under the golden morning sun.

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