Empire of Storms Throne of Glass

He sniffed it, and she knew his magic swept through it, probing the water for any poison or drug, while he floated four glasses over to them on a phantom wind. From the rocky outcropping on which her war tent groaned against the dry wind, Princess Elena Galathynius had monitored the dread-lord’s army all afternoon as it washed across those mountains in ebony waves. Aelin drew her eyes away from the beauty of their magic, the beauty of them, and found his face to be the most beautiful of all. Gavriel. “Let her go,” Fenrys growled at the dark queen, advancing a step. “Let her go now.” Maeve turned her head, that darkness still lashing Aelin. “Look who finally arrived.