Tower of Dawn

“We don’t look back,” he said, meeting her stare. “It helps no one and
nothing to look back.” The way he said it … It seemed as if it meant something more. To him, at least.

But Chaol’s smile grew, his eyes lighting as he added, “We can only go on.”

To the handwriting he knew as well as his own.

Yrene went still at the tears he could not stop from sliding down his face.

No longer Yrene Towers—but Yrene Westfall.

He’d never seen anything so remarkable as that healing: the blinding glow of her hands, the near-holy expression on her face.

“The owl must be the Fae form of a healer. Some healer of hers that she keeps close—as a bodyguard. Has let everyone believe to be some pet …”

Hafiza peered over Eretia’s shoulder and wryly asked Yrene, “Are you certain this pushy man was worth the cost?”

Duva. The khagan’s now-youngest daughter.

She smiled at them as they approached—and the expression was not human.

It was Valg.

Chaol took a shuddering breath. “What did Aelin promise you?”

Hasar smiled to herself. “A better world.”

He survived long enough to explain what had been done, but I think he was fading fast. Then Aelin destroyed the castle. And him with it.”

And if Yrene had not loved him already, she would have loved him then, learning that truth. Seeing the man he was becoming, turning into, after all of it.