He wouldn't let his servants change the sheets on his bed because they still smelled like her, because he went to sleep dreaming that she was still lying beside him.

But death was her curse and her gift, and death had been her good friend these long, long years.

He'd known, since the moment he figured out who she was, that while Celaena would always pick him, Aelin would not.

It was heavy, and I staggered when I lifted it; but it was strangely satifying to have a real burden upon my shoulders – a kind of counterweight to my terrible heaviness of heart.

...are you as deft at handling your sword as Captain Westfall?"
"Better," he whispered in her ear.

She knew he meant it. He’d burn the library, the city or the whole world to ashes if she asked him. It was their bond, marked by blood and scent and something else she couldn’t place. A tether as strong as the one that bound her to her parents. Stronger, in some ways.