Because to stand against it would be to provoke the Mask's wrath. To stand against it would be to stand against Death itself. Death herself. Azriel shook, weathering that primal power. But they were both Illyrian, whether Az liked it or not. And so they did what their people had always done before Death's beautiful face. They bowed.

She batted her eyelashes & readjusted her shackles as if they were lace gloves.

She was Aelin Ashryver Galathynius—­and she would not be afraid.

We'll pretend my last words to you were something worthy of a song

Dance after dance after dance, until sweat was running down my back as I worked to keep up, keep that smile on my face, to remember to laugh when my hands were within strangling distance from his throat.