Faster and faster, those three bulls closed in. Lysandra remained at the mouth of the bay. Holding the line. Aedion’s heart stopped. “She’s dead,” one of the sentries hissed. “Oh, gods, she’s dead – ” “Shut your rutting mouth,” Aedion snarled, scanning the bay, slipping into that cold, calculating place that allowed him to make decisions in battle, to weigh the costs and risks.
-Sarah J. Maas
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