I was not supposed to love you. The woman had said that—and then she died. She should not have loved him, and he should not have dared to love her. He deserved this darkness, and once the invisible boundary shattered and the waiting thing pounced, infiltrating and filling him … he’d have earned it.

Sorscha returned to her work. She was certain he'd forgotten her name the moment he left. Dorian was heir to the mightiest empire in the world, and Sorscha was the daughter of two dead immigrants from a village in Fenharrow that had been burned to ash—a village that no one would ever remember.But that didn't stop her from loving him, as she still did, invisible and secret, ever since she'd first laid eyes on him six years ago.

Maybe there could be no future, no hope of anything more, but just looking at him standing there, in this moment, she wanted to be selfish and stupid and wild. It could all go to hell tomorrow, but she had to know what it was like, just for a little while, to belong to someone, to be wanted and cherished.He did not move, didn't do anything but stare—seeing her exactly how she saw him—as she grabbed the lapels of his tunic, pulled his face down to hers, and kissed him fiercely.

The following day she didn't expect the messenger who arrived after breakfast, asking for the name of her village. And when she hesitated, he said the Crown Prince wanted to know.Wanted to know, so he could have it added to his personal map of the continent.

Yet no matter what happened tomorrow, or next week, or next year, she was grateful. Grateful to the gods, to fate, to herself for being brave enough to kiss him that night. Grateful for this little bit of time she'd been given with him.

No, the quest did not end here. Not even close. Dorian slid the keys into his pocket.And the road that now sprawled before him, curving into unknown, awaiting shadow . . . it did not frighten him.

Dorian walked slowly back to his rooms, his heart racing. He could still feel her lips on his, smell the scent of her hair, and see the gold in her eyes flickering in the candlelight. Consequences be damned. He'd find a way to make it work; he'd find a way to be with her. He had to.He had leapt from the cliff. He could only wait for the net.

Kaltain Rompier had just turned the tide of this war.Dorian had never been more ashamed of himself.He should have been better. Should have seen better. They all should have.

She had been willing to yield everything to save Terrasen, to save all of them. He could do nothing less. Aelin certainly had more to lose. A mate and husband who loved her. A court who’d follow her into hell. A kingdom long awaiting her return.All he had was an unmarked grave for a healer no one would remember, a broken empire, and a shattered castle.

I took his name, Erawan spat, writhing as the words flowed from his tongue under Damaris's power. I wiped it away from existence. Yet he only remembered it once. Only once. The first time He behelded you.Tears slid down Dorian's face at the unbearable truth.