““And his eyes … Haunted, but clear. Alive. Chaol’s vision burned and blurred. She had done it. Aelin had done it. Chaol’s face crumpled. “I didn’t realize I looked that bad,” Dorian said, his voice raw. He knew then—that the demon inside the prince was gone. Chaol wept. Dorian surged from the chair and dropped to his knees beside the bed. He grabbed Chaol’s hand, squeezing it as he pressed his brow against his. “You were dead,” the prince said, his voice breaking. “I thought you were dead.” Chaol at last mastered himself, and Dorian pulled back far enough to scan his face. “I think I was,” he said. “What—what happened?” So Dorian told him. Aelin had saved his city.””
