““If the heir of Terrasen, Aelin Galathynius, had lived, would she have become a friend, an ally? His bride, perhaps? He’d met her once, in the days before her kingdom became a charnel house. The memory was hazy, but she’d been a precocious, wild girl—and had set her nasty, brutish older cousin on him in order to teach Dorian a lesson for spilling tea on her dress. Dorian rubbed his neck. Of course, as fate would have it, her cousin wound up becoming Aedion Ashryver, his father’s prodigy general and the fiercest warrior in the north. He’d met Aedion a few times over the years, and at each encounter with the haughty young general, he’d gotten the distinct impression that Aedion wanted to kill him.””
