““She faced Chaol. The wind ripped a few strands of hair from her braid, and she tucked them behind her ears. “No matter what happens,” she said quietly, “I want to thank you.” Chaol tilted his head to the side. “For what?” Her eyes stung, but she blamed it on the fierce wind and blinked away the dampness. “For making my freedom mean something.” He didn’t say anything; he just took the fingers of her right hand and held them in his, his thumb brushing the ring she wore. “Let the second duel commence,” the king boomed, waving a hand toward the veranda. Chaol squeezed her hand, his skin warm in the frigid air. “Give him hell,” he said.””
