Aedion snorted. “Hurry up with the eggs. I'm going to die of starvation.”
“Make the bacon, or you don't get any.”
Aedion could hardly move fast enough.

Aelin would come back, and when she did . . . With every breath, Aedion felt that lingering scent wrapping tighter around his heart and soul. When she came back, he was never letting her go.

Ashryver eyes met her own, and she touched the face that was the other side of her fair coin.
"For Terrasen," she said to him
"For our family."
"For Marion."
"For us."

Slowly Aedion drew his blade and knelt, his head bowed as he lifted the Sword of Orynth. "Ten years of shadows, but no longer. Light up the darkness, Majesty."
She did not have room in her heart for tears, would not allow or yield to them.
Aelin took her father's sword from him, its weight a steady, solid reassurance.
Aedion rose, returning to his place beside Rowan.
She looked at them, at the three males who meant everything—more than everything.
Then she smiled with every last shred of courage, of desperation, of hope for the glimmer of that glorious future. "Let's go rattle the stars.

Aedion rubbed at his face. "Do you understand what it was like to sit on my ass while you were gone? You said two hours. What was I supposed to think?"
"Aedion," she said as calmly as she could, and pulled off her filthy gloves before taking his broad, callused hand. "I get it. I do.

Eyllwe,” Chaol breathed. “Send word to Eyllwe. Tell them to hold on—tell them to prepare.” Perhaps it was the light, perhaps it was the cold, but Aedion could have sworn there were tears in the captain's eyes as he said, “Tell them it's time to fight back.

Rowan lifted his eyebrows. Are you all right?
She nodded. I just want to get through these two days and be done with it.
"That will never stop being strange," Aedion muttered.
"Deal with it," she told him, carrying the suit into the bedroom. "Let's go hunt ourselves a pretty little demon.