Rowan watching Aelin play “Once she had started seeing the notes in her mind again, when muscle memory had her fingers reaching for those familiar chords, she began. It was not the sorrowful, lovely piece she had once played for Dorian, and it was not the light, dancing melodies she’d played for sport; it was not the complex and clever pieces she had played for Nehemia and Chaol. This piece was a celebration—a reaffirmation of life, of glory, of the pain and beauty in breathing. Perhaps th...
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