Aelin Galathynius re-enters the capital the way a knife re-enters an old wound—quietly, purposefully, and only after calculating every drop of blood that might follow. The city that once trained her to kill now braces for a phantom queen who keeps two sets of ledgers: one for the lives she will save, and one for the lives she will spend. In Rifthold, freedom is not a single act of rebellion but a currency that compounds nightly; every ally printed on forged permits, every whispered true name, and every birth-ribbon traded on the Shadow Market raises the interest rate on tomorrow’s reprisals.

The arithmetic of vengeance is hers alone, and the cost is already climbing before the first dawn. Aelin's return is not merely a homecoming but a systematic dismantling of the facades she once wore. ...

Aelin Galathynius re-enters the capital the way a knife re-enters an old wound—quietly, purposefully, and only after calculating every drop of blood that might follow. The city that once trained her to kill now braces for a phantom queen who keeps two sets of ledgers: one for the lives she will save, and one for the lives she will spend. In Rifthold, freedom is not a single act of rebellion but a currency that compounds nightly; every ally printed on forged permits, every whispered true name, and every birth-ribbon traded on the Shadow Market raises the interest rate on tomorrow’s reprisals.

The arithmetic of vengeance is hers alone, and the cost is already climbing before the first dawn. Aelin's return is not merely a homecoming but a systematic dismantling of the facades she once wore. ...