But why was their tomb so neglected? Why had no one been to honor the dead this day? Why were there not flowers at her head? Why was Elena Galathynius Havilliard forgotten?
Against the far wall of the chamber sat piles of jewels and weapons. A sword was prominently displayed before a suit of golden armor. She knew that sword. She stepped toward the treasure. It was the legendary sword of Gavin, the sword he had wielded in the fierce wars that had almost ripped apart the continent, the sword that had slain the Dark Lord Erawan. Even after a thousand years, it hadn’t rusted. Though magic might have vanished, it seemed that the power that had forged the blade lived on. “Damaris,” she whispered, naming the blade.
“You know your history,” said a light, female voice, and Celaena jumped, yelpin
