You are not trivial.

Celaena Sardothien, arrogant and brave and skilled, Celaena who did not know fear or despair, Celaena who was a weapon honed by Death.

She didn’t even have a throne or a court. Didn’t want them. And she could bring down the king as Celaena Sardothien, thank you very much.

“I came back for you. Just like I promised.”

“We get to come back, Dorian, we get to come back from this loss—from this darkness. We get to come back, and I came back for you.”

Over the demon’s screaming, he pushed—pushed, and looked out through its eyes. His eyes.
And saw Celaena Sardothien standing before him.

Dorian. His name was Dorian.
Dorian Havilliard, and he was the Crown Prince of Adarlan.
And Celaena Sardothien—Aelin Galathynius, his friend … she had come back for him.

“I don’t deserve this. No one will ever want to serve me. Your people will resent you for appointing me.”

“There is no one who deserves it more. There is no one else I’d want guarding my back. If my people cannot see the worth of a woman who sold herself into slavery for the sake of a child, who defended my court with no thought for her own life, then they are not my people. And they can burn in hell.”