It was too hard.
Aelin had been trying ever since she'd been locked in this gods-damned box to burrow deep into her mind, to try and block out the pain. But it was so hard. Every time that she'd locked herself away, something would yank her back, shoving her into the world that was pain and sorrow and guilt.
Dimly, she heard voices around her. Maeve, talking in her cold voice to Cairn. An order. Giving an order.
Aelin mentally slapped herself. Closing her eyes against the penetrating darkness, she tried again. Labored to haul up the mental shields. Built those walls again, brick by brick. The sounds around her became shapeless mumbles. The pain in her back became a dull throb. And her senses opened up, allowing her to feel towards the back of her mind. To Rowan.
Lightly, barely daring to hope, she tugged. Waited for some glimmer of a response.
Nothing.
So once again Aelin curled up, letting her mind drift as far away as was possible.