She had a flicker of memory from a time when, just for a moment, she'd been free; when the world had been wide open and she'd been about to enter it with Sam at her side. It was a freedom that she was still working for, because even though she'd tasted it only for a heartbeat, it had been the most exquisite heartbeat she'd ever experienced.
I like music," she said slowly, "because when I hear it, I . . . I lose myself within myself, if that makes any sense. I become empty and full all at once, and I can feel the whole earth roiling around me. When I play. I'm not . . . for once, I'm not destroying, I'm creating.
There was a faint ringing in her ears that turned into a roar. And beneath it, a sudden wave of numbness, a too-familiar lack of sight or sound or feeling. She didn't know why it happened, because she had been so dead set on hating him, but . . . it would have been nice, she supposed. It would have been nice to have one person who knew the absolute truth about her—and didn't hate her for it.It would have been really, really nice.She walked away without another word. With each step she took back to her room, that flickering light inside of her guttered.And went out.
What Maeve didn't understand, what she could never understand, was just how much that little princess in Terrasen had damned them a decade ago, even worse than Maeve herself had. She had damned them all, and then left the world to burn into ash and dust.So Celaena turned away from the stars, nestling under the thread-bare blanket against the frigid cold, and closed her eyes, trying to dream of a different world.A world where she was no one at all.
The magic was boiling her blood. The darkness—it would be a relief compared to the hell smoldering in her veins. The Valg prince advanced, and part of her was screaming—screaming at herself to get up, to keep fighting, to rage and roar against this horrible end. But moving her limbs, even breathing, had become a monumental effort.She was so tired.
She would fill the world with it, with her light-her gift. She would light up the darkness, so brightly that all who were lost or wounded or broken would find their way to it, a beacon for those who still dwelled in that abyss. It would not take a monster to destroy a monster-but light, light to drive out the darkness.She was not afraid.
Nehemia was gone. That vibrant, fierce, loving soul; the princess who had been called the Light of Eyllwe; the woman who had been a beacon of hope—just like that, as if she were no more than a wisp of candlelight, she was gone.When it had mattered most Celaena hadn't been there.Nehemia was gone.
So she steeled herself. “I have never told anyone this story. No one in the world knows it. But it's mine,” she said, blinking past the burning in her eyes, “and it's time for me to tell it.”Rowan leaned back on the rock, bracing his palms behind him.“Once upon a time,” she said to him, to the world, to herself, “in a land long since burned to ash, there lived a young princess who loved her kingdom . . . very much.”And then she told him of the princess whose heart had burned with wildfire, of the mighty kingdom in the north, of its downfall and of the sacrifice of Lady Marion.
What are you doing?”Celaena lifted another piece of paper. “If His Pirateness can’t be bothered to clean for us, then I don’t see why I can’t have a look.”“He’ll be here any second,” Sam hissed. She picked up a flattened map, examining the dots and markings along the coastline of their continent. Something small and round gleamed beneath the map, and she slipped it into her pocket before Sam could notice.“Oh, hush,” she said, opening the hutch on the wall adjacent to the desk. “With these creaky floors, we’ll hear him a mile off.” The hutch was crammed with rolled scrolls, quills, the odd coin, and some very old, very expensive-looking brandy. She pulled out a bottle, swirling the amber liquid in the sunlight streaming through the tiny porthole window. “Care for a drink?
I'm not ill like that,” she groaned. He sat on her bed, peeling back the blanket. A servant entered, frowning at the mess on the floor, and shouted for help.“Then it what way?”“I,uh...” Her face was so hot she thought it would melt onto the floor. Oh you idiot. “My monthly cycles finally came back!”His face suddenly matched hers and he stepped away, dragging his hand through his short hair. “I-if...Then I'll take my leave,” he stammered, and bowed. Celaena raised an eyebrow, and then, despite herself, smiled as he left the room as quick as his feet could go without running, tripping slightly in the doorway as he staggered into the rooms beyond.
What's your name?" he asked above the roar of the music.She leaned close. "My name is Wind," she whispered. "And Rain. And Bone and Dust. My name is a snippet of a half-remembered song."He chuckled a low, delightful sound. She was drunk and silly, and so full of the glory of being young and alive and in the capital of the world that she could hardly contain herself."I have no name," she purred. "I am whoever the keepers of my fate tell me to be."He grasped her by her wrist, running a thumb along the sensitive sknin underneath. "Then let me call you Mine for a dance or two.
He grasped her by the wrist , running a thumb along the sensitive skin underneath. "Then let me call you Mine for a dance or two"She grinned but someone was suddenly between them, a tall, powerfully built person. Sam. He ripped the stranger's hand off of her wrist. "She's spoken for," he growled, all too close to the young man's maked face. The stranger's friend was behind him in an instant, his bronze eyes fixed on Sam.Celaena grabbed Sam's elbow. "Enough," she warned him.The masked stranger looked Sam up and down, then held up his hands. "My mistake," he said, but winked at Celaena before disappeared into the crowd, his armed friend close behind.Celaena whirled to face Sam. "What in hell was that for?""You're drunk," he told her, so close her chest brushed his, "And he knew it, too.""So?" Even as she said it, someone dancing wildly crashed into her and set her reeling. Sam caught her around the waist, his hands firm on her as he kept her from falling to the ground."You'll thank me in the morning." "Just because we're working together doesn't mean I'm suddenly incapable of handling myself." His hands were still on her waist."Let me take you home.
Thundering hooves beat the frozen ground, faster and faster as the rider whipped the horse. Snow and mud lay thick on the earth, and rogue snowflakes drifted through the night sky.Celaena ran—swifter than her young legs could manage. Everything hurt, Trees ripped at her dress and hair; stones sliced her feet. She scrambled through the woods, breathing so hard she couldn't muster the air to cry for help. She must reach the bridge. It couldn't cross the bridge.Behind her, a sword shrieked as it was drawn from its sheath.She fell, slamming into mud and rock. The sound of the approaching demon filled the air as she struggled to rise. But the mud held fast, and she could not run.Reaching for a bush, her small hands bleeding, the horse now close behind, she—
I was merely observing; I have no agenda." He looked at his hand, still touching hers. "Where did you get that ring?"She contracted her hand into a fist as she pulled it away from him. The amethyst in her ring glowed in the firelight. "It was a gift.""From whom?""That's none of your concern."He shrugged, though she knew betterthan to tell him who'd really given it to her - rather, she knew Chaol wouldn't want Dorian to know. "I'd like to know who's been giving rings to my Champion."The way the collar of his black jacket lay across his neck made her unnable to sit still. She wanted to touch him, to trace the line between his tan skin and the golden lining of the fabric."Billiards?" she asked, rising to her feet. I could use another lesson." Celaena didn't wait for his answer as she strode toward the gaming room. She very much wanted to stand close to him and have her skin warm under his breath. She liked that. Worse than that, she realized, she liked him.
She shook off his grip. "I am what I am, and I don't particularly care what you think of me.” "Well, I care what you think of me. I care enough that I stayed at this disgusting party for you. And I care enough that I'd attend a thousand more like it so I can spend a few hours with you when you aren't looking at me like I'M not worth the dirt beneath your shoes.
You're back," Sam said, as if he couldn't quite believe it.She lifted her chin, stuffing her hands in her pockets. "Obviously."He tilted his head slightly to the side. "How was the desert?"There wasn't a scratch on him. Of course, her face had healed too but... "Hot," she said. Sam let out a breathy chuckle.
He slumped down into the pen, and the puppies immediately leapt on him. "Perhaps I'll see you later tonight.""If you're lucky," Celaena purred, and walked away. She smiled to herself as they strode through the castle.Eventully Nehemia turned to her. "Do you like him?"Celaena made a face. "Of course not. Why would I?"You converse easily. It seems as if you have...a connection.""A connection?" Celaena choked on the word. "I just enjoy teasing him.""It's not a crime if you consider him handsome. I'll admit I judged him wrong; I thought him to be a pompous, selfish idiot, but he's not so bad.""He's a Havilliard.""My mother was the daughter of a chief who sought to overthrow my grandfather.""We're both silly. It's nothing.""He seems to take great interest in you."Celaena's head whipped around, her eyes full of long-forgotten fury that made her belly ache and twist. "I would sooner cut out my own heart than love a Havilliard," she snarled.They completed their walk in silence, and when they parted ways, Celaena quickly wished Nehemia a pleasant evening before striding to her part of the castle.
Celaena peered in the mirror—and stopped dead.The somewhat shorter hair was the least of the changes.She was now flushed with color, her eyes bright and clear, and though she'd regained the weight she'd lost during that winter, her face was leaner. A woman—a woman was smiling back at her, beautiful for every scar and imperfection and mark of survival, beautiful for the fact that the smile was real, and she felt it kindle the long-slumbering joy in her heart.