Throne of Glass (Throne of Glass, #1)

by Sarah J. Maas

Princes are not supposed to be handsome! They’re sniveling, stupid, repulsive creatures! This one … this … How unfair of him to be royal and beautiful.

“Am I going to be blessed with the pleasure of hearing your voice, or have you resolved to be silent for the duration of our journey?” “I’m afraid your questions didn’t merit a verbal response.” Dorian bowed low. “Then I apologize, my lady! How terrible it must be to condescend to answer! Next time, I’ll try to think of something more stimulating to say.”

“Shall I gag you, or are you capable of being silent without my assistance?” He stared ahead at the Crown Prince, his face blank again.

She didn’t dream, but when she awoke, she couldn’t believe her eyes. Small white flowers lay at the foot of her cot, and many infant-sized footprints led in and out of the tent. Before someone could enter and notice, Celaena swept a foot over the tracks, destroying any trace, and stuffed the flowers into a nearby satchel.

Still, the image haunted his dreams throughout the night: a lovely girl gazing at the stars, and the stars who gazed back.

“Celaena.” He stopped a few feet from the guards. His eyes were rich, molten brown. “Yes?” Her heartbeat steadied. “You look rather pretty today,” was all he said before the doors opened and they walked forward. Celaena raised her chin as they entered the crowded room.

“Yes, well, hopefully you’ll read something of quality before I see you again.” He sniffed the air as he walked out of her room. “Hopefully you’ll take a bath before I see you again.” Sighing, Celaena called to her servants to draw her bath. An afternoon of reading on the balcony beckoned.

Celaena pulled another book toward her and grinned. It was as if someone had read her mind. It was a large black volume entitled The Walking Dead in tarnished silver letters.

“For the world’s greatest assassin, this is pathetic,” said Dorian, stepping from the doorway.

Find the evil in the castle … But the only truly evil thing in this world is the man ruling it.

“One of my bitches gave birth to a litter of mongrels. Before, they were too young to tell. But now … Well, I’d hoped for purebreds.” “Are we speaking of dogs or of women?” “Which would you prefer?” He gave her an impish grin. “Oh, hush up,” she hissed, and he chuckled.

“I like music,” she said slowly, “because when I hear it, I … I lose myself within myself, if that makes 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.” She chewed on her lip. “I used to want to be a healer. Back when I was … Back before this became my profession, when I was almost too young to remember, I wanted to be a healer.” She shrugged. “Music reminds me of that feeling.” She laughed under her breath. “I’ve never told anyone that,” she admitted, then saw his smile. “Don’t mock me.”

“I’m not married,” he said softly, “because I can’t stomach the idea of marrying a woman inferior to me in mind and spirit. It would mean the death of my soul.”

She wanted to touch him, to trace the line between his tan skin and the golden lining of the fabric.

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.

The snowflakes sparkled and shimmered beyond the glass panes of the window, twirling and weaving as they flew to the ground in a waltz that was beyond human comprehension.

“No fair maiden should die alone,” he said, putting a hand on hers. “Shall I read to you in your final moments? What story would you like?” She snatched her hand back. “How about the story of the idiotic prince who won’t leave the assassin alone?” “Oh! I love that story! It has such a happy ending, too—why, the assassin was really feigning her illness in order to get the prince’s attention! Who would have guessed it? Such a clever girl. And the bedroom scene is so lovely—it’s worth reading through all of their ceaseless banter!” “Out! Out! Out! Leave me be and go womanize someone else!” She grabbed a book and chucked it at him. He caught it before it broke his nose, and her eyes widened. “I didn’t mean—that wasn’t an attack! It was a joke—I didn’t mean to actually hurt you, Your Highness,” she said in a jumble.

“It’s Dorian, by the way. Not ‘Your Highness.’ ” “Very well.” “Say it.” “Say what?” “Say my name. Say, ‘Very well, Dorian.’ ” She rolled her eyes. “If it pleases Your Magnanimous Holiness, I shall call you by your first name.” “ ‘Magnanimous Holiness’? Oh, I like that one.”

“I will not read this.” She took the book from his hands, leaning back. “Then I suppose you’re just like Chaol.” “Chaol?” he asked, falling into the trap. “You asked Chaol to read this?” “He refused, of course,” she lied. “He said it wasn’t right for him to read this sort of material if I gave it to him.” Dorian snatched the book from her hands. “Give me that, you demon-woman. I’ll not have you matching us against each other.”

She felt Dorian watching her—and not in the cautious way that Chaol sometimes watched her. Rather, Dorian just seemed to be watching her because he enjoyed watching her. And she enjoyed watching him, too.

“What are you staring at?” “You’re beautiful,” Dorian said before he could think. “Don’t be stupid.” “Did I offend you?” His blood pumped through him in a strange rhythm. “No,” she said, and quickly faced the window.

“You look like a demon,” said Philippa. “Just don’t open your mouth and no one will notice.” “You and I both know that’s not possible.”

“Are you my present, or is there something in that basket at your feet?” she asked. “If you’d like to unwrap me,” he said, lifting the large wicker basket onto the table, “we still have an hour until the temple service.”

He picked up the brown bag of candy on the table. “What’s your …” He trailed off as he weighed the bag in his hands. “Didn’t I give you three pounds of candy?” She smiled impishly. “You ate half the bag!” “Was I supposed to save it?” “I would have liked some!” “You never told me that.” “Because I didn’t expect you to consume all of it before breakfast!”

“The Lady Lillian belongs to herself, and no one else.” “So she’s not with him?” “No.” Otho shrugged. “That’s strange.” “Why?” Chaol had the sudden urge to strangle him. “Because it looks like he’s in love with her,” he said, and walked away.

“I name you Elentiya.” She kissed the assassin’s brow. “I give you this name to use with honor, to use when other names grow too heavy. I name you Elentiya, ‘Spirit That Could Not Be Broken.’ ” Celaena was held in place. She could feel the name fall upon her like a shimmering veil. This was unconditional love. Friends like this did not exist. Why was she so fortunate as to have found one?

He was done with politics and intrigue. He loved her, and no empire, no king, and no earthly fear would keep him from her. No, if they tried to take her from him, he’d rip the world apart with his bare hands. And for some reason, that didn’t terrify him.

She snorted onto his chest, but he gently lifted her chin. His eyes were familiar—like something she’d forgotten. “I knew you’d win the moment I met you,” he whispered, and her heart writhed as she understood what lay before them. “Though I’ll admit that I didn’t quite see this coming. And … no matter how frivolous and twisted that competition was, I’m grateful it brought you into my life. As long as I live, I’ll always be thankful for that.”

“You could rattle the stars,” she whispered. “You could do anything, if you only dared. And deep down, you know it, too. That’s what scares you most.”

“Thank you for saving my life.” Elena bowed her head. “Blood ties can’t be broken,” she whispered, and then vanished, her words echoing in the silent tomb.