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And when he turned seventeen and had the Bidding Party for his virginity, there had been rumors of actual brawls breaking out among would-be patronesses.
Can we talk about how horrible this is
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’ve only heard my clients whispering about it, every now and then. But there’s a group that’s formed, right here in Rifthold, and they want to put Aelin Galathynius back on Terrasen’s throne.” Her heart stopped beating. Aelin Galathynius, the lost heir of Terrasen. “Aelin Galathynius is dead,” she breathed.
SHE HAS TO BE AELIN
If it were true … No, it wasn’t true. If these people actually claimed to have met the heir to the throne, then she had to be an imposter.
What do you mean imposter??
Even though the heir had to be an imposter, the movement itself was worth looking into. Elena had said to look for clues; she might find some here.
“Believe me, Celaena,” he snarled, his eyes flashing, “I know you can look after yourself. But I worry because I care. Gods help me, I know I shouldn’t, but I do. So I will always tell you to be careful, because I will always care what happens.”
Lysandra—a courtesan with whom Celaena had a long, violent history, and someone she was fairly certain she’d kill if she ever saw again.
Was she after Sam
Did Chaol know about this? Given how he’d reacted to killing Cain, she didn’t think torturing and hanging traitors were a part of his duties—or were even mentioned to him. Or Dorian, for that matter. But if Chaol wasn’t in charge of interrogating possible traitors, then who was? Was this person the source who had given the king his latest list of traitors to the crown? Oh, there were too many things to consider, too many secrets and tangled webs.
A book with a single Wyrdmark written on the spine in bloodred ink.
It is only with the eye that one can see rightly.
gloriella, a mild poison that caused hours of paralysis. It had been used the night she was captured to knock her down, to make her helpless to fight back as she was handed over to the king’s men and thrown into the royal dungeons.
Gloriella
But she knew the gloriella was already racing through her, just as it had on the days after she’d lain beside Sam’s broken corpse, smelling the musky smoke still clinging to him.
What a horrible death he had
Her confounded dress got in the way,
The worlds greatest assasin didnt wear a more functional dress really
He was glad Davis was dead. Because if Davis had survived, Chaol would have gone back to finish the job himself.
He was instantly awake and alert, leaning toward her as if he, too, always knew where she was.
“Are you going to tell the king?” He crossed his arms, coming to the edge of the bed and staring down at her. “No.” Again, that volatile temper burned in his eyes. “Because I don’t feel like having to argue that you’re still capable of spying without getting caught. My men will keep their mouths shut, too. But the next time you do anything like this, I am going to throw you in the dungeons.” “For killing him?” “For scaring the hell out of me!”
I feel like he may betray her
She’d hardly known where she was going while the gloriella tore through her; all she’d known was that she had to get someplace safe. And somehow, she had wound up exactly where she knew she’d be safest.
What about beneath this level? The library was probably too far away to connect to the tunnels attached to her rooms, but there could be more forgotten places beneath the castle.
Bryaxis you there bud
Chaol had said something once about a legend regarding a second library underground—in catacombs and tunnels. If she were doing something that she didn’t want others to find out about, if she were some foul creature who needed a place to hide …
Secret library
It was here that the sconces ran out—and a glance down the back wall of the library revealed utter darkness.
SJM really loves a creepy dark library
A nightmare—of teeth and shadows and glinting daggers. Just a nightmare.
As he turned, he could have sworn he caught a glimpse of a faint ring of frost around where his body had lain on the couch.
You good Dorian
No; this tapestry, woven from red thread so dark it looked black, depicted … nothing. She touched the ancient strands, marveling at the hue, so deep that it seemed to swallow her fingers in its darkness. The hair on the back of her neck rose, and Celaena put a hand on her dagger as she pulled the tapestry aside. She swore. And swore again. Another secret door greeted her.
Red/black tapestry color motif
As she descended, the images of battle shifted and moved in the firelight, and she could have sworn that the stone faces turned to watch her go. She stopped looking at the walls.
This time, the gray stone depicted a forest. A forest, and— Fae.
Why had Gavin picked this site to build his castle? Had there been something here before? Or something beneath it worth hiding?
Ooooh
Iron was the one element immune to magic; she remembered that much. There had been so many kinds of magic-wielders ten years ago—people whose power was believed by some to have long ago originated from the gods themselves, despite the King of Adarlan’s claim that magic was an affront to the divine.
This one was ancient, from a time when an iron door meant something. So was this supposed to keep someone out—or to keep something in?
Two gleaming, green-gold orbs flashed in the shadows beyond. She lunged back, swiping the dagger with her, biting down on her lip to keep from cursing aloud. Eyes. Eyes gleaming in the dark—eyes like an … an … She sighed through her nose, relaxing slightly. Eyes like an animal. Like a rat. Or a mouse. Or some feral cat.
Rena Goldsmith
Wtf is rena
She’d seen Rena perform only once before—years ago, at the Royal Theater, on a cold winter night like this. For two hours, the theater was so still that it seemed as if everyone had stopped breathing. Rena’s voice had floated through Celaena’s head for days afterward.
Oh the music
the story of a Fae woman blessed with a horrible, profound power that was sought by kings and lords in every kingdom. While they used her to win wars and conquer nations, they all feared her—and kept their distance.
Is this a prophecy of her
As they traveled to his kingdom, his fear turned to love—and he saw her not for the power she wielded, but for the woman beneath. Of all the kings and emperors who had come courting her with promises of wealth beyond imagining, it was the knight’s gift, of seeing her for who she was—not what she was—that won her heart.
She shouldn’t cry, not here, not with these people around her. But then a warm, calloused hand grasped hers beneath the table, and she turned her head to find Chaol looking at her. He smiled slightly—and she knew he understood.
She had never looked at him like that. Not once. Not even for a heartbeat.
Poor dorian
She deserved a loyal, brave knight who saw her for what she was and did not fear her. And he deserved someone who would look at him like that, even if the love wouldn’t be the same, even if the girl wouldn’t be her.
Doriannnnn
“It is punishable by death to speak of or to encourage magic. It is an affront to the gods, and an affront to me that you sang such a song in my hall.”
A queer, calm rage settled over her lined face, and she lifted her chin. “I have worked for ten years to become famous enough to gain an invitation to this castle. Ten years, so I could come here to sing the songs of magic that you tried to wipe out. So I could sing those songs, and you would know that we are still here—that you may outlaw magic, that you may slaughter thousands, but we who keep the old ways still remember.”
BRUH THEY ARE GOING TO KILL HER
“You can only see the face when you stand on the stag,” Nehemia whispered.
“Lie to you? To you? Oh, I couldn’t lie to you. You asked me whether it makes sense, and I said no. You must learn to ask the right questions before you can receive the right answers.”
Fucking love mort
“I’m a door knocker; it’s not in my nature to make promises.”
“Oho!” cackled Mort from the hall. “Are you sure you’re not too dim to understand?”
But the Wyrdmarks seemed so connected to everything, somehow—even to that eye riddle and this stupid trick wall.
The eye in the tomb hadn’t been the solution to the riddle.
Is her necklace connected
Celaena fiddled with the chain of her amulet—then went rod-straight. The Eye. “Do you think it could be this Eye?” “No,” Nehemia said. “It wouldn’t be that easy.”
Thats what i am saying
youre not even going thing try Nehemiah
Nehemiah is kinda sus for this
“What sort of man just hands out this information like it’s nothing more than morning gossip?”
Good ass question
even though seeing her cry during Rena Goldsmith’s song had stirred him so bone deep it was like he’d found a part of him he hadn’t even realized was missing.
“Dance with me,” he said, and held out his hand to her.
“We’ll never be a normal boy and girl, will we?” she managed to say. “No,” he breathed, eyes blazing. “We won’t.”
that moment, after ten long years, Celaena looked at Chaol and realized she was home.
