The Assassin's Blade (Throne of Glass, #0.1-0.5)

by Sarah J. Maas

“Celaena?” Sam asked into the dark. “Should I worry about going to sleep?” She blinked, then laughed under her breath. At least Sam took her threats somewhat seriously. She wished she could say the same for Rolfe. “No,” she said. “Not tonight.” “Some other night, then,” he mumbled. Within minutes, he was out.

“Nervous?” he asked, his voice barely audible above the steady slice of his oars through the calm bay. “No,” she lied. “Me, too.”

As Sam slipped a hand around her waist, his touch somehow sending a bright-hot flame through her, she had to wonder if he was still pretending, too.

“If we live through this, Celaena,” Sam said, heading toward the side street that led to the docks, “remind me to teach you how to play cards properly.”

Celaena’s heart gave a lurch. Sam. He couldn’t be dead. Not from that dagger, or those dozen pirates, or from the catapult. No, Sam couldn’t be so stupid that he’d get himself killed. She’d … she’d … Well, she’d kill him if he was dead.

Before she knew what she was doing, Celaena threw her arms around him and held him close. Sam stiffened, but after a heartbeat, his arms came around her. She breathed him in—the smell of his sweat, the tang of the dust and rock, the metallic odor of his blood … Sam rested his cheek on her head. She couldn’t remember—honestly couldn’t recall—the last time anyone had held her.

“Sam,” she murmured into his chest. “Hmm?” She peeled away from him, stepping out of his arms. “If you ever tell anyone about me embracing you … I’ll gut you.” Sam gaped at her, then tipped his head back and laughed. He laughed and laughed, until dust lodged in his throat and he launched into a coughing fit. She let him suffer through it, not finding it very funny at all.