The Assassin and the Empire (Throne of Glass, #0.5)

by Sarah J. Maas

Arobynn’s smile grew, a practiced, elegant expression disguised as benevolence.

“You want to hear something ridiculous? Whenever I’m scared out of my wits, I tell myself: My name is Sam Cortland … and I will not be afraid.

“When we die,” she said, “I don’t think the gods will even know what to do with us.”

She shut her eyes and took a steadying breath. “Will you laugh if I say that I’m scared?” “No,” he said softly, “never.” “Maybe I should try your little trick.” She took another breath. “My name is Celaena Sardothien, and I will not be afraid.”

Sam was gone. Reality opened wide and swallowed her whole. She didn’t move from the bed.

A black fire rippled in her gut, spreading through her veins as she hopped onto the windowsill and eased outside.

Even without looking at him, she could sense his sheer mass—the darkness swirling around him.

A breeze filled the wagon, lifting away the smells of the past two weeks. Her trembling paused for a heartbeat. She knew that breeze. She knew the chill bite beneath it, knew the hint it carried of pine and snow, knew the mountains from which it hailed. A northern breeze, a breeze of Terrasen. She must stand up.