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

by Sarah J. Maas

She’d killed men, freed slaves, stolen horses, but she’d never kissed anyone.

what a crazy concept

learn to endure pain, you can survive anything.

For the first time in a long while, she heard the song of a northern wind, calling her home. And she was not afraid.

The Mute Master had told her that people dealt with their pain in different ways—that some chose to drown it, some chose to love it, and some chose to let it turn into rage.

“Well, I care what you think of me. I care enough that I stayed at this disgusting party just 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 a damned idiot,” she breathed. “You’re a moron and an ass and a damned idiot.” He looked like she had hit him. But she went on, and grasped both sides of his face, “Because I’d pick you.” And then she kissed him.

“We have all the time in the world.” Maybe he was right. And spending all the time in the world with Sam … That was a treasure worth paying anything for.

She was fire, she was darkness, she was dust and blood and shadow.

Now that Sam was dead, there wasn’t anything left outside of the dungeons worth fighting for, anyway. Not when Adarlan’s Assassin was crumbling apart, and her world with her. The girl who’d taken on a Pirate Lord and his entire island, the girl who’d stolen Asterion horses and raced along the beach in the Red Desert, the girl who’d sat on her own rooftop, watching the sun rise over the Avery, the girl who’d felt alive with possibility … that girl was gone.

It was her fault, all of it, set in motion the day she’d arrived in Skull’s Bay and decided to make a stand for something.

She would tuck Sam into her heart, a bright light for her to take out whenever things were darkest. And then she would remember how it had felt to be loved, when the world had held nothing but possibility. No matter what they did to her, they could never take that away. She would not break.

“My name is Celaena Sardothien,” she whispered, “and I will not be afraid.”