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This girl wasn’t like wildfire—she was wildfire. Deadly and uncontrollable. And slightly out of her wits.
“Where do men find it in themselves to do such monstrous things? How do they find it acceptable?”
No; it was the memory of Sam’s face that had stopped her from kissing him.
She slowly turned. With the ongoing rain, the hall was full of shadows and light. Sam stood so still that he might have been a statue. “My price was his oath that he’d never lay a hand on you again. I told him I’d forgive him in exchange for that.”
“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.
In the silence of her bedroom, she swore an oath to the moonlight that if Sam were hurt, no force in the world would hold her back from slaughtering everyone responsible.
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.
But she squared her shoulders. Straightened her spine. “My name is Celaena Sardothien,” she whispered, “and I will not be afraid.”
