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That was expected by Adarlan’s most notorious assassin.
Chaol Westfall, Captain of the Royal Guard,
When she awoke every morning, she repeated the same words: I will not be afraid. For a year, those words had meant the difference between breaking and bending; they had kept her from shattering in the darkness of the mines.
“Fetch my slippers,” she mumbled. “The floor’s like ice.” He growled,
“Hopefully you’ll take a bath before I see you again.”
“One of my bitches gave birth to a litter of mongrels. Before, they were too young to tell. But now … Well, I’d hoped for purebreds.” “Are we speaking of dogs or of women?” “Which would you prefer?” He gave her an impish grin. “Oh, hush up,” she hissed, and he chuckled.
“No fair maiden should die alone,” he said, putting a hand on hers. “Shall I read to you in your final moments? What story would you like?”
As if she might look over her shoulder and find Sam Cortland crouching behind her.
Celaena watched him go, watched those powerful muscles shifting in his back, visible even through his dark tunic, suddenly grateful that this Lithaen had long ago left the castle.
“What will you stand for? Or will you only stand for yourself?”
And then her ears—her ears shifted into delicate points.
Sorscha was the daughter of two dead immigrants from a village in Fenharrow that had been burned to ash—a village that no one would ever remember. But that didn’t stop her from loving him, as she still did, invisible and secret, ever since she’d first laid eyes on him six years ago.
“Fae like you make me understand the King of Adarlan’s actions a bit more, I think.” Faster than she could sense, faster than anything had a right to be, he punched her.
“Baba Yellowlegs is dead.”
Oh shiiiiiiiii..... Caelena is f**ked..
Nevermind… I take back my statement. Apparently Manon and the Ironteeth were on a quest to kill Baba.
