Throne of Glass (Throne of Glass #0.1–0.5, 1–7)

by Sarah J. Maas

Still, the image haunted his dreams throughout the night: a lovely girl gazing at the stars, and the stars who gazed back.

Chaol wasn’t nearly as smart as he thought he was.

He never fucking is

Libraries were full of ideas—perhaps the most dangerous and powerful of all weapons.

She’d shut Cain up—in an unmarked grave for all eternity. But for now … Now, she’d make Chaol eat his words.

“And what’s wrong with headstrong girls?” she pressed. “Other than the fact that they’re not wooden-headed ninnies who can only open their mouths to give orders and gossip?” “I just prefer a certain type of woman.”

God I fucking hate this man

her fists aching to bash his teeth down his throat.

Leaning against the doorway, Dorian stood, utterly transfixed. She’d been playing for some time with her back to him. He wondered when she’d notice him, or if she’d ever stop at all. He wouldn’t mind listening forever. He had come here with the intention of embarrassing a snide assassin, and had instead found a young woman pouring her secrets into a pianoforte.

They could never make me hate you Dorian

“No. I can survive well enough on my own—if given proper reading material.”

Same

Nehemia looked after Cain, and her dark eyes narrowed. “Something about him makes me want to beat in his face.”

He knew her somehow. And he knew she wouldn’t harm him.

Had she somehow brought all of this upon herself, then?

“No. Yes. It’s interesting: some theories suggest the Mother Goddess is just a spirit from one of these other worlds, and that she strayed through something called a Wyrdgate and found Erilea in need of form and life.”

“There’s an idea that before the Goddess arrived, there was life—an ancient civilization, but somehow, they disappeared. Perhaps through that Wyrdgate thing. Ruins exist—ruins too old to be of Fae making.”

The fae that ended up in CC?

A shriek of rage ripped from her throat, and Celaena ran over to the pocket. She first screamed at the ball, then took the cue in her hands and bit down upon the shaft, still screaming through her clamped teeth. Finally the assassin stopped and slapped the three ball into the pocket.

The irrational rage. Definitely me.

Something was brought to life and laid to sleep in his gaze.

The princess traced a mark on her hand, her fingers pressing into Celaena’s skin. “You bear many names, and so I shall name you as well.” Her hand rose to Celaena’s forehead and she drew an invisible mark. “I name you Elentiya.” She kissed the assassin’s brow. “I give you this name to use with honor, to use when other names grow too heavy. I name you Elentiya, ‘Spirit That Could Not Be Broken.’ ”

Nehemiah….

“You could rattle the stars,” she whispered. “You could do anything, if you only dared. And deep down, you know it, too. That’s what scares you most.”

“Why?” Celaena dared ask. “Why answer? Why do I need to be the King’s Champion?” Elena lifted her face toward the moonlight streaming into the tomb. “Because there are people who need you to save them as much as you yourself need to be saved,”

“Tell me tomorrow.”

“If she’s so damn powerful and knows so much, then she can go find the king’s source of power herself.” “It is your fate, and your responsibility.”

IT SHOULD HAVE BEEN ELENAS BURDEN

He was so stupidly honorable and loyal to the king that he didn’t even think that she could have done something to prevent this.

That’s cause he’s the worst Celaena. Get it together.

“If they let you out,” Kaltain said, both of them staring into the blackness of their prisons, “make sure that they’re punished someday. Every last one of them.”

Silently, she began to recite the names of her dead. And as the overseer raised his whip, she added her name to the end of that list and swung her ax into his gut.

I’m not crying you are

studied her from head to toe, sniffing once. “Nameless is my price,” Yellowlegs said. “But gold will do for now.”

Had it been a deliberate move on her part? Something to throw in his face, make him ache just a bit more?

I did, Elentiya, I want you to know that in the darkness of the past ten years, you were one of the bright lights for me. Do not let that light go out.”

“I’ll come back,” she said quietly. “I’ll come back for you.”

Celaena Sardothien was Aelin Ashryver Galathynius, heir to the throne and rightful Queen of Terrasen.

But then a deep male voice chuckled from the shadows behind her.

My man my man my man

As she reached into her cloak for her own hidden dagger, she realized he might have been handsome were it not for the promise of violence in his pine-green eyes.

He could probably kill her without a second thought—and then move on to his next task, utterly untroubled by ending her existence. It didn’t unnerve her as much as it should have.

Because a broken, unpredictable assassin was one thing. But a queen …

Chaol I hate you with every fiber of my being

“I make it my business to know when the power brokers of the realm meet their end.”

Silent as death, Manon slid up behind him. The fool didn’t even know she was there until she brought her mouth close to his ear and whispered, “Wrong kind of witch.”

Swoon

Celaena bit her tongue hard enough to keep her gods-damned smart-ass mouth shut.

Left. Nehemia. Right. You made a vow, and you will keep it, by whatever means necessary. Left. Training. Queen. Right. Bitch. Manipulative, cold-blooded, sadistic bitch.

And then she said one of the foulest things she’d ever uttered in her life, bathing in the pure hate of it. “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.

Eh deserved

She’d been running for so long that she didn’t know what it was to stand and fight.

It had been a while—too damn long—but Manon could feel the threads of fate twisting around them, tightening.

She could not remember what it was like to be free.

Oh Aelin.

Obedience. Discipline. Brutality. They did not descend to boasting.

Chaol had helped shove her over that edge. She was still on the fall down. There was no getting up, because there was no bottom.

Because Chaol is the absolute worst

“We are the Thirteen, from now until the Darkness claims us.” She said it quietly, but knew all could hear her. “Let’s remind them why.”

Such dead, joyless eyes. She had a feeling she looked like that these days. She knew she had looked like that the night Chaol had caught her gutting Archer in the tunnel. What had left Rowan so soulless?

And that’s when he bit her. She cried out as those canines pierced the spot between her neck and shoulder, a primal act of aggression—the bite so strong and claiming that she was too stunned to move.

Rowan grinned. “There you are.”

*smirking*

She probably tasted like a sewer to him.

I doubt it

A pulse beat against her, nipping, smelling of snow and pine. Rowan’s power, taunting hers.

She was forgetting what Nehemia looked like. The shade of her eyes, the curve of her lips, the smell of her. Her laugh. The roaring in Celaena’s head went quiet, silenced by that familiar nothingness.

“Why don’t I give you the lashing you deserve?” He looked so dead set on it that she blinked. “If you ever take a whip to me, I will skin you alive.”

Stfu Rowan. I love you but stfu.