The Assassin's Blade by Sarah J. Maas

She cared for him more than she’d ever cared for anyone. Now that she’d ruined the career he’d worked for his whole life, she’d hand over all her money to make sure that he could at least be free. But she couldn’t just explain that she paid for everything because she felt guilty. He’d resent that.

Celaena paused her walking and found herself at the other end of the broad avenue, across the street from the gates to the glass castle. She hadn’t realized she’d walked so far—or been so lost in her thoughts. She usually avoided coming this close to the castle.

The heavily guarded iron gates led to a long, tree-lined path that snaked up to the infamous building itself. She craned her head back to take in the towers that brushed the sky, the turrets sparkling in the midmorning sun. It had been built atop the original stone castle, and was the crowning achievement in Adarlan’s empire.

She hated it.

Even from the street, she could see people milling about the distant castle grounds—uniformed guards, ladies in voluminous dresses, servants clad in the clothes of their station … What sort of lives did they lead, dwelling within the shadow of the king?

Her eyes rose to the highest gray stone tower, where a small balcony jutted out, covered with creeping ivy. It was so easy to imagine that the people within had nothing to worry about.

But inside that shining building, decisions were made daily that altered the course of Erilea. Inside that building, it had been decreed that magic was outlawed, and that labor camps like Calaculla and Endovier were to be established. Inside that building, the murderer who called himself king dwelled, the man she feared above all others. If the Vaults were the heart of Rifthold’s underworld, then the glass castle was the soul of Adarlan’s empire.

She felt like it watched her, a giant beast of glass and stone and iron. Staring at it made her problems with Sam and Arobynn feel inconsequential—like gnats buzzing before the gaping maw of a creature poised to devour the world.

A chill wind blew past, ripping strands of hair from her braid. She shouldn’t have let herself walk so close, even if the odds of ever encountering the king were next to none. Just the thought of him sent a wretched fear splintering through her.

Her only consolation was that most people from the kingdoms conquered by the king probably felt the same way. When he’d marched into Terrasen nine years ago, his invasion had been swift and brutal—so brutal that it made even Celaena sick to recall some of the atrocities that had been committed to secure his rule.

Shuddering, she turned on her heel and headed home.




Sam didn’t return until dinner.

Celaena was sprawled on the couch before the roaring fireplace, book in hand, when Sam strode into the apartment. His hood still covered half of his face, and the hilt of the sword strapped to his back glinted in the orange light of the room. As he locked the door behind him, she caught the dull gleam of the gauntlets strapped to his forearms—thick, embroidered leather that concealed hidden daggers. He moved with such precise efficiency and controlled power that she blinked. Sometimes it was so easy to forget that the young man she shared the apartment with was also a trained, ruthless killer.

“I found a client.” He pulled off his hood and leaned against the door, his arms crossed over his broad chest.

Celaena shut the book she’d been gobbling down and set it on the couch. “Oh?”

His brown eyes were bright, though his face was unreadable. “They’ll pay. A lot. And they want to keep it from reaching the Assassins’ Guild’s ears. There’s even a contract in it for you.”

“Who’s the client?”

“I don’t know. The man I spoke to had the usual disguises—hood, unremarkable clothing. He could have been acting on behalf of someone else.”

“Why do they want to avoid using the Guild?” She moved to perch on the arm of the couch. The distance between her and Sam felt too large, too full of lightning.

“Because they want me to kill Ioan Jayne and his second-in-command, Rourke Farran.”

Celaena stared at him. “Ioan Jayne.” The biggest Crime Lord in Rifthold.

Sam nodded.

A roaring filled her ears. “He’s too well-guarded,” she said. “And Farran … That man is a psychopath. He’s a sadist.”

Sam approached her. “You said that in order to move to another city, we need money. And since you’re insisting on paying off the Guild, then we really need money. So unless you want to wind up as thieves, I suggest we take it.”

She had to tilt her head back to look at him. “Jayne is dangerous.”

“Then it’s good that we’re the best, isn’t it?” Though he gave her a lazy smile, she could see the tension in his shoulders.

“We should find another contract. There’s bound to be someone else.”

“You don’t know that. And no one else would pay this much.” He named the figure, and Celaena’s brows rose. They’d be very comfortable after that. They could live anywhere.

“You’re sure you don’t know who the client is?”

“Are you looking for excuses to say no?”

“I’m trying to make sure that we’re safe,” she snapped. “Do you know how many people have tried to take out Jayne and Farran? Do you know how many of them are still alive?”