The Assassin's Blade by Sarah J. Maas

It hit her like a punch to the gut. Yes—for him, she could someday give up being Adarlan’s Assassin, give up the notoriety and fortune.

He pulled her down, wrapping an arm around her bare waist and tucking her in close to him. His nose grazed her neck, and he breathed her in deeply.

“Let’s take down Jayne and Farran,” she said softly.

Sam purred a response onto her skin that told her he was only halfawake—and that his mind was on anything but Jayne and Farran.

She dug her nails into his back, and he grunted his annoyance, but made no move to awaken.

“We’ll eliminate Farran first—to weaken the chain of command. It’d be too risky to take them both out at once—too many things could go wrong. But if we take out Farran first, even if it means Jayne’s guards will be on alert, they’ll still be in total chaos. And that’s when we’ll dispatch Jayne.” It was a solid plan. She liked this plan. They merely needed a few days to figure out Farran’s defenses and how to get around them.

Sam mumbled another response that sounded like anything you want, just go back to sleep.

Celaena looked up at the ceiling and smiled.




After breakfast, and after she’d gone to the bank to transfer a huge sum of money to Arobynn’s account (an event that left both Celaena and Sam rather miserable and on edge), they spent the day gathering information on Ioan Jayne. As the biggest Crime Lord in Rifthold, Jayne was well-protected, and his minions were everywhere: orphan spies in the streets, harlots working in the Vaults, barkeeps and merchants and even some city guards.

Everyone knew where his house was: a sprawling three-s tory building of white stone on one of the nicest streets in Rifthold. The place was so well-watched that it was too risky to do more than walk past. Even stopping to observe for a few minutes might spark the interest of one of the disguised henchmen loitering on the street.

It seemed absurd that Jayne would have his house on this street. His neighbors were well-off merchants and minor nobility. Did they know who lived next door and what sort of evil went on beneath the emerald-tiled roof?

They had a stroke of good luck as they meandered past the house, looking for all the world like a well-dressed, handsome couple on a morning walk through the capital. Just as they were passing by, Farran, Jayne’s Second, swaggered out the door, heading for the black carriage parked out front.

Celaena felt Sam’s arm tense under her hand. He kept looking ahead, not daring to stare at Farran for too long in case someone noticed. But Celaena, pretending that she’d discovered a pull in her forest-green tunic, was able to glance over a few times.

She’d heard about Farran. Most everyone had. If she had a rival for notoriety, it was him.

Tall, broad-shouldered, and in his late twenties, Farran had been born and abandoned in the streets of Rifthold. He’d begun working for Jayne as one of his orphan spies, and over the years had clawed his way up the ranks of Jayne’s twisted court, leaving a trail of bodies in his wake until he was appointed Second. Looking at him now, with his fine gray clothes and his gleaming black hair slicked into submission, it was impossible to tell that he’d once been one of the vicious little beasts that roamed the slums in feral packs.

As he walked down the stairs to the carriage that awaited him in the private drive, Farran’s steps were smooth, calculated—his body rippling with barely restrained power. Even from across the street, Celaena could see how his dark eyes shone, his pale face set in a smile that made a shiver go down her spine.

The bodies Farran had left in his wake, she knew, hadn’t been left in one piece. Somewhere in the years he’d spent rising from orphan to Second, Farran had developed a taste for sadistic torture. It had earned him his spot at Jayne’s side—and kept his rivals from challenging him.

Farran slung himself into the carriage. The movement was so easy that his well-tailored clothes barely shifted out of place. The carriage started down the driveway, turned onto the street, and Celaena looked up as it ambled past.

Only to see Farran looking out the window—staring right at her.

Sam pretended not to notice. Celaena kept her face utterly blank—the disinterest of a well-bred lady who had no idea that the person staring at her like a cat watching a mouse was actually one of the most twisted men in the empire.

Farran gave her a smile. There was nothing human in it.

And that was why their client had offered a kingdom’s ransom for Farran’s and Jayne’s deaths.

She bobbed her head in a demure deflection of his attention, and Farran’s grin only grew before the carriage continued past and was swallowed up in the flow of city traffic.

Sam loosed a breath. “I’m glad we’re taking him out first.”

A dark, wicked part of her wished the opposite … wished she could see that feline grin vanish when Farran found out that Celaena Sardothien had killed Jayne. But Sam was right. She wouldn’t sleep one wink if they took out Jayne first, knowing Farran would expend all his resources hunting them down.

They made a long, slow circle around the streets surrounding Jayne’s house.

“It’d be easier to catch Farran on his way somewhere,” Celaena said, all too aware of how many eyes were tracking them on these streets. “The house is too well-guarded.”

“I’ll probably need two days to figure it out,” Sam said.