The Assassin's Blade by Sarah J. Maas

Lysandra began screaming, but Celaena just walked out of the front doors, across the lawn of the Keep, and kept walking until the capital swallowed her up.



Celaena sat on the edge of her roof, looking out across the city. The convoy from Melisande had already left, taking the last of the rain clouds with them. Some of them wore black to mourn Doneval’s death. Leighfer Bardingale had ridden Kasida, prancing down the main avenue. Unlike those in mourning colors, the lady had been dressed in saffron yellow—and was smiling broadly. Of course, it was just because the King of Adarlan had agreed to give them the funds and resources to build their road. Celaena had half a mind to go after her—to get those documents back and repay Bardingale for her deceit. And take back Kasida while she was at it, too.

But she didn’t. She’d been fooled and had lost—badly. She didn’t want to be a part of this tangled web. Not when Arobynn had made it perfectly clear that she could never win.

To distract her from that miserable thought, Celaena had then spent the whole day sending servants between the Keep and her apartment, fetching all the clothes and books and jewelry that now belonged to her and her alone. The late afternoon light shifted into a deep gold, setting all the green rooftops glowing.

“I thought you might be up here,” Sam said, striding across the flat roof to where she sat atop the wall that lined the edge. He surveyed the city. “Some view; I can see why you decided to move.”

She smiled slightly, turning to look at him over her shoulder. He came to stand behind her, and reached out a tentative hand to run through her hair. She leaned into the touch. “I heard what he did—about both Doneval and Lysandra,” Sam murmured. “I never imagined he’d sink that low—or use your money like that. I’m sorry.”

“It was what I needed.” She watched the city again. “It was what I needed to make me tell him I was moving out.”

Sam gave a nod of approval. “I’ve just sort of … left my belongings in your main room. Is that all right?”

She nodded. “We’ll find space for it later.”

Sam fell silent. “So, we’re free,” he said at last.

She turned fully to look at him. His brown eyes were vivid.

“I also heard that you paid off my debt,” he said, his voice strained. “You—you sold your Asterion horse to do it.”

“I had no choice.” She pivoted from her spot on the roof and stood. “I’d never leave you shackled to him while I walked away.”

“Celaena.” He said her name like a caress, slipping a hand around her waist. He pressed his forehead against hers. “How can I ever repay you?”

She closed her eyes. “You don’t have to.”

He brushed his lips against hers. “I love you,” he breathed against her mouth. “And from today onward, I want to never be separated from you. Wherever you go, I go. Even if that means going to Hell itself, wherever you are, that’s where I want to be. Forever.”

Celaena put her arms around his neck and kissed him deeply, giving him her silent reply.

Beyond them, the sun set over the capital, turning the world into crimson light and shadows.





THE

ASSASSIN

AND THE

EMPIRE





AFTER




Curled into the corner of a prison wagon, Celaena Sardothien watched the splotches of shadows and light play on the wall. Trees—just beginning to shift into the rich hues of autumn—seemed to peer at her through the small, barred window.

She rested her head against the musty wooden wall, listening to the creak of the wagon, the clink of the shackles around her wrists and ankles, the rumbling chatter and occasional laughter of the guards who had been escorting the wagon along its route for two days now.

But while she was aware of it all, a deafening sort of silence had settled over her like a cloak. It shut out everything. She knew she was thirsty, and hungry, and that her fingers were numb with cold, but she couldn’t feel it keenly.

The wagon hit a rut, jostling her so hard that her head knocked into the wall. Even that pain felt distant.

The freckles of light along the panels danced like falling snow.

Like ash.

Ash from a world burned into nothing—lying in ruins around her. She could taste the ash of that dead world on her chapped lips, settling on her leaden tongue.

She preferred the silence. In the silence she couldn’t hear the worst question of all: had she brought this upon herself?

The wagon passed under a particularly thick canopy of trees, blotting out the light. For a heartbeat, the silence peeled back long enough for that question to worm its way into her skull, into her skin, into her breath and her bones.

And in the dark, she remembered.





CHAPTER

1

Eleven Days Earlier




Celaena Sardothien had been waiting for this night for the past year. Sitting on the wooden walkway tucked into the side of the gilded dome of the Royal Theater, she breathed in the music rising from the orchestra far below. Her legs dangled over the railing edge, and she leaned forward to rest her cheek on her folded arms.

The musicians were seated in a semicircle on the stage. They filled the theater with such wondrous noise that Celaena sometimes forgot how to breathe. She had seen this symphony performed four times in the past four years—but she’d always gone with Arobynn. It had become their annual autumn tradition.