The Assassin's Blade by Sarah J. Maas

“I’m not giving up everything just to slum it somewhere. If we leave, we’ll do it my way.”

Sam crossed his arms. “You keep saying if—but what else is there to decide?”

Again: nothing. Everything.

She took a long breath. “How will we establish ourselves in a new city without Arobynn’s support?”

Triumph flashed in Sam’s eyes. She leashed her irritation. She hadn’t said outright that she was agreeing to move, but her question was confirmation enough for both of them.

Before he could answer, she went on: “We’ve grown up here, and yet in the past month, we haven’t been able to get any hires. Arobynn always handled those things.”

“Intentionally,” Sam growled. “And we’d do just fine, I think. We’re not going to need his support. When we move, we’re leaving the Guild, too. I don’t want to be paying dues for the rest of my life, and I don’t want anything to do with that conniving bastard ever again.”

“Yes, but you know that we need his blessing. We need to make … amends. And need him to agree to let us leave the Guild peacefully.” She almost choked on it, but managed to get the words out.

Sam shot out of his seat. “Do I need to remind you what he did to us? What he’s done to you? You know that the reason we can’t find any hires is because Arobynn made sure word got out that we weren’t to be approached.”

“Exactly. And it will only get worse. The Assassins’ Guild would punish us for beginning our own establishment elsewhere without Arobynn’s approval.”

Which was true. While they’d paid their debts to Arobynn, they were still members of the Guild, and still obligated to pay them dues every year. Every assassin in the Guild answered to Arobynn. Obeyed him. Celaena and Sam had both been dispatched more than once to hunt down Guild members who had gone rogue, refused to pay their dues, or broken some sacred Guild rule. Those assassins had tried to hide, but it had only been a matter of time before they’d been found. And the consequences hadn’t been pleasant.

Celaena and Sam had brought Arobynn and the Guild a lot of money and earned them a fair amount of notoriety, so their decisions and careers had been closely monitored. Even with their debts paid, they’d be asked to pay a parting fee, if they were lucky. If not … well, it’d be a very dangerous request to make.

“So,” she went on, “unless you want to wind up with your throat cut, we need to get Arobynn’s approval to break from the Guild before we leave. And since you seem in such a hurry to get out of the capital, we’ll go see him tomorrow.”

Sam pursed his lips. “I’m not going to grovel. Not to him.”

“Neither am I.” She stalked to the kitchen sink, bracing her hands on either side of it as she looked out the window. Rifthold. Could she truly leave it behind? She might hate it at times, but … this was her city. Leaving that, starting over in a new city somewhere on the continent … Could she do it?

Footsteps thudded on the wooden floor, a warm breath caressed her neck, and then Sam’s arms slipped around her waist from behind. He rested his chin on the crook between her shoulder and neck.

“I just want to be with you,” he murmured. “I don’t care where we go. That’s all I want.”

She closed her eyes, and leaned her head against his. He smelled of her lavender soap—her expensive lavender soap that she’d once warned him to never use again. He probably had no idea what soap she’d even been scolding him about. She’d have to start hiding her beloved toiletries and leave out something inexpensive for him. Sam wouldn’t be able to tell the difference, anyway.

“I’m sorry I went to the Vaults,” he said onto her skin, planting a kiss beneath her ear.

A shiver went down her spine. Though they’d been sharing the bedroom for the past month, they hadn’t yet crossed that final threshold of intimacy. She wanted to—and he certainly wanted to—but so much had changed so quickly. Something that monumental could wait a while longer. It didn’t stop them from enjoying each other, though.

Sam kissed her ear, his teeth grazing her earlobe, and her heart stumbled a beat.

“Don’t use kissing to swindle me into accepting your apology,” she got out, even as she tilted her head to the side to allow him better access.

He chuckled, his breath caressing her neck. “It was worth a shot.”

“If you go to the Vaults again,” she said as he nibbled on her ear, “I’ll hop in and beat you unconscious myself.”

She felt him smile against her skin. “You could try.” He bit her ear—not hard enough to hurt, but enough to tell her that he’d now stopped listening.

She whirled in his arms, glaring up at him, at his beautiful face illuminated by the glow of the city, at his eyes, so dark and rich. “And you used my lavender soap. Don’t ever do that—”

But then Sam’s lips found hers, and Celaena stopped talking for a good while after that.

Yet as they stood there, their bodies twining around each other, there was still one question that remained unasked—one question neither of them dared voice.

Would Arobynn Hamel let them leave?





CHAPTER

2




When Celaena and Sam entered the Assassins’ Keep the next day, it was as if nothing had changed. The same trembling housekeeper greeted them at the door before scuttling away, and Wesley, Arobynn’s bodyguard, was standing in his familiar position outside the King of the Assassins’ study.