Crown of Midnight (Throne of Glass #2) by Sarah J. Maas

Against his will, he found himself reaching for the ancient force slumbering inside him, wondering if it would somehow shield him from Yellowlegs the way it had from the shattering window. The thought made him queasy.

“Any other questions?” she said, licking her iron nails.

“No. Thank you for your time.”

“Bah,” she spat, and waved him off.

He walked away, and got no farther than the nearest tent when he saw the sun glinting off a golden head, and Roland walked toward him, away from the table where he’d been talking to that stunning blond musician who’d played the lute the other night. Had he followed him here? Dorian frowned, but gave his cousin a nod in greeting as Roland fell into step beside him.

“Getting your fortune read?”

Dorian shrugged. “I was bored.”

Roland looked over his shoulder to where Baba Yellowlegs’s caravan wagon was parked. “That woman makes my blood run cold.”

Dorian snorted. “I think that’s one of her talents.”

Roland glanced at him sidelong. “Did she tell you anything interesting?”

“Just the normal nonsense: I’ll soon meet my true love, a glorious destiny awaits me, and I’ll be rich beyond imagining. I don’t think she knew who she was talking to.” He surveyed the Lord of Meah. “And what are you doing here?”

“I saw you heading out and thought you might want company. But then I saw where you were going and decided to keep well away.”

Either Roland was spying on him, or he was telling the truth; Dorian honestly couldn’t tell. But he’d made a point to be pleasant to his cousin during the past few days—and at every council meeting, Roland had backed whatever decision Dorian made without hesitation. The irritation on Perrington and his father’s faces was an unexpected delight, too.

So Dorian didn’t question Roland about why he’d followed him, but when he glanced back at Baba Yellowlegs, he could have sworn the old woman was grinning at him.



It had been a few days since Celaena had tracked her targets. Cloaked in darkness, she stood in the shadows of the docks, not quite believing what she was seeing. All the men on her list, all the ones she’d been following, the ones who might know what the king was up to—were leaving. She’d seen one of them sneak into an unmarked carriage and had followed him here, where he’d boarded a ship set to depart at the midnight tide. And then, to her dismay, the other three had shown up, too, their families in tow, before they were quickly ushered belowdecks.

All those men, all that information she’d been gathering, just—

“I’m sorry,” a familiar voice said behind her, and she whirled to find Archer approaching. How was he so stealthy? She hadn’t even heard him getting close. “I had to warn them,” he said, his eyes on the ship getting ready to depart. “I couldn’t live with their blood on my hands. They have children; what would become of them if you handed over their parents to the king?”

She hissed, “Did you organize this?”

“No,” he said softly, the words barely audible above the shouts of the sailors untying the ropes and readying the oars. “A member of the organization did. I mentioned that their lives might be in jeopardy, and he had his men get them on the next ship out of Rifthold.”

She put a hand on her dagger. “Part of this bargain relies on you giving me useful information.”

“I know. I’m sorry.”

“Would you rather I just faked your death now and put you on that ship as well?” Perhaps she’d find another way to convince the king to release her earlier.

“No. This won’t happen again.”

She highly doubted that, but she leaned back against the wall of the building and crossed her arms, watching Archer observe the ship. After a moment, he turned to her. “Say something.”

“I don’t have anything to say. I’m too busy debating whether I should just kill you and drag your carcass before the king.” She wasn’t bluffing. After last night with Chaol, she was starting to wonder whether simplicity would be best. Anything to keep Chaol from getting ensnared in a potential mess.

“I’m sorry,” Archer said again, but she waved him off and watched the readying ship.

It was impressive that they’d organized an escape so quickly. Perhaps they weren’t all fools like Davis. “The person you mentioned this to,” she said after a while. “He’s a leader of the group?”

“I think so,” Archer said quietly. “Or high up enough that when I dropped the hint about these men, he was able to organize an escape immediately.”

She chewed on the inside of her cheek. Perhaps Davis had been a fluke. And maybe Archer was right. Maybe these men just wanted a ruler who would better suit their tastes. But whatever their financial and political motives might be, when innocent people had been threatened, they’d mobilized and gotten them to safety. Few people in the empire dared to do that—and fewer still were getting away with it.

“I want new names and more information by tomorrow night,” she told Archer as she turned away from the docks, heading back toward the castle. “Or else I’ll toss your head at the king’s feet and let him decide whether he wants me to dump it in the sewer or spike it on the front gates.” She didn’t wait for Archer’s reply before she faded into the shadows and fog.