Throne of Glass (Throne of Glass #1) by Sarah J. Maas

“Don’t listen to them,” Nox murmured. He tossed another dagger, missing the bull’s-eye again. “They wouldn’t know the first thing to do with a woman, even if one walked stark naked into their bedroom.”

Celaena threw her dagger, and the blade clanged as it landed a hair’s breadth from the one she’d already embedded in the bull’s-eye.

Nox’s dark brows rose, accentuating his gray eyes. He couldn’t have been older than twenty-five. “You’ve got impressive aim.”

“For a girl?” she challenged.

“No,” he said, and threw another dagger. “For anyone.” The dagger yet again missed the mark. He stalked to the target, yanking out all six daggers and shoving them in their sheaths before returning to the throwing line. Celaena cleared her throat.

“You’re standing wrong,” she said, quietly enough so the other Champions couldn’t hear. “And you’re holding your wrist incorrectly.”

Nox lowered his arm. She took up her stance. “Legs like this,” she said. He studied her for a moment, then positioned his legs similarly. “Bend slightly at the knees. Shoulders back; loosen your wrist. Throw when you exhale.” She demonstrated for him, and her dagger found its mark.

“Show me again,” Nox said appreciatively.

She did so, and struck the target. Then she threw with her left hand, and fought her whoop of triumph as the blade sank into the handle of another dagger.

Nox focused on the target as he brought up his arm. “Well, you’ve just put me to shame,” he said, laughing under his breath as he lifted his dagger higher.

“Keep your wrist even looser,” was her reply. “It’s all about how you snap it.”

Nox obeyed, and as he exhaled a long breath, his dagger flew. It didn’t hit the bull’s-eye, but it came within the inner circle. His brows rose. “That’s a bit of an improvement.”

“Just a bit,” she said, and held her ground as he gathered their knives from the two targets and handed hers back. She sheathed them in her belt. “You’re from Perranth, right?” she asked. Though she’d never been to Perranth, Terrasen’s second largest city, the mention of her homeland still spiked a bolt of fear and guilt. It had been ten years since the royal family had been butchered, ten years since the King of Adarlan had marched his army in, ten years since Terrasen met its doom with bowed heads and silence. She shouldn’t have mentioned it—she didn’t know why she mentioned it, actually.

She schooled her features into polite interest as Nox nodded. “This is my first time out of Perranth, actually. You said you were from Bellhaven, didn’t you?”

“My father is a merchant,” she lied.

“And what does he think about a daughter who steals jewels for a living?”

She conceded a smile and hurled a knife into the target. “He won’t be inviting me home for a while, that’s for certain.”

“Ah, you’re in good hands, though. You’ve got the best trainer out of anyone. I’ve seen you two running at dawn. I have to beg mine to put down the bottle and let me train outside of lessons.” He inclined his head toward his trainer, who sat against the wall, the hood of his cape over his eyes. “Sleeping, yet again.”

“The Captain of the Guard is a pain in my ass at times,” she said, chucking another knife, “but you’re right—he’s the best.”

Nox was quiet for a moment before he said: “The next time we pair off for lessons, find me, will you?”

“Why?” She reached for another dagger, but found she’d depleted her stock again.

Nox threw another dagger, and it hit the bull’s-eye this time. “Because my gold’s on you winning this whole damn thing.”

She smiled a little. “Let’s hope you won’t be eliminated at the Test tomorrow.” She scanned the training hall for any sign of the challenge to come the following morning, but found nothing out of the ordinary. The other competitors remained mostly quiet—save for Cain and Verin—and many of them were pale as snow. “And let’s hope neither of us winds up like the Eye Eater,” she added, and meant it.

•

“Don’t you ever do anything other than read?” said Chaol. She started from her chair on the balcony as he took a seat beside her. The late-afternoon sunlight warmed her face, and the last balmy breeze of autumn rushed through her unbound hair.

She stuck out her tongue. “Shouldn’t you be looking into the Eye Eater’s murder?” He never came to her rooms after lunch.

Something dark flitted across his eyes. “That’s none of your business. And don’t try to pry details from me about it,” he added as she opened her mouth. He pointed to the book in her lap. “I saw at lunch that you’re reading The Wind and the Rain, and I forgot to ask what you thought.”

He’d really come to talk about a book when a Champion’s corpse had been found that morning? “It’s a bit dense,” she admitted, holding up the brown volume in her lap. When he didn’t reply, she asked, “Why are you really here?”

“I had a long day.”

She massaged an ache in her knee. “Because of Bill’s murder?”

“Because the prince dragged me into a council meeting that lasted for three hours,” he said, a muscle in his jaw feathering.