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

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Chaol watched Perrington at his table in the dining hall. When he had approached the duke about Verin’s death, he hadn’t seemed bothered. Chaol looked around the cavernous hall; in fact, most of the Champions’ sponsors went about as usual. Idiots. If Celaena was actually right about it, then whoever was responsible for killing the Champions could be among them. But which of the members of the king’s council would be so desperate to win that he’d do such a thing? Chaol stretched his legs beneath the table and shifted his attention back to Perrington.

He’d seen how the duke used his size and title to win allies on the king’s council and keep opponents from challenging him. But it wasn’t his maneuverings that had captured the interest of the Captain of the Guard tonight. Rather, it was the moments between the grins and laughter, when a shadow passed across the duke’s face. It wasn’t an expression of anger or of disgust, but a shade that clouded his eyes. It was so strange that when Chaol had first seen it, he’d extended his dinner just to see if it happened again.

A few moments later, it did. Perrington’s eyes became dark and his face cleared, as if he saw everything in the world for what it was and found no joy or amusement in it. Chaol leaned back in his chair, sipping his water.

He knew little of the duke, and had never entirely trusted him. Neither had Dorian, especially not after all his talk of using Nehemia as a hostage to get the Eyllwe rebels to cooperate. But the duke was the king’s most trusted advisor—and had offered no cause for mistrust other than a fierce belief in Adarlan’s right to conquest.

Kaltain Rompier sat a few chairs away. Chaol’s brows rose slightly. Her eyes were upon Perrington as well—filled not with the longing of a beloved, but with cold contemplation. Chaol stretched again, lifting his arms over his head. Where was Dorian? The prince hadn’t come to dinner, nor was he in the kennels with the bitch and her pups. His gaze returned to the duke. There it was—for a moment!

Perrington’s eyes fell upon the black ring on his left hand and darkened, as if his pupils had expanded to encompass all of each eye. Then it was gone—his eyes returned to normal. Chaol looked to Kaltain. Had she noticed the odd change?

No—her face remained the same. There was no bewilderment, no surprise. Her look became shallow, as if she were more interested in how his jacket might complement her dress. Chaol stretched and rose, finishing his apple as he strode from the dining hall. Strange as it was, he had enough to worry about. The duke was ambitious, but certainly not a threat to the castle or its inhabitants. But even as the Captain of the Guard walked to his rooms, he couldn’t shake the feeling that Duke Perrington had been watching him, too.





Chapter 31

Someone was standing at the foot of her bed.

Celaena knew this long before she opened her eyes, and she eased her hand beneath her pillow, pulling out the makeshift knife she’d crafted of pins, string, and soap.

“That’s unnecessary,” a woman said, and Celaena sat upright at the sound of Elena’s voice. “And would be wholly ineffective.”

Her blood went cold at the sight of the shimmering specter of the first Queen of Adarlan. Though Elena looked fully formed, the edges of her body gleamed as though made from starlight. Her long, silver hair flowed around her beautiful face, and she smiled as Celaena set down her miserably pathetic knife. “Hello, child,” the queen said.

“What do you want?” Celaena demanded, but kept her voice down. Was she dreaming, or could the guards hear her? She tensed, her legs preparing to leap from the bed—perhaps toward the balcony, since Elena stood between her and the door.

“Simply to remind you that you must win this competition.”

“I already plan to.” She’d been woken up for this? “And it’s not for you,” she added coldly. “I’m doing it for my freedom. Do you have anything useful to say, or are you just here to bother me? Or maybe you could just tell me more about this evil thing that’s hunting the Champions down one by one.”

Elena sighed, lifting her eyes to the ceiling. “I know as little as you.” When Celaena’s frown didn’t disappear, Elena said, “You don’t trust me yet. I understand. But you and I are on the same side, whether you allow yourself to believe it or not.” She lowered her gaze to the assassin, pinning her with the intensity of it. “I came here to warn you to keep an eye on your right.”

“Excuse me?” Celaena cocked her head. “What does that mean?”

“Look to your right. You’ll find the answers there.”

Celaena looked to her right, but all she saw was the tapestry that concealed the tomb. She opened her mouth to snap a response, but when she looked back at Elena, the queen was gone.

•

At her Test the next day, Celaena studied the small table before her and all the goblets it contained. It had been over two weeks since Samhuinn, and while she’d passed yet another Test—knife-throwing, to her relief—another Champion had been found dead just two days ago. To say she was getting little sleep these days was an understatement. When she wasn’t searching for an indication of what the Wyrdmarks around the corpses had meant, she spent most of the night wide awake, watching her windows and doors, listening for the scrape of claw on stone. The royal guards outside her rooms didn’t help; if this beast was capable of gouging marble, it could take down a few men.