There was something inherently peaceful about the day, despite the darkness of her encounter with Nehemia. For the moment, the whole castle had quieted to hear the falling snow. Frost laced each windowpane, a fire already crackled in the fireplace, and shadows of snowflakes drifted across the floor. It was as peaceful and lovely a winter morning as she could imagine. She wouldn’t ruin it with thoughts of Nehemia, or of the duel, or of the ball she wasn’t allowed to attend tonight. No, it was Yulemas morning, and she would be happy.
It didn’t feel like a holiday to celebrate the darkness that gave birth to the spring light, nor did it feel like a holiday to celebrate the birth of the Goddess’s firstborn son. It was simply a day when people were more courteous, looked twice at a beggar in the street, remembered that love was a living thing. Celaena smiled and rolled over. But something got in her way. It was crinkly and harsh against her face, and had the distinct odor of—
“Candy!” A large paper bag sat on a pillow, and she found that it was filled with all sorts of confectionary goodies. There was no note, not even a name scribbled on the bag. With a shrug and glowing eyes, Celaena pulled out a handful of sweets. Oh, how she adored candy!
Celaena issued a jolly laugh and crammed some of the candy into her mouth. One by one, she chewed through the assortment, and she closed her eyes and breathed in deeply as she tasted all of the flavors and textures.
When she finally stopped chewing, her jaw ached. She emptied the contents of the bag onto the bed, ignoring the dunes of sugar that poured out with it, and surveyed the land of goodness before her.
All of her favorites were there: chocolate-covered gummies, chocolate almond bark, berry-shaped chews, gem–shaped hard sugar, peanut brittle, plain brittle, sugarlace, frosted red licorice, and, most importantly, chocolate. She popped a hazelnut truffle into her mouth.
“Someone,” she said in between chews, “is very good to me.”
She paused to examine the bag again. Who had sent it? Maybe Dorian. Certainly not Nehemia or Chaol. Nor the Frost Faeries that delivered presents to good children. They’d stopped coming to her when she’d first drawn blood from another human being. Maybe Nox. He liked her well enough.
“Miss Celaena!” Philippa exclaimed from the doorway, gaping.
“Happy Yulemas, Philippa!” she said. “Care for a candy?”
Philippa stormed toward Celaena. “Happy Yulemas indeed! Look at this bed! Look at this mess!” Celaena winced.
“Your teeth are red!” Philippa cried. She reached for the hand mirror that Celaena kept by her bed and held it for the assassin to see.
Sure enough, her teeth were tinged with crimson. She ran her tongue over her teeth, then tried to brush away the stains with a finger. They remained. “Damn those sugar suckers!”
“Yes,” Philippa snapped. “And that’s chocolate all over your mouth. Even my grandson doesn’t eat his candy like this!”
Celaena laughed. “You have a grandson?”
“Yes, and he can eat his food without getting it on the bed, on his teeth, and on his face!”
Celaena pushed back the covers, sugar spraying into the air. “Have a candy, Philippa.”
“It’s seven in the morning.” Philippa swept the sugar into her cupped palm. “You’ll make yourself sick.”
“Sick? Who can get sick from candy?” Celaena made a face and exposed her crimson teeth.
“You look like a demon,” said Philippa. “Just don’t open your mouth and no one will notice.”
“You and I both know that’s not possible.”
To her surprise, Philippa laughed. “Happy Yulemas, Celaena,” she said. Hearing Philippa call her by her name sent an unexpected burst of pleasure through her. “Come,” the servant clucked. “Let’s get you dressed—the ceremony begins at nine.” Philippa bustled toward the dressing room, and Celaena watched her go. Her heart was big and as red as her teeth. There was good in people—deep down, there was always a shred of good. There had to be.
?
Celaena emerged a while later, clad in a solemn-looking green dress that Philippa had deemed the only appropriate gown for temple attendance. Celaena’s teeth were, of course, still red, and now she felt queasy as she stared at the bag of candy. However, she quickly forgot about her sickness when she saw Dorian Havilliard sitting at the table in her bedroom with crossed legs. He wore a beautiful white-and-gold jacket.
“Are you my present, or is there something in that basket at your feet?” she asked.
“If you’d like to unwrap me,” he said, lifting the large wicker basket onto the table, “we still have an hour until the temple service.”
She laughed. “Happy Yulemas, Dorian.”
“And to you as well. I can see that I— Are your teeth red?”
She clamped her mouth shut, shaking her head in violent protestation.
He grabbed her nose and pinched it closed, and try as she might, she could not dislodge his fingers. She opened her mouth, and he burst into laughter. “Been eating candies, have you?”
“You sent those?” She kept her mouth closed as much as possible.
“Of course.” He picked up the brown bag of candy on the table. “What’s your . . .” He trailed off as he weighed the bag in his hands. “Didn’t I give you three pounds of candy?”
She smiled impishly.
“You ate half the bag!”
“Was I supposed to save it?”
“I would have liked some!”