She had five minutes. She couldn’t explain it to him now—couldn’t explain that the king would kill him if she didn’t return. That knowledge could be fatal to him. And even if he ran away, the king had threatened Nehemia’s family, too.
But she knew that Chaol was trying to protect her. And she couldn’t leave him wholly ignorant. Because if she did die in Wendlyn, if something happened to her …
“Listen carefully to what I am about to tell you.”
His brows rose. But she didn’t give herself a moment to reconsider, to second-guess her decision.
As succinctly as she could, she told him about the Wyrdkeys. She told him about the Wyrdgates, and about Baba Yellowlegs. She told him about the papers she’d stashed down in the tomb—the riddle with the locations of the three Wyrdkeys. And then she told him that she knew the king had at least one. And that there was a dead creature sealed beneath the library. And that he should never open the door to the catacombs—never. And that Roland and Kaltain might be part of some bigger, deadlier plan.
And when that horrible truth had been revealed, she unfastened the Eye of Elena from her neck and folded it into his palm. “Never take it off. It will protect you from harm.”
He was shaking his head, his face deathly pale. “Celaena, I can’t—”
“I don’t care if you go looking for the keys, but someone has to know about them. Someone other than me. All the proof is in the tomb.”
Chaol grabbed her hand with his free one. “Celaena—”
“Listen,” she repeated. “If you hadn’t convinced the king to send me away, we could have … figured them out together. But now …”
Two minutes, the sea captain shouted. Chaol was just staring at her, such grief and fear in his eyes that speech failed her.
And then she did the most reckless thing she’d ever done in her life. She stood on her toes and whispered the words into his ear.
The words that would make him understand, understand why it was so important to her, and what it meant when she said she would return. And he would hate her forever for it, once he understood.
“What does that mean?” he demanded.
She smiled sadly. “You’ll figure it out. And when you do …” She shook her head, knowing she shouldn’t say it, but doing it anyway. “When you do, I want you to remember that it wouldn’t have made any difference to me. It’s never made any difference to me when it came to you. I’d still pick you. I’ll always pick you.”
“Please—please, just tell me what that means.”
But there was no time, so she shook her head and stepped back.
Chaol took one step toward her, though. One step, then he said, “I love you.”
She strangled the sob that built in her throat. “I’m sorry,” she said, hoping he would remember those words later—later, when he knew everything.
Her legs found the strength to move. She took a breath. And with a final look at Chaol, she strode up the gangplank. Taking no notice of those onboard, she set down her sack and took up a place by the railing. She looked down at the dock to find Chaol still standing by the walkway as it was lifted.
The ship’s captain called for them to cast off. Sailors scurried, ropes were untied, tossed, and tied again, and the ship lurched. Her hands clasped the railing so hard they hurt.
The ship began moving. And Chaol—the man she hated and loved so much that she could hardly think around him—just stood there, watching her go.
The current grabbed the ship, and the city began to diminish. The ocean breeze soon caressed her neck, but she never stopped staring at Chaol. She stared toward him until the glass castle was a sparkling speck in the distance. She stared toward him until there was only gleaming ocean around her. She stared toward him until the sun dropped beyond the horizon and a smattering of stars hung overhead.
It was only when her eyelids drooped and she swayed on her feet that Celaena stopped staring toward Chaol.
The smell of salt filled her nostrils, so different from the salt of Endovier, and a spirited wind whipped through her hair.
With a hiss through her teeth, Celaena Sardothien turned her back on Adarlan and sailed toward Wendlyn.