Chapter 18
Celaena sat in the parlor of Archer’s townhouse, frowning at the crackling fireplace. She hadn’t touched the tea the butler had laid out for her on the low-lying marble table, though she’d certainly indulged in two creampuffs and one chocolate torte while waiting for Archer to return. She could have come back later, but it was freezing outside, and after standing on guard duty last night, she was exhausted. And in need of anything to distract her from reliving that dance with Chaol.
After the waltz had finished, he’d merely told her that if she abandoned her post again, he’d break a hole through the ice in the trout pond and toss her in. And then, as though he hadn’t just danced with her in a way that made her knees tremble, he stalked back inside and left her to suffer in the cold. He hadn’t even mentioned the dance this morning during their run. Maybe she’d just imagined the whole thing. Maybe the frigid night air had made her stupid.
She’d been distracted during her first Wyrdmarks lesson with Nehemia that morning and had earned a fair amount of scolding as a result. She blamed the complex, near-nonsensical language. She’d learned a few languages before—enough to get by in places where Adarlan’s language laws hadn’t taken root—but Wyrdmarks were completely different. Trying to learn them while also trying to unravel the labyrinth that was Chaol Westfall was impossible.
Celaena heard the front door open. Muffled words, hurried footsteps, and then—Archer’s beautiful face popped in. “Just give me a moment to freshen up.”
She stood. “That won’t be necessary. This won’t take long.”
Archer’s green eyes glimmered, but he slipped into the parlor, shutting the mahogany door behind him.
“Sit,” she told him, not particularly caring that this was his house. Archer obeyed, taking a seat in the armchair across from the couch. His face was flushed from the cold, making his lovely eyes seem even greener.
She crossed her legs. “If your butler doesn’t stop listening at the keyhole, I’m going to cut off his ears and shove them down his throat.”
There was a muffled cough, followed by retreating footsteps. Once she was sure no one else was listening, she leaned back into the couch cushions. “I need more than a list of names. I need to know what, exactly, they’re planning—and how much they know about the king.”
Archer’s face paled. “I need more time, Celaena.”
“You have little more than three weeks left.”
“Give me five.”
“The king only gave me a month to kill you. I already have a hard time convincing everyone you’re a difficult target. I can’t give you more time.”
“But I need it to wrap up things here in Rifthold and to get you more information. With Davis dead, they’re all being extra careful. No one is talking. No one dares whisper anything.”
“Do they know Davis was a mistake?”
“Mistakes happen often enough in Rifthold for us to know that most of them are anything but mistakes.” He ran his hands through his hair. “Please. Just a little more time.”
“I don’t have any to give you. I need more than names, Archer.”
“What about the Crown Prince? And the Captain of the Guard? Perhaps they have the information you need. You’re close with both of them, aren’t you?”
She bared her teeth at him. “What do you know about them?”
Archer gave her a steady, calculating look. “You think I didn’t recognize the Captain of the Guard the day you just happened to run into me outside of the Willows?” His attention flicked to her side, where her hand currently rested on a dagger. “Have you told them about your plan to keep me alive?”
“No,” she said, her grip on the dagger relaxing. “No, I haven’t. I don’t want to involve them.”
“Or is it because you don’t actually trust either of them?”
She shot to her feet. “Don’t presume to know anything about me, Archer.”
She stalked to the door and flung it open. The butler was nowhere to be seen. She looked over her shoulder at Archer, whose eyes were wide as he watched her. “You have until the end of the week—six days—to get me more information. If you don’t give me anything by then, my next visit won’t be nearly as pleasant.”
Not giving him the time to reply, she stormed out of the room, grabbed her cloak from the front closet, and strode back out onto the icy city streets.