When they’d eaten the last crumb of chocolate-hazelnut cake and drunk the last of the sparkling wine, and when the servants had cleared everything away and bid their farewells, Celaena found herself standing on the small balcony at the far edge of the roof, the summer plants buried under a blanket of snow. She held her cloak close to her as she stared toward the distant spot where the Avery met the ocean, Chaol beside her, leaning against the iron railing.
“There’s a hint of spring in the air,” he said as a mild wind whipped past them.
“Thank the gods. Any more snow and I’ll go mad.”
In the glow of the lights from the greenhouse, his profile was illuminated. She’d meant the dinner to be a nice surprise—a way to tell him how much she appreciated him—but his reaction … How long had it been since he felt cherished? Apart from that girl who had treated him so foully, there was also the matter of the family that had shunned him just because he wanted to be a guard, and they were too proud to have a son serve the crown in that manner.
Did his parents have any idea that in the entire castle, in the entire kingdom, there was no one more noble and loyal than him? That the boy they’d thrown out of their lives had become the sort of man that kings and queens could only dream of having serve in their courts? The sort of man that she hadn’t believed existed, not after Sam, not after everything that had happened.
The king had threatened to kill Chaol if she didn’t obey his orders. And, considering how much danger she was putting him in right now, and how much she wanted to gain—not just for herself, but for them…
“I have to tell you something,” she said softly. Her blood roared through her ears, especially as he turned to her with a smile. “And before I tell you, you have to promise not to go berserk.”
The smile faded. “Why do I have a bad feeling about this?”
“Just promise.” She clenched the railing, the cold metal biting into her bare hands.
He studied her carefully, then said, “I’ll try.”
Fair enough. Like a damned coward, she turned away from him, focusing on the distant ocean instead.
“I haven’t killed any of the people the king commanded me to assassinate.”
Silence. She didn’t dare look at him.
“I’ve been faking their deaths and smuggling them out of their homes. Their personal effects are given to me after I approach them with my offer, and the body parts come from sick-houses. The only person that I’ve actually killed so far is Davis, and he wasn’t even an official target. At the end of the month, once Archer has gotten his affairs in order, I’ll fake his death, and Archer will get on the next ship out of Rifthold and sail away.”
Her chest was so tight it hurt, and she slid her eyes to him.
Chaol’s face was bone white. He backed away, shaking his head. “You’ve gone mad.”