Chapter Nine
Down the slope of the street, Celaena could perfectly see the two slave ships sitting—still unmoving—in the bay. And the mast-snapping chain not too far from them. Unfortunately, from his angle, so could Rolfe.
The sky had turned light gray. Dawn.
Celaena bowed her head to the Pirate Lord. “I’d rather not get my hands dirty in that mess.”
Rolfe’s lips formed a thin line. “Funny, given that you tripped the man who started the brawl.”
Sam glared at her. She’d been subtle, damn it!
Rolfe drew his sword, the dragon’s eyes gleaming in the growing light. “And also funny, since you’ve been spoiling for a fight for days, that you suddenly decided to vanish when everyone’s attention is elsewhere.”
Sam raised his hands. “We don’t want any trouble.”
Rolfe chuckled, a harsh, humorless sound. “Maybe you don’t, Sam Cortland, but she does.” Rolfe stepped toward her, his sword dangling at his side. “She’s wanted trouble since the moment she got here. What was your plan? Steal treasure? Information?”
From the corner of her eye, something shifted in the ships. Like a bird flexing its wings, a row of oars shot out from their sides. They were ready. And the chain was still up.
Don’t look, don’t look, don’t look …
But Rolfe looked, and Celaena’s breathing turned shallow as he scanned the ships.
Sam tensed beside her, his knees bending slightly.
“I am going to kill you, Celaena Sardothien,” Rolfe breathed. And he meant it.
Celaena’s fingers tightened around her sword, and Rolfe opened his mouth, lungs filling with air as he prepared to shout a warning.
Quick as a whip, she did the only thing she could think of to distract him.
Her mask clattered to the ground, and she shook off her hood. Her golden hair gleamed in the growing light.
Rolfe froze. “You … You’re … What sort of trickery is this?”
Beyond them, the oars began moving, churning the water as the boats turned toward the chain—and the freedom beyond it. “Go,” she murmured to Sam. “Now.”
Sam only nodded before he sprinted down the street.
Alone with Rolfe, Celaena raised her sword. “Celaena Sardothien, at your service.”
The pirate was still staring at her, his face pale with rage. “How dare you deceive me?”
She sketched a bow. “I did nothing of the sort. I told you I was beautiful.”
Before she could stop him, Rolfe shouted, “Thieves! They’re trying to steal our ships! To your boats! To the watchtower!”
A roar erupted around them, and Celaena prayed that Sam could reach the watchtower before the pirates reached him.
Celaena began circling the Pirate Lord. He circled her, too. He wasn’t drunk in the least.
“How old are you?” Each of his steps was carefully placed, but she noticed that he kept shifting to expose his left side.
“Sixteen.” She didn’t bother to keep her voice low and gravelly.
Rolfe swore. “Arobynn sent a sixteen-year-old to deal with me?”
“He sent the best of the best. Consider that an honor.”
With a growl, the Pirate Lord lunged.
She danced back, swinging up her sword to block the blow he aimed for her throat. She didn’t need to kill him right away—just to distract him long enough to prevent him from further organizing his men. And keep him away from the ships. She had to buy Sam enough time to disable the chain and the catapults. The ships were already turning toward the mouth of the bay.
Rolfe launched himself again, and she let him land two strikes on her sword before she ducked the third blow and slammed into him. She swept her foot, and Rolfe staggered back a step. Not missing a beat, she pulled out her long hunting knife, slashing for his chest. She let her blow fall short, ripping through the fine blue material of his tunic instead.
Rolfe stumbled into the wall of a building behind him, but caught his footing and dodged the blow that would have taken off his head. The vibrations of her sword hitting stone stung her hand, but she kept hold of the hilt.
“What was the plan?” Rolfe panted above the roar of the pirates rushing toward the docks. “Steal my slaves and take all the profit?”
She laughed, feinting to his right, but sweeping for his unprotected left with her dagger. To her surprise, Rolfe deflected both moves in a swift, sure motion.
“To free them,” she said. Beyond the chain, beyond the mouth of the bay, the clouds on the horizon began to color with the light of the coming dawn.
“Fool,” Rolfe spat, and this time feinted so well that even Celaena couldn’t avoid the rake of his sword across her arm. Warm blood seeped through her black tunic. She hissed, darting away a few steps. A careless mistake.
“You think freeing two hundred slaves will solve anything?” Rolfe kicked a fallen bottle of liquor at her. She knocked it aside with the flat of her sword, her right arm screaming in pain at the motion. Glass shattered behind her. “There are thousands of slaves out there. Are you going to march into Calaculla and Endovier and free them, too?”
Behind him, the steady strokes of the oars propelled the ships toward the chain. Sam had to hurry.
Rolfe shook his head. “Stupid girl. If I don’t kill you, your master will.”
Not him giving the luxury of a warning, she threw herself at him. She ducked, twirling at the last moment, and Rolfe barely turned before she slammed the pommel of her sword into the back of his head.
The Pirate Lord crumpled to the dirt street just as a crowd of bloodied and filthy pirates appeared around the corner. Celaena only had time to throw her hood over her head, hoping the shadows concealed enough of her face, before she took off at run.