“Rolfe will kill you,” Sam said. “Or Arobynn will, if Rolfe doesn’t first.”
“I have to try,” she said.
“Why?” Sam stepped close enough that she needed to tilt her head back to see his face. “We’re assassins. We kill people. We destroy lives every day.”
“We have a choice,” she breathed. “Maybe not when we were children—when it was Arobynn or death—but now … Now you and I have a choice in the things we do. Those slaves were just taken. They were fighting for their freedom, or just lived too close to a battlefield, or some mercenaries passed through their town and took them. They’re innocent people.”
“And we weren’t?”
Something icy pierced her heart at the glimmer of memory. “We kill corrupt officials and adulterous spouses; we make it quick and clean. These are entire families being ripped apart. Every one of these people used to be somebody.”
Sam’s eyes glowed. “I’m not disagreeing with you. I don’t like the idea of this at all. Not just the slaves, but Arobynn’s involvement in it. And those children …” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “But we’re just two people—surrounded by Rolfe’s pirates.”
She gave him a crooked grin. “Then it’s good that we’re the best. And,” she added, “it’s good that I’ve been asking him so many questions about his plans for the next two days.”
Sam blinked. “You realize this is the most reckless thing you’ve ever done, right?”
“Reckless, but maybe the most meaningful, too.”
Sam stared at her long enough for heat to flood her cheek, as if he could see right inside of her—see everything. The fact that he didn’t turn away from whatever he saw made her blood thrum in her veins. “I suppose if we’re going to die, it should be for a noble cause,” he said.
She snorted, using it as an excuse to step away from him. “We’re not going to die. At least, not if we follow my plan.”
He groaned. “You already have a plan?”
She grinned at him, then told him everything. When she finished, he only scratched his head. “Well,” he admitted, sitting on the sand, “I suppose that’d work. We’d have to time it right, but …”
“But it could work.” She sat beside him.
“When Arobynn finds out …”
“Leave Arobynn to me. I’ll figure out how to deal with him.”
“We could always just … not return to Rifthold,” Sam suggested.
“What, run away?”
Sam shrugged. Though he kept his eyes on the waves, she could have sworn she saw a blush darken his cheeks. “He might very well kill us.”
“If we ran away, he’d hunt us for the rest of our lives. Even if we took different names, he’d find us.” As if she could leave her entire life behind! “He’s invested too much money in us—and we’ve yet to pay him back entirely. He’d see it as a bad investment.”
Sam’s gaze drifted northward, as if he could see the sprawling capital city and its towering glass castle. “I think there’s more at work here than this trade agreement.”
“What do you mean?”
Sam traced circles in the sand between them. “I mean, why send the two of us here in the first place? His excuse for sending us was a lie. We’re not instrumental to this deal. He could just as easily have sent two other assassins who aren’t at each other’s throats all the time.”
“What are you implying?”
Sam shrugged. “Perhaps Arobynn wanted us out of Rifthold right now. Needed to get us out of the city for a month.”
A chill went through her. “Arobynn wouldn’t do that.”
“Wouldn’t he?” Sam asked. “Did we ever find out why Ben was there the night Gregori got captured?”
“If you’re implying that Arobynn somehow set Ben up to—”
“I’m not implying anything. But some things don’t add up. And there are questions that haven’t been answered.”
“We’re not supposed to question Arobynn,” she murmured.
“And since when do you ever follow orders?”
She stood up. “Let’s get through the next few days. Then we’ll consider whatever conspiracy theories you’re inventing.”
Sam was on his feet in an instant. “I don’t have any theories. Just questions that you should be asking yourself, too. Why did he want us gone this month?”
“We can trust Arobynn.” Even as the words left her mouth, she felt stupid for saying them.
Sam stooped to pick up his boots. “I’m going back to the tavern. Are you coming?”
“No. I’m staying here for a little longer.”
Sam gave her an appraising look, but nodded. “We’re to examine Arobynn’s slaves on their ship at four tomorrow afternoon. Try not to stay out here the whole night. We need all the rest we can get.”
She didn’t reply, and turned away before she could see him head toward the golden lights of Skull’s Bay.
She walked along the curve of the shoreline, all the way to the lone watchtower. After studying it from the shadows—the two catapults near its top, the giant chain anchored above them—she continued on. She walked until there was nothing in the world but the grumble and hiss of the waves, the sigh of the sand beneath her feet, and the glare of the moon on the water.
She walked until a surprisingly cold breeze swept past her. She halted.
Slowly, Celaena turned north, toward the source of the breeze, which smelled of a faraway land she hadn’t seen in eight years. Pine and snow—a city still in winter’s grasp. She breathed it in, staring across the leagues of lonely, black ocean, seeing, somehow, that distant city that had once, long ago, been her home. The wind ripped the strands of hair from her braid, lashing them across her face. Orynth. A city of light and music, watched over by an alabaster castle with an opal tower so bright it could be viewed for miles.
The moonlight vanished behind a thick cloud. In the sudden dark, the stars glowed brighter.
She knew all the constellations by heart, and she instinctively sought out the Stag, Lord of the North, and the immovable star that crowned his head.
Back then, she hadn’t had any choice. When Arobynn offered her this path, it was either that, or death. But now …
She took a shuddering breath. No, she was as limited in her choices as she’d been when she was eight years old. She was Adarlan’s Assassin, Arobynn Hamel’s protégée and heir—and she would always be.
It was a long walk back to the tavern.