Celaena," Chaol said gently. And then she heard the scraping noise as his hand came into view, sliding across the flagstones. His fingertips stopped just at the edge of the white line. "Celaena," he breathed, his voice laced with pain—and hope. This was all she had left—his outstretched hand, and the promise of hope, of something better waiting on the other side of the line.
Sarah J. MaasMots clés chaol-westfall celaena
I name you Elentiya." She kissed the assassin's brow. "I give you this name to use with honour, to use when other names grow too heavy. I name you Elentiya, 'Spirit That Could Not Be Broken.
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You always wear that necklace," he said. "Is it another gift?" Though she wore gloves, he glanced at her hand - where the amethyst ring always sat - and the spark died from his eyes.
"No." She covered the amulet with her hand. "I found it in my jewellery box and liked the look of it, you insufferably territorial man.
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...are you as deft at handling your sword as Captain Westfall?"
"Better," he whispered in her ear.
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If they wanted Adarlan's Assassin, they'd get her.
And Wyrd help them when she arrived.
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Roland gave her a courtier’s smile. “And what sort of work do you do for my uncle?
”
Dorian shifted on his feet and Chaol went very still, but Celaena returned Roland’s smile and said, “I bury the king’s opponents where nobody will ever find them.
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I'm not ill like that,” she groaned. He sat on her bed, peeling back the blanket. A servant entered, frowning at the mess on the floor, and shouted for help.
“Then it what way?”
“I,uh...” Her face was so hot she thought it would melt onto the floor. Oh you idiot. “My monthly cycles finally came back!”
His face suddenly matched hers and he stepped away, dragging his hand through his short hair. “I-if...Then I'll take my leave,” he stammered, and bowed. Celaena raised an eyebrow, and then, despite herself, smiled as he left the room as quick as his feet could go without running, tripping slightly in the doorway as he staggered into the rooms beyond.
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