Throne of Glass (Throne of Glass #1)(57)

Celaena threw more logs onto the fire, quickly changed into her nightgown, and slid into bed, clutching her makeshift knife. The amulet lay where she had left it. It will protect you . . .

Celaena glanced at the door again. No screams, no howls—nothing to indicate what had just happened. Still . . .

Celaena cursed herself for it, but hastily attached the chain around her neck. It was light and warm. Pulling the covers up to her chin, she squeezed her eyes shut, waiting for sleep to come, or for a clawed hand to snatch at her, to decapitate her. If it hadn’t been a dream—if it hadn’t just been some hallucination . . .

Celaena clutched the necklace. Become the King’s Champion—she could do that. She was going to do that, anyway. But what were Elena’s motives? Erilea needed the King’s Champion to be someone who understood the suffering of the masses. That seemed simple enough. But why did Elena have to be the one to tell her that? And how did it tie to her first command: to find and destroy the evil lurking in the castle?

Celaena took a steadying breath, nestling farther into her pillows. What a fool she was for opening the secret door on Samhuinn! Had she somehow brought all of this upon herself, then? She opened her eyes, watching the tapestry.

Something evil dwells in this castle . . . Destroy it . . .

Didn’t she have enough to worry about right now? She was going to fulfill Elena’s second command—but the first . . . that might lead her into trouble. It wasn’t like she could go poking about the castle whenever and wherever she pleased, either!

But—if there was a threat like that, then not only her life was at risk. And while she’d be more than happy if some dark force somehow destroyed Cain, Perrington, the king, and Kaltain Rompier, if Nehemia, or even Chaol and Dorian, were somehow harmed . . .

Celaena took a shuddering breath. The least she could do was look in the tomb for some clues. Maybe she’d find out something regarding Elena’s purpose. And if that didn’t yield anything . . . well, at least she’d tried.

The phantom breeze flowed through her room, smelling of roses. It was a long while before Celaena slipped into an uneasy sleep.





Chapter 26

The doors to her bedroom banged open, and Celaena was on her feet in an instant, a candlestick in hand.

But Chaol took no notice of her as he stormed in, his jaw clenched. She groaned and slumped back onto her bed. “Don’t you ever sleep?” she grumbled, pulling the covers over herself. “Weren’t you celebrating into the wee hours of the morning?”

He put a hand on his sword as he ripped back the blankets and dragged her out of bed by the elbow. “Where were you last night?”

She pushed away the fear that tightened her throat. There was no way he could know about the passages. She smiled at him. “Here, of course. Didn’t you visit to give me this?” She yanked her elbow out of his grasp and waved her fingers in front of him, displaying the amethyst ring.

“That was for a few minutes. What about the rest of the night?”

She refused to step back as he studied her face, then her hands, then the rest of her. As he did so, she returned the favor. His black tunic was unbuttoned at the top, and slightly wrinkled—and his short hair needed a combing. Whatever this was, he was in a rush.

“What’s all the fuss about? Don’t we have a Test this morning?” She picked at her nails as she waited for an answer.

“It’s been canceled. A Champion was found dead this morning. Xavier—the thief from Melisande.”

She flicked her eyes to him, then back to her nails. “And I suppose you think I did it?”

“I’m hoping you didn’t, as the body was half-eaten.”

“Eaten!” She crinkled her nose. She sat cross-legged on the bed, propping herself on her hands. “How gruesome. Perhaps Cain did it; he’s beastly enough to do such a thing.” Her stomach felt tight—another Champion murdered. Did it have to do with whatever evil Elena had mentioned? The Eye Eater and the other two Champions’ killings hadn’t been just a fluke, or a drunken brawl, as the investigation had determined. No, this was a pattern.

Chaol sighed through his nose. “I’m glad you find humor in a man’s murder.”

She made herself grin at him. “Cain is the most likely candidate. You’re from Anielle—you should know more than anyone how they are in the White Fang Mountains.”

He ran a hand through his short hair. “You should mind who you accuse. While Cain is a brute, he’s Duke Perrington’s Champion.”

“And I’m the Crown Prince’s Champion!” She flipped her hair over a shoulder. “I should think that means I can accuse whomever I please.”

“Just tell me plainly: where were you last night?”

She straightened, staring into his golden-brown eyes. “As my guards can attest, I was here the entire night. Though if the king wants me questioned, I can always tell him that you can vouch for me, too.”

Chaol glanced at her ring, and she hid her smile as a faint line of color crept into his cheeks. He said, “I’m sure you’ll be even more pleased to hear that you and I won’t be having a lesson today.”

She grinned at that, and sighed dramatically as she slid back under the blankets and nestled into her pillows. “Immensely pleased.” She pulled the blankets up to her chin and batted her eyelashes at him. “Now get out. I’m going to celebrate by sleeping for another five hours.” A lie, but he bought it.