Throne of Glass (Throne of Glass #1)(58)

She closed her eyes before she could see the glare he gave her, and smiled to herself when she heard him stalk out of the room. It was only when she heard him slam the doors to her room that she sat up.

The Champion had been eaten?

Last night in her dream—no, it hadn’t been a dream. It had been real. And there had been those screeching creatures . . . Had Xavier been killed by one of them? But they’d been in the tomb; there was no way they could have been in the castle halls without someone noticing. Some vermin probably got to the body before it was found. Very, very hungry vermin.

She shuddered again, and leapt out from under the blankets. She needed a few more makeshift weapons, and a way to fortify the locks on her windows and doors.

Even as she readied her defenses, she kept assuring herself that it was nothing to worry about at all. But with a few hours of freedom ahead of her, she brought as many of them with her as possible as she locked the door to her bedroom and slipped into the tomb.

?

Celaena paced the length of the tomb, snarling to herself. There was nothing here that explained Elena’s motives. Or what the source of this mysterious evil might be. Absolutely nothing.

In the daytime, a ray of sunlight shone into the tomb, making all the dust motes she stirred up swirl like falling snow. How was it possible that there was light so far beneath the castle? Celaena paused beneath the grate in the ceiling, peering up at the light flowing through it.

Sure enough, the sides of the shaft shimmered—they were lined with polished gold. A lot of gold, if it meant reflecting the sun’s rays all the way down here.

Celaena stalked between the two sarcophagi. Though she’d brought three of her makeshift weapons, she’d found no trace of whatever had been growling and screeching last night. And no trace of Elena, either.

Celaena paused beside Elena’s sarcophagus. The blue gem embedded in her stone crown pulsed in the faint sunlight.

“What was your purpose in telling me to do those things?” she mused aloud, her voice echoing off of the intricately carved walls. “You’ve been dead for a thousand years. Why still bother with Erilea?”

And why not get Dorian or Chaol or Nehemia or someone else to do it?

Celaena rapped a finger on the queen’s pert nose. “One would think you’d have better things to do with your afterlife.” Though she tried to grin, her voice came out quieter than she would have liked.

She should go; even with her bedroom door locked, someone was bound to come looking for her sooner or later. And she highly doubted that anyone would believe her if she told them that she’d been charged with a very important mission by the first Queen of Adarlan. In fact, she realized with a grimace, she’d be lucky if she weren’t accused of treason and magic-using. It would certainly guarantee her return to Endovier.

After a final sweep of the tomb, Celaena left. There was nothing useful here. And besides, if Elena wanted her to be the King’s Champion so badly, then she couldn’t spend all her time hunting down whatever this evil was. It would probably hurt her chances of winning, actually. Celaena hurried up the steps, her torch casting odd shadows on the walls. If this evil was as threatening as Elena made it seem, then how could she possibly defeat it?

Not that the thought of something wicked dwelling in the castle scared her or anything.

No. It wasn’t that at all. Celaena huffed. She’d focus on becoming King’s Champion. And then, if she won, she’d go about finding this evil.

Maybe.

?

An hour later, flanked by guards, Celaena held her chin high as they strode through the halls toward the library. She smiled at the young chevaliers they passed—and smirked at the court women who eyed her pink-and-white gown. She couldn’t blame them; the dress was spectacular. And she was spectacular in it. Even Ress, one of the handsomer guards posted outside her rooms, had said so. Naturally, it hadn’t been too difficult to convince him to escort her to the library.

Celaena smiled smugly to herself as she nodded to a passing nobleman, who raised his eyebrows at the sight of her. He was immensely pale, she noticed as he opened his mouth to say something, but Celaena continued down the hall. Her steps quickened at the rumblings of arguing male voices that echoed off the stones as they neared a bend.

Hurrying farther, Celaena ignored the click of Ress’s tongue as she rounded the corner. She knew that smell all too well. The tang of blood and the stinging reek of decomposing flesh.

But she hadn’t expected the sight of it. “Half-eaten” was a pleasant way to describe what was left of Xavier’s rail-thin body.

One of her escorts cursed under his breath, and Ress stepped closer to her, a light hand on her back, encouraging her to keep walking. None of the gathered men looked at her as she passed, skirting the edge of the scene, and getting a better look at the body in the process.

Xavier’s chest cavity had been split open and his vital organs removed. Unless someone had moved them upon finding the body, there was no trace of them. And his long face, stripped of its flesh, was still contorted in a silent scream.

This was no accidental killing. There was a hole in the crown of Xavier’s head, and she could see that his brain was gone, too. The smears of blood on the wall looked like someone had been writing, and then rubbed it away. But even now, some of the writing remained, and she tried not to gape at it. Wyrdmarks. Three Wyrdmarks, forming an arcing line that had to have once been a circle near the body.