Crown of Midnight (Throne of Glass #2)(43)

“So what if it is? Haven’t I earned the right to eat as much as I want, whenever I want?” She wrenched her foot out of his grasp as the smile faded from his face.

“Yes,” he said quietly, his voice barely audible over the crackling fire. “You have.” After a few moments of silence, he stood up and walked to the door.

She sat up on her elbows. “Where are you going?”

He opened the door. “To get you chocolate cake.”

When he returned, and after they’d both eaten half of the cake he’d swiped from the kitchens, Celaena lay back on the couch, a hand on her full belly. Chaol was already sprawled across the cushions, sleeping soundly. Staying up until the middle of the night at the ball, then awakening for their sunrise run this morning had been exhausting. Why hadn’t he just canceled the run?

You know, the courts weren’t always like this, Nehemia had said. There was a time when people valued honor and loyalty—when serving a ruler wasn’t about obedience and fear…. Do you think another court like that could ever rise again?

Celaena hadn’t given Nehemia an answer. She hadn’t wanted to talk about it. But looking at Chaol now, at the man he was, and the man he was still becoming …

Yes, she thought. Yes, Nehemia. It could rise again, if we could find more men like him.

But not in a world with this king, she realized. He’d crush a court like that before Nehemia could muster one. If the king were gone, then the court that Nehemia dreamed of could change the world. That court could undo the damage of a decade of brutality and terror; it could restore the lands ravaged by conquest and renew the hearts of the kingdoms that shattered when Adarlan marched in.

And in that world … Celaena swallowed hard. She and Chaol would never be a normal boy and girl, but perhaps in that world they could make a life of their own. She wanted that life. Because even though he’d pretended nothing had happened after the dance they’d shared last night, something had. And maybe it had taken her this long to realize it, but this man—she wanted that life with him.

The world Nehemia dreamed about, and the world Celaena sometimes dared let herself consider, was nothing more than a shred of hope and a memory of what the kingdoms had once been. But perhaps the rebel movement truly knew about the king’s plans and how to ruin them—how to destroy him, with or without Aelin Galathynius and whatever army they claimed she was raising.

Celaena sighed and eased off the couch, gently shifting Chaol’s legs so she didn’t disturb him. She turned back, though—just once, leaning down to brush her fingers through his short hair, then graze them along his cheek. Then she quietly slipped from his room, taking the remnants of the chocolate cake with her.

She was wondering whether eating the rest of the chocolate cake would make her severely sick when she turned down her hallway and spotted Dorian sitting on the floor outside her rooms. He looked over when he saw her, his eyes going to the cake in her hands. Celaena blushed and lifted her chin. They hadn’t spoken since their argument over Roland. Perhaps he’d come to apologize. Served him right.

But as she neared and Dorian got to his feet, she took one look at the expression in his sapphire eyes and knew he wasn’t here for an apology.

“It’s a bit late for a visit,” she said by way of greeting.

Dorian put his hands in his pockets and leaned against the wall. His face was pale, his eyes haunted, but he gave her half a smile. “It’s a bit late for chocolate cake, too. Been raiding the kitchens?”

She remained outside her rooms, running an eye over him. He looked fine—no bruises, no signs of injury—yet something was off. “What are you doing here?”

He avoided her gaze. “I was looking for Nehemia, but her servants said she was out. I thought they meant here; then I thought you two might be out for a stroll.”

“I haven’t seen her since this morning. Is there something you want from her?”

Dorian took a ragged breath, and Celaena suddenly realized just how cold it was in the hallway. How long had he been sitting here on the freezing floor? “No,” he said, shaking his head as if convincing himself of something. “No, there isn’t.”

He began walking away. She started speaking before she knew she’d opened her mouth. “Dorian. What’s wrong?”

He turned. For a heartbeat, there was something in his eyes that reminded her of a world long since burned—a glimmer of color and power that still stalked the edges of her nightmares. But he blinked, and it was gone. “Nothing. There’s nothing wrong at all.” He strode away, hands still in his pockets. “Enjoy your cake,” he said over his shoulder, and then was gone.

Chapter 19

Chaol stood before the king’s throne, almost boring himself to tears as he gave yesterday’s report. He tried not to think about last night—how the brief touch of Celaena’s fingers through his hair and on his face had sent a pang of desire through him so strong he’d wanted to grab her and pin her on the couch. It had taken all his self-control to keep his breathing steady, to keep pretending that he was asleep. After she’d left, his heart had been pounding so hard it took him an hour to calm enough to actually sleep.

Looking at the king now, Chaol was glad he’d controlled himself. The line between him and Celaena was there for a reason. Crossing it could call into question his loyalty to the king before him—not to mention the way it would impact his friendship with Dorian. The prince had made himself scarce this past week; Chaol would have to make a point today to go see him.