Crown of Midnight (Throne of Glass #2)(53)

Chaol surveyed the room, turning in place. “It’s the Fae woman’s garden—from Rena Goldsmith’s song,” he said softly. His golden eyes were bright.

She swallowed hard. “I know it’s not much—”

“No one has ever done anything like this for me.” He shook his head in awe, looking back at the greenhouse. “No one.”

“It’s just a dinner,” she said, rubbing her neck and walking to the table, if only because the urge to go to him was so strong that she needed a table between them.

He followed her, and an instant later, two servants appeared to pull out their chairs for them. She smiled a little as Chaol’s hand shot to his sword, but upon seeing that they were not being ambushed, he gave her a sheepish glance and sat down.

The servants poured two glasses of sparkling wine, then bustled off for the food that they’d spent all day preparing in the apothecary’s kitchen. She’d managed to hire the cook from the Willows for the night—for a fee that had made her consider punching the woman’s throat. It was worth it, though. She lifted her flute of wine.

“Many happy returns,” she said. She’d had a little speech prepared, but now that they were here, now that his eyes were so bright, and he was looking at her the way he had last night … all the words went right out of her head.

Chaol lifted his glass and drank. “Before I forget to say it: Thank you. This is …” He examined the glittering greenhouse again, then looked out to the river beyond the glass walls. “This is …” He shook his head once more, setting down his glass, and she caught a glimmer of silver in his eyes that made her heart clench. He blinked it away and looked back at her with a small smile. “No one has thrown me a birthday party since I was a child.”

She scoffed, fighting past the tightness in her chest. “I’d hardly call this a party—”

“Stop trying to downplay it. It’s the greatest gift I’ve been given in a long while.”

She crossed her arms, leaning back in her chair as the servants arrived, bringing their first course—roast boar stew. “Dorian got you an Asterion stallion.”

Chaol was staring down at his soup, brows high. “But Dorian doesn’t know what my favorite stew is, does he?” He glanced up at her, and she bit her lip. “How long have you been paying attention?”

She became very interested in her stew. “Don’t flatter yourself. I just bullied the castle’s head cook to tell me what dishes you favored.”

He snorted. “You might be Adarlan’s Assassin, but even you couldn’t bully Meghra. If you’d tried, I think you’d be sitting there with two black eyes and a broken nose.”

She smiled, taking a bite of stew. “Well, you might think you’re mysterious and brooding and stealthy, Captain, but once you know where to look, you’re a fairly easy book to read. Every time we have roast boar stew, I can barely get a spoonful before you’ve eaten the whole tureen.”

He tipped his head back and laughed, and the sound sent heat coursing through every part of her. “And here I was, thinking I’d managed to hide my weaknesses so well.”

She gave him a wicked grin. “Just wait until you see the other courses.”

When they’d eaten the last crumb of chocolate-hazelnut cake and drunk the last of the sparkling wine, and when the servants had cleared everything away and bid their farewells, Celaena found herself standing on the small balcony at the far edge of the roof, the summer plants buried under a blanket of snow. She held her cloak close to her as she stared toward the distant spot where the Avery met the ocean, Chaol beside her, leaning against the iron railing.

“There’s a hint of spring in the air,” he said as a mild wind whipped past them.

“Thank the gods. Any more snow and I’ll go mad.”

In the glow of the lights from the greenhouse, his profile was illuminated. She’d meant the dinner to be a nice surprise—a way to tell him how much she appreciated him—but his reaction … How long had it been since he felt cherished? Apart from that girl who had treated him so foully, there was also the matter of the family that had shunned him just because he wanted to be a guard, and they were too proud to have a son serve the crown in that manner.

Did his parents have any idea that in the entire castle, in the entire kingdom, there was no one more noble and loyal than him? That the boy they’d thrown out of their lives had become the sort of man that kings and queens could only dream of having serve in their courts? The sort of man that she hadn’t believed existed, not after Sam, not after everything that had happened.

The king had threatened to kill Chaol if she didn’t obey his orders. And, considering how much danger she was putting him in right now, and how much she wanted to gain—not just for herself, but for them…

“I have to tell you something,” she said softly. Her blood roared through her ears, especially as he turned to her with a smile. “And before I tell you, you have to promise not to go berserk.”

The smile faded. “Why do I have a bad feeling about this?”

“Just promise.” She clenched the railing, the cold metal biting into her bare hands.

He studied her carefully, then said, “I’ll try.”

Fair enough. Like a damned coward, she turned away from him, focusing on the distant ocean instead.