Queen of Shadows (Throne of Glass #4)(36)

“Pity,” she said, slumping into one of the chairs before his desk, trying not to look at the chair beside hers, where Sam had usually sat. “The other rug was prettier.”

Until her blood had soaked it when Arobynn had beaten her for ruining his slave trade agreement, making Sam watch the entire time. And when she was unconscious, he’d beaten Sam into oblivion, too.

She wondered which of the scars on Arobynn’s knuckles were from those beatings.

She heard the butler approach, but didn’t deign to look at him as Arobynn said, “We’re not to be disturbed.” The butler murmured his understanding, and the study doors clicked shut.

Aelin slung a leg over the arm of her chair. “To what do I owe this summoning?”

Arobynn rose, a fluid movement limned with restrained power, and came around the desk to lean against its edge. “I merely wanted to see how you were doing the day before your grand event.” His silver eyes flickered. “I wanted to wish you luck.”

“And to see if I was going to betray you?”

“Why would I ever think that?”

“I don’t think you want to get into a conversation about trust right now.”

“Certainly not. Not when you need all your focus for tomorrow. So many little things that could go wrong. Especially if you’re caught.”

She felt the dagger of the implied threat slide between her ribs. “You know I don’t break easily under torture.”

Arobynn crossed his arms over his broad chest. “Of course not. I expect nothing less from my protégée than to shield me if the king catches you.”

So that explained the summons.

“I never asked,” Arobynn went on. “Will you be doing this as Celaena?”

As good a time as any to cast a bored glance around the study, ever the irreverent protégée. Nothing on the desk, nothing on the shelves, not even a box that might contain the Amulet of Orynth. She allowed herself one sweep before turning indolent eyes on him. “I hadn’t planned on leaving a calling card.”

“And what explanation will you give your cousin when you are reunited? The same you gave the noble captain?” She didn’t want to know how he was aware of that disaster. She hadn’t told Lysandra—since Lysandra still had no idea who she was. She’d think about it later.

“I’ll tell Aedion the truth.”

“Well, let’s hope that’s excuse enough for him.”

It was a physical effort to clamp down on her retort. “I’m tired and don’t feel like having a verbal sparring match today. Just tell me what you want so I can go soak in my tub.” Not a lie. Her muscles ached from tracking Valg foot soldiers across Rifthold the night before.

“You know my facilities are at your disposal.” Arobynn pinned his attention on her right leg, slung over the arm of the chair, as if he’d somehow figured out that it was giving her trouble. As if he knew that the fight at the Vaults had somehow aggravated the old wound she’d received during her duel with Cain. “My healer could rub down that leg for you. I wouldn’t want you to be in pain. Or handicapped for tomorrow.”

Training kept her features bored. “You truly do like hearing yourself talk, don’t you?”

A sensual laugh. “Fine—no verbal sparring.”

She waited, still lounging in the chair.

Arobynn ran an eye down the suit, and when his gaze met hers, there was only a cold, cruel killer staring out at her. “I have it on good authority that you’ve been monitoring patrols of the king’s guard—but leaving them undisturbed. Have you forgotten our little bargain?”

She smiled a little. “Of course not.”

“Then why is my promised demon not in my dungeon?”

“Because I’m not capturing one until after Aedion is freed.”

A blink.

“These things might lead the king right to you. To us. I’m not jeopardizing Aedion’s safety to satisfy your morbid curiosity. And who’s to say you won’t forget to help me when you’re busy playing with your new toy?”

Arobynn pushed off the desk and approached, bending over her chair close enough to share breath. “I’m a man of my word, Celaena.”

Again, that name.

He took a step back and cocked his head. “Though you, on the other hand … I recall you promising to kill Lysandra years ago. I was surprised when she returned unharmed.”

“You did your best to ensure that we hated each other. I figured why not go the opposite way for once? Turns out she’s not nearly as spoiled and selfish as you made me believe.” Ever the petulant protégée, ever the smart-ass. “Though if you want me to kill her, I’ll gladly turn my attention to that instead of the Valg.”

A soft laugh. “No need. She serves me well enough. Replaceable, though, should you decide you’d like to uphold your promise.”

“Was that the test, then? To see if I follow through on my promises?” Beneath her gloves, the mark she’d carved into her palm burned like a brand.

“It was a present.”

“Stick with jewelry and clothes.” She rose and glanced down at her suit. “Or useful things.”

His eyes followed hers and lingered. “You fill it out better than you did at seventeen.”