The Assassin and the Empire (Throne of Glass 0.5)(6)

She kept her chin high. “Then is it acceptable to the Guild if we leave?” Every word balanced on the edge of a blade.

Arobynn’s eyes glittered. “You are free to move away.” Move away. He hadn’t said anything about leaving the Guild.

Celaena opened her mouth to demand a clearer statement, but then—

“Give us a damned answer.” Sam’s teeth were bared, his face white with anger.

Arobynn looked at Sam, his smile so deadly that Celaena fought the urge to reach for a dagger. “I just did. You two are free to do whatever you want.”

She had seconds, perhaps, before Sam truly exploded—before he’d start a brawl that would ruin everything. Arobynn’s smile grew, and Sam’s hands casually dropped to his sides—his fingers so, so near the hilts of his sword and dagger.

Shit.

“We’re willing to offer this much to leave the Guild,” Celaena interrupted, desperate for anything to get them from coming to blows. Gods above, she was aching for a fight, but not this one—not with Arobynn. Thankfully, both Arobynn and Sam turned to her as she named the sum. “That price is more than satisfactory for us to leave and set up our own business elsewhere.”

Arobynn looked at her for a too-long moment before he made her a counteroffer.

Sam shot to his feet. “Are you insane?”

Celaena was too stunned to move. That much money … He had to know, somehow, how much she had left in the bank. Because paying him what he asked would wipe it out entirely. The only money they’d have would be Sam’s meager savings, and whatever she could get from the apartment—which might be hard to sell, given its location and unusual layout.

She countered his offer with another, but he just shook his head and stared up at Sam. “You two are my best,” Arobynn said with maddening calm. “If you leave, then the respect and the money you’d provide the Guild would be lost. I have to account for that. This price is generous.”

“Generous,” Sam hissed.

But Celaena, her stomach churning, lifted her chin. She could keep throwing figures at him until she was blue in the face, but he’d obviously picked this number for a reason. He would not budge. It was one last slap in the face—one final twist of the knife meant only to punish her.

“I accept,” she said, giving him a bland smile. Sam whipped his head around, but she kept her eyes on Arobynn’s elegant face. “I’ll have the funds transferred to your account immediately. And once that’s done, we’re leaving—and I expect to never be bothered by you or the Guild again. Understood?”

Celaena rose to her feet. She had to get far away from here. Coming back had been a big mistake. But she wouldn’t let Arobynn see that he’d won another round. She shoved her hands in her pockets to hide how they were starting to tremble.

Arobynn grinned at her, and she realized he already knew. “Understood.”

“You had no right to accept his offer,” Sam raged, his face so set with fury that people along the broad city avenue practically jumped out of his way. “No right to do that without consulting me. You didn’t even bargain!”

Celaena peered into the shop windows as she walked by. She loved the shopping district in the heart of the capital—the clean sidewalks lined with trees, the main avenue leading right up to the marble steps of the Royal Theater, the way she could find anything from shoes to perfumes to jewelry to fine weapons.

“If we pay that, then we definitely need to find a contract before we leave!”

If we pay that. She said, “I am paying that.”

“Like hell you are.”

“It’s my money, and I can do what I want with it.”

“You paid for your debt and mine already—I’m not letting you give him another copper. We can find some way around paying this parting fee.”

They walked past the crowded entrance of a popular tea court, where finely dressed women were chatting with each other in the warm autumn sun.

“Is the issue that he demanded so much money, or that I’m paying it?”

Sam pulled up short, and though he didn’t look twice at the tea court ladies, they certainly looked at him. Even with anger rolling off him, Sam was beautiful. And too angry to notice that this was not the spot to argue.

Celaena grabbed his arm, yanking him along. She felt the eyes of the ladies on her as she did so. She couldn’t help a flicker of smugness as they took in her dark blue tunic with its exquisite gold embroidery along the lapels and cuffs, her fitted ivory pants, and her knee-high brown boots, made with butter-soft leather. While most women—especially the wealthy or noble-born ones—opted to wear dresses and miserable corsets, pants and tunics were common enough that her fine clothing wouldn’t have escaped the appreciation of the women idling outside the tea courts.

“The issue,” Sam said through his teeth, “is that I’m sick of playing his power games, and I’d just as soon cut his throat as pay that money.”

“Then you’re a fool. If we leave Rifthold on bad terms, we’ll never be able to settle anywhere—not if we want to keep our current occupation. And even if we decided to find honest professions instead, I’d always wonder if he or the Guild would show up one day and demand that money. So if I have to give him every last copper in my bank account to ensure that I can sleep in peace for the rest of my life, so be it.”