Sarah Maas - Throne of Glass

To all my readers from FictionPress

for being with me at the beginning and staying long after the end.

Thank you for everything.

After a year of slavery in the Salt Mines of Endovier, Celaena Sardothien was accustomed to being escorted everywhere in shackles and at sword-point. Most of the thousands of slaves in Endovier received similar treatmentthough an extra half-dozen guards always walked Celaena to and from the mines. That was expected by Adarlans most notorious assassin. What she did not usually expect, however, was a hooded man in black at her sideas there was now.

He gripped her arm as he led her through the shining building in which most of Endoviers officials and overseers were housed. They strode down corridors, up flights of stairs, and around and around until she hadnt the slightest chance of finding her way out again.

At least, that was her escorts intention, because she hadnt failed to notice when they went up and down the same staircase within a matter of minutes. Nor had she missed when they zigzagged between levels, even though the building was a standard grid of hallways and stairwells. As if shed lose her bearings that easily. She might have been insulted if he wasnt trying so hard.

They entered a particularly long hallway, silent save for their footsteps. Though the man grasping her arm was tall and fit, she could see nothing of the features concealed beneath his hood. Another tactic meant to confuse and intimidate her. The black clothes were probably a part of it, too. His head shifted in her direction, and Celaena flashed him a grin. He looked forward again, his iron grip tightening.

It was flattering, she supposed, even if she didnt know what was happening, or why hed been waiting for her outside the mine shaft. After a day of cleaving rock salt from the innards of the mountain, finding him standing there with six guards hadnt improved her mood.

But her ears had pricked when hed introduced himself to her overseer as Chaol Westfall, Captain of the Royal Guard, and suddenly, the sky loomed, the mountains pushed from behind, and even the earth swelled toward her knees. She hadnt tasted fear in a whilehadnt let herself taste fear. When she awoke every morning, she repeated the same words: I will not be afraid. For a year, those words had meant the difference between breaking and bending; they had kept her from shattering in the darkness of the mines. Not that shed let the captain know any of that.

Celaena examined the gloved hand holding her arm. The dark leather almost matched the dirt on her skin.

She adjusted her torn and filthy tunic with her free hand and held in her sigh. Entering the mines before sunrise and departing after dusk, she rarely glimpsed the sun. She was frightfully pale beneath the dirt. It was true that she had been attractive once, beautiful even, but well, it didnt matter now, did it?

They turned down another hallway, and she studied the strangers finely crafted sword. Its shimmering pommel was shaped like an eagle midflight. Noticing her stare, his gloved hand descended to rest upon its golden head. Another smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

Youre a long way from Rifthold, Captain, she said, clearing her throat. Did you come with the army I heard thumping around earlier? She peered into the darkness beneath his hood but saw nothing. Still, she felt his eyes upon her face, judging, weighing, testing. She stared right back. The Captain of the Royal Guard would be an interesting opponent. Maybe even worthy of some effort on her part.

Finally, the man raised his sword hand, and the folds of his cloak fell to conceal the blade. As his cloak shifted, she spied the gold wyvern embroidered on his tunic. The royal seal.

What do you care for the armies of Adarlan? he replied. How lovely it was to hear a voice like her owncool and articulateeven if he was a nasty brute!

Nothing, she said, shrugging. He let out a low growl of annoyance.

Oh, itd be nice to see his blood spill across the marble. Shed lost her temper once beforeonce, when her first overseer chose the wrong day to push her too hard. She still remembered the feeling of embedding the pickax into his gut, and the stickiness of his blood on her hands and face. She could disarm two of these guards in a heartbeat. Would the captain fare better than her late overseer? Contemplating the potential outcomes, she grinned at him again.

Dont you look at me like that, he warned, and his hand drifted back toward his sword. Celaena hid her smirk this time. They passed a series of wooden doors that shed seen a few minutes ago. If she wanted to escape, she simply had to turn left at the next hallway and take the stairs down three flights. The only thing all the intended disorientation had accomplished was to familiarize her with the building. Idiots.

Where are we going again? she said sweetly, brushing a strand of her matted hair from her face. When he didnt reply, she clenched her jaw.

The halls echoed too loudly for her to attack him without alerting the whole building. She hadnt seen where hed put the key to her irons, and the six guards who trailed them would be nuisances. Not to mention the shackles.

They entered a hallway hung with iron chandeliers. Outside the windows lining the wall, night had fallen; lanterns kindled so bright they offered few shadows to hide in.

From the courtyard, she could hear the other slaves shuffling toward the wooden building where they slept. The moans of agony amongst the clank of chains made a chorus as familiar as the dreary work songs they sang all day. The occasional solo of the whip added to the symphony of brutality Adarlan had created for its greatest criminals, poorest citizens, and latest conquests.

While some of the prisoners were people accused of attempting to practice magicnot that they could, given that magic had vanished from the kingdomthese days, more and more rebels arrived at Endovier. Most were from Eyllwe, one of the last countries still fighting Adarlans rule. But when she pestered them for news, many just stared at her with empty eyes. Already broken. She shuddered to consider what theyd endured at the hands of Adarlans forces. Some days, she wondered if they would have been better off dying on the butchering blocks instead. And if she might have been better off dying that night shed been betrayed and captured, too.

But she had other things to think about as they continued their walk. Was she finally to be hanged? Sickness coiled in her stomach. She was important enough to warrant an execution from the Captain of the Royal Guard himself. But why bring her inside this building first?

At last, they stopped before a set of red-and-gold glass doors so thick that she couldnt see through them. Captain Westfall jerked his chin at the two guards standing on either side of the doors, and they stomped their spears in greeting.

The captains grip tightened until it hurt. He yanked Celaena closer, but her feet seemed made of lead and she pulled against him. Youd rather stay in the mines? he asked, sounding faintly amused.

Perhaps if I were told what this was all about, I wouldnt feel so inclined to resist.

Youll find out soon enough. Her palms became sweaty. Yes, she was going to die. It had come at last.

The doors groaned open to reveal a throne room. A glass chandelier shaped like a grapevine occupied most of the ceiling, spitting seeds of diamond fire onto the windows along the far side of the room. Compared to the bleakness outside those windows, the opulence felt like a slap to the face. A reminder of how much they profited from her labor.