Throne of Glass 01.1 - The Assassin and the Princess by Maas Sarah J

Author:Maas, Sarah J. [Maas, Sarah J.]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Published: 2014-02-07T05:00:00+00:00

Nehemia approached, and Celaena stepped off the small platform. “What sort of story does this dress tell you?” the princess asked in Eyllwe.

Celaena was about to open her mouth, but she caught the direction of Nehemia’s stare: the open back. The black lace did a good job of hiding the gruesomeness of her scars, but this close, it was easy to see the mangled flesh beneath.

Their eyes met, and Celaena switched to Eyllwe as she said, “Do you think I should cover them up?”

Nehemia’s attention again went to the scars beneath the black lace. After a moment, she said, “No.” Celaena turned back to the mirror, but Nehemia spoke again, her voice a bit too calm: “How often do you think about them—about Endovier?”

Celaena met her own reflection in the mirror, the face that, like Kavill’s, was now familiar and foreign. “Every day. Every hour.”

It was a truth she hadn’t admitted to anyone—perhaps even to herself until now.

“Would you free them if you could?”

Celaena snapped her head to the princess. “What kind of a question is that? Of course I would.”

They had sworn—both sworn this morning—that they wouldn’t have this kind of talk. And Celaena knew precisely where this conversation would go: into Nehemia talking about slavery, the empire, the need for good people to stand and fight.

Kavill and Marta were doing their best to look busy at the counter in the rear of the front room. Kavill’s eyes lifted from his ledger, and when her gaze met his, she realized that he knew.He knew exactly who she was, and perhaps always had. She didn’t know why, but it made her…sad. Surprisingly, absurdly sad.

She looked back to the princess, who gave a forced smile. “I should not have mentioned it,” Nehemia said. “Today is for fun—for just being young women.”

And for some reason, seeing that forced smile just made the weight in her chest sink a little deeper.

Nehemia had gone to the front door to tell her guards that she was ready—and to find a carriage for hire. The sun had dropped, along with the temperature, and neither Celaena nor Nehemia felt particularly inclined to walk home in the frigid night.

Celaena was standing at the polished wooden counter, filling out directions on how and where to deliver Nehemia’s new clothes, and paying for her own purchases. She decided to take the red velvet gown, daring and scandalous as it was. If only because not buying it felt like some sort of defeat, some irreplaceable loss that cut her every time she thought about it.

She plucked the last piece of gold from her purse and set it on the counter, behind which Kavill stood, counting. “The red velvet gown should be ready in two weeks,” he said, taking the last piece of gold. “Do you have any special occasion in mind?”

She shrugged, glancing at Nehemia, who remained by the door, already looking miserable at the oncoming cold. Celaena herself wasn’t too keen to leave the warmth of the shop. She should have brought gloves—and a warmer cloak.

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