Sam took a bite, poured a glass of water from the ewer she’d left sitting on the oak table, and leaned back in his chair. Behind him, the window above the sink revealed the glittering sprawl of the capital and the illuminated glass castle towering over them all.
“Are you just not going to speak to me ever again?”
She shot him a glare. “Moving is expensive. If we were to leave Rifthold, then we’d need a little more money just so we could have something to fall back on if we can’t get work right away.” Celaena thought about it. “One more contract each,” she said. “I might not be Arobynn’s protégée anymore, but I’m still Adarlan’s Assassin, and you’re … well, you’re you.” He gave her a dark look, and, despite herself, Celaena grinned. “One more contract,” she repeated, “and we could move. It’d help with the expenses—give us enough of a cushion.”
“Or we could just say to hell with it and go.”
“I’m not giving up everything just to slum it somewhere. If we leave, we’ll do it my way.”
Sam crossed his arms. “You keep saying if—but what else is there to decide?”
Again: nothing. Everything.
She took a long breath. “How will we establish ourselves in a new city without Arobynn’s support?”
Triumph flashed in Sam’s eyes. She leashed her irritation. She hadn’t said outright that she was agreeing to move, but her question was confirmation enough for both of them.
Before he could answer, she went on: “We’ve grown up here, and yet in the past month, we haven’t been able to get any hires. Arobynn always handled those things.”
“Intentionally,” Sam growled. “And we’d do just fine, I think. We’re not going to need his support. When we move, we’re leaving the Guild, too. I don’t want to be paying dues to them for the rest of my life, and I don’t want anything to do with that conniving bastard ever again.”
“Yes, but you know that we need his blessing. We need to make … amends. And need him to agree to let us leave the Guild peacefully.” She almost choked on it, but managed to get the words out.
Sam shot out of his seat. “Do I need to remind you what he did to us? What he’s done to you? You know that the reason we can’t find any hires is because Arobynn made sure word got out that we weren’t to be approached.”
“Exactly. And it will only get worse. The Assassin’s Guild would punish us for leaving the Guild and beginning our own establishment elsewhere without Arobynn’s approval.”
Which was true. While they’d paid their debts to Arobynn, they were still members of the Guild, and still obligated to pay them dues every year. Every assassin in the Guild answered to Arobynn. Obeyed him. Celaena and Sam had both been dispatched more than once to hunt down Guild members who had gone rogue, refused to pay their dues, or broken some sacred Guild rule. Those assassins had tried to hide, but it had only been a matter of time before they’d been found. And the consequences hadn’t been pleasant.
Celaena and Sam had brought Arobynn and the Guild a lot of money and earned them a fair amount of notoriety, so their decisions and careers had been closely monitored. They were important to the Guild. Even with their debts paid, they’d still need permission to be allowed to leave. They’d be asked to pay a parting fee, if they were lucky. If not … well, it’d be a very dangerous request to make.
“So,” she went on, “unless you want to wind up with your throat cut, we need to get Arobynn’s approval to break from the Guild before we leave. And since you seem in such a hurry to get out of the capital, we’ll go see him tomorrow.”
Sam pursed his lips. “I’m not going to grovel. Not to him.”
“Neither am I.” She stalked to the kitchen sink, bracing her hands on either side of it as she looked out the window. Rifthold. Could she truly leave it behind? She might hate it at times, but … this was her city. Leaving that, starting over in a new city somewhere on the continent … Could she do it?
Footsteps thudded on the wooden floor, a warm breath caressed her neck, and then Sam’s arms slipped around her waist from behind. He rested his chin on the crook between her shoulder and neck, and they stared at the city.
“I just want to be with you,” he murmured. “I don’t care where we go. That’s all I want.”
She closed her eyes, and leaned her head against his. He smelled of her lavender soap—her expensive lavender soap that she’d once warned him to never use again. He probably had no idea what soap she’d even been scolding him about. She’d have to start hiding her beloved toiletries and leave out something inexpensive for him. Sam wouldn’t be able to tell the difference, anyway.
“I’m sorry I went to the Vaults,” he said onto her skin, planting a kiss beneath her ear.
A shiver went down her spine. Though they’d been sharing the bedroom for the past month, they hadn’t yet crossed that final threshold of intimacy. She wanted to—and he certainly wanted to— but so much had changed so quickly. Something that monumental could wait a while longer. It didn’t stop them from enjoying each other, though.
Sam kissed her ear, his teeth grazing her earlobe, and her heart stumbled a beat.
“Don’t use kissing to swindle me into accepting your apology,” she got out, even as she tilted her head to the side to allow him better access.
He chuckled, his breath caressing her neck. “It was worth a shot.”
“If you go to the Vaults again,” she said as he nibbled on her ear, “I’ll hop in and beat you unconscious myself.”
She felt him smile against her skin. “You could try.” He bit her ear—not hard enough to hurt, but enough to tell her that he’d now stopped listening.
She whirled in his arms, glaring up at him, at his beautiful face illuminated by the glow of the city, at his eyes, so dark and rich. “And you used my lavender soap. Don’t ever do that—”
But then Sam’s lips found hers, and Celaena stopped talking for a good while after that.
Yet as they stood there, their bodies twining around each other, there was still one question that remained unasked—one question neither of them dared voice.
Would Arobynn Hamel let them leave?
Chapter Two
When Celaena and Sam entered the Assassin’s Keep the next day, it was as if nothing had changed. The same trembling housekeeper greeted them at the door before scuttling away, and Wesley, Arobynn’s manservant, was standing in his familiar position outside the King of the Assassins’ study.
They strode right up to the door, Celaena using every step, every breath, to take in details. Two blades strapped to Wesley’s back, one at his side, two daggers sheathed at his waist, the glint of one shining in his boot—probably one more hidden in the other boot, too. Wesley’s eyes were alert, keen—not a sign of exhaustion or sickness or anything that she could use to her advantage if it came to a fight.
But Sam just strolled right up to Wesley, and despite how quiet he’d been on their long walk over here, he held out a hand and said, “Good to see you, Wesley.”
Wesley shook Sam’s hand and gave a half smile. “I’d say you look good, boyo, but that bruise says otherwise.” Wesley looked at Celaena, who lifted her chin and huffed. “You look more or less the same,” he said, a challenging gleam in his eyes. He’d never liked her—never bothered to be nice. As if he’d always known that she and Arobynn would wind up on opposite sides, and that he’d be the first line of defense.
She strode right past him. “And you still look like a jackass,” she said sweetly, and opened the doors to the study. Sam muttered an apology as Celaena entered the room and found Arobynn waiting for them.
The King of the Assassins watched them with a smile, his hands steepled on the desk in front of him. Wesley shut the door behind Sam, and they silently took seats in the two chairs before Arobynn’s massive oak desk.
One glance at Sam’s drawn face told her that he, too, was remembering the last time the two of them had been in here together. That night had ended with both of them beaten in
to unconsciousness at Arobynn’s hands. That had been the night that Sam’s loyalty had switched—when he’d threatened to kill Arobynn for hurting her. It had been the night that changed everything.
Arobynn’s smile grew, a practiced, elegant expression disguised as benevolence. “As overjoyed as I am to see you in good health,” he said, “do I even want to know what brings the two of you back home?” Home—this wasn’t her home now, and Arobynn knew it. The word was just another weapon.
Sam bristled, but Celaena leaned forward. They’d agreed that she would do the talking, since Sam was more likely to lose his temper where Arobynn was involved.
“We have a proposal for you,” she said, keeping perfectly still. Coming face-to-face with Arobynn, after all his betrayals, made her stomach twist. When she’d walked out of this office a month ago, she’d sworn that she’d kill him if he bothered her again. And Arobynn, surprisingly, had kept his distance.
“Oh?” Arobynn leaned back in his chair.
“We’re leaving Rifthold,” she said, her voice cool and calm. “And we’d like to leave the Guild, too. Ideally, we’d establish our own business in another city on the continent. Nothing that would rival the Guild,” she added smoothly, “just a private business for us to make ends meet.” She might need his approval, but she didn’t have to grovel.
Arobynn looked from Celaena to Sam. His silver eyes narrowed on Sam’s split lip. “Lovers’ quarrel?”
“A misunderstanding,” Celaena said before Sam could snap a retort. Of course Arobynn would refuse to immediately give them an answer. Sam gripped the wooden arms of his chair.