“When we die," she said, "I don't think the gods will even know what to do with us.”
“She would tuck Sam into her heart, a bright light for her to take out whenever things were darkest.
And then she would remember how it had felt to be loved, when the world held nothing but possibility. No matter what they did to her, they could never take that away.
She would not break.
And someday ... someday, even it took her until her last breath, she'd find out who had done this to her. To Sam.”
“You look more of less the same."
She strode right past him. "And you still look like a jackass," she said sweetly.”
“Tell me your deepest secret," she said softly...
After a long moment, he spoke. "The only secret I've borne my entire life is that I love you." He gave her a slight smile. "It was the one thing I believed I'd go to the grave without voicing." His eyes were so full of light that their loveliness almost stopped her heart.”
“Celaena." She looked back at him, her red gown sweeping around her. His eyes shone as he flashed her a crooked grin. "I missed you this summer."
She met his stare unflinchingly, returning the smile as she said, "I hate to admit it, Sam Cortland, but I missed your sorry ass, too.”
“Sam," she said.
"I'm trying!"
"Sam," she repeated.
"No," he spat, hearing her tone. "No!"
He began screaming for help then. Celaena pressed her face to one of the holes in the grate. Help wasn't going to come-not fast enough.
"Please," Sam begged as he beat and yanked on the grate, he tried to wedge another dagger under the lid. "Please don't."
She knew he wasn't speaking to her.
The water hit her neck.
"Please," Sam moaned, his fingers now touching hers. She'd have one last breath. Her last words.
"Take my body home to Terrasen, Sam," she whispered. And with a gasping breath, she went under.”
“He removed her hand from his cheek to kiss the tips of her fingers.
"I get scared, too," he murmured onto her skin. "You want to hear something ridiculous? Whenever I'm scared out of my wits, I tell myself: My name is Sam Cortland ... and I will not be afraid. I've been doing it for years."
It was her turn to raise her brows. "And that actually works?"
He laughed onto her fingers. "Sometimes it does, Sometimes it doesn't. But usually it makes me feel better to some degree. Or just makes me laugh at myself a bit.”
“You, Celaena Sardothien, are charged with the deaths of the following people..."
And then he began a long recitation of all those lives she'd taken. The brutal story of a girl who was now gone.”
“The game had been played, and she had lost.”
“She didn't want to go out into a world where he didn't exist. So she watched the light shift and change, and let the world pass by without her.”
“I love you," Sam said.
Celaena wrapped her arms around him and held him close, breathing his scent. Her only reply was, "I hate packing.”
“His eyes - those silver eyes that would probably haunt her for the rest of her life - were bright.
"No matter what I have done, I really do love you, Celaena."
The word hit her like a stone to the head. He'd never said that word to her before. Ever.
A long silence fell between them.”
“The stag’s enormous head turned slightly—toward the wagon, toward the small window.
The Lord of the North.
So the people of Terrasen will always know how to find their way home, she’d once told Ansel as they lay under a blanket of stars and traced the constellation of the stag.
So they can look up at the sky, no matter where they are, and know Terrasen is forever with them.”
“She wouldn't leave him like this, in this cold, dark room.
She yanked out of Arobynn's grasp. Wordlessly, she unfastened her cloak and spread it over Sam, covering the damage that had been so carefully inflicted. She climbed onto the wooden table and lay out beside him, stretching an arm across his middle, holding him close.
The body still smelled faintly like Sam. And like the cheap soap she'd made him use, because she was so selfish that she couldn't let him have her lavender soap.
Celaena buried her face in his cold, stiff shoulder. There was a strange, musky scent all over him--a smell that was so distinctly not Sam that she almost vomited again. It clung to his golden-brown hair, to his torn, bluish lips.
She wouldn't leave him.
Footsteps heading toward the door--then the snick of it closing as Arobynn left.
Celaena closed her eyes. She wouldn't leave him.
She wouldn't leave him.”
“I love you," he breathed against her mouth. "And from today onward, I want to never be separated from you. Where you go, I go. Even if that means going to Hell itself, wherever you are, that's where I want to be. Forever.”
“She had believed she could love Sam and not pay the price. Everything has a price, she'd once been told by a Spidersilk merchant in the Red Desert. How right he was.”
“This was some dream, or she had gone to hell after all, because she couldn't exist in the world where this had been done to him, where she paced like an idiot all night while he suffered, while Farran tortured him, while he ripped out his eyes and--
Celaena vomited on the floor.
Footsteps, then Arobynn's hands were on her shoulder, on her waist, pulling her away.
He was dead.
Sam was dead.”
“Now that Sam was dead, there wasn't anything left outside of the dungeons worth fighting for, anyway. Not when Adarlan's Assassin was crumbling apart, and her world with her.”
“The world balanced on the edge of a knife, slipping, slipping, slipping.”
“You're back," Sam said, as if he couldn't quite believe it.
She lifted her chin, stuffing her hands in her pockets. "Obviously."
He tilted his head slightly to the side. "How was the desert?"
There wasn't a scratch on him. Of course, her face had healed too but... "Hot," she said. Sam let out a breathy chuckle.”
“She shook off his grip. "I am what I am, and I don't particularly care what you think of me.”
"Well, I care what you think of me. I care enough that I stayed at this disgusting party for you. And I care enough that I'd attend a thousand more like it so I can spend a few hours with you when you aren't looking at me like I'M not worth the dirt beneath your shoes.”
“No matter what I do, I really do love you Celaena."
The word hit her like a stone to the head. He'd never said that word to her before. Ever.
A long silence fell between them.
Arobynn's neck shifted as he swallowed. "I do the things that I do because I'm sacred ... and because I don't know how to express what I feel." He said it so quietly that she barely heard it. "I did all of those things because I was angry with you for picking Sam."
Arobynn's carefully cultivated mask fell, and the wound she'd given him flickered in those magnificent eyes. "Stay with me," he whispered. "Stay in Rifthold."
She swallowed, and found it particularly hard to do so. "I'm going."
"No," he said softly. "Don't go."
No.
That was what she'd said to him that night he'd beaten her, in the moment before he'd struck her, when she thought he was going to hurt Sam instead. And then he'd beaten her so badly she'd been knocked unconscious. Then he'd beaten Sam, too.
Don't.
That was what Ansel had said to her in the desert when Celaena had pressed the sword into the back of her neck, when the agony of Ansel's betrayal had been almost enough to make Celaena kill the girl she'd called a friend. But that betrayal had paled in comparison to what Arobynn had done to her when he'd tricked her into killing Doneval, a man who could have freed countless slaves.
He was using word as chains to bind her again. He'd had so many chances over the year to tell her that he loved her--he'd known how much she craved those words. But he hadn't spoken them until he needed to use them as weapons.
And now that she had Sam, Sam who said those words without expecting anything in return, Sam who loved her for reasons she still didn't understand...
Celaena tilted her head to the side, the only warning she gave that she was still ready to attack him.
"Get out of my house.”
“And now, the very thing that had earned her the right to call herself Adarlan's Assassin would be what sealed her doom.”
“But she squared her shoulders. Straightened her spine.
“My name is Celaena Sardothien,” she whispered, “and I will not be afraid.”
“After another moment of quietness, he asked, "Why did you do it?"
Arobynn's attention drifted back to the wagon, already a small dot in the rolling foothills above Rifthold. "Because I don't like sharing my belongings," was his only response.”
“Sam was gone.
Reality opened wide and swallowed her whole.
She didn't move from the bed.”
“She would tuck Sam into her heart, a bright light for her to take out whenever things were darkest. And then she would remember how it had felt to be loved, when the world had held nothing but possibility. No matter what they did to her, they could never take that away.”
“Why did you do it?"
Arobynn's attention drifted back to the wagon, already a small dot in the roiling foothills above Rifthold. "Because I don't like sharing my belongings.”
“The Stag, the Lord of the North. So the people of Terrasen will always know how to find their way home. So they can look up at the sky, no matter where they are and know Terrasen is forever with them.”
“Celaena era fuego y oscuridad, era polvo, sangre y sombra.”
“The more pain I train myself to stand, the more I learn. You are afraid of pain now, Unk, but you won't learn anything if you don't invite the pain. And the more you learn, the gladder you will be to stand the pain.”
“I never trust people with no appetite. It's like they're always holding something back on you.”
“She carried within herself a great fund of life, and her deepest enjoyment was to feel the continuity between the movement of her own heart and the agitations of the world. For this reason, she was fond of seeing great crowds, and large stretches of country, of reading about revolutions and wars, of looking at historical pictures--a class of efforts to which she had often gone so far as to forgive much bad painting for the sake of the subject.”
“Quis custodiet ipsos custodes?
Kto bude strážiť strážcov?”
“Her passions were narrow but deep.”
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