The Assassin's Blade

If you can learn to endure pain, you can survive anything. Some people learn to embrace it- to love it. Some endure it through drowning it in sorrow, or by making themselves forget. Others turn it into anger.

She was fire, she was darkness, she was dust and blood and shadow.

She would tuck Sam into her heart, a bright light for her to take out whenever things were darkest.

There was no way in hell she was going to move to the southern continent without all of her books.

My name is Celaena Sardothien," she whispered, "and I will not be afraid.

Life isn't easy, no matter where you are. You'll make choices you think are right, and then suffer for them.

This girl wasn’t like wildfire—she was wildfire. Deadly and uncontrollable. And slightly out of her wits.

I love you,” he repeated, shaking her again. “I have for years. But if I asked you to pick, you’d choose Arobynn, and I. Can’t. Take. It.” “You’re a damned idiot,” she breathed grabbing the front of his tunic. “You’re a moron and an ass and a damned idiot." He looked like she had hit him. But she went on, and grasped both sides of his face. “Because I’d pick you.

The girl who'd taken on a Pirate Lord and his entire island, the girl who'd stolen Asterion horses and raced along the beach in the Red Desert, the girl who'd sat on her own rooftop, watching the sun rise over Avery, the girl who'd felt alive with possibility...that girl was gone.

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 it usually makes me feel better to some degree. Or it just makes me laugh at myself a bit.

You said you didn’t care what I thought. Or what I did. Or if I died, if I’m not mistaken." “I lied! And you know I lied, you stupid bastard!

You want to know what price I asked for forgiving Arobynn, Celaena?" Sam stood so still the he might have been a statue. "My price was his oath that he'd never lay a hand on you again. I told him I'd forgive him in exchange for that.

I can wait," he said thickly, kissing her collarbone. "We have all the time in the world.

Quiet as mice, quiet as the wind, quiet as the grave.

Alone with Rolfe, Celaena raised her sword. “Celaena Sardothien, at your service.” The pirate was still staring at her, his face pale with rage. “How dare you deceive me?” She sketched a bow. “I did nothing of the sort. I told you I was beautiful.

Sam smiled, his brown eyes turning golden in the dawn. It was such a Sam look, the twinkle of mischief, the hint of exasperation, the kindness that would always, always make him a better person than she was. Before she knew what she was doing, Celaena threw her arms around him and held him close. Sam stiffened, but after a heartbeat, his arms came around her. She breathed him in—the smell of his sweat, the tang of the dust and rock, the metallic odor of his blood... Sam rested his cheek on her head. She couldn't remember —honestly couldn't recall—the last time anyone had held her. But embracing Sam was different, somehow. Like she wanted to curl into his warmth, like for one moment, she didn't have to worry about anything or anybody. “Sam,” she murmured into his chest. “Hmm?” She peeled away from him, stepping out of his arms. “If you ever tell anyone about me embracing you... I'll gut you.

Sam's hand brushed her shoulder, and she almost jumped out of her skin as he brought his mouth close to her ear and murmured, "You look beautiful. Though I bet you already know that." She most certainly did.

Rain continued beating against the hall windows, a distant reminder that there was still a world around them.

She tensed, already taking in every detail she could. But she squared her shoulders. Straightened her spine. “My name is Celaena Sardothien,” she whispered, “and I will not be afraid.

The silence was suddenly too charged, his face too beautiful in the light.

Farran studied his new ally, his gaze glittering. "You have no idea." After another moment, 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.

Life isn’t easy, no matter where you are. You’ll make choices you think are right, and then suffer for them.

What are you doing?” Celaena lifted another piece of paper. “If His Pirateness can’t be bothered to clean for us, then I don’t see why I can’t have a look.” “He’ll be here any second,” Sam hissed. She picked up a flattened map, examining the dots and markings along the coastline of their continent. Something small and round gleamed beneath the map, and she slipped it into her pocket before Sam could notice. “Oh, hush,” she said, opening the hutch on the wall adjacent to the desk. “With these creaky floors, we’ll hear him a mile off.” The hutch was crammed with rolled scrolls, quills, the odd coin, and some very old, very expensive-looking brandy. She pulled out a bottle, swirling the amber liquid in the sunlight streaming through the tiny porthole window. “Care for a drink?

The music broke her apart and put her back together, only to rend her asunder again and again.

But she’d also promised Ansel that she had twenty minutes to get out of range. Celaena had fired after twenty-one.

She was definitely more covered-up than the courtesans around him. But sometimes there was more allure in not seeing everything.

If you can learn to endure pain, you can survive anything. Some people learn to embrace it—to love it. Some endure it through drowning it in sorrow, or by making themselves forget. Others turn it into anger. But Ansel let her pain become hate, and let it consume her until she became something else entirely—a person I don’t think she ever wished to be.

She just prayed Sam wouldn’t get hurt. In the silence of her bedroom, she swore an oath to the moonlight that if Sam were hurt, no force in the world would hold her back from slaughtering everyone responsible.