Crown of Midnight

And the world … it was moving on without her.

And then she did the most reckless thing she’d ever done in her life. She stood on her toes and whispered the words into his ear.

The words that would make him understand, understand why it was so important to her, and what it meant when she said she would return. And he would hate her forever for it, once he understood.

“What does that mean?” he demanded.

She smiled sadly. “You’ll figure it out. And when you do …” She shook her head, knowing she shouldn’t say it, but doing it anyway. “When you do, I want you to remember that it wouldn’t have made any difference to me. It’s never made any difference to me when it came to you. I’d still pick you. I’ll always pick you.”

“Please—please, just tell me what that means.”

But there was no time, so she shook her head and stepped back.

Chaol took one step toward her, though. One step, then he said, “I love you.”

She strangled the sob that built in her throat. “I’m sorry,” she said, hoping he would remember those words later—later, when he knew everything.

“Thank you,” Archer said again.

She kept walking, listening for any sign of him moving to attack her back.

“I knew you were a good woman,” he said.

Celaena halted. Turned.

There was a hint of triumph in his eyes. He thought he’d won. Manipulated her again. One foot after another, she walked back toward him with predatory calmness.

She stopped, close enough to kiss him. He gave her a wary smile.

“No, I’m not,” she said. Then she moved, too fast for him to stand a chance.

Archer’s eyes went wide as she slid the dagger home, jamming it up into his heart.

He sagged in her arms. She brought her mouth to his ear, holding him upright with one hand and twisting the dagger with the other as she whispered, “But Nehemia was.”

“Thank you,” Archer said again.

She kept walking, listening for any sign of him moving to attack her back.

“I knew you were a good woman,” he said.

Celaena halted. Turned.

There was a hint of triumph in his eyes. He thought he’d won. Manipulated her again. One foot after another, she walked back toward him with predatory calmness.

She stopped, close enough to kiss him. He gave her a wary smile.

“No, I’m not,” she said. Then she moved, too fast for him to stand a chance.

Archer’s eyes went wide as she slid the dagger home, jamming it up into his heart.

He sagged in her arms. She brought her mouth to his ear, holding him upright with one hand and twisting the dagger with the other as she whispered, “But Nehemia was.”

Fleetfoot pawed at the floor. “Good-bye, my dear friend,” Nehemia said to the dog, and began walking into the blackness.

Celaena just stood there, unable to move or think. Her throat burned with those pent-up words, the words that now choked the life out of her.

“Elentiya.” Nehemia paused to look back at her. The void seemed to be swirling, swallowing her up bit by bit. “You will not understand yet, but … I knew what my fate was to be, and I embraced it. I ran toward it. Because it was the only way for things to begin changing, for events to be set in motion. But no matter what I did, Elentiya, I want you to know that in the darkness of the past ten years, you were one of the bright lights for me. Do not let that light go out.”

He couldn’t meet the servant’s gaze as he walked into the bathing chamber, because he knew the truth he’d find there.

He’d realized it the moment Celaena had turned to him in Nehemia’s bedroom.

He had lost her.

And she would never, in a thousand lifetimes, let him in again.

The rest of the world quieted into nothing. In that moment, after ten long years, Celaena looked at Chaol and realized she was home.

As Celaena’s chuckle faded, Chaol looked at her, his brows high. “You’re one to laugh. You moan about the cold floors more than anyone I know.”

She straightened as the guards gave hesitant smiles. “If I recall correctly, you complain about them every time I wipe the floor with you when we spar.”

“Oho!” Ress cried, and Chaol’s brows rose higher. Celaena gave him a grin.

“Dangerous words,” Chaol said. “Do we need to go to the training hall to see if you can back them up?”

He nodded, pushing off the mantel. “Just be careful.”

“You keep saying that.”

“Is there something wrong with saying it?”

“Yes, there is! I’m not some silly fool who can’t protect herself or use her head!”

“Did I ever imply that?”

“No, but you keep saying ‘be careful’ and telling me how you worry, and insisting you help me with things, and—”

“Because I do worry!”

“Well, you shouldn’t! I’m just as capable of looking after myself as you are!”

He took a step toward her, but she held her ground. “Believe me, Celaena,” he snarled, his eyes flashing, “I know you can look after yourself. But I worry because I care. Gods help me, I know I shouldn’t, but I do. So I will always tell you to be careful, because I will always care what happens.”

She blinked. “Oh,” was all she managed.

He pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut, then took a long, deep breath.

Celaena gave him a sheepish smile

“Chaol?” she said after a few minutes.

“Hmm?”

“You know I absolutely hate it when he calls me Laena, don’t you?”

A smile tugged at his lips, along with a flicker of relief. “So the next time I want to piss you off …”

“Don’t you even think about it.”

His smile spread, and the flicker of relief turned to something that punched him in the gut when she smiled back.