The Assassin's Blade

Because I’d pick you.”
And then she kissed him.

“My name is Celaena Sardothien, and I will not be afraid.”

second-in-command. Celaena knew ve

She must stand up.

Pine and snow and lazy, golden summers—a city of light and music in the shadow of the Staghorn Mountains. She must stand, or be broken before she even entered Endovier.

The wagon slowed, wheels bouncing over the rough path. A whip snapped.

“My name is Celaena Sardothien.…,” she whispered onto the floor, but her lips shook hard enough to cut off the words.

Somewhere, someone started screaming. From the shift in the light, she knew they were nearing what had to be a giant wall.

“My name is Celaena Sardothien.…,” she tried again. She gasped down uneven breaths.

The breeze grew into a wind, and she closed her eyes, letting it sweep away the ashes of that dead world—of that dead girl. And then there was nothing left except something new, something still glowing red from the forging.

Celaena opened her eyes.

She would go into Endovier. Go into Hell. And she would not crumble.

She braced her palms on the floor and slid her feet beneath her.

She had not stopped breathing yet, and she had endured Sam’s death and evaded the king’s execution. She would survive this.

Celaena stood, turning to the window and looking squarely at the mammoth stone wall rising up ahead of them.

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.

She would not break.

And someday … someday, even if it took her until her last breath, she’d find out who had done this to her. To Sam. Celaena wiped away her tears as the wagon entered the shade of the tunnel through the wall. Whips and screams and the clank of chains. 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 wagon cleared the wall and stopped.

Celaena raised her head.

The wagon door was unlocked and thrown open, flooding the space with gray light. Guards reached for her, mere shadows against the brightness. She let them grab her, let them pull her from the wagon.

I will not be afraid.

Celaena Sardothien lifted her chin and walked into the Salt Mines of Endovier.

He would be waiting for her at home. And then he’d chide her and laugh at her and kiss her. And then she’d dispatch Jayne tonight, and then they’d set sail on this river and then out to the nearby sea, and then be gone.

He would be waiting at home.

He’d be home.

Home.

She shut her eyes and took a steadying breath. “Will you laugh if I say that I’m scared?”

“No,” he said softly, “never.”

“Maybe I should try your little trick.” She took another breath. “My name is Celaena Sardothien, and I will not be afraid.”

He did laugh then, a tickle of breath on her mouth. “I think you have to say it with a bit more conviction than that.”

She opened her eyes and found him watching her, his face a mixture of pride and wonder and such open affection she could see that far-off land where they’d find a home, see that future that awaited them, and that glimmer of hope that promised happiness she’d never considered or dared yearn for. And even though the southern continent was a drastic change in their plans … Sam was right. A new continent for a new beginning.

“I love you,” Sam said.

Celaena wrapped her arms around him and held him close, breathing in his scent. Her only reply was, “I hate packing.”

Sam leaned against her, resting his head on her shoulder. “When we die, do you think we’ll be punished for the things we’ve done?”

She looked at the far bank of the river, where a row of ramshackle houses and docks had been built. “When we die,” she said, “I don’t think the gods will even know what to do with us.”

Sam glanced at her, a hint of amusement shining in his eyes.

Celaena smiled at him, and the world, for one flickering heartbeat, felt right.

“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.”

She brushed the hair from his eyes. Someday, they would both lay down their swords and daggers and arrows. And by leaving Rifthold, by leaving the Guild, they’d take the first step toward that day, even if they had to keep working as assassins for a few more years at least.

Sam’s eyes opened, and, finding her watching him, he gave her a sleepy smile.

It hit her like a punch to the gut. Yes—for him, she could someday give up being Adarlan’s Assassin, give up the notoriety and fortune.

He was so beautiful—so full of all the things that she wanted, all that she hoped for. How had she never noticed that until this year? How had she spent so long hating him?