Queen Of Glass

Chapter 2

Celaena Sardothien frowned at the great, red and gold glass doors as they opened to reveal a large throne room. The glass was so thick that Celaena couldn't see through, though illuminated swirls and knots of gold did reveal the presence of light on the other side.
The Captain of the Guard had led her through the monstrously-sized marble building: down corridors and up stairs, and around and around until Celaena wondered if she'd ever be able to find her way out again if set loose.
It was a massive structure—ominous in appearance and build. Its foundations and frame were constructed from black marble, and gold-tinted glass capped all the roofs of each of the many wings of the building. Celaena felt a strong sense of dislike for it—mainly because it blended in with the dismal surroundings—and her lips would have been set in a snarl if it weren't for her confusion at her present circumstance.
They had swiftly strode through the doors of the building, walking past scurrying men with lots of parchment who took no notice of the man in black and the slave-girl, and proceeded to make their way through a labyrinth of corridors and stairways, with each passing turn getting further and further away from the bustle of the lobby.
After a silent ten-minute journey, the mysterious man had stopped in front of the largest pair of glass doors that Celaena had ever seen inside a building.
"In here," he growled, shoving her forward with a free hand, the other still resting on the pommel of his sword.
Celaena staggered forward, her shackles clanking on the marble, and looked behind her in time to see five uniformed guards appear silently behind the man. Her eyes widened as they fell upon the crest that was embroidered on the breast of each soldier.
More royal guards?
It lay on the chest of every soldier's uniform, but the fine gold and red thread of the emblem was only sewn into the uniform of the Royal Family's personal guard.
But what would the DeHavilliard family be doing in this desolate, miserable place? Celaena turned her gaze to the room before her. On an ornate redwood throne sat a handsome young man.
Is this the Crown Prince?
Celaena looked at the youth blankly before quickly turning her gaze to curved upper corner of the throne, hiding the churning mess inside of her. She had a fierce loathing for politics, especially in regards to Adarlan's tyrant family, and being in the presence of one of them made everything in her body rock and bob like a ship in a storm.
He looks nothing like his father.
"You told me to bring her to you immediately, my lord," the Captain of the Guards said from behind, withdrawing his cowl from his face and kneeling down so quickly that Celaena could only make out well-groomed chestnut hair and an olive coloring. The other soldiers followed suit.
Celaena didn't bother to bow. In the presence of a DeHavilliard, she could feel the scars and wounds upon her back and body with harsh clarity. She could feel the dirt caked upon her skin. Her own foul stench filled her nose.
Humiliated and disgraced, Celaena fought to keep her malice for the young man out of her eyes. How could she possibly bring herself to bow before the offspring of the pig who had given her this life-sentence of pain? She'd sooner bow before her overseer.
There was an awkward moment of silence as the Crown Prince and his personal guard waited for her to bow to him.
"Bow before royalty, you insolent broad!" A large man roared as he came sweeping through the open doors, his face crimson and his tan mustaches flying.
Before Celaena knew it, she had been thrown to the floor, face-first into the cold marble. Pain reverberated in throbbing waves across her skull, elbows, and knees.
Celaena hissed, baring her teeth as she threw her head around to look at the giant of a man. He was almost as fat as her overseer, but while the overseer had been a dirty, ugly man, this one was simply a clean, ugly one. He was well-dressed in reds and oranges, but he could not quite conceal the large bald spot amongst his thinning, sandy hair because his toupee kept on sliding this way and that.
At first, Celaena thought that the marble would crack as the man dropped down to his knees beside her with force that could be felt as it rippled across the room. Once again, she was caught unawares as he grabbed her by the back of her neck and forced her face into the floor. Her hot cheek throbbed against the cold stone.
"That's the proper way to greet royalty, you vermin," he spat, pushing down on her so hard that she thought her skull would break.
Celaena would have liked to strangle the man with his long mustaches, but, as usual, the arrows and blades of the surrounding guards put quite a damper on her sick fantasies. Her teeth were barred, and Celaena could feel her distorted skin chafe against the ice-cold floor. Her arms, still shackled, ached from near-dislocation, the iron pushing into her stomach with bruising strength.
But, as she had been through worse, Celaena tolerated this humiliation, but soon began to wonder when she was going to be allowed up—for it had been almost twenty seconds. Her arms were really beginning to ache, and her face burned from the cold floor.
Eventually, the Crown Prince came to her rescue.
"I don't quite comprehend why you would force someone to bow before me when the original purpose of the gesture was to display one's own allegiance and respect towards one of higher rank," he said in a lazy, arrogant voice that was as smooth as silk and as pleasant to hear as a choir of angels. Celaena tried to pivot her free eye to look at him, but only managed to catch a glimpse a pair of black leather boots against the ebony floor. In the light of the massive, tree-like chandelier, gold specks appeared in the floor and danced before Celaena's eyes, mixing with the sparks and stars that she was beginning to see.
"Don't you think that it ruins the point if you make her bow? It's clear that you respect me, Duke Perringtonn, but I believe that it is a bit ridiculous for you to put that much effort into forcing Celaena Sardothien to have the same opinion as you in regards to my power and country."
Duke? Duke? This monster a duke ? He can't be serious!
"You and I know very well that the woman has no love for me or my father, so perhaps your only purpose is to humiliate the woman, when, in fact, I believe that she has had quite enough of that."
Had she been able to see, Celaena would have been revolted from the Crown Prince's finishing smile, filled with enough charm and suppressed instinct that it would be easy to understand why so many women were eager to jump into his bed. But all that she managed to observe were his words. Though his tone was a bit of a nuisance, they were so pleasant and intelligent that she was taken aback. It was wonderful to hear full, complex sentences again!
Her captor grunted his apologies and reluctantly released her. Celaena stayed still for a moment, waiting for the monster to retreat a few feet, and then carefully pushed upwards, her cheek peeling off from the marble. She frowned at the dirt left behind, a mess of grit and salt that stood out against the dark floor. Her shackles clanked and groaned as she rose to her feet, adjusting the rags wrapped around her, and Celaena Sardothien tossed her long hair behind her shoulders as she lifted her stiff neck to look upon the prince before her.
He was sprawled across the throne, leaning to one side, his head resting against his propped hand. A slender silver circlet sat on his full head of blue-black hair, which, even from three yards away, looked silky and soft to the touch.
Despite her queasiness, Celaena found herself forced to admit that the Crown Prince of the DeHavilliard Empire was beyond handsome—he was beautiful. His dark hair made his stunningly blue eyes stand out, and his golden skin glowed from good health and grooming. From what she could tell, he had a slender, yet muscular build, which he seemed to take pains to display with his close-fitting silver and black vest and jacket, tight dark riding pants, and his swept-back shimmering cape.