Queen Of Glass

Chapter 4

Once again, Celaena Sardothien was in the throne room.
Standing at a window with his back turned to the door was the Crown Prince of Adarlan, gazing out at the night sky. The massive oak doors had been left open, so naturally their arrival had only been announced by the rustling of Celaena's dress, which in the end wasn't a very loud noise at all. There were a few others in the room as well, including Duke Perringtonn and the Royal Guard, all of whom looked at her with open-mouthed dismay.
Celaena ran through the few things that had been said to her about this bizarre event, and felt dizzy once again.
The Crown Prince had said something about a bargain that would benefit her, and Lord Chaol had talked as if she wasn't about to go back into the salt mines—was she free at last? And then there was the last, the most awful, part of it—creating a princess.
"My Lord," Chaol said softly, bowing at the waist.
Celaena felt her face go red as the Crown Prince turned to look at them.
Was this what if felt like on an auction block?
The prince expressed the same shock as the other five men in the room, blinking rapidly as if his eyes were deceiving him. Did she really look that different than when she had first come in?
What a foolish thing to ask—of course you do! And you know that you're pretty—if now simply skinny, so this is definitely something to gape at! Besides, who would believe that someone so attractive, so alluring, could be capable of killing—of beating up three men? How mysterious, how charming, how puzzling and disturbing I must be!

Celaena's eyes began to glaze over with self-satisfaction, but she was quickly brought out of her vanity-stricken trance by Dorian DeHavilliard's few steps towards them.
A slow, easy smile spread across the prince's face. "Much better, Lord Chaol, much better."
It was the same seductive grin, but while it had made Celaena Sardothien's knees feel like jelly at first, it now filled
her with a red-hot rage. How dare he look at her and talk about her like that!
If I weren't in such a damn tight dress, I'd kill him. I'd kill him and then tell his father a few things that would—
"Gentlemen, would you care to leave us for a few moments? Celaena Sardothien and I have a matter to discuss in private." The Crown Prince pointed at the doors and smiled at the men in the room. "Lord Chaol, you may stay where you are."
Duke Perringtonn was the last to leave, giving Celaena a look that could have shot daggers as he slammed the great doors behind him.
The Crown Prince strode over to his throne and took a seat, crossing his long legs. Were men supposed to do that? Celaena moved forward, her anger fading into curiosity about her current situation. Revenge and the thoughts that went with it were the last things she ever wanted to remember or recall. She had spent too long putting those feelings under lock and key, and it wasn't as if she'd actually accomplish anything by—
Don't think about it. Don't even remember it. You forgot about it a long, long time ago, and now that this is happening, don't you dare think about what you were told to forget.
Celaena watched the prince, regaining her mental composure. Would she be sold to another place? Was she to be executed? Or was she being let free?
If it's the latter, I swear to the gods above that I won't kill anyone ever again...and I'll do some redeeming things that I'll think up later. Like save some children and give money to every temple I see. And go to every high holiday celebration. And try to not be so vain or mean. I swear.
"Before I present to you my proposition, I'd like to know something, my sweet assassin." The prince smiled once again and idly brushed his cheek with a finger.
His eyes gleamed. "How are you and that dress getting along?"
Celaena could have raked her nails down his face. Her anger came back full-throttle and she felt herself struggling for self-control.
"Why don't you try this corset on and then tell me what you think about it, your Holiness?" Celaena said innocently as she smiled at him. "With that pretty face of yours, I'm sure you'd be much better suited to wear it."
Lord Chaol coughed.
The Crown Prince laughed in dismay, his eyes wide at such an insult. "Do you know that my father could have you executed for saying that? He's sentenced men to their deaths for saying less, you know. It's a bit risky to say such a thing to me when your freedom is on the line, isn't it?" His amusement faded into a glower.
"My freedom?" Celaena could hardly believe her ears. She was being set loose? Her heart began to pound and her blood raced through her veins with dizzying effect.
And I swear that I'll never curse again, or drink too heavily or overindulge in sweets.
"Yes, your freedom," he said sharply. "So, I highly suggest, Miss Sardothien, that you watch that mouth of yours before you end up working back in the mines." His mouth came out of its sneer and warped into the same, falsely sweet manner with which she had smiled at him. His eyes still held a glare, but that soon quickly faded.
"Anyway," the prince said promptly, uncrossing his legs, "I don't believe that we've been properly introduced."