Queen Of Glass

Chapter 7

Chaol awoke Celaena earlier than she would have liked to arisen.
Irritated, she didn't even bother to get dressed, and instead sat herself down at her small dining table, awaiting her morning meal with a scowl on her face. It's hard to eat breakfast when you are yawning in between bites, especially so when an imposing man in black is standing over you with his hand resting on the pommel of his sword, urging you to eat faster with snarls of impatience. She had regained much of her appetite, as well as put on a good deal of weight, and the assassin took pleasure in explaining to the Captain of the Guard that her extreme slowness was due to her underfed, malnourished stomach. When he told her that two weeks was plenty to recover from the brink of starvation, she told him that the greenish-yellow color of vomit would go nicely with his leather boots. So she took her time, eating slowly, her eyes half-closed from exhaustion, the only sounds being her utensils scraping against dishes and occasional grunts of pleasure.
When Chaol finally asked her what the cause of her exhaustion was, Celaena told him that her brain had been so overjoyed to be back in the written world once again that she managed to nearly finish the book she had started before collapsing into a deep sleep. Reading late into the night was always a bad habit of hers.
As soon as she had eaten as much as she could, Celaena smiled innocently at Lord Chaol, and called to her servants to dress her.
"You won't be needing a dress or any of those riding outfits today. You need something that you can move and sweat in. Stay in those shorts and undershirt."
"Is it proper for a lady such as myself to be wearing such attire around the castle?" Celaena batted her eyelashes at Chaol.
Lord Chaol snorted. "You and I both know that you, Sardothien, are no lady. It makes no difference if you walk around naked or in a dress fit for a queen, you're still an assassin." Lord Chaol looked at her with raised brows and then lowered them. "The clothes that you are wearing right now will do perfectly for what I have planned."
Celaena looked down at her white underclothes and then looked at him, her mouth open in shock. "You really intend for me to wear my undergarments around the castle?"
That's going a bit too far!
"Why not? Why get your fine clothes soiled by your sweat when you can just change your underclothes afterwards?" This man clearly didn't know anything about women.
"After what? What activity could possibly require me to wear and soil my underclothes? If you're thinking that I might have had another profession besides that of an assassin, you're sorely mistaken, Lord Chaol. I am not-"
"Did I even imply that you were?" he growled. "You have a sick mind, Sardothien, if you think that I would possibly..." He shook his head in disgust, and she stiffened.
But I'm pretty!
Well, to my standards at least, and it seems that many others consider me to be so as well!
Chaol rolled his eyes. "I told you last night that your training began today. Since you have been slaving for the past two years in horrible conditions, the prince decided that it would be better to give you a bit of time to catch up before the other maidens arrive five days from now. And don't begin to tell me about that horrible fighting of yours—that doesn't count."
"Why?"
"Because you weren't using weapons."

"Good assassins don't need weapons to be able to kill." Her eyes glittered.
Chaol stared at her for a moment, strummed the pommel of his sword, and then tossed her a pair of silk, flat- bottomed ladies' slippers. "Wear these. We'll be working indoors; your feet won't need much protection." One of Celaena's servants appeared with clothes in hand. Chaol frowned.
"Maybe letting you prance around in your undergarments is a bad idea." Celaena snorted. "I told you that already."
The Captain of the Guard asked the woman to bring a pair of pants and a blouse—something light and not confining or revealing, as well as a cloak.
Celaena tapped her bare foot, her hands on her hips, and shook her hair in a glamorous flick of the head.
Chaol took a seat at the now cleared breakfast table and stared at her. "What a lovely trick. Is that part of your assassinating gimmick?"
She batted her eyelashes, simpering. "Sometimes."
His green eyes flashed. "And then what comes next? Do you take off your shirt or do you just go straight for the knife in the heart?"
Celaena removed a hand from her hip, letting it rest limply at her side. She flicked her wrist upwards, once, twice, grabbing the phantom dagger from where it would have been concealed in her clothes, and a lazy, arrogant smile spread across her face.
"Wouldn't you like to know..."
"Save it for the King of Wendlyn."
She strolled around the room, her arms crossed behind her back, watching the young man. He couldn't have been more than twenty-five. What was he doing as Captain of the Guard? She ran an assassin's eye over him, just as she had done throughout their journey to Renaril.
He was tall, much taller than she was, with broad shoulders and a broad chest. His body was proportionally average; not too muscular, but his black clothes did reveal the fit form beneath. His chin-length brown hair was cut nicely, revealing a bit of pampering beneath that rough exterior, and his face was clean-shaven. His brow was clear, and his dark brown eyebrows arched nicely over his forest-green eyes. He was handsome, but not overtly so—more in a kind of self-assured rugged way. His scarred hands showed revealed that more than his haircut, which—
You're running a woman's eye over him, you fool.
Celaena opened her mouth to speak, but the servant returned, asking Celaena if she'd like help with dressing. With a sour look on her face, Celaena said no, and began to pull on her pants. They wouldn't fit over her under-shorts. Celaena glanced down at her legs, at the wrinkled mess that jutted out beneath the tight brown material, and snarled. She looked ridiculous.
She pulled her white tunic over her head, tying the two golden strings in the back twice around her chest before wrapping them into a neat bow beneath her shoulder blades, and turned to Chaol.
"The pants look absurd."
The Captain of the Guard laughed. "You can take them off when we get to the Hall of Weapons—just wear your cloak over it for now."
Celaena hissed and grabbed her marvelous cloak from where the servant had put it on the chair, throwing it over her shoulders and pulling it tight around her. She looked down, smiling as she saw that the front opening concealed the mess of material beneath.