Queen Of Glass

Chapter 16

"She what?" Dorian looked up at the page that had rushed into the royal kennels, calling frantically for the Crown Prince.

"Fainted, my lord," the boy said breathlessly. "I do not know many of the details, but Lord Roland told me to tell you that your presence was required immediately."
He sighed, suppressing the smile that fought to rise to his lips, and patted the pregnant bitch's head gently, whispering to her that he'd return within the hour. Dorian stood up from where he had been sitting and wiped the straw off his black pants before following after the page.
The bitch was in labor and appeared to be having a good deal of trouble about it. He had been called down early this morning when the breeder had noticed how uneasily the hunting dog had slid into her birthing mode. Things had not improved in the three hours that he had been sitting with her. The bitch was old, but not old enough to be having such problems with delivering a litter. She had produced some of his best hounds, and he expected this batch of pups to be as great as the dog that had finally sired them. The match was an excellent one and Dorian had been eagerly awaiting the puppies that would result from it—he was determined to sit beside the bitch until she gave birth...and lived.
But if Celaena had fainted...well, that was something you didn't see every day! What had been the source of it? And why was Roland, of all people, the one to fetch a page to find him? What did he do to her?
Dorian didn't know whether to be worried or to be amused—but, either way, he hurried along after the page, urging the boy to go faster.
By the time they reached Celaena's rooms, there was a group of three men around the unconscious assassin. They all turned towards the prince and bowed their heads in acknowledgement. "What happened?" Dorian asked, moving to her bedside. She lay in her dress, her golden hair spread across her pillows, a frown on her lips.
Her face is awfully pale...
"She was stung by a wasp, your highness."
Dorian blinked, then fought to keep from laughing.
A wasp? Adarlan's Assassin fainted from an insect bite?
"Where was she stung?" his voice shook with suppressed laughter. Her frown now seemed absurd, and he wondered if she was merely pretending to sleep—perhaps as a way to avoid Roland DeHavilliard's advances.
One of the two physicians spoke, his voice solemn as he scratched his graying hair. "Twice on the arm and once on the hand, your highness."
Dorian's amusement ceased. Three bites? That might be serious, but not enough to make her faint...The physician showed him the three red, swollen marks on her body. The red, angry mountains stood out against her ivory skin.
"Do you have any idea what might have made her faint?" Dorian asked seriously, watching Celaena's face.
So maybe she's not faking it.
"People with allergies to bites like this often experience nausea, fever, extreme swelling, and hives, among many other things," the other physician explained, "but it's very rare for them to lose consciousness, your highness."
"So, what you're saying is that you have not the slightest clue."
Both doctors nodded their heads solemnly. "But, your highness," one of them said, "I'm sure that she will awaken any minute now—it appears to be nothing more than just a short fainting spell."
Dorian thanked the doctors and bid them farewell. They packed up their dark satchels and left her room, their dark robes billowing around them.
Silence ensued as they closed the oak doors to her bedchamber, and Dorian looked up at Roland and then back at the sleeping beauty. The blond-haired youth had a sour look on his face, and Dorian could not repress the surge off anger

that rose in his chest as he watched his cousin survey the assassin. There was a gleam in his eye, so unmistakable now, a gleam that he had seen before.
His cousin had changed; there was no impossibility that the youth had altered for the worse. A shadow passed over Dorian's sapphire eyes. But how far down was his cousin on the Road of Corruption?
Dorian returned his gaze to Celaena, suddenly very, very uneasy. "They say that they have no inclination as to why she fainted, but the page tells me that you were there when it happened." Dorian did not bother to check his rising agitation. "So, tell me, cousin, why is it that the Lady Lithaen is soaked in water and is senseless?" His voice was calm —too calm.
Roland tried to swallow, but found that his mouth was dry. "Your highness, she was just looking at the flowers when I saw her...and then she was stung..." His oily voice had a bit of a whine to it that made Dorian grate his teeth.
"What happened after that, Roland?" Dorian snapped. If his cousin had caused her any anguish...
"She demanded water and ice...so I brought her to a fountain and she literally stuck her entire torso in the water! She seemed to be having trouble breathing, but before I knew it, she had passed out and was laying face-first in the bird bath." All of this came out in a jumble of sorts, his attempt at charming the prince failed, but Dorian understood it for the most part. His cousin had always disliked being questioned by anyone, especially the Crown Prince of Adarlan.
"And that was it?" Dorian asked.
"Yes," Roland said, his eyes wide. "I swear it!"
For all of your court charm and grace, you certainly still remain the spoiled boy that I knew as a child. Dorian nodded his head slowly, his eyes never leaving Celaena's face. "Good day, Roland."
Roland's eyes flashed, but he kept them on the ground as he bowed and departed. Dorian did not fail to see the way his cousin clenched and unclenched his fists, or the way that his pale skin had reddened in such an unattractive manner. Yes, Roland knew that he had been doing something wrong—why else would he have acted so defensively?
"Oh, and Roland?" Dorian called after him, his voice calm once again. Roland paused in the doorway, turning around, a hand upon the pommel of his sword.
Don't be a fool.
"If you ever cause her any trouble," Dorian said, ignoring the barely-concealed aggression that distorted Roland's face, "I will not be very forgiving."
Before the youth could reply, he turned back to Celaena, waiting to hear the door shut before moving closer to her. It was so strange, seeing her asleep in daylight.
He felt as if he shouldn't have been there, as if there were something dangerous about being in a room, with the closest guards two rooms away, with an assassin. They had had their fun, but she was still capable of—
'She seemed to have trouble breathing...' Roland's words replayed themselves in Dorian's mind before he could allow himself to fully realize the situation that he had placed himself in.
The prince looked at the assassin's waist, keeping his gaze far away from her porcelain hands.
No stains, though there are some scars...Probably from—
Dorian dragged his eyes back to her torso, which was so small in comparison to her broad shoulders. It looked unnatural. When had had first seen her, he had remarked at her naturally broad frame, finding it oddly attractive, despite her obvious signs of starvation. Now, having put on weight, he found her curves to be sensual, if not statuesque. How did she manage to make her waist that slender when her bones were—
He knew that ladies easily fainted when their stays were bound too tightly, but Celaena?