Queen Of Glass

Chapter 30

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"I see no reason why you shouldn't send her, your majesty," the Minister of Trasien said cautiously, his tongue darting out to wet his dry lips. "She has proven herself time and again to be fully capable of handling the task."
The King of Adarlan frowned, his hands clenching the arms of his glass throne. He looked around the circular table of men who made up his council—ministers, advisors, former kings: they were all under his thumb.
But then why was the Minister of Trasien now questioning his ruler's motives?
"After seeing her emotional escapade last week, I don't think the wench can be trusted to handle such an important task," the king said, irritated that he had to explain his reasons to the lesser man.
The Minister of Trasien nodded his head respectfully, but his gray eyes sparkled with the passion and fire that was common in his country's people. "The woman has been coping with an incredible loss, your highness—any person, even an assassin, would buckle beneath such an emotional burden."
The king looked at his other council members, but none of them showed any sign of response and instead became immensely interested in the piles of papers in front of them.
"She can't be trusted," the King of Adarlan growled.
"Your son doesn't seem to think so," the minister replied briskly, but then added in subserviently: "your majesty." The King of Adarlan felt anger heave within his breast. His son...
Scheming little bitch.
"Your highness," the Minister of Trasien inquired gently, hoping to ease his king's temper to a safe level and then quickly change the subject, "I can honestly see no reason for Celaena Sardothien to not go to Wendlyn. Kaltain R'ompier cannot go, and the other girl, Jodra Nustrom, left as quickly as she could when she found out that it was Kaltain R'ompier who had hired the assassin to kill Princess Anuksun Ytger." The Minister of Trasien ignored the flame- drenched glare Duke Perringtonn was giving him and continued. "Neither girl—well, none of the girls who we brought to the palace were of the assassinating sort. None save for Celaena Sardothien. We should have hired her immediately those many months ago without wasting so much time and gold on this ridiculous thing. I suggest that we not waste any more time and send her as soon as she's fully healed."
"She's a monster," the king snapped.
"Then more the reason for her to do a good job—she won't have any qualms about her assigned task," the minister of Trasien said quickly, wielding his silver tongue like a weapon. "She'll know what to do and how to do it—she'll be home within two months. Besides," he said with a twinkle in his eye, "should she go, she'll be far away—very far away —so far that her influence might fade from these shores..." he trailed off, the words he had left unsaid having the impact upon the king that the minister had hoped they would.
The king looked at the Minister of Trasien suspiciously, but the man held his lord's gaze with the steadfast strength that dwelled within his steel eyes. With a frustrated, angry sigh, the King of Adarlan broke his stare and looked at his other ministers. "Well?" he barked at them, his face reddening in anger, causing them to jump in their seats and sit erect. "Do you agree with him?"

All but Duke Perringtonn nodded their heads vigorously. The Minister of Finances raised a jewel-encrusted hand and spoke in a frill-covered voice. "I do believe that the minister of Trasien is correct, your highness. There are no others to whom this task can be trusted and completed with finesse. Celaena Sardothien is our best and only choice."
Several others voiced their agreement, and within two minutes, they were all set on sending Adarlan's assassin across the sea.
The king turned his gaze back to the Minister of Trasien, his eyes filled with mistrust. What was this man's part in this? What was his interest in Celaena Sardothien's welfare? Surely the man wouldn't be plotting to—
Of course not. That was a preposterous idea. But still...
He'd still have to keep an extra-close watch on the actions and words of the Minister of Trasien.
"Then it's decided," said the King of Adarlan, "Celaena Sardothien shall go to Wendlyn." He cast an official vote. All except for Duke Perringtonn agreed to send Celaena Sardothien to the shores of Wendlyn. The king, trusting in their wisdom, followed the ruling of his council; and sent for a page to inform the assassin of their decision.
After an hour or so more, the King of Adarlan dismissed his council, but held back Duke Perringtonn, waiting until the Minister of Trasien was long out of earshot.
"You and I, my dear duke," the king said with a smile, "have quite a lot of planning to do."
Duke Perringtonn twirled an end of his long, sweeping moustache around a fat finger and gave his king a questioning look, sitting down at the table once more. "Yes, your majesty?"
The King of Adarlan pulled a piece of parchment from his jacket pocket and looked over the things written down upon it before looking at the duke once more.
"It is time, my old friend, to drop the anchor that will keep our pretty little assassin from drifting out to sea forever..."
Celaena Sardothien laid on her massive bed, propped up by endless rows of down pillows and enshrouded by heavy, stuffy blankets. She closed her eyes, half out of fatigue, half out of frustration, and let out a long sigh.
"Am I boring you?" Dorian DeHavilliard said with a raised eyebrow, looking up from the book that he had been reading aloud to her.
Celaena opened an eye and motioned for him to continue with her free hand. "No, no—keep going," she said dismissively. She lowered her hand and idly fingered the silk sling that held her right arm. It had been a week since her duel with Kaltain—a week of waiting, recovering, and worrying. When Dorian had told her that his father was somehow set against her going to Wendlyn, she wasn't surprised—but it had frightened her nonetheless.
In fact, it had worried her so much that Celaena failed to show any signs of healing in the first four days after the duels. It had taken Dorian DeHavilliard an hour of questioning and prodding to figure out why her body refused to heal, and since then he had insisted on keeping her company (when he could) to distract her from the worry that gnawed at her and made her condition worsen. Despite how much she hated to admit it, in the past three days, the bruises on her face and body had faded and her body had begun to heal with almost excessive vigor.
Since she couldn't use one of her arms, and occasionally her left hand, and because she had suffered from a bloody, swollen face, it had made reading almost impossible to do. So, to keep both of them stimulated, Dorian had decided that reading aloud to her was the best form of entertainment.
It was greatly amusing to hear and see him act out the novel that they were currently reading—he had a distinct voice for each character and often got so wrapped up in a scene that it was like watching a great play being performed. He was immensely amusing—so amusing, in fact, that Celaena "forgot" to tell him that after two days of being read to, she had recovered enough to read on her own.
He would read to her for hours on end—pausing every hour or so to get a drink or have a snack or a meal—and often, Celaena fell asleep to the sound of his voice. He'd, of course, wake her up as soon as he realized that the sounds she was making were snores, irritated that she'd fall asleep during such a spectacular performance. She'd yell at him for disturbing her and he'd end up yelling back, getting so wound up that he'd have to leave her bedchamber for ten