Queen Of Glass

Book 2 Chapter 9

Dark water silently lapped onto the hard lip of beach along Wendlyn's coast, its glassy surface marred only by moonlight. In the distance, thunder grumbled as it turned over in a bed of mountains, a signal that the spring rains were soon to arrive. Sounds of merrymaking trickled down from the small town that lay nearby, a town that marked its years in terms of holidays and celebrations, a town that had no idea the evil that was slowly infiltrating the area.
Peregrinno.
As clouds gathered around the moon and cloaked its light, six circles of ripples broke the smooth face of the water, revealing six cloaked heads. They swam towards the beach, nothing more than trails of treaded water, and then crept onto the sand like slithering shadows. A sliver of moonlight broke through the dark, revealing the royal seals that were embroidered upon the breasts of their cloaks. Their leader motioned to conceal them from sight, and they obeyed, ripping off the badges with flicks of their swords. They were tired, and soaked through, but fear of the consequences of their failure had fueled them to swim the two miles to shore. There had been eight of them when they had left the ship, and two had been lost to the horrors of the merciless sea.
Though all they wanted was to lay upon the sand and sleep, their leader urged them on, silently pointing towards the trees that led up to the shore. It was in these woods that they would meet the others--the other soldiers that Adarlan had snuck into Wendlyn. Every night, more would arrive, tired and aching, on this beach from the fleet of battleships that sat just outside the barrier reefs that guarded Wendlyn.
Despite their condition, they nimbly climbed over the rocks that led to the forest, their leader issuing the animal-like cry that would gain them access to the safety of their concealed camp. They walked onwards, half-wishing that they hadn't come on this mission, reminiscing about the comforts of home.
When they reached the hidden camp deep within the woods, they were near to collapsing, and several dry and strong hands guided them to warm beds and clothing. Before consciousness faded away into exhausted oblivion, the leader of the six paused to marvel at the several hundred soldiers that had slipped through Wendlyn's border and now lay sleeping in fireless tents.
In the distance, the sound of wild instruments filled the air, and Peregrinno continued to go on with its celebration, unaware.
O-o-o-O-o-o-O
Their footsteps echoed through the hallway as they walked in silence down the marble corridor. She stared ahead, running through in her head the meeting that had just occurred. She had been here for two weeks and she was still not comfortable with seeing the assassins guild gathered in one room without any fear of authority. Arobynn had assured her that the assassin she dreaded was not part of their guild, but every time she saw them assembled, a ball of fear dropped into her stomach and she found her nerves to be so badly on-edge that she often had vomiting fits afterwards.
But today had been different. Today something had changed. As usual, she had been sitting inconspicuously in the back of the room, paying more attention to the floor than to the men seated in rows before Arobynn. For some reason, one of the assassins had suddenly taken notice of her, and conversation had shifted dramatically. The assassin was angry with Arobynn, infuriated by some political debate that was consuming their arguments, and before anyone could react, a long-bladed knife had been hurled at her head. In a startling display of reflexes, she moved her head out of the way, the knife burying itself in the wall so close to her ear that a few strands of her golden hair were sliced off.

The entire room was silent for a split second, and then there came a terrible whooshing sound of a second knife being thrown through the air. She watched the eyes of the assassin grow wide with shock, and before he could utter a word, he slumped down in his chair, dead. She raised her eyes to Arobynn Hamel's face and saw an anger and fear that scared her more than any knife. It was then that she realized that he had killed one of his prized assassins for her sake. He had killed a mature and skilled assassin to protect her.
Almost as if to prove her realization, Arobynn then walked up to the cooling corpse and removed his gilded dagger from its back, turning to the rest of the people in the room and threatening that any more attempts to end her life would result in the end of theirs. He had then forced them to swear an oath not to lay a hand on her--under penalty of death. The meeting resumed after that--listings of the politicians and nobles that were in the market, which were off-limits, and which deserved to be killed, but she had only stared at Arobynn, wondering what she had done to deserve the eternal safety that she had just been granted.
No one could touch her.
She removed the assassin's knife from the wall, and spent the remaining time stroking the smooth steel blade, lost in thought.
They were now walking back towards their wind of the assassin's manor, the dagger she had taken from the room hidden in the folds of her dress. Symeth kept on glancing from her to Arobynn and back again, the young boy obviously jealous and upset that Arobynn's order of protection had not extended to him as well. Arobynn chose to ignore the boy, and stared ahead as blankly as she was doing, his red hair blazing in the dying light of sunset. Eventually, he turned his head to look at the two children, his face grave.
"D'you two understand what just happened in there?" he asked softly, his steel eyes hammering into her soul.
"You gave her a damn order of immunity and left me wide open for assassination!" Symeth said, angry...as usual.
"Who'd want to kill you?" Arobynn snarled, and clicked his tongue impatiently.
"Who'd want to kill her?" Symeth spat back, feeling no fear towards the King of Assassins.
She looked down at the floor, answering Symeth's question in her mind, and felt the familiar swell of nausea rise to her throat.
Hooves pounding...Screaming...Dead, dead, dead...Running, running...falling, falling...
Arobynn stuck out a foot and tripped the boy, a light punishment for the beating the man felt like giving him. Symeth stuck out his tongue and looked at her, his brow's crinkling.
"What's wrong with her face? Why's she so damn pale?"
Arobynn concealed the worry that snapped through him like lightning, and placed a hand on her shoulder to give to her extra support, but the flood of memories continued to drown her mind.
Someone out there was looking for her, someone knew that she was alive and would fight to the death to get her back...Someone...Anyone...
"Celaena..." he said, and she suddenly turned her head upwards to look at him, repulsion and anger flashing through her veins.
"That's not my name," she hissed. She was so tired of this constant fear; of this awful place...She was tired of the memories and of thinking about that night...
"It is now," Arobynn growled dangerously. She was so sick of this life that had suddenly been forced upon her. She wanted to be back where she belonged, back with the court, with her family...
"I hate you," she said, her voice trembling. "I hate you!" she said, louder. Why wouldn't he let her go? Why was she stuck here, doing all of this work and training? She just wanted to see the court, she wanted the safety and love of