Queen Of Glass

Book 2 Chapter 11

Celaena Sardothien walked across the fire-lit field, grinding her teeth together. She had been having such a fantastic time that she had forgotten about everything—and as they had spun around and around, Galan's face had begun to resemble that of Dorian DeHavilliard's. The music had been a spell—a spell that had let her heart escape for a few minutes, a spell that had warped her eyes into seeing what she wanted to see.
And, truth be told, she had wanted to be dancing with Dorian DeHavilliard. She had almost believed it—almost bought into the ache and the desire of her heart, and then she had remembered. She remembered that Dorian was thousands of miles away, sitting in his palace, doing whatever he felt like doing. Then she remembered that the young man with his hands around her waist was not Dorian DeHavilliard—and that if she kept on acting in such a manner, he might get the wrong impression.
It had disturbed her to see how straightforward he was being now—how attached he was getting...
But what disturbed her even more was the underlying connection she felt between them. She felt drawn to him; she felt an innate feeling of fondness. It was after she had noticed that that she realized she had to get out of his presence. The possibility that she could like a stranger in such a way, regardless of his possible connections to the palace, scared her. She didn't believe in love at first sight, but in this land...
'...We mate for life.' Luca's words made her feel sick to her stomach. She didn't want to lead this young man astray— she didn't want him to get a false impression. There was a connection between herself and Galan—a connection that she didn't understand. She tried to apply some logic to it—she tried to tell herself that it was Beltaen, a fertility festival...
But she wasn't sexually attracted to him! She just...felt as if she had known him her entire life, and that his presence was comforting and soothing to her. And she didn't know why.
The more he had pushed to get her to stay, the more she had felt like running away at top speed. She couldn't have a relationship with someone in Wendlyn, it just wasn't possible. She had tried to tell him—and it had failed. He had asked her the one question that she couldn't answer.
A kind of hateful sorrow had entered her heart as she told Galan that she wasn't involved with anyone else, because she knew that despite all of the words and actions, she was not involved with Dorian DeHavilliard. She had left Galan after that—and, out of pity, had given him a farewell that she hoped wouldn't break his heart.
Thankfully, he hadn't followed her.
She came to the bonfire at which Cindrillion and her partner were still dancing and waited until they swept past to catch Cindrillion's eye. She motioned that she was going back to the chateau, and Cindrillion raised her brows, but nodded. Watching Cindrillion dance, Celaena felt content to stay at the celebration, but a shameful fear that Galan might come looking for her made her eager to leave.
Jumping over these bonfires sounded a bit risky to her anyway.
She slept restlessly that night—awakening so often from haunted dreams that sleep became almost impossible to hope for. She cursed herself a thousand times for going to that service in the woods and for dancing with Galan, and each time she awoke with a jolt from a dream, she wished that the Faerie Queen had granted her a good night's rest other than...well, whatever she had subconsciously asked for.

She was so exhausted the next morning that she had fallen asleep while she washed the dishes from breakfast. She had asked Leighanna if she could go upstairs and sleep for an hour or ten more, and the old woman had waved a skillet at her, saying that if everyone else could wake up after last night, then so could she. Grumbling, Celaena had finished her chores and helped Leighanna in the beginning stages of preparing lunch.
"Now, just continue to stir it around and around—and don't stop until it's started to boil or else it'll be ruined. Are you sure that you can handle this?"
If I can handle being Adarlan's assassin, I don't think that cooking will be much of an issue.
Celaena nodded at the old woman and stirred the pot and the custard-like mess that lay inside. She liked baking—it made her feel productive. Even if the only people who were going to eat it were the cows upstairs. She considered dropping in some sort of poisonous plant, but then the idea that Leighanna would be blamed for their deaths popped into her head, and the assassin had to be content with her imagination.
Celaena stirred the pot idly as the old woman disappeared into another part of the house, and looked over her shoulder at the window behind her. It was a beautiful day—a perfect day to start the harvest. She smiled to herself as she thought about Luca and Stephaenya dancing together last night and wondered if they had done anything else.
She could still hear the wild music of last night's celebration, and began to hum to herself, swaying in place. Even though it had caused a good amount of guilt and fear, Celaena had enjoyed dancing...She had felt as if she were in another world—that if she danced fast enough, all her troubles would spin away.
She remembered the one dance that she had shared with the Crown Prince at the Yulemas banquet before they had become so drunk that the rest of the night became a blur, and blushed furiously as she recalled the feeling of his strong hands on her waist.
"You're not stirring!" Leighanna roared, and Celaena leapt upwards into the air, startled. She stirred the pot furiously, but found that the custard had become so stiff that it was almost impossible.
"Shit, I—Oh, damn, I'm so sorry, I just—" she stammered.
"Out," Leighanna said, pointing at the door.
"I just completely—" Why couldn't she ever keep her mind on one task? Idiot!
"OUT!" Leighanna bellowed, and nudged Celaena out of the way with her large hips. Celaena stumbled backwards, feeling immensely stupid and guilty.
"Can't I do—"
"No! Out! Now!"
Celaena bit down on her lip. "But I can—"
"I've got no use for help from someone that can't even stand upright! Go take the afternoon off!" The old woman scraped out the pan and poured in more ingredients with lightning-fast speed.
Celaena opened her mouth again, but Leighanna cut her off.
"Now! Before I change my mind!"
Thankful to have the day off, but feeling terribly guilty about setting Leighanna back half an hour, Celaena slunk over the bottom half of the door and walked along the dirt road, hoping to find a relaxing place in the woods to take a nap. A bed might have been the smarter choice for comfort, but after remembering the little bells that were prone to go off at any time of the day, the assassin realized that the quiet of the forest might be safer for sleeping.
She looked in the already-disappearing fields for Luca, but found his brown hair to be nowhere in sight. Checking the position of the sun, she assumed that he must have gone back to the chateau for lunch, but surely they would have run into each other...