Queen Of Glass

Book 2 Chapter 20 part 1

It was as if the sun had simply turned its back on Wendlyn.
For the past two days, the spring rains had continued to fall without pause, flooding the fields and turning every road into a river of mud. Everyone, peasant and nobleman alike, had fled indoors; shops and markets were closed, and word arrived at the chateau that the jousting tournament had been pushed back three days from its date.
For Celaena and Luca, it was a blessing. For everyone else, it was a nightmare.
The youth's armor had been finished only a morning before the torrential downpour had begun, and ever since the moment they had tried on the suit in the blacksmith's shop, Celaena refused to allow him to remove it. Of course she let him take it off when he had to run outside to make sure the crops weren't being washed away, but as soon as he walked in the door of the chateau, there were a few clanks and groans and the armor was back on.
At first, he had complained and moaned about the weight of the armor, but Celaena, following Raonn's own methods, had turned a deaf ear in his direction. Thankfully, after the first two days, Luca had begun to comment on the armor's increasing lightness, a statement that was usually followed by a request to remove it for an hour or two.
The armor was made well: it was as light as it could be without being useless, the helmet allowed a good amount of visibility but kept the dangerous opening down to a minimum, and the lower half of the suit was flexible, if a little stiff from its condition. Upon hearing about Luca's situation, the blacksmith had also thrown in two unused lances—his son had once dreamed of being a knight, and had been forced to give it up to keep his family fed and healthy. The pair had been short on lances, and had considered stealing more before the tournament, so these two came as a boon and a relief. Celaena couldn't keep from grinning as she saw Luca swell with pride and gratitude at the man's gift, stammering his thanks again and again.
All in all, for what they had paid the blacksmith, he had given them an extremely good bargain.
So he clanked and clunked all over the kitchen and servant's quarters, causing such a racket that many of the farmhands chose to wait out the storm in another building on the estate. Even Stephaenya and Leighanna could barely tolerate the noise, and they all dreaded the moment when the Baroness couldn't either. Celaena, however, felt as if a weight had been lifted off of her chest.
The rain meant that practicing was over—they had done all that they could do to prepare, and had everything packed for their departure. These extra days of waiting were a stroke of good luck: getting used to his armor was the best thing that could have happened to them. And as much as he complained about the weight and the absurdity of clunking around all day, Celaena had caught Luca admiring his armor and shining it up whenever he thought no one was looking.
The handful of other farmhands who had also sought asylum in the kitchen also had a slight gleam of envy in their eyes as they beheld the boy's attire.
As relieved as she was about the extra time, Celaena could not help but feel the brunt of exhaustion: in the mornings and at sundown, she and Luca practiced for an hour or two; and for several hours during the day and at night, Raonn would steal her away and force her into a severe training.

Despite her earlier transformation into her more graceful half, Celaena had since refused to do so again: she had only turned back into a human once she had reached her peak as a Fae, and had been so worn out that Raonn had practically dragged her back to Dora'nelle. Afterwards, The Fae prince had attempted to con and infuriate her into changing, but the assassin had held out, choosing the weight and clumsiness of her mortal form.
It was probably a mistake. Her muscles were sore and her body was covered in cuts and bruises of all sorts, and Celaena had explained to her four companions that it was all due to an unfortunate fall into a thorn bush that also managed to lie on the edge of a small cliff overlooking Cindrillion's lake. She knew that they didn't believe her, but it seemed satisfactory enough to the farmhands who had made themselves comfortable in the kitchen.
There were six to ten of them at a time, boys and men, none of them wicked or foul company, but none of them interesting enough for Celaena to feel obligated to speak to them. They were pleasant to be around, and Celaena's friends seemed to be glad to have them, but they watched her warily, rarely speaking to her despite their many glances.
The assassin acknowledged that she was different, from the way she talked to the way that she looked, and as the days began to pass, she found herself more and more uncomfortable with her position. She knew that when she mysteriously vanished into the rain for hours on end that they talked about her, and Celaena hoped that her friends didn't divulge in the gossip.
Raonn pushed her harder than he had when the weather had been moderately sunny, making her do a number of lessons again and again until she had fully learned them. Three days ago, she had finally managed to master a running mount, sword and shield in hand, onto the biggest horse in the Fae's stables.
Had it been sunny and the ground dry, this task would have been accomplished much easier. But he had pulled her out of Dora'nelle and into a huge, muddy field, and watched from the shelter of the trees as she ran at the horse again and again, falling off again and again, sometimes not even making it to the horse before tumbling in the mud. The shield and sword were as cumbersome as they were before, but Celaena soon learned to harness the swinging force of the shield to the best advantage: if she swung it in the air just before she leapt on the horse, it eased the jump itself. Her weapons weren't just dead weight: they were tools that she could use to assist her in many ways aside from killing and defending.
The moment she had begun to leap onto the galloping horse without mistake, Raonn had made it even harder: he decreased the amount of space that she was allowed for running, giving her less than ten feet to gain momentum and leap.
She could have killed him for that.
But she bit down on her growing frustration and rage, knowing its consequences, and had sucked up every bit of exhaustion and pain into her dwindling energy and drive, and had eventually managed to mount the horse with ease.
When she had limped back to the chateau, muddied, bruised, and bleeding, barely uttering a word before she collapsed onto a kitchen bench, her companions were in an uproar, demanding where she had gone, what happened, and why she had left the kitchen in the first place. She had waved them off, asking for some food and a hot drink, and could barely finish her meal before slinking off to an early bed.
The worst, however, was the lesson after: Raonn had placed her on a balancing beam, shield strapped on her back, Goldryn either in hand or locked in her shield, and had instructed her to flip, cartwheel, roll, and dance across it without falling. Celaena had fallen off so many times, whacking her head against the wooden bar, that she had had to have Raonn heal her, placing his hands on her face to stop the bleeding and oncoming concussion. The weight of the shield made balancing almost impossible, as it slipped and slid across her back, and often prevented her body from moving in certain ways. It took her all day to master a single flip, and was so sore and uncomfortable that she fell asleep at the kitchen table.
But there was little rest to be found.
As soon as they had realized that the rain was here to stay, the Baroness and her daughters had taken to their chambers, demanding a constant stream of food and attention. Obviously, they did not read, and so they spent their time playing games, mostly ones that involved money or absurd plotlines revolving around a prince marrying a fair maiden. Because three was often an odd number for playing, the girls had ordered Cindrillion to join them, a request that had taken both the assassin and the servant girl by surprise.