Chasing Tides | Throne of Glass

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She broke the silence first, feeling Sam stiffen beside her. 'Good to see you join us at last,' she purred. She would not let the male have the satisfaction of knowing that she was terrified out of her wits, even if he could likely scent it from where he stood a good distance away. Gods. Maeve had sent probably the worst of the lot. Well. In that case, she'd give him her worst, too. But the male said nothing. He simply turned and expected them to follow. He was full-blooded, it seemed, and also a full-blooded asshole. Celaena shot Sam a look which tried to say, this is what I meant. They had been given no notice and yet were expected to leave on a whim. They hurried after male, who made no attempt to slow down to cater for their smaller strides.

She studied him as they walked behind him, assessing. He was tall, taller than Sam by perhaps half a head, and well-built, evident from his broad shoulders that were not in the least hidden by the brown cloak he wore. Pointed ears poked out through long silver hair that fell almost to his waist. There was certainly something mythical about him. Except – whether it be the allure of his sharp features that shaped the panes of his face or his smooth, prowling gait, whatever beauty he possessed was completely overwhelmed by the callous expression set into his gaze, his cheeks, his lips. His pine-green eyes carried a promise of violence, and the intricate tattoo that she'd saw snaking down the side of his cheek was more of a warning and a threat than anything. A warrior, sent right from Maeve's cabal of elites. A warrior with a deceptively handsome face of youth, although he must have been a century old, at least.

She found herself wondering what his animal form may be. All Fae possessed a secondary form. Her own was as she was now, human, in a mortal body. His footfalls were silent, carrying a predatory grace to them achievable only by immortals. A leopard, perhaps, although with his distinguishing colours, a wild cat with a less vibrant pelt.

Sam's hand grabbed her forearm as she began to pull ahead. His eyes were worried and guarded. 'Can we trust him?' he asked. Celaena nodded, a grim realisation settling through her. For their entire life in Adarlan, they had been taught to hate the Fae. To fear them. To see them as an abomination. Hence the killings ordered by the King of Adarlan. But those opinions had been beyond her, because she herself was... well, partly Fae, too. Her mother, once one of the people whom she'd cherished the most in her young childhood, had been demi-Fae. 'You don't have to trust him,' she found herself saying, 'but if it easier, you can trust me.' Her heart clenched as he smiled at her, eyes unreadable. What had she done, dragging him into this without asking what he had wanted first?

'Then that's all I needed to hear,' he said simply. She brushed her knuckles against his, with no knowledge of how to convey the molten warmth that rushed through her to him.

They walked until they reached an unremarkable marketplace of some sort where three horses awaited them, bound to a post. The people who had seen him had either stared or suddenly found some other place for themselves to be. She didn't dare ask how he'd known that she'd bring a companion with her as he untied the third horse. Maeve knew everything. They mounted in silence, and it continued that way until they'd left the capital for good.

Now riding under the dappled light of the forest, she turned in her saddle to face the male. His face was set; he stared unflinchingly forward, and did not pull his gaze away even as she spoke. 'I'm aware, and flattered, that you already know who I am, but before you lug me along on your devoted globetrotting, I'd like to know who you are,' she said sweetly, the simpering honey in her tone there to irk him as much as possible.

To her annoyance, his expression didn't shift in the slightest as he replied curtly, 'You've seen enough to know all you need.' His canines gleamed as he spoke, slightly more elongated than a human's and sharpened to a deadly point.