To the Stars | Throne of Glass

13

Everything was the same over the next few days- until a servant hammered their fist on her door one morning.

Celaena sat up in a tangled mess of hair and clothes. Somehow, her pillow was on the floor. Oh, well. 'Yes?' she groaned.

'Arobynn expects you downstairs in ten minutes. Dressed in appropriate clothing for an outing.'

Celaena didn't pay any heed to the pointed tone in the girl's voice. She was going out. And not to kill someone. She squealed, trying not to be too loud, and ran to the wardrobe, and flung it open. Silk, velvet, lace and all sorts of gorgeous gowns and dresses hung from the rail. Celaena ran a hand through the fabric. Well. She couldn't just stand here all day.

She slipped out of her nightgown, and, after careful consideration, chose her prized gown. No doubt Lysandra would be there; a part of Celaena hoped she would look slightly better than the courtesan. A few minutes together and they were already rivals. Brilliant.

With a final sweep of her hair, and adding a golden comb studded with lander blue spiderweb stones, Celaena surveyed herself in the mirror. Maybe this seemed a tad more than acceptable, but there probably wouldn't be another chance any time soon to try on all those beautiful gowns and accessories.

Arobynn was extremely generous when it came to gifts - she had to give him that. He knew all her favourite tastes and preferences. In fact, he was probably the closest thing she had for a father right now, besides Ben. Celaena tried not to let that bug her. As for the combs, well, he had said 'Only the best for my best.' And, being the apparent best, she was barely more than a child.

Celaena twirled, the folds of the fabric rustling with the movement as she began her descent downstairs. Her gown was fairly simple, long-sleeved, and was dyed with a blue so pale that it almost appeared white. The neckline wasn't anything of the fancy sort - no huge dip or frilly lace, and the bodice finished with a simple, upturned triangle at the waist. But it was the tendrils - the swirls and curls of gold which smoked around the hem of the dress, glittering in the sunlight, which was the real work of art. The bold, vibrant colour brought out her unusual irises - gold. Pure gold. Arobynn had commented on them once - and their unique beauty - but though he didn't mention her heritage, it had been implied. Ashryver. Ashryver eyes. Suddenly, dress didn't seem so amazing.

But Ben was waiting for her at the front door with a huge smile on his face. 'Come on, you,' he chuckled. Celaena's frown misted away and she grinned back, and despite the refined dress, the smile possessed no ladylike qualities. The grin was more teeth than smile. She took his hand as she sat down in the cab.

Arobynn and Sam were sat directly opposite her. Arobynn gave an approving nod, while Sam just raked his uninterested gaze over her. Great. Sam was coming, too. Ben slung an arm round her shoulders, and she hissed at him slightly. Withdrawing with a laugh, he said, 'Oh alright, I won't ruin your hair.' Celaena leaned back in her padded seat as the cab rolled along the cobbled path. Ben added, 'But you do look stunning.' Celaena nudged him with her elbow, and he laughed. 'That was a compliment! And don't you crumple my tunic.'

The cab pulled up beside the entrance to a pair of grand double doors. 'Fancy,' Celaena murmured. Ben ushered her inside. A young man with the gait of a dancer led them to a private box. 'Courtesy of Arobynn,' Ben added.

Red velvet cushions lined the stools and the sofas, and a small bar lined the far wall, providing refreshments. A small group of people were already gathered there, talking in hushed voices. Arobynn and Ben strode off to greet them. But Celaena was more interested in the Royal Theatre itself.

It was a beautiful structure, with tall, decorative pillars and many seats in the centre of the auditorium. Placing her elbows on the rail, Celaena cast her gaze towards the stage, past the sea of chairs, and focused on the softly rippling curtains.

Sam walked over to lean on the rail beside her. 'Amazing, isn't it?' Celaena nodded, unsure of what to do with the uncanny politeness. Sam opened his mouth to say more, but closed it and fell into a comfortable silence.

The sound of Arobynn's footsteps made Celaena straighten again, and she slowly turned. Arobynn halted, and Celaena saw that his arm currently supported - literally supported - the woman clinging onto his arm, her breasts almost pouring out of the neckline of her dress. With his svelte figure, Arobynn didn't seem to be particularly muscular, but everyone in the Keep knew better than to question his strength. Watching him brace the woman right now already showed the power of his supple form. 

'This is my niece, Dianna,' Arobynn said, his silver eyes holding Celaena's own with a sharpness reflecting the likes of a blade itself. This was always the lie. The first time meeting one of Arobynn's clients at a dinner, she had made such a face at the niece idea that Arobynn had given her a harsh reprimanding afterwards. The unspoken words were always there: if you want to keep your identity a secret, you play along by my rules. So Celaena bobbed her head and dropped into a small curtsy.

'This is Lady Cecelia,' Arobynn said, and the woman blinked slowly in pleasure.

'It's wonderful to meet you,' Celaena purred. She had no reason why the woman deserved to be called Lady, so Celaena dipped her head graciously before turning away again. She looked at Sam, who was still resting by the railing. 'You not interested in these parties?'

Sam shrugged his shoulders, which had considerably broadened over the years. 'I have no problem with the venue. I'd just like a bit of peace and quiet to appreciate all this,' he made a sweeping gesture with his fingers, 'by myself. Not to be dragged along to be props and dolls to be shown off in front of Arobynn's clients.'

'But aren't you at all glad for the piece of freedom?'

'Aren't you at all glad for the tiny piece of freedom?' Sam countered.

'We go to the markets. But yes. I guess.'

She bit her lip and looked back at the stage. The auditorium was full now, and the lights dimmed. She nudged Sam playfully. 'It's starting.' For once, he didn't snarl back. Instead, he let out a little noise of agreement. 'Are you okay?' Celaena asked.

'What?'

'You're being too... nice. It's unnerving. I think I prefer moody Sam.'

Sam laughed quietly. 'I'm just enjoying this as much as I can. To be honest, there aren't as many people here as there usually are, so I'm thankful for that. Now, shut up. I want to listen.'

Celaena grinned, and pinched her lips together.

The curtains began to undulate, gradually, slowly drawing apart. The stage lights blinked on, and the audience quietened. Until it was so quiet that only the rustle of clothes and the soft breaths of the people were heard. An orchestra sat, bathed in the pale light, bows poised to strike their strings, and fingers to dance on the buttons. A man, the conductor, walked onto the stage.

'Who's that?'

Sam replied, 'Pytor. Her probably the best conductor in all of Adarlan. I've only seen him perform once before this, when I was younger.'

Celaena didn't push further. Until she saw a young woman with golden hair standing at the front of the stage, chin up with closed eyes. The lights sparkled off her eyelids, dancing like glittering sparks of lilac, and her arms were held, raised slightly by her sides, with the same grace as a dancer's posture.

'Who's that?' she hissed.

Sam blinked at her. 'Rena Goldsmith. Surely, you must know her.'

She didn't. Sam gaped for a moment, recovered, and instructed, 'Listen.'

The conductor raised his arms.

The orchestra stilled.

And Rena Goldsmith opened her mouth.