To the Stars | Throne of Glass

29

Celaena admitted she liked violence.

Liked it a lot.

She didn't give a damn about Arobynn and his punishment as she stalked to the Vaults, fingers clenching and unclenching. She knew what Arobynn had said. Don't go there alone. But that's exactly what she did now.

Last night, she had gone and bought a mask. Black of darkest night, deeper than ebony. It covered her full face, and the build was smooth and fitted the planes of her face flawlessly - it became a second skin. Slits for the eyes were covered with a film so she was able to see through with perfect clarity, but try as they might, no one would be able to catch a glimpse of her eyes.

Celaena flashed a handful of silver to the thugs standing outside the door, like she'd seen Ben do last time, then flung the lot at the guards stood on the inside, like she'd seen Ben do last time.

Every step down the dirt-crusted stairs brought her closer to Death. But it wasn't Celaena who would be meeting her. Oh, no.

She shouldered her way past the crowd, earning incredulous looks from some, but ignored them with a snap of her cloak and approached the ring. 'Name?' A man stepped up to her from a table beside the Pit.

'Nameless.' The mask contorted her voice into a harsh growl.

The man balked slightly, but replied, somewhat uncertainly, 'Everyone has a name.'

'Sayah Ozul. Eyllwe.' Dianna Brackyn, fighting in the Vaults? What would Arobynn's clients think if they heard of it? She lifted her chin at the sneers and boos which followed.

'No weapons,' the man added, eyeing the hilts of the two hunting knives strapped to her sides.

She turned her hooded gaze to him, and slowly lifted them from their sheaths, laying them on the table. 'Of course. They won't be necessary,' she purred.

'However,' she added with a harder tone, 'If I see a single finger being lain on my blades, I will skin that person alive. You,' she hissed, 'too.'

The man was either used to intimidation, or just did this for the money; though beads of sweat popped out on his forehead, he didn't spare a second glance at her as he said hurriedly, 'Choose your opponent.'

Celaena jerked her chin to the man who was staring at her as if she were a meal. 'Him.'

Then, without another word, Celaena Sardothien jumped into the Pit.

Dust and dirt flew into the air around her boots in small plumes of murky smoke as she landed, absorbing the impact on the balls of her feet before slowly straightening. The crowd roared - some jeers and taunts, others gaping in disbelief. Though they didn't see it, those close enough could hear the twisted snarl escaping from the masked face. 'Sayah of Eyllwe. Egon of Adarlan!' the man at the table called. Of Adarlan.

No one saw the twisted smile she gave beneath the mask. But if they had, they may have stopped dead from the savage, ruthless, inhuman glint in her eyes. They had taken away her blades. And yet it would not hinder her.

Arobynn had honed her into a weapon; she was a blade herself, cruel and hard as Death.

Her opponent dropped into the Pit, and began stalking towards her. The gait showed no animalistic grace, just pure bruteness. He stopped a few feet away from her. Waiting. A shirtless mountain of muscle, yet merely a pile of dirt to Celaena. She didn't doubt that Ben would think any different. The man - the pit-lord - cleared his throat. 'Begin!'

The man had two left feet, she thought. There was no rhythm, no coordination with his jabs and swings. Celaena evaded each blow effortlessly, weaving between the sloppy thrusts. Her arms hung loose by her sides. She hadn't even broken into a sweat yet. Boar and gazelle danced, the audience hollering their approval.

The jabs grew sluggish. The giant tired. Celaena darted in, ramming her fist into his stomach, and Egon grunted, stumbling backwards. It's all about making a good show. She spun, sweeping her leg, and sprung into the air. Her other leg snapped back, connecting with the man's jaw.

Egon of Adarlan fell, sprawling to the ground. The crowd's answering roar was deafening.

But she held back, let him climb to his feet, let him charge. His enraged blow landed on her stomach. Or so they thought. She whirled, slamming her palm once, twice, into Egon. The first blow snapped the wrist. The second struck the bridge of his nose, a crack echoing round the walls of the Pit. The crowd was loving it - loving as Egon, now bellowing, filthy curses streaming out of his mouth, staggered towards her. She placed her boot on his knee and shoved.

A crack snapped through the cavern, followed by Egon's screech as he collapsed. His arm lifted in a feeble attempt to shield him from her as she brought her hands to his neck. 'Get up and finish properly,' she whispered.

Egon whimpered.

Celaena hissed. 'Coward.'

The light died from his eyes, and blood sprayed as she delivered the final blow.

~

Her following opponents were no better, but she gave mercy to those not of Adarlan - unconscious was fine. One man, her last opponent, was surprisingly skilled, landing a few blows to her ribs - not her mask; a cracked mask would not have been ideal - before she ended the fight with a swift blow to the side of his head. She now looked to the table beside the pit-lord - an ever-increasing pile of gold sat there, waiting for her upon her leave.

As she scanned the tavern for her final opponent, Celaena spotted another suspiciously familiar hooded figure pacing at the far side of the Pit.

He looked up, and their eyes locked.

Sam.

~

Arobynn had sent him here. Hell, he didn't know why he was being sent here. Until he saw her. Covered in blood from head to toe that was not hers - wearing that mask - in the Pit herself. He honestly didn't know what to say. Gods.

Just... Gods above.

~

They stared. Celaena jerked her head to the Pit, daring him. Just to see if dared...

Sam shook his head. That indicated enough. Celaena turned, but he walked round the ring to offer her a hand out of the Pit. Grudgingly, she took it, gripping his wrist with her nails so that if he did decide to let her go... Well. She hoped he wouldn't.

As she made for her daggers and the pouch of coins on the table, Sam didn't stop her. Instead, when she'd swiped it, he just walked out of the Vaults. She followed.

The moment Celaena was outside, Sam whirled on her. Grabbed her arm and twisted it so that she couldn't run. 'Why the rutting hell did you go there?'

Celaena shrugged. 'Did Arobynn give you these lines? Because if he didn't, then it's none of your business.'

He released his hold on her and took a step away. 'Arobynn wants you back at the Keep.'

Celaena was already halfway up a brick wall. 'Figured that.' Then she was on the roof, sprinting back to the place she called home.