To the Stars | Throne of Glass

56

'Archer!' Celaena called his name again.

'I'm here.' Archer poked his head from round the corner. Stood in the middle of the Apprentices' Corridor, she crossed her arms. 'I've been looking for you for ages.'

He smiled. 'I was in my room. Come in.'

Celaena ducked into the comfort of his chest, and he wrapped an arm round her shoulders before shutting the door behind him with a click. His room was similar to her old one, but situated on the front face of the Keep. And was surprisingly neat. He sat on the edge of the bed, while Celaena sprang rather gracefully onto the soft mattress. 'It's hot,' Archer said, fanning himself with a hand.

'It's barely even Spring. Are you sick?' Celaena said, incredulous. One look at his red face had her saying, 'Honestly. Take off your shirt if you have to.'

Archer grinned, and promptly slipped out of shirt with a movement so casually that she was reminded that this was most definitely not the first time he'd used that move to... whatever he did. 'No, I'm not squeamish nor seduced yet,' she sighed, rolling her eyes.

He pouted, the expression instantly making his face look younger and extremely desirable. She rubbed at her eyes. 'No.' But she leaned into his arms anyway, and he folded them around her, his lightly-tanned skin was smooth and soft against her cheek. 'If you try anything else, you'll find yourself without your most favourite part,' she murmured.

Archer grumbled a reply. After a moment, he asked, 'When is your birthday?'

'Soon. In a few months,' she replied. 'Why?'

'Just curious.'

Content and at peace, Celaena nuzzled further into Archer's warmth.

~

Time flew. A few weeks later, it was Beltane. Again, like Samhuinn and Yulemas, the encouragement of spirits were once again banned. But the more sensual ways of celebrating were... given free reign to let lovers do whatever they wanted. Apparently.

Naturally, there was a ball. Not hosted by Arobynn, but one of his many colleagues. Celaena was given the choice if she wanted or not to attend, and she chose the latter. There would be too many foreign faces, and the idea of all that curtsying and introducing didn't sit well with her. So, the Keep was almost empty that evening, save from the servants and her and Ben, who had kindly stayed behind with her.

'Do you ever get bored from just training and nothing else?'

Ben looked up from the fireplace. 'No.'

'What do you do?'

He swung the leg hanging off the couch, and the toe of his boot knocked repeatedly into hers. 'There are a lot of things you could do.' He pushed his lips to one side, then added, 'I bet you've never tried Art before.'

~

Celaena pulled a face, studying the blobs of colour on the canvas before her. Ben was right. She'd never tried painting or drawing, though she'd written a lot before. 'This doesn't look like a flower.' Ben leaned over his sketchbook - a large notepad-like book used for sketching, she presumed. He grinned, and looked at the splotchy picture. Then he looked at the branch of blossom before her. Celaena studied his drawing as she waited for him to finish cooking up a suitable believable lie to undoubtedly convince her that her work wasn't that bad. Ben had drawn a simple pencil sketch- yet beautifully intricate. Much, much better than her attempt. Finally, Ben let out a breathy chuckle. 'It's not bad.' She opened her mouth, and he said with a grin, 'It's not good either.'

Celaena flared her nostrils in exasperation, but agreed heartily. 'How is yours so good?' She moaned.

'I don't quite know,' Ben admitted. 'I guess it's one of my natural talents. There isn't much time to do this on a regular basis though. I haven't opened this sketchbook in months.'

She smacked him lightly, and a glob of red flew from the brush to land on his arm. He poked her back. 'If that had landed on my tunic...' He trailed off. At her grin, he protested, 'Celaena, it's white. You can't remove a red stain from white fabric!'

She placed the brush carefully into the pot of water on the bedside table. 'Your bed is white too.'

'Don't you dare.' Ben took the canvas from her and shoved her gently off the bed.

She walked round his room, studying the bags of herbs and plants lining his many shelves. There were books under that, though not as many as she owned, and weapons on the wall as well as shorter blades scattered around the room.

'Where did you learn all that healer knowledge?' Celaena asked, running a finger over the titles.

'My mother,' Ben replied somewhat sombrely.

Celaena frowned. 'Is she...?'

Ben laughed. 'God, no! She's a healer who works for a baroness down in Eyllwe. We don't keep in touch a lot, though.'

Studying a nettle leaf, she said, 'You should.'

She could hear the frown in his voice as he said, 'I don't have a particularly... stable relationship with her.'

'Do you want to do some training?' She changed the subject abruptly, sensing Ben's discomfort.

'I thought you were tired of that,' Ben commented with a raised brow.

Celaena stepped away from the shelves, making a noise of indifference. 'We could work on the bars. Or do some circuit training.'

'When we have the entire place to ourselves? I think not!'

Celaena laughed. 'Alright.'

~

Crouched in the shadows of the sitting room, Celaena waited for the scurrying of servant footsteps to fade before darting out of the room. The aim of the game was simple: hide their sword, find the sword that their opponent had hidden, and return to the training room. First person back won - to be honest, Celaena would've never thought that Ben would agree to do such a thing with her. And yet-

She stilled, pressing herself against the wall of the entrance hall as padding footsteps, equally stealthy as hers, crept across the landing. Of course, they had to be careful as there were still servants about, but they could use weapons. Celaena drew a dagger from her belt. In a flash, she had thrown it and ran at full pelt down the opposite way of the corridor, not lingering to see if Ben had decided to change course.

She'd searched the top floors already, and swords were rather large objects - so she couldn't have missed it.

Peering round the corner, Celaena caught a glimpse of Ben's cloak vanishing as he slipped into the sitting room. Where could he have hidden it? Surely if Adarlan's Assassin could track targets, she could find a hidden sword. Celaena cautiously crept back down the hallway. Where in all Erilea could-

She halted, and looked up. A glint betraying the shadows and darkness.

Stifling a squeal of triumph, Celaena plucked the sword from where it stood between the banister legs. Oh, that was clever. She'd hidden her own sword to be part of the fireplace mantel.

Ben didn't conceal his chuckle as he emerged from the sitting room, holding her sword. It appeared he had found it, then.

Her eyes met his, and Celaena ran.

Ben drew level beside her as they pelted through the empty corridors. So similar, yet entirely different from that night. Exhilaration, not fear, pounded through her veins as she willed her legs to run faster. And Celaena whooped as she slid a leg forwards, skidding under the outstretched arm of one of the cooks. Ben's footsteps had stopped.

She panted as she flew up the stairs. The training hall was just a few doors away. And then, something shot towards her from behind.

Celaena twisted, the pommel of the  dagger striking her shoulder instead. Gritting her teeth, she didn't allow her pace to slow. Four doors to go. She could hear the muted thuds on the carpet as Ben raced closer behind her. Three doors. Struggling to gasp in one last breath, Celaena flat out shot like an arrow to the training room, grabbing the doorframe to swing herself in.

Ben had slowed to a walk behind her. Celaena turned, grinning widely at him.

'I win,' she declared to an equally breathless Ben.