To the Stars | Throne of Glass

61

Celaena Sardothien brushed away a strand of lint from her sky-blue dress, surveying her reflection in the mirror with pursed lips. Another meeting with Clarisse, and undoubtedly, Lysandra.

The servant girl stepped away, and Celaena twisted her neck, fingering the knot at the back of her head. The polished umber wood hairpin was speckled with flecks of amber and gold, sweeping her hair into a loosely plaited arrangement. Not bad.

She nodded her thanks to the girl, and with a small bob, the latter hurried from the room. Celaena looked at the lace fan set on her desk. The spine was bone white, the fabric opening to reveal an intricate design of ice-blue swirls.

She picked it up. Yes. It would do. Celaena shook out her skirts one last time, squared her shoulders and sauntered out of the room.

~

The gathering wasn't to start yet, so Celaena found herself perched on the arm of a sofa, Sam and Lysandra occupying the cushions.

Sam was making idle conversation with Lysandra. Celaena didn't understand how anyone could even stay in the presence of such a person for so long, let alone talk to her. And she also didn't understand how Sam could remain so terribly friendly with everyone.

'-I had this dress brought yesterday. Do you like it?' Lysandra was saying.

Celaena tore her gaze from the dust mites and looked over her shoulder, peering at Lysandra. She was wearing a forest green gown with gold-ringed bell sleeves which, Celaena had to admit grudgingly, suited her well.

She saw Sam's cheeks lift as he smiled at Lysandra. 'Yes.'

Celaena huffed and stood, walking to the edge of the landing. She opened the fan slowly, the sunlight streaming through the large windows and onto the lace; a faint blue light falling upon the marble floor where the rays passed through the fabric, and the ribs of the fan began to warm in her hand.

She looked at the fingers which held the fan. A long, jagged scar stretched across the top of her wrist. Damn Arobynn. However, her left-handed swordplay was much better now. But getting yelled at by Ben most certainly wasn't worth it.

Flicking her wrist, she eased away the phantom pain of broken bones and split skin, the fan fluttering along with the movement like the wings of a butterfly.

Arobynn had given this to Celaena for prior to the Spring Solstice Ball. She hadn't used it then, and it had just sat in the corner of one of her drawers until now. At least she now had one accessory to brandish at Lysandra. As if hearing her thoughts, there was a rustle of fabric as the courtesan stood. 'What's that?'

Sam seemed to have a sixth sense, and tried to get Lysandra to sit down before something dangerous happened. 'It's a fan, Lysandra.' He didn't even try to disguise the fact that he was pissed off. What's more was that his anger seemed aimed directly at Celaena!

What? she asked, raising a brow.

Don't- don't do that. Don't goad her, Sam pleaded, glaring daggers at her.

I'll do what I want, she shot back. Sam flipped her a vulgar gesture in which Celaena ignored. Letting out a long sigh, she turned her back to him again. 

Lysandra was nearly upon her, and Celaena whirled, stepping away before she got too close. Lysandra didn't blink at her fast reflexes. Instead, her mouth spread into a pout. 'Can I see?'

Give it to her. Sam's eyes were burning holes in her skull.

'No,' Celaena said firmly, lowering her arm.

Lysandra gave a very un-ladylike sneer. 'You're not willing to share? Of course, Arobynn's protégée is so high and mighty, isn't she? She doesn't care about anyone else.'

Of all the courtesans, only Clarisse and Lysandra knew she was Arobynn's protégée. Celaena was reluctant and apprehensive of the idea, but Arobynn assured her that her identity would not at risk. 

'Shut up, Lysandra.'

But she didn't. 'You're a spoiled, bratty-'

'Enough.'

A dull roaring was beginning to build in her ears.

'-vain, narcissistic-'

'Lysandra.' That voice was Sam's.

'-conceited, rotten-'

Celaena was trembling with barely restrained anger.

'Stop, Lysandra,' Sam said.

'Bitch.' Lysandra finished, a sickly sweet smile upon the girl's face. And with that, she leaned over and snatched the fan out of Celaena's grip.