but . . .
Her fingers hovered over the seal. If she broke it, then Arobynn might accuse her of tampering with the letter. But what if it said horrid things about her? Ansel said it was a letter of approval, so it couldnât be that bad. Celaena tucked the letter back into the saddlebag.
Perhaps the Master had also realized that she was spoiled and selfish. Maybe everyone had just been tolerating her, and . . . maybe theyâd heard of her fight with Ansel and decided to send her packing. It wouldnât surprise her. They were looking out for their own, after all. Never mind that for a while,
she
had felt like one of their ownâfelt, for the first time in a long, long while, like she had a place where she belonged. Where she might learn something more than deceit and how to end lives.
But sheâd been wrong. Somehow, realizing that hurt far worse than the beating Arobynn had given her.
Her lips trembled, but she squared her shoulders and scanned the night sky until she found the Stag and the crowning star that led north. Sighing, Celaena blew out the lantern, mounted Kasida, and rode into the night.
She rode toward Xandria, opting to find a ship there instead of braving the northern trek across the Singing Sands to Yurpaâthe port sheâd originally sailed into. Without a guide, she didnât really have much of a choice. She took her time, often walking instead of riding Kasida, who seemed as sad as she was to leave the Silent Assassins and their luxurious stables.
The next day, she was a few miles into her late afternoon trek when she heard the
thump
,
thump
,
thump
. It grew louder, the movements now edged with clashing and clattering and deep voices. She hopped onto Kasidaâs back and crested a dune.
In the distance, at least two hundred men were marchingâstraight into the desert. Some bore red and black banners. Lord Berickâs men. They marched in a long column, with mounted soldiers galloping along the flanks. Though she had never seen Berick, a quick examination of the host showed no signs of a lord being present. He must have stayed behind.
But there was nothing out here. Nothing except for . . .
Celaenaâs mouth went dry. Nothing except for the assassinsâ fortress.
A mounted soldier paused his riding, his black mareâs coat gleaming with sweat. He stared toward her. With her white clothes concealing all of her but her eyes, he had no way of identifying her, no way of telling what she was.
Even from the distance, she could see the bow and quiver of arrows he bore. How good was his aim?
She didnât dare to move. The last thing she needed was the attention of all those soldiers on her. They all possessed broadswords, daggers, shields, and arrows. This definitely wasnât going to be a friendly visit, not with this many men.
Was that why the Master had sent her away? Had he somehow known this would happen and didnât want her caught up in it?
Celaena nodded to the soldier and continued riding toward Xandria. If the Master didnât want anything to do with her, then she certainly didnât need to warn them. Especially since he probably knew. And he had a fortress full of assassins. Two hundred soldiers were nothing compared to seventy or so of the
sessiz suikast
.
The assassins could handle themselves. They didnât need her. Theyâd made that clear enough.
Still, the muffled thump of Kasidaâs steps away from the fortress became more and more difficult to bear.
The next morning, Xandria was remarkably quiet. At first, Celaena thought it was because the citizens were all waiting for news about the attack on the assassins, but she soon realized she found it quiet because she had only seen it on Market Day. The winding, narrow streets that had been crammed with vendors were now empty, littered with errant palm fronds and piles of sand that slithered in the fierce winds from the sea.
She bought passage on a ship that would sail to
Her fingers hovered over the seal. If she broke it, then Arobynn might accuse her of tampering with the letter. But what if it said horrid things about her? Ansel said it was a letter of approval, so it couldnât be that bad. Celaena tucked the letter back into the saddlebag.
Perhaps the Master had also realized that she was spoiled and selfish. Maybe everyone had just been tolerating her, and . . . maybe theyâd heard of her fight with Ansel and decided to send her packing. It wouldnât surprise her. They were looking out for their own, after all. Never mind that for a while,
she
had felt like one of their ownâfelt, for the first time in a long, long while, like she had a place where she belonged. Where she might learn something more than deceit and how to end lives.
But sheâd been wrong. Somehow, realizing that hurt far worse than the beating Arobynn had given her.
Her lips trembled, but she squared her shoulders and scanned the night sky until she found the Stag and the crowning star that led north. Sighing, Celaena blew out the lantern, mounted Kasida, and rode into the night.
She rode toward Xandria, opting to find a ship there instead of braving the northern trek across the Singing Sands to Yurpaâthe port sheâd originally sailed into. Without a guide, she didnât really have much of a choice. She took her time, often walking instead of riding Kasida, who seemed as sad as she was to leave the Silent Assassins and their luxurious stables.
The next day, she was a few miles into her late afternoon trek when she heard the
thump
,
thump
,
thump
. It grew louder, the movements now edged with clashing and clattering and deep voices. She hopped onto Kasidaâs back and crested a dune.
In the distance, at least two hundred men were marchingâstraight into the desert. Some bore red and black banners. Lord Berickâs men. They marched in a long column, with mounted soldiers galloping along the flanks. Though she had never seen Berick, a quick examination of the host showed no signs of a lord being present. He must have stayed behind.
But there was nothing out here. Nothing except for . . .
Celaenaâs mouth went dry. Nothing except for the assassinsâ fortress.
A mounted soldier paused his riding, his black mareâs coat gleaming with sweat. He stared toward her. With her white clothes concealing all of her but her eyes, he had no way of identifying her, no way of telling what she was.
Even from the distance, she could see the bow and quiver of arrows he bore. How good was his aim?
She didnât dare to move. The last thing she needed was the attention of all those soldiers on her. They all possessed broadswords, daggers, shields, and arrows. This definitely wasnât going to be a friendly visit, not with this many men.
Was that why the Master had sent her away? Had he somehow known this would happen and didnât want her caught up in it?
Celaena nodded to the soldier and continued riding toward Xandria. If the Master didnât want anything to do with her, then she certainly didnât need to warn them. Especially since he probably knew. And he had a fortress full of assassins. Two hundred soldiers were nothing compared to seventy or so of the
sessiz suikast
.
The assassins could handle themselves. They didnât need her. Theyâd made that clear enough.
Still, the muffled thump of Kasidaâs steps away from the fortress became more and more difficult to bear.
The next morning, Xandria was remarkably quiet. At first, Celaena thought it was because the citizens were all waiting for news about the attack on the assassins, but she soon realized she found it quiet because she had only seen it on Market Day. The winding, narrow streets that had been crammed with vendors were now empty, littered with errant palm fronds and piles of sand that slithered in the fierce winds from the sea.
She bought passage on a ship that would sail to
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