throne-of-glass

On the path to Conquer the throne,some of your pawns must die...If your eyes aim the big kill,you must learn to eat humble pie.

To four years until freedom," she said lifting her glass.He raised his in salute. "To you, Celaena." Their eyes met, and Chaol didn't hide his smile as she grinned at him. Perhaps four years with her might not be enough.

Aelin took a step forward. One step, as if in a daze.She loosed a shuddering breath, and a small, whimpering noise came out of her - a sob. And then she was sprinting down the alley, flying as though the winds themselves pushed at her heels.She flung herself on the male, crashing into him hard enough that anyone else might have gone rocking back into the stone wall. But the male grabbed her to him, his massive arms wrapping around her tightly and lifting her up. Nesryn made to approach, but Aedion stopped her with a hand on her arm.Aelin was laughing as she cried, and the male was just holding her, his hooded head buried in her neck. As if he were breathing her in."Who is that?" Nesryn asked.Aedion smiled. "Rowan.

Are you ashamed of what I've done?" she dared to ask. His brow creased. "Why would you ever think that?"She couldn't quite look him in the eye as she ran a finger down the blanket. "Are you?"Aedion was silent long enough that she lifted her head - but found him gazing toward the door, as though he could see through it, across the city, to the captain. When he turned to her, his handsome face was open - soft in a way she doubted many ever saw. "Never," he said. "I could never be ashamed of you.

Chaol," he said, looking over his shoulder. Dorian's eyes were frozen, his jaw clenched. "Treat her well.

I heard a story," Aedion drawled to Rowan, "that you killed an enemy warlord using a table." "Please,"Aelin said. "Who the hell told you that?""Quinn-your uncle's Captain of the Guard. He was an admirer of Prince Rowan's. He knew all the stories."Aelin slid her eyes to Rowan, who smirked, bracing his sparring stick on the floor. "You can't be serious," she said. "What-you squashed him to death like a pressed grape?

He looked at his friend, perhaps for the last time, and said what he had always known, from the moment they__ met, when he__ understood that the prince was his brother in soul. __ love you.

My name is Celaena Sardothien," she whispered, "and I will not be afraid.

Sometimes, the wicked will tell us things just to confuse us__o haunt our thoughts long after we've faced them.

Holy gods. He'd frozen the whole damn lake. He was THAT powerful?

And if I asked for the moon on a string?" - Sorsha

Wrong kind of witch." - Manon Blackbeak

Aelin hissed, "Need I remind you Captain, that you went to Endovier and did not blink at the slaves and the mass graves? Need I remind you that I was starved and chained and you let Duke Perrington force me to the ground at Dorian's feet while you did nothing? And now you have the nerve to accuse me of not caring, when many of the people in this city have profited off the blood and misery of the very people you ignored?

She wouldn't ask. Didn't want to know what manner of thing might crawl toward a fire.

She didn't fear the night, though she found little comfort in its dark hours.

Libraries were full of ideas__erhaps the most dangerous and powerful of all weapons.

They had slept in the shelter of the ruins, though neither of them really got true rest.

We each survive in our own way.