to wait a few hours for him to leave the house. Or maybe he’d already done the job and needed to lie low for a while, just in case someone traced him back here.
Celaena checked the dagger beside her on the couch, then glanced around the room for the hundredth time that evening, making sure all the concealed weapons were in their proper places.
She wouldn’t check on Sam. He’d wanted to do this on his own. And he could be anywhere now.
The trunks lay by the window.
Maybe she should start packing. Once they dispatched Jayne tomorrow night, they’d need to be ready to leave the city as soon as that ship was available to board. Because while she certainly wanted the world to know that Celaena Sardothien had made the kill, getting far from Rifthold would be in their best interest.
Not that she was running away.
The clock arms shifted again. Another minute.
Groaning, Celaena stood and walked to the bookshelf along the wall, where she began pulling out books and stacking them into the nearest empty trunk. She’d have to leave her furniture and most of her shoes behind for now, but there was no way in hell she was going to move to the southern continent without all of her books.
The clock struck eleven, and Celaena headed into the streets, wearing the suit the Master Tinkerer had made for her, plus several other weapons strapped to her body.
Sam should have been back by now. And even though there was still another hour until the time when they’d agreed she’d look for him if he hadn’t returned, if he was truly in trouble, then she certainly wasn’t going to sit around for another minute—
The thought sent her sprinting down alleys, heading toward Jayne’s house.
The slums were silent, but no more so than usual. Whores and barefoot orphans and people struggling to make a few honest coppers glanced at her as she ran past, no more than a shadow. She kept an ear out for any snippets of conversation that might suggest Farran was dead, but overheard nothing useful.
She slowed to a stalking gait, her steps near-silent on the cobblestones as she neared the wealthy neighborhood in which Jayne’s house stood. Several affluent couples were walking around, heading back from the theater, but there were no signs of a disturbance … Though if Farran had been killed, then surely Jayne would try to keep the assassination hidden for as long as possible.
She made a long circuit through the neighborhood, checking on all the points where Sam had planned to be. Not a spot of blood or sign of a struggle. She even dared to walk across the street from Jayne’s house. The house was brightly lit and almost merry, and the guards were at their posts, all looking bored.
Perhaps Sam had found out that Farran wasn’t leaving the house tonight. She might very well have missed him on his way home. He wouldn’t be pleased when he learned she’d gone out to find him, but he would have done the same for her.
Sighing, Celaena hurried back home.
CHAPTER
7
Sam wasn’t at the apartment.
But the clock atop the mantel read one in the morning.
Celaena stood before the embers of the fireplace and stared at the clock, wondering if she was somehow reading it wrong.
But it continued ticking, and when she checked her pocket watch, it also read one. Then two minutes past the hour. Then five minutes …
She threw more logs on the fire and took off her swords and daggers, but remained in the suit. Just in case.
She had no idea when she began pacing in front of the fire—and only realized it when the clock chimed two and she found herself still standing before the clock.
He would come home any minute.
Any minute.
Celaena jolted awake at the faint chime of the clock. She’d somehow wound up on the couch—and somehow fallen asleep.
Four o’clock.
She would go out again in a minute. Maybe he’d hidden in the Assassins’ Keep for the night. Unlikely, but … it was probably the safest place to hide after you’d killed Rourke Farran.
Celaena closed her eyes.
The dawn was blinding, and her eyes felt gritty and sore as she hurried through the slums, then the wealthy neighborhoods, scanning every cobblestone, every shadowed alcove, every rooftop for any sign of him.
Then she went to the river.
She didn’t dare breathe as she walked up and down the banks that bordered the slums, searching for anything. Any sign of Farran, or … or …