and Celaena put a hand to the amulet. The metal was warm beneath her fingers—comforting, somehow. She took a step back from the tapestry to better study the entire scope of it.
In the center stood a stag, magnificent and virile, gazing sideways at Elena. The symbol of the royal house of Terrasen, of the kingdom that Brannon, Elena’s father, had founded. A reminder that though Elena had become Queen of Adarlan, she still belonged to Terrasen. Like Celaena, no matter where Elena went, no matter how far, Terrasen would always own a part of her.
Celaena listened to the wind howl. With a sigh, she shook her head and turned away.
Find the evil in the castle . . . But the only truly evil thing in this world is the man ruling it.
•
Across the castle, Kaltain Rompier clapped lightly as a troupe of acrobats finished their tumbling. The performance had stopped at last. She didn’t feel inclined to watch peasants bouncing about in bright colors for hours, but Queen Georgina enjoyed it, and had invited her to sit beside the throne today. It was an honor, and had been arranged through Perrington.
Perrington wanted her; she knew it. And if she pushed, she could easily get him to offer to make her his duchess. But duchess wasn’t enough—not when Dorian was still unmarried. Her head had been pounding for the past week, and today it seemed to throb with the words: Not enough. Not enough. Not enough. Even in her sleep, the pain seeped in, warping her dreams into nightmares so vivid she couldn’t remember where she was when she awoke.
“How delightful, Your Majesty,” Kaltain said as the acrobats gathered their things.
“Yes, they were rather exciting, weren’t they?” The queen’s green eyes were bright, and she smiled at Kaltain. Just then Kaltain’s head gave a bolt of pain so strong she clenched her fists, hiding them in the folds of her tangerine-colored gown.
“I do wish Prince Dorian could have seen them,” Kaltain got out. “His Highness told me only yesterday how much he enjoyed coming here.” The lie was easy enough, and it somehow made the pain of the headache ease.
“Dorian said that?” Queen Georgina raised an auburn eyebrow.
“Does that surprise Your Majesty?”
The queen put a hand to her chest. “I thought my son had a distaste for such things.”
“Your Majesty,” she whispered, “will you swear not to say a word?”
“A word about what?” the queen whispered back.
“Well, Prince Dorian told me something.”
“What did he say?” The queen touched Kaltain’s arm.
“He said that the reason he doesn’t come to court so often is because he’s rather shy.”
The queen withdrew, the light in her eyes fading. “Oh, he’s told me that a hundred times. I was so hoping you’d tell me something interesting, Lady Kaltain. Like if he’s found a young woman he favors.”
Kaltain’s face warmed, and her head pounded mercilessly. She wished for her pipe, but hours remained of this court session, and it wouldn’t be proper to leave until Georgina departed.
“I heard,” said the queen under her breath, “that there’s a young lady, but no one knows who! Or at least when they hear her name, it’s nothing familiar. Do you know her?”
“No, Your Majesty.” Kaltain fought to keep the frustration from her face.
“What a pity. I had hoped that you of all people would know. You’re such a clever girl, Kaltain.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty. You are too kind.”
“Nonsense. I’m an excellent judge of character; I knew how extraordinary you were the moment you entered the court. Only you are suitable for a man of Perrington’s prowess. What a pity you didn’t meet my Dorian first!”
Not enough, not enough, the pain sang. This was her time. “Even if I had,” Kaltain chuckled, “Your Majesty surely would not have approved—I’m far too lowly for the attentions of your son.”
“Your beauty and wealth compensate for it.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty.” Kaltain’s heart pounded quickly.
If the queen approved of her . . . Kaltain could scarcely think as the queen nestled into her throne, then clapped her hands twice. The music began. Kaltain didn’t hear it.
Perrington had given her the shoes. Now was her time to dance.
Chapter 30
“You’re not focusing.”
“Yes, I am!” Celaena said through her teeth, pulling the bowstring back even farther.
“Then go ahead,” Chaol said, pointing to a distant target along the far wall of the abandoned hallway. An outrageous distance for anyone—except her. “Let’s see you make that.”
She rolled her eyes and straightened her spine a bit. The bowstring quivered in her