The Assassin and the Desert Read Online Free

the expendable one.
    She shoved the thought away and nestled farther into the bed. Through the small window, the silence of the fortress lulled her to sleep.
    She’d never seen Arobynn so angry, and it was scaring the hell out of her. He didn’t yell, and he didn’t curse—he just went very still and very quiet. The only signs of his rage were his silver eyes, glittering with a deadly calm.
    She tried not to flinch in her chair as he stood from his giant wooden desk. Sam, seated beside her, sucked in a breath. She couldn’t speak; if she started talking, her trembling voice would betray her. She couldn’t endure that kind of humiliation.
    â€œDo you know how much money you’ve cost me?” Arobynn asked her softly.
    Celaena’s palms began sweating.
It was worth it,
she told herself. Freeing those two hundred slaves was worth it. No matter what was about to happen, she’d never regret doing it.
    â€œIt’s not her fault,” Sam cut in, and she flashed him a warning glare. “We both thought it was—”
    â€œDon’t lie to me, Sam Cortland,” Arobynn growled. “The only way
you
became involved in this was because she decided to do it—and it was either let her die trying, or help her.”
    Sam opened his mouth to object, but Arobynn silenced him with a sharp whistle through his teeth. His office doors opened. Wesley, Arobynn’s manservant, peered in. Arobynn kept his eyes on Celaena as he said, “Get Tern, Mullin, and Harding.”
    This wasn’t a good sign. She kept her face neutral, though, as Arobynn continued watching her. Neither she nor Sam dared speak in the long minutes that passed. She tried not to shake.
    At last, the three assassins—all men, all cut from muscle and armed to the teeth, filed in. “Shut the door,” Arobynn said to Harding, the last one to enter. Then he told the others, “Hold him.”
    Instantly, Sam was dragged out of his chair, his arms pinned back by Tern and Mullin. Harding took a step in front of them, his fist flexing.
    â€œNo,” Celaena breathed as she met Sam’s wide-eyed stare. Arobynn wouldn’t be that cruel—he wouldn’t make her watch as he hurt Sam. Something tight and aching built in her throat.
    But Celaena kept her head high, even as Arobynn said quietly to her, “You are not going to enjoy this. You will not forget this. And I don’t want you to.”
    She whipped her head back to Sam, a plea for Harding not to hurt him on her lips.
    She sensed the blow only a heartbeat before Arobynn struck her.
    She toppled out of her chair and didn’t have time to raise herself properly before Arobynn grabbed her by the collar and swung again, his first connecting with her cheek. Light and darkness reeled. Another blow, hard enough that she felt the warmth of her blood on her face before she felt the pain.
    Sam began screaming something. But Arobynn hit her again. She tasted blood, yet she didn’t fight back, didn’t dare to. Sam struggled against Tern and Mullin. They held him firm, Harding putting a warning arm in front of Sam to block his path.
    Arobynn hit her—her ribs, her jaw, her gut. And her face. Again and again and again. Careful blows—blows meant to inflict as much pain as possible without doing permanent damage. And Sam kept roaring, shouting words she couldn’t quite hear over the agony.
    The last thing she remembered was a pang of guilt at the sight of her blood staining Arobynn’s exquisite red carpet. And then darkness, blissful darkness, full of relief that she hadn’t seen him hurt Sam.

Chapter Three
    Celaena dressed in the nicest tunic she’d brought—which wasn’t really anything to admire, but the midnight blue and gold
did
bring out the turquoise hues in her eyes. She went so far as to apply some cosmetics to her eyes, but opted to avoid putting anything on the rest of her face. Even though the