want, you mean. So what is it you want from Rolfe?â
She studied her companion.
He
certainly didnât seem to have any moral qualms about the deal. While he might not trust Rolfe, it didnât bother him that a hundred innocent souls were about to be traded like cattle. âI wanted to ask him more about the map on his hands.â
âDamn it, Celaena!â Sam slammed his fist onto the wooden floor. âTell me the truth!â
âWhy?â she asked, giving him a pout. âAnd how do you know Iâm
not
telling the truth?â
Sam got to his feet and began pacing the length of their small room. He undid the top button of his black tunic, revealing the skin beneath. Something about it felt strangely intimate, and Celaena found herself quickly looking away from him.
âWeâve grown up together.â Sam stopped at the foot of her bed. âYou think I donât know how to tell when youâre cooking up some scheme? What do you want from Rolfe?â
If she told him, heâd do everything in his power to keep her from ruining the deal. And having one enemy was enough. With her plan still unformed, she
had
to keep Sam out of it. Besides, if worse came to worst, Rolfe might very well kill Sam for being involved. Or just for knowing her.
âMaybe Iâm just unable to resist how handsome he is,â she said.
Sam went rigid. âHeâs twelve years older than you.â
âSo?â He didnât think she was
serious
, did he?
He gave her a look so scathing it could have turned her to ash and stalked to the window, ripping his cloak down from the shutters.
âWhat are you doing?â
He flung open the wooden shutters on a sky full of rain and forked lightning. âIâm sick of suffocating. And if youâre interested in Rolfe, heâs bound to find out what you look like at some point, isnât he? So why bother slowly roasting to death?â
âShut the window.â He only crossed his arms. â
Shut it
,â she growled.
When he made no move to close the window, she jumped to her feet, upsetting the tray of food on her mattress, and shoved him aside hard enough for him to take a step back. Keeping her head down, she shut the window and shutters and threw his cape over the whole thing.
âIdiot,â she seethed. âWhatâs gotten into you?â
Sam stepped closer, his breath hot on her face. âIâm tired of all the melodrama and nonsense that happens whenever you wear that ridiculous mask and cloak. And Iâm even more tired of you ordering me around.â
So
thatâs
what this was about. âGet used to it.â
She made to turn to her bed, but he grabbed her wrist. âWhatever plan youâre concocting, whatever bit of intrigue youâre about to drag me into, just remember that youâre not head of the Assassinsâ Guild
yet
; you still answer to Arobynn.â
She rolled her eyes, yanking her wrist out of his grasp. âTouch me again,â she said, striding to her bed and picking up the spilled food, âand youâll lose that hand.â
Sam didnât speak to her after that.
Chapter Five
Dinner with Sam was silent, and Rolfe appeared at eight to bring them both to the holding facility. Sam didnât even ask where they were going. He just played along, as if heâd known the whole time.
The holding facility was an enormous wooden warehouse, and even from down the block, something about the place made Celaenaâs instincts scream at her to get away. The sharp reek of unwashed bodies didnât hit her until they stepped inside. Blinking against the brightness of the torches and crude chandeliers, it took her a few heartbeats to sort out what she was seeing.
Rolfe, striding ahead of them, didnât falter as he passed cell after cell packed with slaves. Instead, he walked toward a large open space in the rear of the warehouse, where a nut-brown Eyllwe man