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it’s better than making no money at all.”
    So Adarlan wasn’t just snatching prisoners from battlefields and their homes—they were
buying
slaves for the Salt Mines of Endovier, too.
    â€œAnd the children?” she asked, keeping her voice was neutral as possible. “Where do they go?”
    Rolfe’s eyes darkened a bit at that, glimmering with enough guilt that Celaena wondered if the slave trade had been a last resort for him. “We try to keep the children with their mothers,” he said quietly. “But at the auction block, we can’t control whether they’re separated.”
    She fought the retort on her tongue, and just said, “I see. Are they a burden to sell? And how many children can we expect in our shipment?”
    â€œWe have about ten here,” Rolfe said. “Your shipment shouldn’t contain more than that. And they’re not a burden to sell, if you know where to sell them.”
    â€œWhere?” Sam demanded.
    â€œSome wealthy households might want them for scullery maids or stableboys.” Though his voice remained steady, Rolfe studied the ground. “A brothel madam might show up at the auction, too.”
    Sam’s face went white with fury. If there was one thing that set him off, one subject she
knew
she could always rely upon to rile him, it was this.
    His mother, sold at eight to a brothel, had spent her too-short twenty-eight years clawing her way up from an orphan to one of the most successful courtesans in Rifthold. She’d had Sam only six years before she’d died—murdered by a jealous client. And though she’d amassed some money, it hadn’t been enough to liberate her from her brothel—or to provide for Sam. But she’d been a favorite of Arobynn’s, and when he’d learned that she wanted Sam to be trained by him, he’d taken the boy in.
    â€œWe’ll take that into consideration,” Sam said sharply.
    It wasn’t enough for Celaena to ensure the deal fell apart. No, that wasn’t
nearly
enough. Not when all of these people were imprisoned here. Her blood pounded in her veins. Death, at least, was quick. Especially when dealt by her hand. But slavery was unending suffering.
    â€œVery well,” she said, lifting her chin. She had to get out of here—and get
Sam
out of here before he snapped. A deadly gleam was growing in his eyes. “I look forward to seeing our shipment tomorrow night.” She inclined her head toward the pens behind her. “When will these slaves be sent out?” It was such a dangerous, stupid question.
    Rolfe looked to Captain Fairview, who rubbed his dirty head. “This lot? We’ll divvy them up, and they’ll be loaded onto a new ship tomorrow, probably. They’ll sail around the same time you do, I bet. We need to assemble crews.” He and Rolfe started off on a conversation about manning the ships, and Celaena took that as her cue to leave.
    With a final look at the slave still standing there, Celaena strode out of the warehouse that stank of fear and death.
    â€œCelaena,
wait
!” Sam called, panting as he walked after her.
    She couldn’t wait. She’d just started walking, and walking, and walking, and now, as she reached the empty beach far from the lights of Skull’s Bay, she wouldn’t stop walking until she reached the water.
    Not too far down the curve in the bay, the watchtower stood guard, Ship-Breaker hanging across the water for the duration of the night. The full moon illuminated the powder-fine sand and turned the calm sea into a silver mirror.
    She removed the mask from her face and dropped it behind her, then ripped off her cloak, her boots, and her tunic. The damp breeze kissed her bare skin, fluttering her delicate white undershirt.
    â€œ
Celaena!
”
    Bath-warm waves flooded past her, and she kicked up a spray of water as she kept walking. Before she could get deeper than her