Rising Flames | Throne of Glass

9

'We can't just sit here and wait for Celaena to be released - but it's too risky to rescue her ourselves.'

They'd tried to avoid talking about this - yet somehow, it always worked its way into their conversations.

Patience - they couldn't act too soon.

'So what do you suggest?' Enya propped her head up with an arm and drummed her fingers on the table.

'I want revenge.'

She stopped. 'I don't want rage and need for vengeance to blind your decisions.'

He didn't appear to hear her. 'Firstly, I want Arobynn Hamel dead.' It was as if a clasp had been unfastened - and the plan began to unravel.

'He poses too large of a threat in the future for when we will make our further move. Farran,' he said the name with a grit of the teeth and flashing eyes, 'has already been killed by Wesley - and now Wesley is dead. We need Arobynn out of the way for good - he must be arrogant enough to think that I don't know he himself has an agenda of some sort.

'Before we kill him, we're changing Arobynn's will. Celaena Sardothien is still protégée, but the obvious issue is that she isn't here right now. I am still Arobynn's Second - so I will inherit all his possessions. Then, after that, we can be sure there will be no more trouble from the Guild.

'We cannot kill Arobynn ourselves, but I have a good idea of who can help us.'

Enya stood slowly. 'Fair. Who is this person?'

'A fellow courtesan - Lysandra.'

~

She wasn't entirely a bitch, Sam reminded himself as they awaited Lysandra's reply. He'd sent an urchin to deliver the message to the courtesan - hopefully it landed in the right hands.

An hour later, he received a reply.

The Black Cygnet. Six o'clock.

~

They finally agreed that Sam was better off going alone. He dressed in a light tunic and dark pants after opting for something casual. An additional cloak wouldn't do any harm against the growing autumn.

As the cab trundled to a halt at the end of the street, Sam stepped out and began to make his way to the sounds of music and laughter.

Lysandra was dressed nicely - an ermine cloak slung over her dress - but she seemed different. Restless. Her eyes never stopped darting around, even when he greeted her with a polite smile and she took his elbow. He noticed she didn't lean into him, either.

The moment they sat down, Lysandra raked a gaze over the rest of the tavern to make sure no one was eavesdropping before saying, 'I thought you were dead.'

He gave a bland smile. 'I thought so, too.'

It all came out then. How Arobynn had betrayed them, and broke Celaena. How he'd been drugged and locked up, only to be rescued by Wesley. 'Arobynn knows I'm still alive - and most definitely knows where I am. The only reason why he hasn't killed me yet is because I pose no threat to him at the moment, and because he got what he wanted.' Three heartbeats of silence passed as he clenched his fists tight. 'I can blind his Eyes from further reports, but only for so long.'

Lysandra did none of her usual flirting and showed no signs of boredom, only an uncanny intensity. 'You want me to help you kill Arobynn,' her voice was low and quiet.

'Yes,' he replied. This Lysandra was different. She had not once questioned anything - but in fact, this time, he was curious. 'But why? Why are you helping so willingly?'

'I loved Wesley. And Arobynn killed him. So, the same reason as you. Justice.'

Sam blinked. 'You are helping me - and Celaena.'

Lysandra sighed through her nose. 'A few months ago, things were different. We were both naïve. I am willing to change, to let go of the old rivalry between us, for we were both pawns in Arobynn's game.'

It was certainly a woman, not a girl before him.

'Well, then,' Sam said. 'Let's get planning.'

~

Changing Arobynn Hamel's will was easier than trying to creep up on the jackrabbits in the Red Desert.

It was only a matter of time before they would see if Lysandra had succeeded or not.

~

A storm rumbled overhead throughout the night, lighting flashing and thunder rattling the windows. Lysandra gazed at the auburn-haired man lying by her side, lips parted.

A grief-stricken sob fuelled with rage tore at her lips, but she fought it away. Nothing could go wrong.

Arobynn Hamel had never trouble sleeping, nothing troubled his mind - not even when Wesley's blood still stained his fingers that night, nor when he'd sent Celaena into the hands of a sadist.

He deserved to die. A bastard who treated women as toys, possessions, things to play and have fun with. How wrong he was.

No pity, only a killing calm settled over her features as Lysandra rolled, the act of a restless sleeper, holding the knife Sam had slipped into her cloak to her chest as she did.

Arobynn didn't stir.

A crack of thunder rolled high above them. Hurry. Lysandra clutched the knife tighter.

For Wesley.

For Sam and Celaena.

And for herself.

So many unexplained things, secrets that Arobynn Hamel would never know, never understand.

A flash of thunder caught the surface of the blade, a jagged bolt of white light. Now. She had to do it now.

Lysandra sat up.

She looked at Arobynn's tranquil, unbothered features - and smiled.

She plunged the knife down.

It would not be quick. It would not be nice.