Free Crown of Midnight by Sarah J. Maas Page A

he found himself struggling for control. Especially as she looked away again—and her focus returned to the captain. And stayed there.
Enough
.
    Not bothering to say good-bye to Roland or the girls, he strode out of the Great Hall. He had better, more important things to worry about than what Celaena felt for his friend. He was the Crown Prince of the largest empire in the world. His entire existence was bound to the crown and the glass throne that would someday be his. She’d ended things
because
of that crown and throne—because she wanted a freedom he could never give her.
    “Dorian,” someone called as he entered the hallway. He didn’t have to turn around to know it was Celaena. She caught up to him, easily matching the brisk pace he hadn’t realized he’d set. He didn’t even know
where
he was going, only that he needed to get out of the Great Hall. She touched his elbow, and he hated himself for savoring the touch.
    “What do you want?” he asked.
    They passed beyond the busy halls and she tugged on his arm, slowing him down. “What’s wrong?”
    “Why would anything be wrong?”
    How long have you been yearning for him?
was what he really wanted to ask. Damn him for caring. Damn him for every moment he’d spent with her.
    “You look like you could splatter someone against a wall.”
    He raised an eyebrow. He hadn’t been making a face.
    “When you get angry,” she explained, “your eyes get this … cold look. Glazed.”
    “I’m fine.”
    They kept walking, and she kept following him to … to wherever he was going. The library, he decided, turning down a passageway. He’d go to the royal library.
    “If you have something to say,” he drawled, putting his temper on a tight leash, “then just say it.”
    “I don’t trust your cousin.”
    He paused, the shining hallway around them empty. “You don’t even know him.”
    “Call it instinct.”
    “Roland is harmless.”
    “Maybe. But maybe not. Maybe he has his own agenda in being here. And you’re too smart to be a pawn in anyone’s game, Dorian. He’s from Meah.”
    “And?”
    “
And
Meah is a small, insignificant port city. It means he’s got little to lose and a
lot
to gain. That makes people dangerous. Ruthless. He’ll use you, if he can.”
    “The same way an assassin from Endovier used me to become King’s Champion?”
    Her lips thinned. “Is that what you think I did?”
    “I don’t know what to think.” He turned away.
    She snarled—actually
snarled
—at him. “Well, let me tell you what
I
think, Dorian. I think you’re used to getting what you want—who you want. And just because you couldn’t get who you wanted this
one
time—”
    He whirled toward her. “You know nothing about what I wanted. You didn’t even give me the chance to tell you.”
    She rolled her eyes. “I’m not having this conversation right now. I came to warn you about your cousin, but you clearly don’t care. So don’t expect
me
to care when you find yourself nothing more than a puppet. If you aren’t one already.”
    He opened his mouth, so close to exploding he could have punched the nearest wall, but Celaena was already striding off.

    Celaena stood in front of the bars to Kaltain Rompier’s cell.
    The once-beautiful lady was curled against the wall, her dress soiled and her dark hair unbound and matted. She had buried her face in her arms, but Celaena could still see that her skin gleamed with sweat and had a slightly grayish hue. And the smell …
    She hadn’t seen her since the duel; since the day Kaltain had drugged Celaena’s water with bloodbane so she would die at Cain’s hands. Once she’d defeated Cain, Celaena had left without witnessing the screaming fit that Kaltain had thrown. So she’d missed the moment where Kaltain had accidentally confessed to poisoning her, claiming to have been manipulated by her former beau, Duke Perrington. The duke had denied her accusations, and Kaltain had been sent down here to await