Free The Assassin and the Empire by Sarah J. Maas Page B

Farran—everyone else was collateral. Arobynn had said they’d both be in their beds. That meant she had to get past all those guards at the front gate, the front door, and on the first floor … not to mention the guards that were sure to be outside the bedrooms.
    But there was an easier way to get past all them. A way in that didn’t involve possibly alerting Farran and Jayne if the guards at the front door raised the alarm. Harding had mentioned something about a window on the second floor that he could leap through … Harding was a good tumbler, but she was better.
    When she was a few streets away, she climbed the side of a house until she was on the roof and running again, fast enough to make the leap across the gap between houses.
    She’d walked past Jayne’s house enough times in the past few days to know that it was separated from its neighbors by alleys probably fifteen feet wide.
    She leapt across another gap between roofs.
    Now that she thought of it, she
knew
there was a second-floor window facing one of those alleys—and she didn’t give a damn where that window opened to, just that it would get her inside before the guards on the first floor could notice.
    The emerald roof of Jayne’s house gleamed, and Celaena skidded to a halt on the roof next door. A wide, flat stretch of the gabled roof stood between her and the long jump across the alley. If she aimed correctly and ran fast enough, she could make that leap and land through that second-floorwindow. The window was already thrown open, though the curtains had been drawn, blocking any view of what was within.
    Despite the fog of rage, years of training made her instinctively scan the neighboring rooftops. Was it arrogance or stupidity that kept Jayne from having guards on the nearby roofs? Even the guards on the street didn’t look up at her.
    Celaena untied her cloak and let it slide to the ground behind her. Any additional drag might be fatal, and she had no intention of dying until Jayne and Farran were dead.
    The roof on which she stood was three stories high and faced the second-floor window across the alley. She factored in the distance and how fast she’d be falling, and made sure the swords crossed to her back were neatly tucked in. The window was wide, but she still needed to worry about the blades catching on the threshold. She backed up as far as she could to give herself running space.
    Somewhere on that second floor slept Jayne and Farran. And somewhere in this house, they had destroyed Sam.
    After she had killed them, perhaps she’d tear the house down stone by stone.
    Perhaps she’d tear this entire city down, too.
    She smiled. She liked the sound of that.
    Then she took a deep breath and broke into a run.
    The roof was no longer than fifty feet—fifty feet between her and the jump that would either land her right through that open window a level below, or splatter her on the alley between.
    She sprinted for the ever-nearing edge.
    Forty feet.
    There was no room for error, no room for fear or sorrow or anything except that blinding rage and cold, vicious calculation.
    Thirty feet.
    She raced, straight as an arrow, each pump of her legs and arms bringing her closer.
    Twenty.
    Ten.
    The alley below loomed, the gap looking far bigger than she’d realized.
    Five.
    But there was nothing left of her to even consider stopping.
    Celaena reached the edge of the roof and leapt.

Chapter Ten
    The cold kiss of night air on her face, the glitter of the wet streets under lamplight, the sheen of moonlight on the black curtains inside the open window as she arced toward it, hands already reaching for her daggers …
    She tucked her head into her chest, bracing for impact as she burst through the curtains, ripping them clean off their hangings, hit the floor, and rolled.
    Right into a meeting room full of people. In a heartbeat, she took in the details: a somewhat small room where Jayne, Farran, and others sat around a square table, and a dozen