"So am I," she whispered, and faced the fire again.

He sensed she did not wish to continue talking, but he couldn't bring himself to leave her alone. Instead, Dorian moved towards the girl and knelt beside her. She tensed as he lifted her hand, but allowed him to anyway. He watched the fire reflected in her glassy eyes and softly stroked the back of her hand. Though her hands were tough and callused, they were still soft and warm in his. How did she manage it? All those contradictions…

Dorian shook his head slightly as if that would clear it. It didn't work; the assassin was still clouding his judgement. He had to leave before he talked himself into a bad decision.

The prince lifted Celaena's hand to his mouth, and softly brushed his lips against her knuckles. He began to stand, but paused when her hair, shining in the firelight, fell across her shoulders as she turned to him. He reached to touch it.


The crown prince lifted her hand to his soft lips. Too soft for a man, she thought. Unfairly soft, in the same way he was unfairly good looking. She looked at him then, and he stopped his movement to stand. The fire was dancing across Dorian's face, and his eyes were caught on her hair. His hand lifted from hers and stroked the hair behind her ear.

Celaena wasn't sure why her protective instincts had faltered. She wouldn't normally allow herself to be touched like this. She was so vulnerable, so unlike herself. But he was so handsome, so soft, so unfair.

The assassin didn't like the dynamic forming. She needed to remain in control. So she kissed him.

He began to draw back in the instant before he realised what she was doing, but his momentary confusion was quickly replaced with a deep hunger. He took her face in his hands as he kissed her again and again, running his fingers through her soft hair. She pulled away from him to catch her breath, and her lungs ached like she had just stopped running. But her stomach was in no danger of emptying. It was all bubbly instead.

She grabbed Dorian's shirt to pull him back to her, but he pulled away and stood. "No," he whispered, and Celaena got the impression he was speaking to himself and not to her.

He left her aching for more of him.