Hey guys! I finally got done with the new chapter for the Throne of Glass story! Hope you like it!
It was tiring she knew, riding for this long. But Dorian was making a real effort to stay awake. His head rested on her shoulder, blue eyes lazily scanning their surroundings as they thundered through the wood, farther and farther away from the horrid glass structure behind them.
"You should move."
Celaena's head shot up and she turned, finding herself immersed in the sapphire sea of his eyes.
"I should what?" she asked, her eyes narrowing.
He laughed, as if that was the reaction he'd expected, but it cut of abruptly, pain flickering across his features. She didn't like it. She wanted to hear him laugh again, dry-throated as it was. She had given him water at the beginning of the ride, but he still sounded like his throat had been scraped raw.
"I didn't mean it like that," he said, regaining his composure, "I mean that you've been sitting in the same position since we left, which, judging by the sun, was three and a half hours ago. Your legs are going to get really cramped if you continue to assume that position."
Celaena snorted. It was such a childish thing to worry about in times of such chaos, but she supposed every piece of energy she had, she should save for when they were in dire need of it.
"Well what do you suppose I do?"
Dorian smiled, "We're far from the palace, you can afford to slow down. Sit sidesaddle for a while. I promise you won't slip," he added with his charming little wink that she had become so accustomed to over the past year. But something about the gesture was off. He had delivered it perfectly. Too perfectly. She studied him for a moment, realizing now that he was in a much worse shape than she had originally thought he was. Over her heady joyfulness after seeing him alive and in one piece, she had neglected the information of what had happened to him these last three weeks. But she needed him to maintain this facade, at least until they got to the hotel. If he lost it on the way she didn't know what she would do, but she wouldn't blame him. He had been through a lot.
"Ok," was all she replied with.
She slowed the horse to peaceful trot, and shifted in the saddle, pulling her left leg over so she sat sideways, her legs hanging off. As she moved she realized the prince had been right. Her legs ached from being stiffly molded to the sides of the horse as they'd galloped away from the palace. She grunted as she finally managed to set both her legs in the most comfortable position one could muster while sitting sidesaddle on a horse. She felt Dorian's arms shift around her, pressing into her side instead, to keep her from falling. The assassin turned to fix him with a stare.
"What about you? You've been on this horse as long as I have."
He shrugged, "I wasn't the one at the reins, plus I learned a trick from Brullo when I was really young. Shift your legs every twenty minutes or so, even if it's only fractional. It'll keep the blood flowing in your legs, and they won't hurt as much when you get down."
Celaena simply nodded in return, turning once more to look ahead, resting her head on Dorian's collarbone. He didn't do anything so she sensed it was alright, that she wasn't pushing him. He set his own head down, albeit slowly, pressing his nose into her hair. And so they sat for the next hour or so, not quite thinking, but their minds not completely blank either. It was a comfortable silence, one that did not need words or gestures to fill the time.
But that was when they made a mistake.
The prince and princess had been so relaxed that they had failed to take in their surroundings. Without noticing, they had entered the forest near the manor of Duke Perrington.
An arrow flew from one of the trees and nearly missed them. If it hadn't been for Celaena's excellent hearing and Dorian's quick action, their horse would've been punctured in the heart.
The assassin had heard a soft whistling and had immediately associated it with that of an arrow. The second she tensed, the Crown prince had become alert too, grabbing the reins and digging his heels into the horse's side as they rode forward, taking up a pace any racehorse owner would have been proud of. As they shot through the woods, Celaena caught a glimpse of a white wall embedded with gold. It was minuscule, but it had been enough. The golden eagle of Adarlan. They were passing through a noble's land. The assassin cursed under her breath as she swung forward once more, grabbing hold of the reins. It had been such an amateur mistake! If they had taken one of the small, windy, trails nearby they could've completely avoided it. Behind her, Celaena heard Dorian releasing a string of familiar curses, as angry with himself as she was with herself. They had ridden far past where the arrow had been shot, but both knew this was nowhere near the end. Judging by the manor's immense size, it belonged to someone of extremely high rank, most likely, Perrington. And if either of the two knew anything about Perrington, it was that he'd have the land rigged miles out in every direction from his manor. Celaena felt something shift and heard a snap behind her. She spared a glance to see Dorian standing up, yanking a large branch off a tree.
"What are you doing?" she yelled into the wind.
"Precautions, my dearest assassin. I'd rather be armed, even if it was with a pathetic tree branch," he yelled back.
Celaena didn't laugh however. He was smart. If used correctly, he could use the tree branch to swat or take the full weight of arrows and knives thrown at them. At the speed they were going, a sword would be completely useless, and Celaena had heard several thunks behind her, which she was familiar with. The sound of metal hitting wood. She nearly missed the soft whistle over the sound of the wind roaring in her ears, but she called out. She had no need to, however, as Dorian had been listening intently as well. A well thrown knife that could have very well impaled her spine, landed with loud thunk in the wooden bough the prince held. Pulling the branch back towards him, Dorian yanked the knife out and slipped it into his belt. You could never be too prepared.
The farther they got, the more arrows, daggers, and knives flew at the, from all sides. Dorian's branch headstone so heavy, he'd had to drop it and tug off another one. That had resulted in him nearly taking a knife to the shoulder. Though because he had turned, the knife had nicked him, and proceeded to embed itself in the very tree he'd grabbed the branch from.
As the flying projectiles increased, the prince shifted, using his long body to cover her much smaller one. Celaena would never admit, but her cheeks looked like they'd been painted in strawberry juice. He leaned over, his lips brushing her ear and whispered, "Move a little faster if you can, I know a shortcut off the forest on Perrington's land about a quarter mile up ahead."
Celaena nodded as best as she could, spurring the horse to go faster, whispering encouragements and promises of rest she knew it couldn't understand. They had done a pretty decent job of warding away the immense amount of weaponry that had been pointed at them. Celaena flinging an occasional knife backwards and knocking a soldier out of a tree. She took quick stock of what the situation looked like and grimaced. Their were several holes in the saddle, where arrows had punctured it, and one of the side harnesses Dorian had had to fasten into a quick knot to keep them from falling off after a knife had cut it. So far the horse nor the two astride it had taken any major blows, but both prince and assassin sported a number of cuts and bruises, Dorian the worse of the two. As they rode on, Celaena found the shortcut the prince had informed her about earlier, barely visible in the thick grove of trees surrounding it. Perrington's guards would have no chance the second they got through there, but it was still about three hundred yards away. Celaena bit the inside of her cheek, pushing the equine faster and faster, dashing the last few hundred feet. That was when it happened.
A knife flew in a direct line towards the one spot Dorian couldn't cover. Her hip. The area was mostly bone so it wouldn't sink in that far, but it would hit her with enough force to knock her off the horse. If they were lucky, her tumbling would in turn cause the prince to fall as well, and both would be in the custody of Adarlan. So Dorian did the only thing he could do, he swung his leg up and gritted his teeth as the knife sank into his thigh. Celaena swore as they crossed the threshold of the secret pathway, riding out a mile before she came to a stop, whirling in the saddle to face Dorian and take a look at his leg. Seeing him, she realized that he had taken the knife out, frowning.
"Why did you do that? Protecting me was one thing you'll hear about later, but why did you take the knife out? That's stupid Dorian, it would've contained the blood flow better until it clotted."
"Yes and it also would've allowed the poison it was dipped in to spread farther into my body."
At this Celaena's head shot up. "It was poisoned?"
He nodded, "I could tell the second it broke through my skin that there was something wrong with it. There was this awful tingly sensation all around the wound."
Celaena swore, but the prince shook his head.
"Relax, it was a knife. The amount of poison they dipped it in couldn't possibly do something of detrimental effect. Even if it was bloodbane."
The assassin nodded her understanding, but still inspected his leg. After a few minutes she looked up. "I can't tell exactly what poison it is because it's symptoms are ones that many have, and its differentiating factors have been cleverly hidden. But it's not one that's super effective or harmful." She tore a strip from her cloak and wrapped it around his wound after carefully cutting away the fabric of his pants. Whoever Perrington had set those traps for, he had wanted them alive and unharmed as possible, possibly to test those awful rings and collars on. Or maybe to torture them even more. You could never tell with someone as awful as he. Finishing her makeshift cast, Celaena sat back to evaluate her work.
"It'll do for now, I'll be able to better treat it once we get to the safe location."
He nodded, "You might be able to use one of the cures I swiped from the castle."
The assassin looked up, surprised, as the prince shifted his cloak, showing her the glass bottles wedged into his belt. She hadn't even seen him take them, he'd been so fast and discreet. Realization took her as she realized he'd learned all these little skills from her. Skills she'd used for survival. Skills he needed to survive now. It was good thinking on his part, and she would've been proud. But she knew he never would've been forced to acquire these skills had they never met at all. Their lives wouldn't be this mess. She looked up into is eyes, as she had come to do for comfort, expecting to see pain or blankness, but instead seeing trust and hope. The prince's own hope spurred hers and he smiled a little. Celaena smiled back and turned once more in the worn down saddle.
With a glance over her back, they set off, with no knowledge of what was to come next.
So that was Chapter 2 :) Don't worry they'll get a bit of a break next chapter. Probably. Who knows? Feel free to send in any suggestions or requests of characters you'd like to see more. Rowan was requested quite a few times and don't worry, he'll be there in later chapters for sure. So I leave you with this :P Bye!