Chapter 2

AN: Hey guys, I'm sorry this took so long. I sort of had a writing block for a while but I'm back now and will try and keep to my previously stated fortnightly update schedule.

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Dorian stared down at the beautiful young woman. She was lovely, he had to admit. There was something about her teasing smile and the turquoise and gold in her eyes that had captivated him as soon he caught sight of her. He didn't know when, and he didn't know how, but he knew almost instantly that he had to kiss this girl.

The girl gave him one of those intoxicating smiles, and curtsied, "I would be honoured, Your Highness."

As they took their place in the centre of the dance floor, Dorian spoke, "Could I enquire as to what your name is, Lady…?"

"Lillian," she smiled slightly, "Lady Lillian. I come from Bellhaven."

"My name is Dorian. Prince Dorian Havilliard, although I'd bet you know that." Lillian just smiled, a twinkle of amusement in her eyes.

The dance started. Lillian carried herself with elegance and grace, and her golden hair was almost glowing in the candlelight. "And what brings you to Rifthold, Lady Lillian?"

She frowned as he spun her on his arm, "My father sent me here to seek a husband. I have not found any men who appease me as of yet."

"Ahh," said Dorian. "A lady of high standards, I presume."

Lillian smiled up at him coyly, the gold in her eyes sparkling as she regarded the prince through her long lashes, "I suppose you could say that."

They waltzed around the ballroom, each of them as adept at dancing as the other, and Dorian lost himself in the dance and the music. The dance ended and a new one began, but neither of them noticed, absorbed in one another. Dorian stared into her fascinating eyes as they danced together for longer than was deemed polite. The sparks flying between them were almost tangible.

After a while, they stopped dancing and stood together at the side. His hands were still at her waist, which wasn't quite socially acceptable now their dance was over, but Dorian was the Crown Prince, and he could do what the hell he liked. He would've kissed her, if only half of Adarlan's nobility wasn't watching.

"I'd like to spend a little more time with you, Lady Lillian."

She smiled suggestively, "I'd like that too, Dorian, very much," she purred. Calling him by his first name wasn't socially acceptable either, but he liked her for it.

He smiled and lowered his voice, telling her where she could meet him later. She licked her lips and smiled before taking her leave.

Celaena made sure she had lost the Prince in the crowd before contemplating her next move. The castle gardens were open to all ball guests tonight, she might as well scope them out for a few hours before she met with the prince.

Congratulating herself on successfully executing the first stage of her plan, Celaena gracefully walked through the glass doors to the garden, her glass slippers chinking against the floor.

Chaol cornered Dorian as soon as the ball was over. "You're not doing what I think you're doing."

Dorian just raised his eyebrows and kept striding down the glass hall, "Nice to see you too, Chaol."

"Dorian, I'm serious. Where are you going?"

"Where I am going is not your concern."

"I am Captain of the Royal Guard. Your safety is my concern."

"I can assure you, that I will be more than safe tonight, Captain."

Chaol grabbed his arm, "You're seeing that girl aren't you?"

"If you mean Lady Lillian, then yes. She's rather lovely, isn't she?"

"I don't like the look of her."

Dorian laughed, "You must have been the only man in the room to think so."

"Listen to me. She kept staring at you."

"You should find yourself a woman one of these days, Chaol. If I didn't know better I'd say you were jealous."

"I'm not jealous!" Chaol gritted his teeth in frustration. He didn't know what it was, but the girl had set alarm bells ringing when she'd danced with Dorian. The last thing he wanted was to pry into the prince's sex life, but he was so sure about this.

"Relax, Chaol. She's just a girl. What harm could she possibly do to me? Why don't you take the rest of the night off?"

Chaol sighed. "Alright, I'll see you in the morning then, I suppose."

"Goodnight, Chaol."

The captain watched Dorian walk off, still not quite at ease.

It was after midnight by the time the prince got there. Celaena was waiting in the shadows at the back of the castle, crouched in one of the lesser used walled gardens. The night was still warm, as it was the height of the Rifthold summer. When she caught sight of Dorian, she didn't move from her hiding place for a moment, staying concealed whilst she watched him. The prince gazed up at the stars, the moonlight illuminating his pretty face. He looked younger somehow, more open. Dorian was only nineteen, she knew. Too young to have all the responsibility of being heir to a continental empire.

And yet, Celaena herself was only eighteen, and some would say that was too young to be a trained killer.

The assassin emerged from the shadow, and smiled seductively at the prince.

His eyes lit up when he saw her, "Lillian."

He took a step towards her and she was in his arms again, "I missed you," he murmured.

"I missed you too."

Dorian opened his mouth to speak but Celaena put a finger to his lips to stop him. She ran her hands over his body and kissed him. This kiss wasn't like other kisses. With Sam, it had always been gentle and sweet, but with Dorian, all she felt was hunger and lust. Dorian's hunger for her body, and Celaena's bloodlust.

They just enjoyed the kissing for a while, exploring the sensation of mouth on mouth, tongue to tongue.

She ran her hands up the back of his shirt, caressing the rippled muscles of his shoulders. He kissed her neck, and she could feel his pulse pounding in anticipation. Celaena ripped his shirt off, running her hands over his bare chest. Her breath came in gasps and moans as Dorian's hands roamed freely up her skirt and down her bodice. The lust haze prevented him from noticing the arsenal of daggers strapped to her body.

Before Celaena really knew what was happening, they were on the ground, Dorian's body above hers, his teeth pulling the neckline of her dress lower and lower. This was moving faster than she'd expected. Too fast. As attractive as the prince was, she would prefer to kill him without having him fuck her first.

Panicked, she reached for the dagger strapped to her thigh, her other hand Dorian's rising higher up Dorian's inner thigh. He closed his eyes and gasped, distracted. Celaena moved her arm and dagger into position, the tip of the knife an inch above the soft, vulnerable skin between his shoulder blades.

It should have been easy from there. So simple, really, to literally stab him in the back, leaving the prince to bleed to death. But she made one fatal mistake. For the first time in her whole career, Celaena Sardothien hesitated.

She didn't know exactly why, but she froze in place. Perhaps it was just a moment of weakness, or perhaps it was something old and long forgotten inside her, some buried part of her being that knew that she had once been just like this boy; that he was innocent and killing him could not avenge all she had lost.

Later, she told herself it was nothing more than a momentary lapse, and a fluke coincidence that Dorian felt the sudden tension in her body and opened his eyes before she could regain herself enough to stab him.

He saw it in her eyes then: the cold centre beneath her warm, inviting body, and the lethal intent in her eyes.

In a split second, Celaena had flipped Dorian over so he was flat on the ground and she was springing to her feet. She dropped the dagger clumsily and Dorian swore loudly as it slashed his arm. Dorian screamed out for help, and Celaena knew at once that the guards would be here any second, and that she had no option but to run.

Chaol couldn't sleep. He had tried for what felt like hours before resolving to get up and take a stroll through the palace gardens. He was circling round the back of the castle when he heard Dorian's cry. Chaol jumped out of his skin, and started to sprint toward the sound at once, hoping against hope that there were other guards nearby. He was halfway there when he rounded a corner and collided with a blonde woman in a torn blue dress. She violently shoved him away from her and then sprinted in the opposite direction. It took him a second too long to realise that it was the girl from the ball, the girl who Dorian was supposed to be comfortably in bed with by now. He swore, wanting to go after her but knowing the prince was his first priority. Chaol swivelled round to turn back in the direction of Dorian, nearly tripping over what appeared to be a glass shoe left on the ground. IT must have belonged to the girl, he realised, and could be his only evidence. Chaol picked it up hastily and turned back towards the prince's shouts.

Celaena kept running until she hit the outer wall, which she vaulted over, realising she'd lost one shoe somewhere. Cursing her fancy clothes, Celaena doubled back on herself and headed towards the poorer district of Rifthold. She couldn't go back to the Assassin's Keep, not yet. She couldn't face Arobynn, not like this. She needed time to collect herself first, and think of some way of explaining her failure. Failure. The word made her stomach turn. She was Adarlan's Assassin, the best of the best. She was Celaena Sardothien, and she didn't fail. Until now, it seemed.

Celaena didn't stop until she reached the slums.

Disclaimer: Sarah J Maas has copyright, obviously.