The apartment concealed above the warehouse was beautiful, luxurious. Celaena patted the armchair by the window while Lysandra stood stiffly, tense, and smiled at the little girl. "This is my favourite place to sit in the whole apartment when there's a nice breeze coming through. If you want, I have a few books I think you'll like. Or -" She gestured to the kitchen - "You might be able to find something delicious on the kitchen table – blueberry tart, I think." Lysandra's gaze softened as she added, "Your choice."

Having been part of a high-end brothel, she knew Celaena understood, meant that Evangeline hadn't had many choices in her life until she came to live with Lysandra.

The child's voice was barely audible above the soft patter of rain on the roof. "I'd like the tart, please." And with that, she went into the kitchen.

Smart girl – to know to stay out of the assassin's way.

With Evangeline occupied, Celaena shrugged off her cloak and draped it over a chair, wiping her wet face.

She kept a hand angled to draw that hidden blade at a moment's notice, and pointed to a couch. "Sit." She ordered.

She seemed surprised when Lysandra obeyed, and she couldn't help asking, "Or you'll threaten to kill me again?"

"I don't make threats – only promises."

Lysandra slumped against the cushions. "Please. How can I take anything that comes out of that big mouth seriously?"

"You took it seriously when I threw a dagger at your head."

"You missed." She smiled slightly. Not quite true – she'd still grazed her ear.

They both quieted, each taking in the other. They were no longer the girls they'd once been.

Lysandra broke the silence. "I prefer you as a blonde."

"I'd prefer if you got the hell out of my house, but that doesn't seem likely to happen anytime soon."

The assassin glanced down at the carriage lingering on the street below the window where they sat. "Arobynn couldn't send you in one of his carriages? I thought he was paying you handsomely."

She waved a dismissive hand, and Celaena's gaze latched onto the serpentine tattoo stamped upon her wrist.

"I refused his carriage. Thought it would set the wrong tone."

Too late for that.

"So he did send you, then. To warn me about what?"

"He sent me to tell you his plan. He doesn't trust messengers these days. But the warning comes from me."

A dangerous gleam lit Celaena's eyes, still fixed on that tattoo.

She asked too quietly, "Why do you still have Clarisse's sigil tattooed on you?"

Lysandra frowned down at it. "We don't get them stamped out until we've paid off our debts."

"The last time I saw your whoring carcass, you were weeks away from paying them off." Indeed, the sum Arobynn had paid at her bidding had her near to freedom in one night. But that was before Evangeline.

Still, she didn't want to get into that now. Even as that distrust grew in the assassin's narrowed eyes.

Pain flickered in her eyes as she remembered just how stuck she was with Clarisse.

"Do you have a problem with the tattoo?" She asked bluntly.

"That piece of shit Archer Finn had one."

Lysandra held her gaze levelly. "Archer's dead." She replied flatly.

Celaena smiled sweetly. "Because I gutted him."

Lysandra braced a hand on the back of the couch. She'd suspected, of course. But here was the confirmation. "You -" she breathed.

But despite his warning her, she'd never been that fond of him. And she knew Celaena was either under orders or had a very good reason for doing so.

She shook her head to clear it. "Good. Good that you killed him. He was a self-serving pig." She saw the flicker of disbelief flash over Celaena's face. It didn't matter. It was true.

"Say your piece, and then get out."

Lysandra's mouth tightened, but she laid out Arobynn's plan. The assassin's impassive face gave nothing away.

A cold gleam crossed Celaena's eyes as she finished explaining.

"I know, I know." She said quickly. "You needn't remind me that you'll skin me alive if I betray you."

A muscle flickered in the assassin's cheek at that statement. "And the warning you came to give me?"

Lysandra shifted on the couch. "Arobynn wanted me to tell you the plans so that he might check up on you – test you, see how much you're on his side, if you're going to betray him."

The assassin was unimpressed. As was to be expected. That part wasn't much of a big reveal.

"I'd be disappointed if he didn't."

"I think… I think he also sent me here as an offering."

"Unfortunately for you, I have no interest in women. Even when they're paid for."

Her nostrils flared in frustration and she bit the tip of her tongue to dam the flow of insults ready to spring from her lips. The bitch knew exactly what she meant. She was just baiting her. As always.

"I think he sent me here so you could kill me. As a present."

"And you came to beg me to reconsider?" Lysandra saw the disgust on her face as her gaze darted to the door to the kitchen that Evangeline had slipped through what felt like hours ago. Guessed at the assassin's thoughts.

She looked pointedly to where Celaena's concealed dagger rested at her side. "Kill me if you want. Evangeline already knows what I suspect, and won't say a word."

That mask of icy calm the assassin wore still didn't slip.

"But I did come to warn you." Lysandra continued, "He might offer you gifts, might help you with this rescue, but he is having you watched – and he has his own agenda. That favour you offered him – I don't know what it was, but it's likely to be a trap, one way or another. I'd consider whether his help is worth it. And see if you can get out of it."

Celaena didn't respond. Fine.

Lysandra took in a sharp breath.

"I also came to give you this."

She held back a smile when Celaena shifted into a defensive position as she delved a hand into the pocket of her rich indigo dress.

She gently pulled out the worn, faded envelope and set it gently, gingerly upon the low table, as if afraid it would be damaged in these final seconds of responsibility.

"This is for you." She spoke quietly. "Please read it."

"So you're Arobynn's whore and courier now."

Her heart sank a little further. It was a low blow, but by far not the worst insult she'd endured from Celaena. Yet still it stung.

She didn't let the pain register on her face as she sunk further into the couch. "This isn't from Arobynn. It's from Wesley."

And she couldn't hold back the grief that flooded her eyes. Knew Celaena noticed it, too, because she hesitated for a second.

"Wesley." She repeated. "Arobynn's bodyguard. The one who spent most of his time hating me, and the rest of it contemplating ways to kill me."

Lysandra nodded, and the assassin paused.

"Arobynn murdered Wesley for killing Rourke Farran."

Lysandra flinched.

Celaena glanced at the old envelope as Lysandra dropped her gaze to her hands, clutched together so tightly that her knuckles were bone-white.

Worn lines marred the envelope, and the paper was creased, the corners slightly crumpled, but the chipped seal was unbroken.

"Why have you been carrying a letter to me from Wesley for almost two years?"

Lysandra wouldn't look up, and her shoulders curled in, but if she had looked up as she spoke she might have seen Celaena's face leeched of all colour.

Because when she spoke, voice breaking and quiet, she said the last words Celaena expected to hear.

"Because I loved him very much."

Author's Note: This is the end! Thanks so much for reading and for all your support! :)