What did an assassin do with no one to assassinate?

In Lillian's case, she thought about her dreams. In one dream it was dark, and the dark was endless, and she couldn't move.

She wasn't sure it was worse than the ones where she was in the only slightly less neverending dark of the salt mines of Endovier, but at least the ones about Endovier she understood. The dreams of Endovier didn't make her seem dead - something she should have warned Chaol and Dorian about.

"We couldn't wake you up," Dorian had said shrilly, and Chaol had been pale and drawn. They had not been reassured by the information that Celaena, as her tutor in all things assassination, usually just left her there until she woke on her own.

"How often does she watch you sleep exactly," Chaol had asked flatly, and Lillian had been forced to confess that it was probably more often than even Lillian knew.

Less often now, Lillian assumed, since no one was actively trying to murder her or Dorian these days that she knew of. The contest was over. Dorian was the indisputable heir.

Which led her back to the question: what was she supposed to be doing? She'd already made Chaol show her the escape tunnel to the coast when his knee had healed, dragging a protesting Dorian along with them. She had hidden caches throughout the castle and grounds. She kept waiting for something to happen, whether it was the king ordering her to do something distasteful as he'd suggested months ago or Celaena to suggest something physically improbable for Lillian to try. Nothing.

And to top it all off, the song was stuck in her head again.

Playful and growing, little life taking wing,

Mab, pure as snow thaw, precious ruler of spring

"Ugh," Lillian said into the summer night air, and dropped over the balcony so she could swing into the rooms Celaena kept as her noble alter-ego Kaltain Rompier.

Inside she found Celaena-as-Kaltain and Nehemia bent over a piece of paper. Nehemia didn't try to hide what she was doing when she folded it up and slipped it into her bodice, but she still didn't let Lillian get a look. Similar things had been happening more and more lately, and Lillian tried not to take offense: the princess of a not-quite-conquered nation with the barest of plausible deniability when it came to connections with certain rebel groups trying to undermine the king and father of the prince whose mistress Lillian happened to be had secrets to keep, even from her friends. Lillian just hadn't realized she was sharing them with Celaena.

Nehemia didn't even know Kaltain was Celaena, or that Celaena was a princess of an absolutely conquered nation. It stung a little. Of course, Nehemia would probably be hurt when Aelin-who-was-Celaena-who-was-Kaltain told her the truth too, and upset with Lillian for hiding it.

You were bored a minute ago, Lillian thought at herself. How, exactly?

"You know, Lillian, I thought we were past keeping personal secrets," Nehemia said.

"Personal secrets?" Lillian repeated. She couldn't recall anything about herself she was keeping from Nehemia.

"Your birthday," Nehemia said patiently. "We missed it last year."

Lillian blinked. What had she been doing last year in June? Practicing, probably. Maybe at a party. It hadn't even occurred to her at the time that it was her birthday.

"Oh," she said.

"Oh," Nehemia parrotted, smiling. "You're acting like it's a surprise for you, too."

"Birthdays weren't really important in the mines," Lillian admitted, settling on the windowsill. "I think I just forgot."

Nehemia went tense and quiet, as she always did when she was reminded of Lillian's two-year long stint as a prisoner in Endovier.

"Consider this a reminder," Kaltain said into the silence. "You have a birthday in two weeks. Summer Solstice."

"Don't be late?" Lillian joked. "How did you know, anyway?"

Kaltain looked away. "Sometimes they talk about it. At the shop."

"The shop," Lillian said, because there hadn't been enough repeating of words today.

"The shop?" Nehemia asked.

"I get my dresses from the Gordainas," Kaltain said, staring intently at a stretch of wall.

"The Gordainas. As in, Lillian Gordaina?"

Lillian maybe still had some personal secrets she'd kept from Nehemia.

"I just don't understand," Nehemia said, after Lillian had explained what felt like her entire life's story, including the time she'd been snatched off the street, falsely convicted for assassinations as Celaena Sardothien, and then thrown into Endovier. "This Celaena - do you even look like her?"

"Not remotely," Lillian replied, pointedly without looking at Celaena herself, who had said nothing at all during the recitation. "She's not so bad, though."

"She let you be convicted for crimes she committed and sent to a work camp," Nehemia said. "I think you are too good, and too inclined to forgive people, Lillian. I won't. I don't think she deserves it."

Lillian winced even as Celaena stood. "I need to go," Celaena said, and did.

"Please forgive her, Lillian," Nehemia said, blissfully unaware of the irony. When Lillian tried to wave it off, Nehemia continued, "No, I know, she should stay and listen, but - Kaltain is sensitive. She's always upset when she remembers what you went through."

"Is she," Lillian said flatly. If she was as good as Nehemia thought she was she would have actually forgiven Celaena and wouldn't continue to needle her now, but she couldn't help it. It just got worse whenever Endovier came up around Nehemia, who now knew everything but the most important bits.

At least Lillian's panic attacks had been fewer and further between, and the one she'd had most recently had not resulted in any blood or bruising. Talking to Philippa helped even if it made Lillian hate the king more.

"She suggested having a small party the day before the Solstice," Nehemia said. "Since the king will probably not excuse you or the princes from the ceremonies on the day of this year, now that you're both important."

"Politic of her."

"I'll be nice to your prince," Nehemia wheedled. "We won't invite Erick."

"Erick can come if Kaltain doesn't care. I'll only come if you aren't nice to Dorian," Lillian said. "Chaol and I can't be the only ones who don't fall over ourselves to do what he wants."

That made Nehemia laugh, as Lillian had intended, and she let Nehemia ask questions about what she might want at her party.

She mostly managed not to hum.