Thundering steps issued from behind her, and someone grabbed her by the neck. Celaena only glimpsed crimson cheeks and a sandy mustache before being thrown to the icy marble fl oor. Pain slammed through her face, light splintering her vision. Her arms ached as her bound hands kept her joints from properly aligning. Th ough she tried to stop them,
tears of pain welled. “That is the proper way to greet your future king,” a red- faced man snapped at Celaena.
The assassin hissed, baring her teeth as she twisted her head to look at the kneeling bastard. He was almost as large as her overseer, clothed in reds and oranges that matched his thinning hair. His obsidian eyes glittered as his grip tightened on her neck. If she could move her right arm just a few inches, she could throw him off balance and grab his
sword . . . The shackles dug into her stomach, and fizzing, boiling rage turned her face scarlet. After a too- long moment, the Crown Prince spoke. “I don’t quite comprehend why you’d force someone to bow when the purpose of the gesture is to display allegiance and respect.” His words were coated with glorious boredom. Celaena tried to pivot a free eye to the prince, but could only see a pair of black leather boots against the white floor. “It’s clear that you respect me, Duke Perrington, but it’s a bit unnecessary to put such eff ort into forcing Celaena Sardothien to have the same opinion. You and I know very well she has no love for my family. So perhaps your intent is to humiliate her.” He paused, and she could
have sworn his eyes fell on her face. “But I think she’s had enough of that.” He stopped for another moment, then asked: “Don’t you have a meeting with Endovier’s trea sur er? I wouldn’t want you to be late, especially when you came all this way to meet with him.”
Thundering steps issued from behind her, and someone grabbed her by the neck. Celaena only glimpsed crimson cheeks and a sandy mustache before being thrown to the icy marble fl oor. Pain slammed through her face, light splintering her vision. Her arms ached as her bound hands kept her joints from properly aligning. Th ough she tried to stop them,
tears of pain welled. “That is the proper way to greet your future king,” a red- faced man snapped at Celaena.
The assassin hissed, baring her teeth as she twisted her head to look at the kneeling bastard. He was almost as large as her overseer, clothed in reds and oranges that matched his thinning hair. His obsidian eyes glittered as his grip tightened on her neck. If she could move her right arm just a few inches, she could throw him off balance and grab his
sword . . . The shackles dug into her stomach, and fizzing, boiling rage turned her face scarlet. After a too- long moment, the Crown Prince spoke. “I don’t quite comprehend why you’d force someone to bow when the purpose of the gesture is to display allegiance and respect.” His words were coated with glorious boredom. Celaena tried to pivot a free eye to the prince, but could only see a pair of black leather boots against the white floor. “It’s clear that you respect me, Duke Perrington, but it’s a bit unnecessary to put such eff ort into forcing Celaena Sardothien to have the same opinion. You and I know very well she has no love for my family. So perhaps your intent is to humiliate her.” He paused, and she could
have sworn his eyes fell on her face. “But I think she’s had enough of that.” He stopped for another moment, then asked: “Don’t you have a meeting with Endovier’s trea sur er? I wouldn’t want you to be late, especially when you came all this way to meet with him.”
การแปล กรุณารอสักครู่..
