They entered a hallway hung with iron chandeliers. Outside the windows
lining the wall, night had fallen; lanterns kindled so bright they off ered few shadows to hide in.
From the courtyard, she could hear the other slaves shuffling toward the wooden building where they slept. The moans of agony amongst the clank of chains made a chorus as familiar as the dreary work songs they sang all day. The occasional solo of the whip added to the symphony of brutality Adarlan had created for its greatest criminals, poorest citizens, and latest conquests. While some of the prisoners were people accused of attempting to practice magic— not that they could, given that magic had vanished from the kingdom— these days, more and more rebels arrived at Endovier.
Most were from Eyllwe, one of the last countries still fi ghting Adarlan’s
rule. But when she pestered them for news, many just stared at
her with empty eyes. Already broken. She shuddered to consider what
they’d endured at the hands of Adarlan’s forces. Some days, she wondered
if they would have been better off dying on the butchering blocks
instead. And if she might have been better off dying that night she’d
been betrayed and captured, too.
But she had other things to think about as they continued their
walk. Was she fi nally to be hanged? Sickness coiled in her stomach.
She was important enough to warrant an execution from the Captain
of the Royal Guard himself. But why bring her inside this building
fi rst? At last, they stopped before a set of red-and-gold glass doors so
thick that she couldn’t see through them. Captain Westfall jerked his
chin at the two guards standing on either side of the doors, and they
stomped their spears in greeting.
Th e captain’s grip tightened until it hurt. He yanked Celaena closer,but her feet seemed made of lead and she pulled against him. “You’d
rather stay in the mines?” he asked, sounding faintly amused.