Rising Flames | Throne of Glass

6

Enya stumbled onto the streets of Rifthold. The wound had not yet knitted itself together - the iron prevented it from healing. The Vaults were not a good place to visit now - and she had no idea where Sam actually lived.

Think, think, think.

She ripped off the hem of her tunic and wrapped the fabric round her knee, wincing as she pulled it tight.

Scent. She could use scent to track Sam down.

Starting from the Vaults.

~

She could be subtle; she wasn't going to go sniffing the air in plain view! Every few paces, she would draw in a longer breath, testing the currents - until she found the musky scent of him. It was old, but still traceable.

So slowly, slowly, she made her way to the warehouse apartment.

~

He'd just risen from the ground when a knock sounded on the door. He was instantly alert, daggers in hand. 'It's Erin, for Silba's sake!' a voice hissed. 'Open the goddamn door!'

Sam stalked to the door, and prised it open.

Erin stood there, eyes wide, her lips deathly pale.

He didn't even have the time to open his mouth and ask her what happened when her eyes rolled and she dropped, plunging to the ground.

~

Enya woke to the sound of water dripping - not like a cell, but of a cloth being squeezed.

Sam knelt on the floor by the couch, bandages and pouches of herbs sprawled beside him. She struggled onto her elbows.

'You're awake.' He didn't say it how Arobynn had, rather, his voice was tinged with worry.

He finished cleaning and binding the wound, and began packing away the herbs.

'Why?'

He paused. 'Why? Because you remind me of the one I love, that's why.'

Enya slowly looked into his eyes. 'I want you to explain to me anything and everything you know about this Celaena Sardothien.' And before he asked, she said tiredly, 'You can trust me.'

And it was the weariness, the soft, sad weariness that coated her words that made him nod. 'She looks a lot like you.'

'I'd gathered that,' she said dryly. 'I presume she worked in the same Guild as you did. Tell me. When did she join?'

Sam frowned. 'Eight or nine years ago.'

Her heart may have stopped then. Nine years ago - when the royal family was assassinated - and the rumours that Aelin had not drowned began circulating. 'Do you - do you know anything about her past?'

Sam shook his head. 'She was always-'

'Always reluctant to tell you.' Of course, he couldn't know about their true heritage.

He was now looking at her curiously. 'Yes.'

Enya's heart began pounding, thrashing. 'Where is she now?'

Sam swallowed.

No- no. Aelin couldn't be dead. The very thought made her heart falter.

But what Sam said may have been even worse. 'She's-' He gulped for breath. 'She's in Endovier.'

Shit.

Enya took a long breath. But the way he had said it... 'You love her.'

'More than anything.'

'Tell me then, Sam Cortland, why is she there, and you here?'

'We were betrayed by Arobynn.' He stalked over to where she sat on the couch and stood before her, gripping the hilts of his dagger till his knuckles turned white. His eyes were a raging tempest - but she said nothing.

Eventually, the fire in his eyes dimmed enough for him to continue.

'We had a client who offered an atrocious sum of money if we killed the Crime Lord and his Second, Ioan Jayne and Rourke Farran. It was a lot - and we needed it, especially after paying our debts to Arobynn and leaving the Guild.

'So we had a plan. I was to kill Farran, and once he was out of the way, we'd dispatch Jayne. But Farran knew, that we were going for him because he and Arobynn had plotted, too.

'I never even reached Farran before I was knocked unconscious. From my cell in the Keep, I heard gossip from the men that Celaena had been broken. Jayne was dead. But then-'

His hands began shaking.

'-then they caught her. Farran sold her to the King, and then she was sentenced to nine lives' worth in the Salt Mines.'

He growled, 'She went to Endovier, thinking I was dead.'

Suddenly he whirled upon her, and pointed a dagger at her throat. 'How do I know you are who you claim to be? Celaena Sardothien never mentioned she had a sister!'

'She never knew.'

'Lies.' The dagger didn't waver. 'Tell me one thing about her then, if you claim to be her sister.'

'I-' Enya paused. Having being separated from birth, she realised, she didn't know a rutting thing about her own twin. 'I don't know,' she answered truthfully.

Sam inched closer with the blade, and the tip pricked her neck. 'Since you have no proof, I might just kill you.'

Goddamnit. Think. There must be one thing. Enya tensed, preparing to deflect the oncoming blow. 'Terrasen - Terrasen is her homeland.'

Sam didn't move. 'You're unsure. That could've been a wild guess. One of you is lying - or you both are. Celaena Sardothien and Erin Coulter... you don't even share the same surname!'

And then his eyes darkened suddenly as a memory struck him. 'I remember once when I'd asked about her past - and she'd looked terrified. She's hiding something. Your name is not Erin Coulter - or her name is not Sardothien. You would've instantly recognised Sardothien if you were sisters.'

He was too clever, Enya thought.

There was only one thing left to say. 'Listen to me. I swear upon my life that these next words are true.'

He cocked his head.

'Do you know anyone who goes by the name of Aelin Ashryver Galathynius?'