The Assassin and the Desert

She nodded, trying her best to hide her surprise. After a pause, the Master said, “If you ever want to leave the North, you will always have a home here. I promise you the winter months are far better than the summer. And I think my son would be rather happy if you decided to return, too.” He chuckled, and Celaena blushed. He took her hand. “When you leave tomorrow, you’ll be accompanied by a few of my people.”

“Why?”

“Because they will be needed to drive the wagon to Xandria. I know that you are indentured to your master—that you still owe him a good deal of money before you are free to live your own life. He’s making you pay back a fortune that he forced you to borrow.” He squeezed her hand before approaching one of three trunks pushed against the wall. “For saving my life—and sparing hers.” He flipped open the lid of a trunk, then another, and another.

Sunlight gleamed on the gold inside, reflecting through the room like light on water. All that gold . . . and the piece of Spidersilk the merchant had given her . . . she couldn’t think of the possibilities that wealth would open to her, not right now.

“When you give your master his letter, also give him this. And tell him that in the Red Desert, we do not beat our disciples.”

Celaena smiled slowly, her eyes stinging. “I think I can manage that.”

She looked to the open window, to the world beyond. For the first time in a long while, she heard the song of a northern wind, calling her home. And she was not afraid.