“Do you intend to make me cry, or are you just foolish?”

“My name is Celaena Sardothien. But it makes no difference if my name's Celaena or Lillian or Bitch, because I'd still beat you, no matter what you call me.”

“Do you know how far the wall is from the mines?” He gave her blank look. She closed her eyes and sighed dramatically. “From my shaft, it was three hundred sixty-three feet. I had someone measure.”“So?” Dorian repeated.“Captain Westfall, how far do slaves make it from the mines when they try to escape?”“Three feet,” he muttered. “Endovier sentries usually shoot a man down before he's moved three feet.”The Crown Prince's silence was not her desired effect. “You knew it was suicide,” he said at last, the amusement gone. Perhaps it had been a bad idea to bring up the wall. “Yes.”...“I never intended to escape.”

“You can't go.""Give me a reason why I shouldn't.""Because I'll miss you, damn it!" she hissed, splaying her arms. "Because what's the point in anything if you just disappear forever?""The point in what, Celaena?" How could he be so calm when she was so frantic? "The point in Skull's Bay, and the point in getting me that music, and the point in... the point in telling Arobynn that you'd forgive him if he never hurt me again.""You said you didn't care what I thought. Or what I did. Or if I died, if I'm not mistaken.""I lied! And you know I lied you stupid bastard!”

“You could rattle the stars," she whispered. "You could do anything, if only you dared. And deep down, you know it, too. That’s what scares you most.”

“As my friend, you should either bring me along, or keep me company.""Friend?" he asked.She blushed. "Well, 'scowling escort' is a better description. Or 'reluctant acquaintance', if you prefer.”

“You have the skills,” Chaol said, “but some of your moves are still undisciplined.”“That’s never stopped me from killing before,” she spat.Chaol chuckled at her agitation and pointed his sword at the rack, allowing her to get to her feet. “Pick another—something different. Make it interesting, too. Something that will make me sweat, please.”“You’ll be sweating when I skin you alive and squish your eyeballs beneath my feet,” she muttered, picking up the rapier.“That’s the spirit.”She practically threw the rapier into place, and drew the hunting knives without hesitation.My dear old friends.A wicked smile spread across her face.”