“She looked at the exquisite red carpet beneath her feet. Someone had done a splendid job of getting all the blood out.”

“Arobynn hit her-her ribs, her jaw, her gut. And her face. Again and again and again. Careful blows, meant to inflict as much pain as possible without doing permanent damage. And Sam kept roaring, shouting words that she couldn't quite hear over the agony. The last thing she remembered was a pang of guilt at the sight of her blood staining Arobynn's exquisite red carpet. And then darkness, blissful darkness, full of relief that she hadn't seen them hurt Sam.”

“Walk to her. Take her hand. But his feet were leaden, and Dorian could do nothing except watch her. His skin flushed beneath his small black mask. He didn't know why, but seeing her made him feel like a man. She was something out of a dream- a dream in which he was not a spoiled young prince, but a king.”

“Hisli's tail flicked to the side as the arrow buried itself in the sand just inches behind her rear hooves. But Ansel didn't dare look over he shoulder. She kept riding, and she did not stop. Celeana lowered her bow and watched until Ansel disappeared beyond the horizon. One arrow, that had been her promise. But she's also promised Ansel that she's had twenty minutes to get out of range. Celeana had fired after twenty-one.”

“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.”

“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.”

“Mikhail truly liked Ansel-that much was obvious. he always found excuses to touch her, always smiled at her, always looked at her as if she were the only person in the room. Celeana sloshed her wine around in her glass. If she were being honest, sometimes she thought Sam looked at her that way. But then he'd go and say something absurd, or try to undermine her, and she'd chide herself for even thinking about him. Her stomach tightened. What had Arobynn done to him that night? She should have inquired after him. But in the day's after him, she's been so busy, wrapped up in her rage... She hadn't dared look for him, actually. Because if Arobynn had hurt Sam the way he'd hurt her... Celeana drained the rest of her wine.”