Author: Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Fantasy, Young Adult
Year: 2014
Series: Throne of Glass
SUMMARY
The heir of ash and fire bows to no one.
A new threat rises in the third book in the #1 bestselling Throne of Glass series by Sarah J. Maas.
Celaena Sardothien has survived deadly contests and shattering heartbreak, but now she must travel to a new land to confront her darkest truth. That truth could change her life – and her future – forever.
Meanwhile, monstrous forces are gathering on the horizon, intent on enslaving her world. To defeat them, Celaena will need the strength not only to fight the evil that is about to be unleashed but also to harness her inner demons. If she is to win this battle, she must find the courage to face her destiny – and burn brighter than ever before.
Part One
Heir of Ash
1
Gods, it was boiling in this useless excuse for a kingdom.
Or maybe it felt that way because Celaena Sardothien had been lounging on the lip of the terra-cotta roof since midmorning, an arm flung over her eyes, slowly baking in the sun like the loaves of flatbread the city’s poorest citizens left on their windowsills because they couldn’t afford brick ovens.
And gods, she was sick of flatbread—teggya, they called it. Sick of the crunchy, oniony taste of it that even mouthfuls of water couldn’t wash away. If she never ate another bite of teggya again, it would be too soon.
Mostly because it was all she’d been able to afford when she landed in Wendlyn two weeks ago and made her way to the capital city, Varese, just as she’d been ordered by his Grand Imperial Majesty and Master of the Earth, the King of Adarlan.
She’d resorted to swiping teggya and wine off vendors’ carts since her money ran out, not long after she’d taken one look at the heavily fortified limestone castle, at the elite guards, at the cobalt banners flapping so proudly in the dry, hot wind and decided not to kill her assigned targets.
So it had been stolen teggya . . . and wine. The sour red wine from the vineyards lining the rolling hills around the walled capital—a taste she’d initially spat out but now very, very much enjoyed. Especially since the day when she decided that she didn’t particularly care about anything at all.
She reached for the terra-cotta tiles sloping behind her, groping for the clay jug of wine she’d hauled onto the roof that morning. Patting, feeling for it, and then—
She swore. Where in hell was the wine?