The Assassin’s Blade #.01

She wound up buying the shoes, though it was nearly impossible to pass over the lilac perfume, which smelled even more lovely the second time she approached the priestesses’ stall. When the city bells pealed three o’clock, she was sitting on the lip of the fountain, munching on what she hoped was mashed beans inside a warm bread pocket.
Ansel was fifteen minutes late, and didn’t apologize. She merely grabbed Celaena’s arm and began leading her through the still-packed streets, her freckled face gleaming with sweat.
“What is it?” Celaena asked. “What happened in your meeting?”
“That’s none of your business,” Ansel said a bit sharply. Then she added, “Just follow me.”
They wound up sneaking inside the Lord of Xandria’s palace walls, and Celaena knew better than to ask questions as they crept across the grounds. But they didn’t head to the towering central building. No—they approached the stables, where they slipped around the guards and entered the pungent shadows within.
“There had better be a good reason for this,” Celaena warned as Ansel crept toward a pen.
“Oh, there is,” she hissed back, and stopped at a gate, waving Celaena forward.
Celaena frowned. “It’s a horse.” But even as the words left her mouth, she knew it wasn’t.
“It’s an Asterion horse,” Ansel breathed, her red-brown eyes growing huge.
The horse was black as pitch, with dark eyes that bored into Celaena’s own. She’d heard of Asterion horses, of course. The most ancient breed of horse in Erilea. Legend claimed that the Fae had made them from the four winds—spirit from the north, strength from the south, speed from the east, and wisdom from the west, all rolled into the slender-snouted, high-tailed, lovely creature that stood before her.
“Have you ever seen anything so beautiful?” Ansel whispered. “Her name is Hisli.” Mares, Celaena remembered, were more prized, as Asterion pedigrees were traced through the female line. “And that one,” Ansel said, pointing to the next stall, “is named Kasida—it means ‘drinker of the wind’ in the desert dialect.”
Kasida’s name was fitting. The slender mare was a dapple gray, with a sea-foam white mane and thundercloud coat. She huffed and stomped her forelegs, staring at Celaena with eyes that seemed older than the earth itself. Celaena suddenly understood why the Asterion horses were worth their weight in gold.
“Lord Berick got them today. Bought them from a merchant on his way to Banjali.” Ansel slipped into Hisli’s pen. She cooed and murmured, stroking the horse’s muzzle. “He’s planning on testing them out in half an hour.” That explained why they were already saddled.
“And?” Celaena whispered, holding out a hand for Kasida to smell. The mare’s nostrils flared, her velvety nose tickling Celaena’s fingertips.
“And then he’s either going to give them away as a bribe, or lose interest and let them languish here for the rest of their lives. Lord Berick tends to tire of his playthings rather quickly.”
“What a waste.”
“Indeed it is,” Ansel muttered from inside the stall. Celaena lowered her fingers from Kasida’s muzzle and peered into Hisli’s pen. Ansel was running a hand down Hisli’s black flank, her face still full of wonder. Then she turned. “Are you a strong rider?”
“Of course,” Celaena said slowly.
“Good.”
Celaena bit down on her cry of alarm as Ansel unlocked the stall door and guided Hisli out of her pen. In a smooth, quick motion, the girl was atop the horse, clutching the reins in one hand. “Because you’re going to have to ride like hell.”
With that, Ansel sent Hisli into a gallop, heading straight for the stable doors.
Celaena didn’t have time to gape or really even to process what she was about to do as she unlocked Kasida’s pen, yanked her out, and heaved herself into the saddle. With a muffled curse, she dug her heels into the mare’s sides and took off.