Throne of Glass

After all, you aren’t Adarlan’s Assassin for nothing.

“My name is Celaena Sardothien,” she whispered. “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.”

He didn’t know why, but seeing her made him feel like a man.

I am Celaena Sardothien, Adarlan’s Assassin. If these men knew who I was, they’d stop laughing. I am Celaena Sardothien. I am going to win. I will not be afraid.

When she awoke every morning, she repeated the same words: I will not be afraid. For a year, those words had meant the difference between breaking and bending; they had kept her from shattering in the darkness of the mines.

Yes, sweaty as she was, she was beautiful

I am Celaena Sardothien. I am going to win. I will not be afraid.

In the silence that followed in his wake, she contemplated his story, the paths that had made them so different, but so similar.

“The Captain of the Guard is a pain in my ass at times,” she said, chucking another knife, “but you’re right—he’s the best.”

“You look rather pretty today,” was all he said before the doors opened and they walked forward.