The Assassin and the Pirate Lord by Sarah J. Maas Page B

memorized your signature when I was in your office that first day. It won’t be hard to forge. And as for your seal ring …” She removed something else from her pocket. “I also took that the first day in your office, just in case I needed it. Turns out I was right.” Rolfe croaked as she held it up in her free hand, the garnet flashing in the light. “I figure I can return to town and tell your cronies that you decided to set sail after those slaves, and to expect you back in … I don’t know—six months? A year? Long enough that they won’t notice the grave I’ll dig for you right off the road here. Frankly, you’ve seen who I am, and I
should
end your life for it. But consider it a favor—and a promise that if you
don’t
follow my orders, I’ll change my decision to spare you.”
    Rolfe’s eyes narrowed to slits. “Why?”
    â€œYou’ll have to clarify that.”
    He took a breath. “Why go to so much trouble for slaves?”
    â€œBecause if we don’t fight for them, who will?” She pulled a fountain pen from her pocket. “Sign the papers.”
    Rolfe raised an eyebrow. “And how will you know that I’m holding true to my word?”
    She removed the dagger from his throat, using the blade to brush back a strand of his dark hair. “I have my sources. And if I hear that you’re trading slaves, no matter where you go, no matter how far you run, I
will
hunt you down. That’s twice now I’ve disabled you. The third time, you won’t be so lucky. I swear that on my name. I’m almost seventeen, and I can already wallop you; imagine how good I’ll be in a few years.” She shook her head. “I don’t think you’ll want to try me now—and certainly not then.”
    Rolfe stared at her for a few heartbeats. “If you ever set foot in my territory again, your life is forfeit.” He paused, then muttered, “May the gods help Arobynn.” He took the pen. “Any other requests?”
    She eased off him, but kept the dagger in her hand. “Why, yes,” she said. “A ship would be nice.”
    Rolfe only glared at her before he grabbed the documents.
    When Rolfe had signed, stamped, and handed the documents to Celaena, she took the liberty of knocking him out again. Swift blows to two points in his neck did the trick, and he’d be out long enough for her to accomplish what she needed: to find Sam.
    She raced up the half-crumbling stairs of the tower, leaping over pirate corpses and chunks of stone, not stopping until she found the crushed bodies of the dozen pirates who were closest to Sam and the ruins of the catapults. Blood, bone, squished bits of flesh that she didn’t particularly care to look at for too long …
    â€œSam!” she shouted, slipping over a bit of debris. She heaved a slab of wood off the side, scanning the landing for any sign of him. “Sam!”
    Her hand began bleeding again, leaving smears of blood as she turned over stone and wood and metal. Where
was
he?
    It had been
her
plan. If one of them had to die for it, it should have been her. Not him.
    She reached the second catapult, its entire frame snapped in half from a fallen piece of tower. She’d last seen him here. A slab of stone jutted up from where it had hit the landing. It was large enough to have squashed someone beneath.
    She hurled herself against it, her feet sliding against the ground as she pushed and pushed and pushed. The stone didn’t move.
    Grunting, gasping, she shoved harder. Still the stone was too large.
    Cursing, she beat a fist against the gray surface, her injured hand aching in protest. The pain snapped something open, and she struck the stone again and again, clenching her jaw to keep the building scream inside of her.
    â€œFor some reason, I don’t think that’s going to make the rock move,” said a voice, and Celaena