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Chapter Text

1923

Rain streaked down the window panes of the tiny little corner bookstore, painting every color in the world a little bit richer. It pattered against the glass and the accompanying brick lightly, creating a dulcet melody in the quiet store, one Celaena nearly hummed to as she sat at the desk in the front room. 

She was surrounded entirely by bookshelves, made of warm mahogany, filled with pages and pages of well worn and loved books, every scrawled word telling a new story, sharing a new secret. It was her happy place, her only getaway in the slightly miserable existence that was her life, and she found herself grateful for the rain. Not only for providing a symphony, but for keeping her there just that little bit longer.

Who would expect her to walk home in this weather? She was wearing boots, yes, but the hem of her dress would get absolutely drenched in mud. And seeing as she only had two others apart from this one, she had to salvage what she could.

Celaena’s bookstore was situated not on the main street, but right off the main street in her little country town. Not that the main street really constituted much more than a general store and an apothecary, as well as a grocer’s and a butcher store. All you had to do to get to her place was turn right past the grocer’s and walk about fifty yards. 

And yet, it seemed to be too much for some people, as business was quite the opposite of booming. Maybe it was simply the lack of population, or maybe no one’s priorities lied on books like hers did. 

That was for the best, if she was being honest. The fewer people she met on a daily basis, the less likely her whereabouts could get back to a certain man in the city. 

Arobynn Hamel had been the only guardian she’d ever known, after he’d rescued her from a river when she was ten years old; she’d heard the story often enough. She had no memory of her time before then, absolutely no idea where she came from or who she came from, but it was alright. Arobynn had told her she was likely the offspring of some lowlifes from up north, and that she was better off not searching for them. 

He was probably right, even if she was better off not with him either. 

Not just better off, no. She never wanted to see his face again. Not with what had happened, not with what he’d done. 

Life was easier here, in her little bookstore, making ends meet the best she could. Isolated, yes. But safe and content.

Celaena looked up from her book, glancing out into the rain. There was no one out and about on the street, just the puddles of mud forming in the dirt road. She was tempted to go outside just to smell it, she loved the smell of the Earth when it was raining. But she was hired to sit right here, so that’s what she was going to do.

When she’d first wandered into the village, it’d been raining too. She’d been soaked to the bone, shivering in her dress and little heeled shoes. Her wardrobe had been different in the city, much less functional, although she supposed she was functioning differently there than she was here. 

She’d had nowhere to go, and no food, and had resigned herself to sleeping on a bench for the night when a nice old man, who introduced himself as Emrys, found her and ushered her inside, where he gave her a warm blanket and a bowl of stew. And a job offer.

Six months later, she’d found a tiny place of her own, but still worked at the little bookstore. 

It was the most peace she’d ever expected to find. 

With a faint smile, she turned back down to her book, about to continue reading when the distinct sound of the bell on the door rang, drawing her attention. With no small amount of shock, she glanced up, eyes wide as a man she’d never seen before hurried into the store, a newspaper over his head in a poor attempt to shelter himself from the rain.

It was so sudden of an intrusion she could only blink as he roughly scuffed his shoes on the entry mat, dumping the sodden newspaper in the trash bin before taking off his brown hat, and shaking it off just outside the door, under the slight shelter of the overhang. 

“May I help you?” Celaena asked, not sure whether to smile or not. She wasn’t always a fan of men coming into the store by themselves, even though she knew this was a safe place. She kept a small revolver under the desk just in case; one of the only things she’d managed to take with her when running from the city.

“Yes, actually,” the man said, taking a step toward the desk. Her hand covertly drifted toward her weapon. “I’m passing through town, and I was wondering where the best place to stay would be,” he asked. His face, which she could tell was normally stern, forced itself into a pleasant expression, smiling just that little bit to look polite. Celaena eyed him cautiously. He was tall, well over six feet, with muscle that he could’ve gotten from farming, or could’ve gotten from something else. His hair was pale, though slightly darker from the rain, and curling slightly around his ears where it was attempting to dry.

Finally she met his piercing green eyes, nodding with her head down the street. 

“Down on the other side of town,” she answered, “find a boy named Bas. That’s the only inn in town.” The man looked at her oddly, his head tilted a bit. Celaena bristled in his gaze, hand brushing the handle of her revolver. There was something about him… he looked vaguely familiar. Something in his eyes that she recognized. But it couldn’t be - she’d never met him before. 

The silence was tense, and she was about to say something when the man nodded, sticking his hat back on. “Thank you,” he said, politely. She expected him to leave, and she turned her attention back to her book, but he lingered.

She could feel his eyes still on her and she frowned, raising a brow as she looked back up at him. “Is there anything else you need?” Celaena asked, her voice significantly colder. The man seemed to snap out of whatever haze he was in, shaking his head and stepping back toward the door.

“No,” he said, “I’m sorry for taking up your time.” 

And then she watched as he left, the bell ringing as he disappeared back into the rain. She stared after the mystery man, following him as he hurried down the street, his head tucked low. He carried himself with a grace that few farmers around here had. Around anywhere really; she’d noticed that in the last six months. 

It was the 1920s, cities were thriving and popping with the rich folk, but the country was still filled with farmers. And quite a few of them stopped by her bookstore, conspicuously not to buy books, but to attempt to be friendly with her. 

At twenty two years old, she was a prime candidate for several of these single men. Men looking for a nice, country wife. Something she was certainly not, no matter what world she was trying to hide in.

But this man… wasn’t like them. There was something different about him, she just didn’t know what.

Her mouth twisted in a frown as her gaze finally left him, idly focusing on the newspaper he’d abandoned in the trash bin.

Galathynius Family Mourns On The Twelfth Anniversary Of Their Daughter’s Disappearance

She glanced away, already familiar with that story. It was a tragedy; the daughter of a family who was a staple in the community, there one day, gone the next. There’d been no trace of her, of little Aelin, and it’d been twelve years since. Celaena felt a sort of kinship with the missing girl, though Celaena had never known her parents. Aelin would be twenty now, if she was still alive. Close to Celaena’s own age.

She just hoped that if Aelin was still out there, wherever she may be, she hadn’t ended up in any life like Celaena’s. No one deserved that. 

But it was what it was. All she could do was let the rain wash it away.

Chapter Text

1923

That evening, after the rain had slowed down, Celaena finally left the bookstore. After closing the wooden and glass door, she pulled the chain off from around her neck, using the brass key to lock up. After testing the door to make sure it was locked, she slid it back over her head, adjusting both the key and the locket that resided on the chain.

The locket was the only thing she still had from her childhood; the only thing that had survived her apparent fall in the river. The contents inside hadn’t though, leaving behind a miniscule scrap of parchment, with runny pen marks that she could barely make out. 

There was what looked like an R, with maybe an O right after it, but that’s all she could see. The rest was gone. 

She didn’t even know why she still kept it, it was pointless. But it didn’t feel right to throw it away. So it stayed there.

Celaena tucked the chain back into her dress, and slid her bag over her shoulder before heading down the street. She needed to stop at the market to get some food, but the market would be closed at this late hour, so to get some supper, the next best thing was Mistward. 

In addition to owning the bookstore, which Emrys had essentially passed onto her, he owned a restaurant. Cooking was his true passion, and it was absolutely delicious. After the confusing day, she needed some comfort food. 

So, keeping her head ducked low to keep the lingering drizzle out of her eyes, she made her way down main street toward the restaurant. She was craving some roast chicken, with a chocolate chip muffin and delicious roasted vegetables. And Emrys never let her pay, so she wouldn’t have to worry about how much this was going to take from her meager savings. 

Six months ago, she’d had nothing. She was in a better position than she ever could’ve imagined, but it still didn’t leave her with very much. Especially when seven months ago, she’d been living a life of luxury. Selling herself - in multiple ways - to get that life of luxury, but still. It was a huge shift. 

She shook her head, pushing the thoughts away as she entered Mistward. The building was fairly small, and dim in the cloudy weather; but it was homey, and smelled divine. 

It was crowded that evening, lots of people from around the area coming in to escape the rain, and she slowly made her way over to a small table on the side, sliding into one of the seats. 

She fiddled with the sleeve of her dress as she leaned back in her seat, waiting for Luca. The boy appeared soon enough, hectically. Though she was sure he was in a rush, with how many people there were.

“Hey, Elentiya,” the boy greeted, and she raised a brow, smiling lightly at the kid. He was about five years younger than her, and always took the chance to wait on her when she visited Mistward. It was clear he had a bit of a crush on her, which she thought was cute. 

He’d blushed furiously and could barely speak for about a month after meeting her, and it’d taken him this long to treat her like a normal person. 

“What can I get you?” He asked, “The usual?”

“That would be great,” Celaena answered, offering up another smile. “Thank you, Luca.” He mock saluted and headed back toward the kitchen, making her laugh.

She leaned back in her chair, glancing around the restaurant, ever observant. It was mostly the usual crowd, full of various farmers and shop owners, all locals from the village and surrounding areas. Except - there was the silver haired man from earlier. He was sitting at a table closer to the other wall, nursing what looked to be a glass of whiskey. 

And he wasn’t alone this time.  Sitting across from him was a man who looked to be about the same age, but with medium brown hair, and a different sort of look in his blue eyes. If she had to guess, she would say they were both mid twenties or so, and clearly knew each other, but weren’t in any way friends. All conjecture of course, but neither of them looked entirely thrilled about sitting there together, especially the silver one. 

She didn’t realize she was staring until the brunette one turned his head, his blue eyes meeting hers. She bristled as he smiled at her, the expression without any hint of warmth. 

Celaena glanced away.

But she still felt his eyes on her, sending a chill racing down her spine. 

Choosing to instead focus on the table, and thinking about what she needed to get done tomorrow, she nearly lost track of time until her food was arriving at her table. She thanked Luca as he set down the steaming plates, the scent making her mouthwater.

But as she picked up her fork and knife to dig in, a body slid into the seat across from her. She paused mid slice, glancing up cautiously. She tensed as she recognized it was the blue eyed man from across the restaurant, peering at her with an expression that made her distinctly uncomfortable.

She set down her silverware slowly, every instinct on alert as she met his gaze.

“Hello,” he said, sticking out his hand. “I’m Cairn Mallory. Me and my associate are down from Rifthold.” Celaena didn’t shake his hand. 

Rifthold. The big city. Where rich folk and beggars alike lived. Where she herself had lived too. Until now. 

She didn’t like the way he was looking at her. 

“Your associate doesn’t want to come talk?” She deflected, instead of responding with her own name. She’d been using an alias, Elentiya, ever since arriving here, but still. The little this man knew about her, the better it was. Celaena glanced over at said associate , finding him frowning as he looked over at them, fingers clenched around his glass of whiskey. He calmed his expression when he found her looking.

“He’s… not the type for talking,” this Cairn figure answered, and she looked back over at him cautiously. She just wanted to eat her supper.

“And you are?” She asked, sighing slightly, her brows raised. Maybe if she made her ambivalence known, he would leave her alone. 

“Among other things,” he said, smiling slightly. A moment of silence passed, until he continued. “Anyway,” he added, “you just seem like you know your way around here. I’ll be sticking around for a few days and I could use the help of someone who knows their way around.” 

She was liking this conversation less and less. Knowing he was from the city just made it worse. 

“I must decline your offer,” Celaena said, picking up her silverware again. “And I’m going to request that you leave me alone to finish my supper.”

Cairn’s face darkened, and she tensed more as he leaned forward slightly. 

“Well, Miss…” he trailed off, clearly waiting for her to fill in the blank. She didn’t. “Miss,” he repeated, “you may resist it now, but you’ll be seeing me around.” He pulled back, standing up slowly. Her face was like stone. “Have a nice day.” 

He left the table, and her gaze followed him as he went back to his table, throwing back the rest of his drink before stalking out. The silver haired man, whose name she still didn’t know, was left alone. Celaena stared at him, waiting until he turned his head to look back at her, his green eyes piercing into what felt like her soul. 

There was a tense moment of charged silence, even with all of the noise of the restaurant. 

She could barely breathe, her body frozen. He looked relaxed in his chair, but his body wasn’t moving, tense, like a predator. She didn’t know what he was going to do, and her hand tightened around her knife.

But all he did was throw back his own whiskey, wiping his mouth as he pushed himself to a stand, digging a few bills out of his pocket and throwing them on the table. Then he tilted his head in her direction, and left.

Chapter Text

1923

She was in utter darkness. There was something scratchy covering her eyes, and no matter how much she tried to claw at it, she couldn’t remove it. Maybe that was due to the way her arms were bound, maybe that was due to the hands on her, clawing at her dress and her legs. She was being pulled backward, struggling and kicking as she was rolled in her stomach.

Hands roughly pawed at her body, and she panted for air, suffocated by the sickening stench in the room. The stench of death.

They’d been so close. They’d been so close. But it was futile, and too late, and now he was paying the cost. Not her, but it should’ve been her. It should’ve been her. 

She gasped for air, her heart beating painfully as she was lifted up by her bound arms, the rope hung to a hook, keeping her uncomfortably slung into a sitting position. She still couldn’t see either, the blindfold covering her eyes.

“This’ll teach you what happens when you try to leave,” a sharp voice she didn’t recognize hissed in her ear, and there was nothing she could do as her dress was ripped off, leaving her in her underclothes. She kicked at the culprit, shouting expletives, but he didn’t try anything more, leaving her hanging there. Alone. 

She panted, fighting the ache in her body as she shook her head, trying to loosen the blindfold enough to see. She could hear the distinct sound of a body being dragged across the stone, his body. 

There was shuffling, so much shuffling and noise, a creaking of a door opening and then being slammed shut. And then she was really alone. 

Until the door creaked open again, and slow footsteps sounded her way. She shook her head again, managing to get the blindfold to slip a little bit down her nose. And she nearly vomited at the sight in front of her. It was - 

Celaena jerked awake, sweat running out of every pore in her body, making her nightgown and her sheets stuck to her skin. She breathed heavily, lifting a shaky hand to brush back her sweaty hair. Fighting the nausea roiling through her, she scrambled out of the bed, reaching for her pitcher of water. 

She poured herself a glass, draining it quickly. Some of it spilled down her chin, and she wiped it away, closing her eyes and sighing. 

She didn’t like to think about her past very often, and what had happened to finally make her snap and run away. Again. But sometimes it slipped into her dreams, where she wasn’t prepared to fight it. 

It was miserable, but the only thing she could do was keep going with her day. She was away from it now. Away from everything that had forced her to end up in that situation. 

Celaena huffed a heavy sigh, setting down the glass and smoothing back the loose strands of her braid. Her hair had been cut short in the style of the times when she was about sixteen, but she’d let it grow since then, and now it reached to about her waist. It wasn’t always practical, but she wasn’t going to cut it now.

It was still dark out, but knowing she wasn’t going to get any more sleep, she headed toward her armoire, grabbing a change of clothes and her well worn pair of brown boots. Might as well get started with her day now.

-----

The sun was out this time as she left her cottage, hooking her bag over her shoulder as she headed toward the market. Fall was coming, but the last vestiges of summer were still clinging on, and in the daytime it was still quite warm. 

She’d kept her hair in the braid from the nightmare, and opted for a looser cotton dress with short sleeves for her trip. Whenever she didn’t make it to Mistward, she tried to cook as healthily as she could, even though all she ever craved was chocolate cake. If she was being honest, she could barely cook anyway, so she ended up making as simple of meals as possible. 

Arobynn had never taught her to cook; one of the few skills she’d learned nothing about. Maybe it was his attempt at making her dependent; but fuck him, she would survive on her own.

Celaena strolled down to the market, keeping her chin up as she headed not toward the produce stand where she knew she should go, but to the baker down on the other side of the square. Every weekend, all of the vendors in town as well as the farmers in the surrounding area came to the town square to sell their goods in an outdoor market of sorts. Every other day, you’d just have to go to the grocer’s, but she preferred this way. She could get everything at once, but still straight from the source.

“Hello, Elentiya,” the baker greeted, a smile on his face. “What can I get you today?” Celaena smiled back, looking down at the array of pastries. It was all making her mouth water.

“Hmmm,” she answered, considering. “I think I’ll go with a half dozen chocolate hazelnut cookies.” 

“A classic,” the man said, reaching for a paper bag to slide the cookies into. “Just so my best customer knows,” he said, “I’ll be off for the next few days. My wife is taking me into the city to catch a jazz show for our anniversary.” 

“That’s sweet of her,” Celaena replied, pulling out her wallet from her bag to pay for the cookies. “You better let me know how it was when you get back.” 

“Sure will,” the baker said, accepting the money she passed him. He didn’t even need to give her a price, she’d bought these often enough. She thanked him as he gave her her change and the bag of cookies, and then she was waving goodbye as she stepped away from his stand, turning to go attend to more of her chores.

And then - she saw him. 

The silver haired man from the day before. He was standing across the way, leaning against the wall of the grocer’s, smoking a cigarette, a sight that was rare here. But not rare in the city, harking back to where he was from.

He didn’t seem to be shopping, so Celaena knew he was out here for an ulterior motive. And she had a feeling that ulterior motive was her. Why else would he (they) be seemingly following her, first to the bookstore, then to Mistward, now to here? 

She didn’t like the implications of that, that they were somehow connected back to Arobynn and were hunting for her. But - she’d never seen them involved with him before, and she’d been a high ranking, trusted , member. Or so she thought. 

Too many questions, not enough answers. So she decided to try and get some. 

Sliding the cookies into her bag, Celaena made her way over to where the man was standing, not allowing herself any hesitation. He saw her pretty quickly, but didn’t attempt to move, just sucking in a bit of smoke where he stood, his hat perched on his head. 

“Yes?” He asked as she slowed to a stop in front of him. “May I help you?” 

“Do you two have some business with me?” She asked, getting to the point. “Because if so, I’d prefer you tell me directly instead of dancing around the topic and stalking me around town.” 

“Who says I’m stalking you?” The man questioned, and she rolled her eyes. “It’s a small village, maybe it’s simply a coincidence.” 

“Oh yeah?” Celaena said, snatching his cigarette from his hand and taking a puff of it herself. Instead of being shocked, he just huffed a laugh. “If it’s simply a coincidence, then tell me. What are you doing here?”

“Shopping,” he said, a small smile curling at the edge of his lips. “Same as you.” 

She narrowed her eyes, tapping out his cigarette on the wall. “I meant in the town.” 

“That’s a complicated question,” he replied, pulling out another cigarette from his jacket. 

“Alright,” Celaena said, “I’ll ask an easier one. What’s your name?” 

He really looked at her then, and her breath nearly left her as those green eyes pierced into hers. “Rowan,” he answered, looking at her intently. Like he expected something to happen when he said his name. “Rowan Whitethorn.”

She just blinked at him, flicking his cigarette away from her. “Well then,” she said, pushing away from the wall. “Rowan Whitethorn.” His name felt odd on her tongue. “You have two choices.” She stepped a bit closer, until less than a foot separated them. “Either leave me alone voluntarily,” she said, her voice dropping in volume, “or I’ll make you leave me alone.” She paused. “Choose wisely.”

Then she stepped back, hating the small smirk that appeared on his chiseled face. 

“So violent,” he said, leaning his head back against the brick. Celaena simply smiled sardonically and stepped away from him, about to head back to the market. 

“I don’t know what you mean,” she said, shrugging. “I’m just a simple country girl. I wouldn’t know the first thing about violence.” 

But they both knew that was a lie.

Chapter Text

1923

Celaena felt off her game the rest of the day, tense and on edge as she finished her shopping. She felt like she needed eyes in the back of her head everywhere she went as she hunted for any trace of the two men who were clearly looking for her. 

Did she need to leave? Did Arobynn find her? Did she need to go run to another small town, hoping that she’d get six more months of anonymity? 

The man - Rowan - hasn’t confirmed their intentions, but his lack of answer was answer enough. That, paired with the other man’s choice comments at supper the night before, made it clear that even if it wasn’t what she suspected, it wasn’t good. 

Nothing good could come from two men finding a particular interest in her whereabouts. 

By the time she got to the bookstore that afternoon, to open it up for a few hours that day, she felt that one small noise would push her over the edge and she’d take her revolver and shoot. Celaena had left that life behind, but she hadn’t forgotten the skills nor the instincts it’d given her. 

She’d fight if provoked; but she’d prefer to avoid a confrontation altogether. 

“Elentiya,” Emrys’ voice sounded as the man pushed open the door to the bookstore. He had a warm smile on his face, and Celaena could only smile back, forcing herself to relax in her chair. 

“Emrys,” she greeted, “What can I do for you?”

“Oh nothing,” he waved away, stepping inside to get closer to the desk. “Just checking to see how everything is going.” 

Celaena shrugged, pushing to a stand and grabbing a stack of books that she needed to put back. 

“As normal as ever,” she answered, heading back to the shelves. Emrys came over from the restaurant to check on her every so often, and get the records for how the store was doing. It didn’t earn that much revenue, but it also didn’t cost very much to run, so it really just gave her something to do, and that was enough in his mind. He was too kind to her.

“Good, good,” he said, nodding his head. A beat of silence rang out as she shelved a book, but she knew he wasn’t done. “I saw that man talking to you last night,” he continued, and Celaena sighed through her nose. “Is there a problem? Has he been bothering you?” 

Ever since she’d arrived in the village, Emrys has taken on a sort of fatherly role for her. He and his partner, Malakai, treated her like their own daughter, which she was immensely grateful for. Even if she didn’t quite need the protectiveness. 

“I’m okay, Emrys,” Celaena said, peeking out of a bookshelf to look at him. His graying eyebrows were furrowed, clearly concerned about her, and she smiled warmly, trying to assuage his fears. “Just some passerby who thought he recognized me from somewhere,” she continued, shaking her head. 

“From - before?” Emrys asked, and her smile faltered. He didn’t know explicitly where she’d come from, beyond what she’d told him, which was the extent of from the city, from bad people. He’d picked up on the rest himself. 

“No,” she said, though she honestly didn’t know if it was a lie or not. “It was just a mistake.” Whatever it was, she didn’t need to bother Emrys with it. “Really, it’s okay,” she repeated, making her face look open and honest. “But thank you for looking out for me, it means a lot.” 

That was the truth. And he seemed to realize it, if the way he smiled at her was any indication. 

“Of course, Elentiya,” he said, and she had to duck behind the shelf to hide her emotions. Vulnerability didn’t come easily to her. It never had. 

Maybe when she was young, but ever since she could remember, she’d had a tall stone wall, four feet thick, guarding her heart. If no one could ever get inside it, it couldn’t ever break.

-------

A few hours later, the sky was beginning to darken as Celaena sat at her desk, fiddling with the locket on the chain around her neck. She’d had a few customers that afternoon: a woman buying a book to read in the evenings, a husband buying a present for his wife, a new mother buying her first picture book for her child. All in all, after the market, it’d been a peaceful day, but there was still a pit in her stomach, and she frowned as she opened the locket, messing with the paper inside.

It was delicate, and she probably shouldn’t even touch it if she wanted to keep it, but she also figured if it’d survived this long, it could survive anything. 

So carefully, Celaena lifted the piece of paper, examining it as she leaned back in her chair. It was clearly ripped, sections of the ink running off the fragment. And while she didn’t know what was written, or why it was so important she put it in a locket, she knew one thing for sure. She didn’t write it.

While only two letters were still visible, the handwriting was distinctively angled and sharp. Celaena’s own handwriting was curvy, always hovering somewhere between cursive and print. Unless she’d purposefully forced her writing to look like this, it was written by someone else. 

But by who, she didn’t know. 

With a frustrated huff she snapped the locket closed, pushing herself to a stand. 

Arobynn had told her that her memories would likely never return, that whatever trauma she’d gone through had put a permanent block on them, but she wasn’t sure that was entirely true. She’d had glimpses before, in dreams. Just little dashes of a bright laugh, a warm smile, arms that wrapped her up in a comfortable hug, running around on a large green lawn, tumbling down a hill, laughing the whole time.

She wasn’t sure any of it was even real. 

Celaena wasn’t entirely sure why Arobynn had let her keep the locket. She was ten years old when found; it wasn’t like she’d been able to hide it from him. And any other trace of her past was gone. But she guessed he just didn’t care enough to take it. She doubted it was worth anything, it was a child’s locket. Regardless, it was one of her most treasured possessions. 

After glancing around to make sure everything was where it was supposed to be in the store, Celaena was about to head toward the front door when she paused. After a brief moment of consideration, she turned back around and went to her desk, grabbing her gun and sliding it into her bag. It didn’t hurt to be careful.

The outside air was a bit chilly as she stepped onto the street, and she was about to turn back around to lock the door when she spotted a figure walking toward her. 

Cairn Mallory. The man from the restaurant.

“Store’s closed,” she announced, loudly enough for him to hear. But he didn’t turn around, instead continuing to head her way. 

“What a shame,” he said, and she narrowed her eyes. “I was hoping to get a book.” 

“Really?” Celaena said sarcastically. She stood still in front of the door, tense and on her guard. She didn’t trust him a single bit. 

“I need some entertainment in this drab town,” Cairn said, stepping closer. She stiffened more, reaching a hand down into her bag where her gun sat. 

“Come back tomorrow then,” she said, “the store opens at ten.” Wind whipped down the street, blowing back her loose pieces of hair. There was no one else out on the street, and the observation just made her lift her chin, refusing to look nervous. 

Cairn tilted his head, but didn’t move further, and when he nodded, she relaxed slightly.

“I’ll see you tomorrow then,” he said, stepping back this time, and she eyed him carefully as she turned to face the door, reaching for the key on her necklace. After making sure he wasn’t moving, she looked down at the door handle, getting ready to lock up. 

But before she could anticipate it and turn around, a blinding pain shot through her skull and her legs crumpled beneath her, her world turning black.

Chapter Text

1923

“Fireheart,” a soft voice murmured in her ear. “Fireheart, it’s time to wake up.” 

The little girl blinked awake slowly, grumbling and rolling further into her pillow. But a warm laugh rang in the air, a gentle hand smoothing back her hair. “How are you feeling this morning?” 

She grumbled again, burying her face in her sheets, and sniffed pitifully. She’d been playing outside yesterday, her favorite game of tag with her cousin, but she’d gotten really tired and her mama told her she was sick. The little girl hated being sick. 

“I’ll take that as your answer,” her mama said, laughing again. She loved her mama’s laugh; it sounded like a symphony she’d go to see in the city. As light as the piano she was slowly learning to play. 

She’d gotten a piano for Yulemas the year before, and she loved it. She played it every morning. But not this morning, she was too tired. 

“I think Aedion is getting sick too,” her mama continued. “He was sniffling all through supper last night, though he refused to admit it.” She kept stroking the little girl’s hair. “You know how he is.”

Stubborn. She didn’t know what the word meant, but she’d heard her parents say it often enough. About her two. Two little stubborn peas in a pod. 

“Anyways,” her mama said, and the little girl glanced up at her through bleary eyes. “I’m having the cook prepare your favorite breakfast.” Her mama smiled. “And I’ll even let you have a glass of orange juice.” 

The little girl’s eyes lit up. She loved orange juice, but she didn’t get to have it a lot. 

“And,” her mama continued, “even better. You have a guest here to see you.” The little girl furrowed her brows, looking over at her bedroom door, just as it opened. Her face brightened immediately, and she sat up, ignoring the way her head hurt.

A boy stood on the other side, smiling at her as he cautiously entered the room. “Hey, Fireheart,” he said, “how are you feeling?” 

“I didn’t know you were here today,” she said, her voice a little croaky. But she was beaming. He came over a lot, but not every day. And she thought he wouldn’t be over today. His parents didn’t always let him. But here he was. And her mama was right, it was even better than orange juice.

-----

Celaena came to slowly, her head pounding. She couldn’t quite open her eyes, so she focused on her other senses, her brows furrowing painfully as she felt her whole body being jostled. There was a hard surface under her cheek, but it was moving too, confusing her even more.

She felt so groggy, she could barely process anything. She squeezed her eyes shut even more, before forcing them open just a tad.

She could faintly see the landscape passing her by, some trees and some farmland running past her eyes. Unless she was the one moving. 

A groan escaped her and she nearly shut her eyes again, until a voice rumbled through her ears.

“Awake?” A deep voice said, and she opened her eyes more as she realized that it was coming from right in front of her. As she realized that she was leaning against someone’s back. Leaning against someone’s back with her hands tied around his waist, as they galloped down the road on horseback. Horseback. 

“A horse? Really?” She forced out, petulant until her very last breath. “What is this, the 19th century?” 

The man, whose voice she now recognized as Rowan Whitethorn’s, chuckled, the sound reverberating through her cheek. 

“Just until the train station,” he said, and queasiness slowly replaced the pain. Celaena could see Cairn on another horse out of the corner of her eye, but far enough he couldn’t hear them. 

“So I’m being kidnapped?” She asked drily, trying to hide the tremor in her voice. “Did Arobynn send you?”

Rowan didn’t answer right away, and she was frustrated that she couldn’t see his face to gauge his reaction. She was an expert at reading people’s expressions; but if she couldn’t even see it, there wasn’t much she could do.

“Cairn and I work for Maeve,” he said after a moment, and understanding washed over her. That’s why she hadn’t recognized them. Maeve Rosela was a gang leader just as much as Arobynn was, but on the other side of Rifthold. The two groups had been tense for as long as Celaena could remember, but she supposed her escape had provided some sort of bridge point between the two. 

“I see,” she said, her eyes nearly closing again. Gods, Cairn hit her hard. “So I’m to be delivered like cattle? How much are you being paid to get me?”

Rowan really didn’t answer this time, and they fell back into silence, trotting down the road almost comfortably, until - 

“How are you feeling?” He asked, and she blinked at the surprising question. 

“I’m a little ticked off, to be honest,” she said, deflecting. “I was getting to a good part in my book when your friend knocked me out.”

“He’s not my friend,” Rowan said immediately, and she filed the information away for later. Maybe she could use it somehow. She certainly wasn’t going to let herself be delivered to Arobynn like a fucking Yulemas gift. 

“Where’s my bag?” Celaena asked, thinking about the revolver stashed in there. 

“Cairn has it,” he answered, and she cursed under her breath. He both seemed and didn’t seem like the tougher nut to crack. Rowan was certainly less forthright with his aggression than Cairn was, but Cairn was more straightforward, while Rowan was a mystery she didn’t quite know how to solve. 

“Did you at least lock up the bookstore?” She asked, trying to sound unbothered. But it was then she realized she couldn’t feel the familiar weight of her necklace around her neck. “Wait, where’s my necklace?” He didn’t answer. “Rowan, where’s my necklace?” 

Her heart pounded at the thought of losing it, the one last connection she had to her unknown life - before. 

“I have it,” he said, something in his voice she couldn’t quite decipher. Especially when he turned his head enough to look back at her, his green eyes meeting her blue, seeming so familiar yet out of reach. With the way she was essentially tied to him, their faces were merely inches apart, and her breath hitched.

“How long have you had it?” He asked, and she narrowed her eyes.

“None of your business,” she spat, but he wasn’t deterred. He simply looked back at the road, pulling at the reins to direct the horse to go faster. 

“We’ll stop here,” Cairn called back at them a few minutes later, and Rowan pulled the horse to a stop, untying her hands from around his waist but keeping a hold on her as he dismounted, helping her down after. The grip of his hands on her waist made her cheeks heat, though she didn’t know why. Just because he was attractive didn’t mean she needed to act like a fool.

“Okay,” Cairn said, stepping toward her, dropping a bag by her feet. “Here’s how this is going to go. You’re going to put these clothes on, and you’re going to cooperate, otherwise I’m going to go back to your precious little village and have a talk with that restaurant owner of yours.” Her blood ran cold. “What’s his name? Emrys?” He tilted his head and she kept her face carefully neutral.

They were close to the next town over, a bigger one with an actual train station with a route straight into the heart of Rifthold. Or rather, a route straight into hell. 

“So what do you say, Celaena ?” Cairn asked, and she lifted her chin, glancing briefly over at Rowan, who still had a hold on her wrists, his grip firm but surprisingly gentle. His face was unreadable. 

Loosing a breath, her mind churning with different plans to get out of this mess, she turned back to Cairn, refusing to give up any ounce of dignity. 

“You better have brought me something pretty to wear,” was all she said, pushing down the instinct to snap. She would get out of this, she would. But she had to play along for now.

Cairn just slowly smiled. 

Chapter Text

1923

Cairn had given her a silky skirt and a nice long sweater, with stockings and little black heels, and a hat and jewels to wear to the train station. Her hair was still in its long braid, not necessarily the fashionable style he was going for, but neither of the men knew how to do hair, and she refused to without her proper supplies, so he was just going to have to deal with it. 

It was a short walk into town from where they’d left the horses, and Celaena played along with his little scheme, not attempting any sort of “foolish escape” as they headed toward the station. She had a feeling he wasn’t bluffing about hurting Emrys, and she didn’t want to risk it. Not with everything he’d done for her.

Gods, he must be worried sick right now. But there wasn’t much she could do. 

She’d find a way to get back there. Even if she couldn’t stay once she’d escaped, it was the least she could do to at least let him know she was alright. If she would be alright.

She glanced at Rowan, who was walking besides her down the sidewalk, a suitcase in hand. Cairn’s horse had been carrying their luggage apparently. And he’d changed too, into a snappy looking suit with a hat, making him look nearly dark and mysterious . Cairn still just looked like a brute.

That man had made her change in front of him, to make sure she didn’t run away , as he put it. Celaena wasn’t fooled by that bullshit, but she couldn’t argue. So she’d just stripped out of her dress and boots snappishly, refusing to be made uncomfortable by his leering gaze. She’d been through worse, her body had already been violated more than his eyes could do. 

So it wasn’t a huge deal, but she didn’t appreciate the power play he was attempting. 

Rowan had turned away.

But now here they were, Rowan at her side as her apparent “guard”, as they entered the train station, blending into the bustling crowd. It was evening already, the sun beginning to dip below the horizon, but there were still plenty of people on the platform, going about their business. It was only one town over, but it was significantly more populated.

Celaena kept her chin up as they followed Cairn up to the ticket booth. The man in the booth paused as Cairn leaned against the desk, taking off his hat casually. 

“One ticket for a Mr. Mallory,” he said, “and two tickets for the Whitethorns.” 

The Whitethorns? 

Her brows nearly shot up before she could temper her expression, Rowan’s hand sliding around to her waist. Hugging her to his side like they really were a married couple. Undercover she supposed. Fine, she’d put up with it for now. Better than having to pretend to be married to Cairn.

“Here you go,” the ticket attendant said, handing Cairn three papers before leaning forward a bit and pointing down the platform. “Your train is at platform 5. It’s boarding already, so you’ll want to hurry.”

“I can walk myself,” Celaena hissed under her breath as Rowan tried to direct her after Cairn. He didn’t respond, but did lighten his grip, until she barely felt the touch of his hand through her sweater. 

She glanced up at him out of the corner of her eye, trying to puzzle him out. She just couldn't quite do it. There was something more to him than he was saying, something more complicated than him being a simple runner in a gang. 

But she didn’t know what it was.

“Let’s go,” Cairn snapped back at her, and she narrowed her eyes, refusing to even dignify the words with a response. She may be cooperating, but she wasn’t going to give into his dictatorial behavior. She was her own boss.

She didn’t say another word as they headed toward the train, keeping her gaze straight as Cairn handed Rowan their tickets, disappearing onto the train in front of them. 

“Two tickets for the Whitethorns,” Rowan said, nearly repeating what Cairn had said. The conductor just nodded, looking at the papers Rowan showed him.

“Your cabin is down in carriage 8,” the conductor said, and Celaena froze. Cabin . As in one singular one. She supposed they were married, it would make sense for them to share. 

Rowan seemed to sense her discomfort, letting go of her even more. She wasn’t sure if she was happy about that or not. On one hand, she certainly didn’t want one of her kidnappers to be touching her. Yet, something about his touch grounded her. 

She didn’t understand it. Especially not so soon after…

Something in her gut curled uncomfortably, her obstinance at her situation fading as it was replaced by that dark cloud of grief she’d fought off for so long.

Shit. She’d been doing so well. She couldn’t afford to be so off her game; not like those first few weeks after leaving Mistward, when she’d sank so far deep into herself she was barely aware of what was going on outside of her own head. It’d been weak of her, leaving her vulnerable, and she absolutely could not be vulnerable now.

So she sniffed, straightening herself up. 

“Let’s go,” Celaena said, stiffly, stepping away from his arm. She stepped up onto the train carefully, walking down the carpeted hallway in her heels. Rowan trailed behind her, and she could feel his presence as she headed down toward their cabin. 

It was a fancy train, and she supposed Arobynn was shelling out the money to have her delivered to him in style. She was his protege, his belonging, he wouldn’t leave her in the throes of poverty. No. Just showered her wealth if she obeyed, and left her rotting in a dungeon if she didn’t.

She shuddered at the thought of what awaited her should her kidnappers be successful.

“You’re safe,” Rowan whispered behind her, and she nearly froze at the words. Had he read her mind? Or was he just saying this innocuously to try to appeal to her?

She didn’t respond.

Especially as they neared their cabin, finding Cairn standing outside the one next door. The trip wasn’t really long enough to require sleep if it’d started earlier in the day. But as it was already nearing bedtime, those who had the money for it had the option for a bed. It seemed Arobynn had obliged.

Or Maeve. She wasn’t sure who was funding the voyage. But Maeve had provided the staff, surely Arobynn was providing the capital. 

“Get some good sleep, Sardothien,” Cairn said sarcastically, opening the door to his own cabin. “We’ll reach Rifthold in the morning.”

He slammed the door shut behind him.

The silence was thick as Rowan opened the door to their own cabin, as she entered the small room and saw what awaited them inside. The walls were all rich wood paneled, with a sturdy dresser and upholstered chair, and the singular bed against the wall. It was plush and velvet, and looked immensely comfortable, but it was small. 

Rowan shut the door with a click behind them, and she stepped forward a little bit, standing in the middle of the room as he went toward the dresser, dropping his hat on the veneered surface.

“I’m sorry about this,” he said smoothly, and she met his gaze in the mirror above the dresser.

“About what?” She asked drily. “Having to share a bed with me or kidnapping me?” He chuckled quietly, a genuine smile on his face. She just blinked at him.

“Is it considered kidnapping if you’re not a kid?” He asked, raising a brow, and she frowned.

“I’m not going to argue semantics,” she said, taking off her own hat. “Not with my kid napper.” 

She stepped toward the bed, kicking off her shoes and sitting on the mattress. “You can take the chair,” she determined. “I know you have to guard me or whatever, but you can do that from over there.” 

Despite her matter of fact tone, she waited to see his response. He just shrugged.

“Fair enough,” Rowan said, moving to head toward the chair, setting the suitcase on the ground. “Cairn packed a nightgown for you to wear,” he said, pulling out a bundle of white fabric. 

“What are you?” She asked, snatching the nightgown from him. “His lackey?” 

Rowan eyed her oddly, and she bristled. “I’m no one’s lackey,” he said, “there’s a lot you don’t know.” 

“Then tell me,” she said, crossing her legs. But he shook his head.

“Not yet,” he said. But he reached into his pocket, tossing her necklace her way. She caught it with a hand, surprised. He just grabbed his own change of clothes from the suitcase, heading for the bathroom. “Get some sleep, alright?”

And then he was gone. This would certainly be an interesting night.