““There was still something soft in her face. It gave him hope—hope that he had not lost his soul in the act of killing, hope that humanity could still be found, and honor could be regained … She had come out of Endovier and could still laugh. She twirled her hair around a finger. She was still wearing that absurdly short nightgown, which slid up her thighs as she propped her feet on the edge of the table. He focused on her face. “Would you like to join me?” she asked, gesturing with one hand to the table. “It’s a shame for me to celebrate alone.” He looked at her, at that half grin on her face. Whatever had happened with Cain, whatever had happened at the duel … that would haunt him. But right now … He pulled out the chair in front of him and sat down. She filled a goblet with wine and handed it to him. “To four years until freedom,” she said, lifting her glass. He raised his in salute. “To you, Celaena.” Their eyes met, and Chaol didn’t hide his smile as she grinned at him. Perhaps four years with her might not be enough.””
