Suddenly, Celaena found herself standing at the white line, looking at the vast length of the room before her. Some of the men chuckled—albeit quietly—and she kept her head held high as she reached over her shoulder for an arrow and nocked it into her bow.
They’d done some archery practice a few days earlier, and she’d been excellent. Or, as excellent as she could be without attracting attention. And she’d killed men from longer shots than the farthest target. Clean shots, too. Right through the throat.
She tried to swallow, but her mouth was dry.
I am Celaena Valerie, Rieo’s Assassin. If these men knew who I was, they’d stop laughing. I am Celaena Valerie. I am going to win. I will not be afraid.
She pulled back her bow, the sore muscles in her arm aching with the effort. She shut out
