Nehemia raised her chin in a way that suggested saying no wasn’t an option. Celaena swallowed, and did her best to look pleasant as she turned to Chaol, who observed them with raised brows. “She wishes me to tutor her every day before supper.”
“I’m afraid that’s not possible,” he said. She translated.
Nehemia gave him the withering glare that usually made people start sweating. “Why not?” She fell into Eyllwe. “She’s smarter than most of the people in this castle.”
Chaol, thankfully, caught the general gist of it. “I don’t think that—”
“Am I not Princess of Eyllwe?” Nehemia interrupted in the common tongue.
“Your Highness,” Chaol began, but Celaena silenced him with a wave of her hand. They were approaching the clock tower—black and menacing, as always. But kneeling before it was Cain
