All characters belong to the lovely Sarah J. Maas.

ONE

The same nightmare has haunted Sam Cortland in his sleep every night for the past year. It was more of a memory rather than a nightmare because nightmares weren't exactly real. The things he kept seeing in the midst of his sleep, those were torturingly real –they happened and even if he didn't like it, they still occurred and he couldn't change it.

Sam propped his body up using his elbow with a groan. His back was aching –he still hasn't grown accustomed to the stiff material Abroynn called a mattress.

Abroynn –the King of assassins and once his mentor whom everyone bowed down to. Abroynn –the man who always featured in his nightmares with the woman he loved.

He punched the wall beside him despite knowing that the result would be painful. Why does it matter anyhow? The pain that he felt in his fingers was nothing compared to what Celaena would be going through in the Salt Mines. If she was still alive.

He ran his fingers through his shaggy hair as he looked out the barred window near the roof of his cell –only just reaching the ground outside. He could see the sun beginning to rise through the dirt of the ground. In the Salt Mines, Celaena wouldn't even have the luxury of seeing the sun through dirt.

It was because of him Celaena Sardothien was in the Endovier working as a slave. If he just stayed with her...

Sam punched the stone wall again and sighed. Not only is he out of her reach, Celaena believed he was dead –gone. He was supposed to be dead, he wanted more than anything to be dead rather than be here in the dungeons –the same dungeon where they tied him up and made him watch her drape her arms around a dead body that was supposed to be his.

He pushed the bed away from the stone wall towards the irons of his cell, the feet of the metal frame squeaking against the concrete floors echoing through the lowest floor of the Assassins' Guild. It didn't matter that he made noise because no one was down here at this time of day –the only people who came down here were the maids who fed him at dusk.

Not even Abroynn came to see him. Abroynn –the man responsible for Celaena's capture and his own. His former mentor ignited the flame of vexation within him. Sam vowed to kill Abroynn the night he beat Celaena up until she was knocked out on his carpet and he would fulfil it eventually.

A newfound sense of motivation sprouted in his mind as he repeatedly punched the same ivory stone with both of his fists until his knuckles began to bleed but even then he kept going. He wasn't going to give up –not yet, not until he knows Celaena is safe.

This was the first time in ages he was focused on something rather than his nightmares –something other than the last time he saw Celaena mourning over his fake death with Abroynn watching her, lying to her.

His punches became harder and faster as his mind flashed to images of the King of Assassins not even showing any sympathy to his heartbroken protégée –his silver eyes glassed with neutrality and his body rigid.

How could Celaena not have noticed?

Because she believes you're dead, he roared at himself in his mind as he punched the stone even harder, gashes in his hands leaked blood onto the floor and flew onto his bare chest.

Hands, soft and manicured, stop his from taking its next punch, tightening its fingers around Sam's bloody wrists.

"Sam, that's enough," an eloquent, female voice ordered that he both hated and feared. What is she doing here?

He shakes off her grip and squints at her, the window behind her head showering sunlight directly onto his eyes. "What do you want? How did you get in here?" He spat.

Sam glanced at the cell bars behind him and saw part of the bed pushed out and the door open. He must have been unable to hear it when he was punching the stone.

Madam Clarisse chuckled with amusement, "I'm here to help you –rescue you even. Doesn't that sound heroic mister Cortland?"

"Is this how you're repaying my family for my Mother building your fortune, helping me escape?"

She laughed again, waving her hands in front of herself. "Darling Sam, I don't owe you anything."

"Then what do you want from me," he growled, straightening his posture so he towered over her. She didn't even flinch.

"Celaena is alive and healthy," she said each word slow and soft as her eyes analysed his reaction but he kept his face neutral.

Celaena is still alive? The average life span for slaves in the mines was a month so for her to survive over a year was absurd but it was Celaena Sardothien –his Celaena Sardothien, the most notorious assassin in Adarlan.

He concealed his smile by examining his hands, his face away from Clarisse's sight. The wounds had bits of ivory stone in them and blood covered his hands like gloves but he didn't feel any of it, not as mush as his burning desire to hold Celaena once again, to hear her whisper his name.

"She was just spotted a few hours ago on a horse behind the Crown Prince, Dorian Havilliard, and the royal guards. It has been said that she is the Prince's new lady but knowing Celaena, I told my sources in the castle to find out what she really was doing and it seems that she's competing in a competition to become the King's Champion and Dorian Havilliard has chosen her," she said the last word in disgust which would of made Celaena smirk.

"The King's Champion?" He glanced up at Clarisse in perplexity. Celaena absolutely hated the King so why would she want to become his Champion?

Madam Clarisse made her way to his bed and sat upon it, sighing with annoyance. "The King's Champion is a role given to an outlaw to do his dirty work."

That would explain why Dorian chose her but not why she would agree. Was there bribery involved? Blackmail? Was he doing it against her will?

What was he thinking, nobody could make Celaena do anything against her will.

He smiled at the thought but his smile soon turned into a pained line. Thinking of Celaena made his heart ache.

"Why are you helping me escape then?" he furrowed his brow as he faced her sitting body, her black gown making her look slimmer and younger. This all didn't add up.

She picked at the hem of his tattered pillow and spoke without looking up at him. "I'm helping you because this is a golden opportunity where you will owe me because you have nothing now," her lips curled into a cruel smile.

"Not only am I going to help you escape, I already have a spot for you in the competition and it's yours if you want it," she leaned back onto the irons of the cell and eyes Sam with a smugness that makes him want to run away from her.

She knows he would rather die than spend another day rotting in the cell so he would usually decline her offer but having a spot in the competition meant seeing Celaena again –seeing her beautiful face smile at him rather than the image of her mourning over his fake death. He would do anything to see her again and Clarisse knew it.

Sam pushes the bed back into its spot with Clarisse jumping off before her legs get squashed onto the stone walls. She pats her dress to rid invisible dust.

He rubs his eyes and sighs. "I accept your offer Madam Clarisse, though, how are you going to get me out of here?"

"You underestimate my power," was all she said before she fled the cell and re-locked the iron door, leaving him in the same position he was in an hour earlier.