And then," Ress was saying, his boyish face set with fiendish delight, "just as he got her into bed, stark naked as the day he was born, her father walked in"- winces and groans came from the guards, even Chaol himself-"and he dragged him out of bed by his feet, took him down the hall, and dumped him down the stairs. He was shrieking like a pig the whole time."

Chaol leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms. "You would be, too, if someone were dragging your naked carcass across the ice-cold floor." He smirked as Ress tried to deny it. Chaol seemed so comfortable with the men, his body relaxed, eyes alight. And they respected him, too-always glancing at him for approval, for confirmation, for support. As Celaena's chuckle faded, Chaol looked at her, his brows high.

"You're one to laugh. You moan about the cold floor more than anyone else than I know."

She straightened as the guards gave hesitant smiles. "If I recall correctly, you complain about every time I wipe the floor with you when we spar."

"Oho!" Ress cried, and Chaol's brows rose higher. Celaena gave him a grin.

"Dangerous words," Chaol said. "Do we need to go to the training hall to see if you can back them up?"

"Well, as long as your men don't object to seeing you knocked on your ass."

"We certainly do not object to that," Ress crowed. Chaol shot him a look, more amused than warning.

Ress quickly added, "Captain.

Sarah J. Maas