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Aelin awoke to silent footsteps. If she had not trained with Rowan so long, spent weeks in her Fae form, she would not have detected it. Even when she woke up, she wasn't entirely sure she hadn't imagined it.
Then she heard it again.
It was so quiet Aelin knew whoever it was definitely knew what they were doing. The intruder was almost certainly an enemy, and Aelin made sure her breathing remained slow and even.
"I know you're awake." The voice was one so painfully familiar that Aelin was out of bed with a knife to the person's throat in seconds. She expected a shout, or maybe a scream when her knife made contact, but there was nothing apart from a tiny inhale.
The person in her bedroom was Sam Cortland. His brown eyes shone with both anguish and pride, such a familiar expression Aelin felt tears gather in her eyes. His hair was longer than she remembered, and he was more muscular that he'd been before. Her body was pressed against his, and she could feel those new muscles against her own. It was both exhilarating and painful.
"Who are you?" Aelin's voice was steady and deadly, despite the turmoil inside and the tears growing in her eyes.
"I didn't think I was so forgettable to you." Sam's voice was playful, but there was an edge to it that made Aelin growl.
"How dare you." She whispered. Her knife pressed further into his neck, and the Sam lookalike smiled as her blade cut into his skin. Aelin felt her tears brimming in her eyes, and it burned as Sam's face seemed to soften. "You have no right to wear that face. None."
"I forgot how it felt to have you hate me so much. It's been so long." Sam smiled. He raised his hands in surrender and said, "It really is me, Celaena."
"Sam Cortland is dead." Aelin's voice trembled, and she swallowed against it. She couldn't stop the tears. "I saw it."
"You saw what Arobynn wanted you to see." Sam whispered. One of his hands brushed her hair, toying with the short red strands, and she inhaled sharply. "I'm here."
"They killed you." Aelin insisted, even as tears slid down her face and dripped from her chin. She couldn't help the choking sobs that made her words stutter and run together. "Arobynn brought me to you, and I held your cold, mutilated body on a metal table. You smelled like cheap soap, and I remember how guilty I felt that I was so selfish never to let you use my lavender soap that I wasted our precious little money on. I know you were dead, and it was my fault. I should have saved you, I should have gone after you when you were taking too long. I knew something was wrong but I didn't do anything–"
"Celaena." Sam gently moved her hand away from his throat without resistance, and he touched her face with one calloused hand. Aelin leaned away from him just a little, but the knife in her hand dropped to the floor. "What happened wasn't your fault, and I survived."
"How?" Aelin's voice broke, "Farran tortured you to death, and Arobynn let it happen. You died."
"Torture, yes." Aelin's hands clenched at her sides. "Farran wanted to kill me, that much is true, but Arobynn wanted me alive. I think he may have wanted me alive as some kind of leverage to have above you, but I don't know." Sam caressed her face, and Aelin leaned into it despite herself. Sam's thumb swept across her cheek, smearing the soft tears that shone there. "I watched you cry, you know. Arobynn displayed that body, a perfect double as you said, and he made me watch, paralyzed, as you broke down. I couldn't get to you."
"You were right there." Aelin whispered in disbelief, shutting her eyes. "You were in the room and I didn't even notice?"
"Hey, hey, don't do this to yourself." Sam cupped her cheek with his hand, and she opened her eyes to look into his. She was so close to him, she could see the gold specks in his brown eyes. "None of this was your fault. I'm here now."
"Sam." Aelin leaned forward, and she buried her face in his shoulder. She tucked her arms in and pressed them to his chest, feeling his heartbeat as his arms came around her. She laughed through her tears, and felt Sam's warm arms tighten around her. "I am Celaena Sardothien, and I am not afraid." The name on her lips felt odd, slightly foreign, but with Sam's arms around her and a knife on the floor, the name felt more like her own than any other title ever had.
"I am Sam Cortland, and I am not afraid." Sam whispered back.
Aelin did not know how long they stayed there, but when they parted, Aelin took his hand and intertwined their fingers. Sam reached up with his other, and she froze at the state of his left hand.
"It's alright." Sam said softly.
"No, it's not." Aelin reached for his hand, and she gently took it in her own. His fingers were crooked, each bone having heald wrong after being broken in too many places and never set. His beautiful, long, skilled fingers were bent out of shape, and his fingernails were rough and uneven as though they could not grow straight anymore. Aelin knew without even asking that Sam's hand was no longer able to properly hold a blade. He was forever changed. "If Farran was still alive, I'd kill him myself."
"I believe you." Sam smiled, and Aelin slowly bent down to kiss his palm. Sam inhaled sharply, but Aelin ignored it as she moved to kiss every shattered knuckle and crooked finger. Aelin's lips brushed down his wrist, then she raised her eyes and stared into Sam's face.
"I've missed you." She whispered, squeezing his fingers. "I always have." Aelin smiled when she heard Sam's irregular breathing and felt his quick pulse. Without another word, she stretched up to kiss him.
She'd forgotten what it felt like to kiss Sam, but her body hadn't. Sam was warm, almost feverishly, and he kissed her with longing and gentle affection that brought fresh tears to her eyes. Sam's hand strayed to her waist, and she arched her back in response as her lips found his.
Aelin's hand found his cheek, and her other buried itself in his hair. She felt how rough it was, the dirt in it from a lack of washing and care, and knew that the grime would get under her fingernails; Aelin couldn't care less as she pulled him closer. Sam groaned into her mouth, and Aelin broke off with a pleasurable gasp as Sam ran his fingers down her spine.
"Celaena." Sam whispered almost reverently, "Celaena, we don't have to–"
"I am not afraid." She murmured, meeting his eyes. "I am Celaena Sardothien, and I am not afraid." Sam's eyes slipped shut, and then he was kissing her again.
Aelin had previously shoved Sam against the wall, but now she grabbed his shirt and turned them both so she could push him onto her bed. Sam went easily, moving with her in sync that was so flawlessly them that it made Aelin laugh. Sam grinned at her, and she crawled into his lap and straddled with him.
"Are you sure?" Sam asked, his hands pausing. That was when he noticed what she was wearing, and blinked. "You're wearing my shirt." He said, both amused and stunned.
"That's not all." Aelin smirked. She led his hand lower, straying into dangerous territory, and Sam laughed.
"You're wearing my boxers." He breathed. His eyes were wide, and Aelin was pleased by her attire's effect on him. "All this time, you still…?"
"It was always you." Aelin brought her hand to his cheek, brushed her fingers across his high cheekbones and down his chiseled jaw. "It will always be you, Sam."
Sam's eyes were wide with awe, the same awe Aelin remembered from the day in the sewer when she first confessed, calling him stupid, and kissed him. Aelin swallowed, working up the courage, and she leaned in to pressed her lips to his ear.
"I love you." Aelin whispered, and then she dropped her head into his shoulder. She'd never said it before. It was one of the things she'd always regretted about Sam. She'd never told him that she loved him. Sam reached up to cradle her, and he kissed her neck in a way that made her shiver.
"I love you." Sam echoed, "I always have." Aelin raised her head, and she kissed him.