best counter
Search
Report & Feedback

Chapter no 25

A Court of Silver Flames

โ€œStop looking so nervous,โ€ Cassian muttered out of the corner of his mouth. โ€œIโ€™m not nervous,โ€ Nesta muttered back, even as she bounced on her feet, trying not to stare toward the open archway as the clock ticked toward

nine.

โ€œJust relax.โ€ He straightened his jacket. โ€œYouโ€™re the one fidgeting,โ€ she hissed. โ€œBecauseย youโ€™reย making me fidget.โ€

Steps scuffed on the stone beyond the archway, and Nestaโ€™s breath rushed from her in a wave she didnโ€™t realize she was holding back as Gwynโ€™s coppery-brown hair appeared. In the sunlight, the color of her hair was extraordinary, strands of gold glinting, and her teal eyes were a near-perfect match to the stones the other priestesses wore.

Gwyn beheld them standing in the center of the ring and stopped short. The tang of her fear set Nesta approaching. โ€œHello.โ€

Gwynโ€™s hands were shaking as she took another step into the ring and peered into the open bowl of the sky.

The first time sheโ€™d been outsideโ€”truly outsideโ€”in years.

Cassian, to his credit, moved to the rack of wooden practice weapons that heโ€™d claimed they wouldnโ€™t be using for months, and pretended to adjust them.

Gwyn swallowed. โ€œI, umโ€”I realized on the way up here that I donโ€™t have proper clothes.โ€ She gestured to her pale robes. โ€œI suspect these will not be ideal.โ€

Cassian said without looking over, โ€œI can teach you in the robes, if you wish. Whateverโ€™s most comfortable.โ€

Gwyn offered him a tight smile. โ€œIโ€™ll see how todayโ€™s lesson goes and then decide. We wear the robes mostly from tradition, not strict rules.โ€ She met Nestaโ€™s gaze again as she smiled. โ€œI forgot how it feels to have the full sun upon my head.โ€ She peered up again. โ€œForgive me if I spend some time gawking at the sky.โ€

โ€œOf course,โ€ Nesta said. She hadnโ€™t encountered Gwyn yesterday after seeing that sheโ€™d signed up for this morningโ€™s lesson, but sheโ€™d been almost afraid toโ€”worried that one accidentally uttered sour remark would make Gwyn reconsider.

Words stalled in Nestaโ€™s throat, but Cassian seemed to anticipate that. โ€œAll right. No more chitchat. Nes, show our new friendโ€”Gwyn, is it? Iโ€™m Cassian. Nes, show her your feet.โ€

โ€œFeet?โ€ Gwynโ€™s copper brows rose. Nesta rolled her eyes. โ€œYouโ€™ll see.โ€

 

 

Gwyn grasped the concept of grounding through her feet better than Nesta had, and certainly had no issues with dropping her weight into her right hip and other things Nesta had worked to correct for three weeks. Even with the robes, it was clear that Gwyn was built lithe and lean, accustomed to the casual grace of the Fae that Nesta was only learning.

Sheโ€™d expected to have to coax her friend, but once Gwyn overcame her initial trepidation, she was a willing participant, and a merry companion. The priestess laughed at her own mistakes, and did not bristle at corrections from Cassian.

By the end of the lesson, though, Gwynโ€™s robe was damp with sweat, tendrils of hair curling around her flushed face. Cassian ordered them to drink some water before their cooldown.

As Gwyn poured herself a glass, she said, โ€œAt the temple in Sangravah, we had a set of ancient movements that we would go through every sunrise. Not for battle training, but for calming the mind. We did cooldowns after those, too, though we called them groundings. The movements took us out of our bodies, in a way. Let us commune with the Mother. The groundings settled us back into the present world.โ€

โ€œWhy did you sign up for this, then?โ€ Nesta drank the glass Gwyn extended. โ€œIf you already have mind-calming exercises youโ€™re accustomed to?โ€

โ€œBecause I donโ€™t ever want to feel powerless again,โ€ Gwyn said softly, and all those easy smiles and bright laughs were gone. Only stark, pained honesty shone in her remarkable eyes.

Nesta swallowed, and though instinct told her to pull away, she said quietly, โ€œMe too.โ€

 

 

The bell above the shop door jangled as Nesta entered, brushing off the snowflakes that had stuck to the shoulders of her cloak. Cassian had needed to go up to the Illyrian Mountains after their second lesson with Gwyn, and to her surprise, he had asked Nesta to join him. Heโ€™d already cleared it with Clotho that sheโ€™d be a few hours late for her work at the library. He hadnโ€™t explained why beyond a casual comment about getting her out of the House and into the fresh air.

But sheโ€™d accepted, and hadnโ€™t told him why, either. Cassian hadnโ€™t even seemed curious when she requested he leave her at Windhaven so she could go shopping. Perhaps a spark had gleamed in his eye, as if heโ€™d guessed, but heโ€™d been distant, quiet.

Given that Cassian was up here to meet with Eris, she didnโ€™t blame him. Heโ€™d left Nesta by the fountain in the center of the freezing village, making sure she knew that if she needed to warm up, Rhysโ€™s motherโ€™s house was unlocked.

Velaris was still gripped in summerโ€™s hand, autumn just barely tugging it away, but Windhaven had already yielded completely to winterโ€™s embrace. Nesta wasted little time in entering the shop.

โ€œNesta,โ€ Emerie said by way of greeting, peering over a young-looking maleโ€™s broad shoulder and wings from where she stood helping him at the counter. โ€œItโ€™s good to see you.โ€

Was that relief in her voice? Nesta made sure the door behind her was firmly latched before striding in, the snow on her boots leaving muddy tracks alongside those left by Emerieโ€™s customer.

The male half-turned toward Nesta, revealing a blandly handsome face, dark hair tied back at the nape of his neck, and glassy brown eyes. The asshole was drunk.ย Assholeย seemed to be the correct term, since Emerieโ€™s rigid posture revealed distaste and wariness.

Nesta sauntered up to the counter, giving the male a once-over that she knew usually made people want to throttle her. From the way he stiffened, swaying slightly on his booted feet, she knew itโ€™d worked. โ€œGood morning,โ€ she said cheerfully to Emerie. Another thing males seemed to detest: being ignored by a female.

โ€œWait your turn, witch,โ€ the male grumbled, turning back to the counter and Emerie.

Emerie crossed her arms. โ€œI think weโ€™re done here, Bellius.โ€

โ€œWeโ€™re done when I say weโ€™re done.โ€ The words were half-slurred.

โ€œI have an appointment,โ€ Nesta said, leveling a cool glance at him. She sniffed at the male. Her nose crinkled. โ€œAnd you seem to need an appointment with a bath.โ€

He turned fully to her, muscled shoulders pushing back. Even with the glazed expression, ire boiled in his stare. โ€œDo you know who I am?โ€

โ€œA drunk fool wasting my time,โ€ Nesta said. Two Siphonsโ€”a blue darker than Azrielโ€™sโ€”sat atop the backs of his large hands. โ€œGet out.โ€

Emerie stilled, as if bracing herself for the retaliation. But she said before the male could reply, โ€œWeโ€™ll discuss this later, Bellius.โ€

โ€œMy father sent me to convey a message.โ€

โ€œMessage received,โ€ Emerie said, chin lifting. โ€œAnd my answer is the same: this store is mine. If he wants one so badly, he can open his own.โ€

โ€œHateful bitch,โ€ Bellius bit out, swaying back a step.

Nesta laughed, cold and hollow. Fae and humans had more in common than sheโ€™d realized. How many times had she witnessed her fatherโ€™s debtors

darkening their doorstep to shake him down for money he didnโ€™t have? And then there had been the time when they had gone beyond threats. When theyโ€™d left her fatherโ€™s leg shattered. Any sense of safety shattered with it.

โ€œGet out,โ€ Nesta said again, pointing to the door as Bellius bristled at her fading laughter. โ€œDo yourself a favor and get out.โ€

Bellius rose to his full height, wings flaring. โ€œOr what?โ€

Nesta picked at her nails. โ€œI donโ€™t think you want to find out theย or what

part.โ€

Bellius opened his mouth, but Emerie said, โ€œYour father now has my answer, Bellius. I suggest you get some water from the fountain before you fly home.โ€

Bellius only spat onto the floorboards and stalked for the exit, throwing Nesta a hazy glare as he slammed the door behind himself.

In silence, Nesta and Emerie watched him stagger into the snow-swept street and spread his wings. Nesta frowned as he shot into the sky.

โ€œFriend of yours?โ€ Nesta asked, facing Emerie at the counter again.

โ€œMy cousin.โ€ Emerie cringed. โ€œHis father is my uncle. On my fatherโ€™s side.โ€ She added before Nesta could ask, โ€œBellius is a young, arrogant idiot. Heโ€™s due to participate in the Blood Rite this spring, and his arrogance has only grown these past months as he anticipates becoming a true warrior. Heโ€™s skilled enough that he got placed on a scouting unit to the continentโ€” and just returned to celebrate his accomplishment, apparently.โ€ Emerie wiped at an invisible speck of dirt on the counter. โ€œI didnโ€™t expect him to be drunk midday, though. Thatโ€™s a new low for him.โ€ Color stained her cheeks. โ€œIโ€™m sorry you had to witness it.โ€

Nesta shrugged. โ€œDealing with drunk fools is my specialty.โ€

Emerie kept fiddling with the imaginary spot on the counter. โ€œOur fathers were two of a kind. They believed children should be harshly disciplined for any infraction. There was little room for mercy or understanding.โ€

Nesta pursed her lips. โ€œI know the type.โ€ Her motherโ€™s mother had been the same way before sheโ€™d died of a deep-rooted cough that had turned into a deadly infection. Nesta had been seven when the stern-faced dame who had insisted on being called Grandmamma had beaten her palms raw with a

ruler for missteps in her dancing lessons.ย Worthless, clumsy girl. Youโ€™re a waste of my time. Maybe this will help you remember to pay attention to my orders.

Nesta had only felt relief when the old beast had died. Elain, whoโ€™d been spared the cruelties of Grandmammaโ€™s tutelage, had wept and dutifully laid flowers at her graveโ€”one soon joined by their motherโ€™s stone marker. Feyre had been too young to understand, but Nesta had never bothered to lay flowers for her grandmamma. Not when Nesta bore a scar near her left thumb from one of the womanโ€™s nastier punishments. Nesta had only left flowers for her mother, whose grave she had visited more often than she cared to admit.

She hadnโ€™t once visited her fatherโ€™s grave outside Velaris.

โ€œAre you all right?โ€ Nesta asked Emerie at last. โ€œWill Bellius return?โ€

โ€œNo,โ€ Emerie said, shaking her head. โ€œI mean, Iโ€™m fine. But noโ€”heโ€™s a member of the Ironcrest war-band. Their lands are a few hoursโ€™ flight from here. He wonโ€™t return anytime soon.โ€ She shrugged. โ€œI get these little visits from my uncleโ€™s family every now and then. Nothing I canโ€™t handle. Though Bellius was a new one. I guess they think heโ€™s adult enough now to bully me.โ€ Nesta opened her mouth, but Emerie offered her another half smile and changed the subject. โ€œYou look well. Far healthier than when I saw you โ€ฆ What was it now? Almost three weeks ago.โ€ She gave Nesta an assessing glance. โ€œYou never came back.โ€

โ€œWe moved our training to Velaris,โ€ Nesta explained.

โ€œI was about to write to you before Bellius interrupted me. I asked about making leathers with fleece inside.โ€ Emerie leaned her forearms on the immaculate counter. โ€œIt can be done, but itโ€™s not cheap.โ€

โ€œThen itโ€™s beyond my means, but thank you for finding out anyway.โ€ โ€œI could order it and let you pay it off as youโ€™re able.โ€

It was a generous offer. Far beyond the kindness anyone had ever shown Nesta in the human realm, when her father had been trying to sell his wood carvings for a few pitiful coppers.

Only Feyre had kept them fed and clothed, earning scant amounts for the pelts and meat she hunted. Sheโ€™d kept them alive. The last time sheโ€™d hunted for them, the food had run out the day before. If Feyre hadnโ€™t

returned home with meat that night, they either would have had to starve to death or beg in the village.

Nesta had told herself that day that Tomas would take her in, if necessary. Maybe even Elain, too. But his family had been hateful, with too many mouths to feed already. His father would have refused to feed her, without question. Sheโ€™d been prepared to offer the only thing she had to barter to Tomas, if it would have kept Elain from starving. Would have sold her body on the street to anyone whoโ€™d pay her enough to feed her sister. Her body had meant nothing to herโ€”nothing, sheโ€™d told herself as sheโ€™d felt her options closing in. Elain meant everything.

But Feyre had come back with that food. And then vanished over the wall.

Three days afterward, Nesta broke it off with Tomas. Enraged, heโ€™d launched himself at her, pinning her against the enormous woodpile stacked along the barn wall.ย Spiteful whore, heโ€™d growled.ย You think youโ€™re better than me? Acting like a queen when you havenโ€™t got shit.ย Sheโ€™d never forget the sound of her dress tearing, the greed in his eyes as his hands pawed at her skirts, trying to raise them as he fumbled with the buckle on his belt.

Only pure, undiluted terror and survival instinct had saved her. Sheโ€™d let him get close, let him think her strength had failed, and then clamped her teeth down on his ear. And ripped.

Heโ€™d screamed, but heโ€™d loosened his grip on herโ€”just enough that sheโ€™d broken free and scrambled through the snow, spitting his blood out of her mouth, and did not stop running until sheโ€™d reached the cottage.

And then word had come of their fatherโ€™s ships: found, with all the wealth intact.

Nesta knew it was a lie. The trunks of jewels and gold had not come from that doomed shipment, but from Tamlin, payment for the human woman heโ€™d stolen away. To help the family heโ€™d doomed to die without Feyreโ€™s hunting.

Nesta shook off the memory. โ€œItโ€™s all right. But thank you.โ€

Emerie rubbed her long, slender hands together. โ€œItโ€™s freezing, and Iโ€™m about to take my lunch break. Would you like to join me?โ€

Beyond Cassian, no one had invited her to dine in a long time. Sheโ€™d given them no reason to. But there it was: an honest, simple offer. From someone who had no idea how terrible she was.

Having lunch with Emerie was an indulgence; it was only a matter of time until the female learned more about Nesta. Until she heard every horrible thing, and then the invitations would stop. Had she been any better than Bellius, drunk and simmering with hatred for months? If Emerie knew, sheโ€™d kick her out of this shop, too.

But for now, neither rumor nor truth had reached Emerie. โ€œI would like that,โ€ Nesta said, and meant it.

 

 

The back room of Emerieโ€™s shop was as immaculate as the front, though crates of extra stock were stacked against one wall. Two windows looked out onto a snow-covered garden, and beyond that, the nearest mountain peak squatted, blocking the gray sky with its rocky bulk.

A small kitchen lay to the right, little more than a hearth and a counter and a small worktable. A few wooden chairs sat around it, and Nesta realized the table was also the dining area. A place setting had been laid there for one person.

โ€œJust you?โ€ Nesta asked as Emerie went to the wood counter and gathered a platter of roast beef and a dish of roasted carrots. She set them on the table before Nesta and grabbed a loaf of bread, along with a bowl of butter.

โ€œJust me.โ€ Emerie opened a cabinet to retrieve a second place setting. โ€œNo mate or husband to bother me.โ€

She spoke a bit tensely, like there was more to it than that, but Nesta said, โ€œMe neither.โ€

Emerie threw her a wry look. โ€œWhat about that handsome General Cassian?โ€

Nesta blocked out the memory of his head between her thighs, his tongue at her entrance, sliding into her. โ€œNot a chance,โ€ Nesta said, but Emerieโ€™s eyes glimmered with knowing.

โ€œWell, itโ€™s nice to meet another female whoโ€™s not obsessed with marriage and baby-making,โ€ Emerie said, sitting at the table and gesturing for Nesta to do the same. Sheโ€™d put some roast beef, carrots, and bread onto Nestaโ€™s plate, and slid the bowl of butter to her. โ€œItโ€™s cold, but itโ€™s meant to be eaten that way. I usually stop for lunch only long enough to feed myself.โ€

Nesta dug in and grunted. โ€œItโ€™s delicious.โ€ She took another bite. โ€œDid you make this?โ€

โ€œWho else would? We donโ€™t have any sort of food shops here except the butcher.โ€ Emerie pointed with her fork to the garden beyond the building. โ€œI grow my own vegetables. These carrots came from that garden.โ€

Nesta took a bite. โ€œThey have a lovely flavor.โ€ Butter and thyme and something bright โ€ฆ

โ€œItโ€™s all in the spices. Which are in short supply around here, unfortunately. Illyrians donโ€™t particularly know or care about them.โ€

โ€œMy father used to be a merchant,โ€ Nesta said, a chasm yawning open in her at the words. She cleared her throat. โ€œHe traded spices from all over the world. I can still remember the smell in his officesโ€”it was like a thousand different personalities all crammed into one space.โ€

Feyre had loved to hang about their fatherโ€™s office, more fascinated in the trade than what Nesta had been taught was acceptable for a wealthy girl. Feyre had always been that way: completely uninterested in the rules that governed their lives, uninterested in becoming a true lady who would help advance their familyโ€™s fortunes through an advantageous marriage.

They had rarely agreed on anything. And those visits to their fatherโ€™s offices had resulted in a simmering resentment between them. Feyre had tried to get her interested, had shown her so many rarities to tempt her. But Nesta had barely listened to her sisterโ€™s explanations, mostly eyeing up their fatherโ€™s business partners for whether their sons might be a good match. Feyre had been disgusted. It had made Nesta even more determined.

โ€œDid you travel with him?โ€

โ€œNo, my two sisters and I remained home. It wasnโ€™t appropriate for us to travel the world.โ€

โ€œI always forget how similar human ideas of propriety are to the Illyriansโ€™.โ€ Emerie took another bite. โ€œWould you have wanted to see the world, if you could?โ€

โ€œIt was half a world, wasnโ€™t it? With the wall in place.โ€ โ€œStill better than nothing.โ€

Nesta chuckled. โ€œYouโ€™re right.โ€ She considered Emerieโ€™s question. If her father had offered to bring them on one of his ships, to let them see strange and distant shores, would they have gone? Elain had always wanted to visit the continent to study the tulips and other famed flowers, but her imagination had stretched no further. Feyre had talked once about the glorious art in the continentโ€™s museums and private estates. But that was all the western edge of it. Beyond that, the continent was vast. And to the south, another continent sprawled. Would she have gone?

โ€œI would have put up a fight,โ€ Nesta said at last, โ€œbut in the end, Iโ€™d have yielded to curiosity.โ€

โ€œDo you still have any family in the human lands?โ€

โ€œMy mother died when I was twelve, and my father โ€ฆ He did not survive the most recent war. Their parents died during my childhood. I have no kin on my fatherโ€™s side, and my mother had one cousin, who lives on the continent and conveniently forgot about us when we fell on hard times.โ€

Nesta had written letter after letter when theyโ€™d fallen into poverty, begging her cousin Urstin to take them in. Theyโ€™d gone unanswered, and then the money for postage had run out. Nesta still wondered if their cousin had ever learned what had become of the relatives sheโ€™d ignored and left to die.

Nesta asked carefully, โ€œWhat about your family?โ€ Sheโ€™d seen and heard enough from Bellius to have a general idea, but she couldnโ€™t help asking.

โ€œMother died giving birth to me, and my elder brother died in a skirmish between war-bands ten years before I was born. My father died during the war with Hybern.โ€ The words were stiff, cold. โ€œI do not bother with the rest of my kin, though my fatherโ€™s family makes it a point to try to claim this store and his wealth as their own.โ€

โ€œTheyโ€™re not entitled to it, are they?โ€

โ€œNo. Rhysand changed the inheritance laws centuries ago to include females, but my uncles donโ€™t seem to care. They still show up every now and then to bother me like Bellius did. They believe a woman should not run her own business, that I should wed a male in this village and leave the store to them.โ€ She grimaced. โ€œTheyโ€™re vultures.โ€

Emerie had finished her lunch and poured some tea for each of them. โ€œItโ€™s a shame that you wonโ€™t be coming up here very often. I could use another sensible person to talk to.โ€

Nesta blinked at the compliment, the bit of truth it revealed about Emerie: she was unhappy in this place. All those questions about traveling

โ€ฆ โ€œWould you ever move away?โ€

Emerie choked on a laugh. โ€œAnd go where? At least here I know people. Iโ€™ve never left this village. Never even been up to that mountaintop over there.โ€ She gestured to the window, and Nesta made it a point not to look at her wings.

Nesta sipped from her tea. It was a strong brew, with a bit of a bite. She must have made a face because Emerie explained quietly, โ€œTea is in short supply hereโ€”a luxury that I indulge. But to spread it out, I add a little willow bark to it. It also helps with some of my โ€ฆ pains.โ€

โ€œWhat pains?โ€

โ€œMy wings sometimes hurt. The scars, I mean. Like an old wound.โ€

Nesta kept her pity tamped down. She finished her tea right as Emerie did, and said, โ€œThank you for the food.โ€ Rising, she picked up her plate.

โ€œIโ€™ll get it.โ€ Emerie hustled around the table. โ€œDonโ€™t trouble yourself.โ€ She moved with an easy grace, like someone confident in her body.

Nesta drifted to the front of the shop, but then said, at last voicing her reason for visiting, โ€œThe training Iโ€™m doing with Cassian in the House of Wind is open to anyoneโ€”any female, I mean. Females who have experienced โ€ฆ hardship.โ€ Emerieโ€™s wings, her horrible family, were not the same as what Gwyn had endured, but everyoneโ€™s traumas wore different masks. โ€œWe train each morning, from nine to eleven, though we sometimes run until noon. Youโ€™re welcome to come.โ€

Emerie stiffened. โ€œI have no way of getting there, but I appreciate the offer.โ€

โ€œSomeone could come retrieve you, and bring you back.โ€ Nesta didnโ€™t know who, but if she had to ask Rhys himself, she would.

โ€œItโ€™s a generous offer, but I have my shop to run.โ€ Emerieโ€™s face yielded nothing, as battle-hardened as Azrielโ€™s. โ€œIโ€™m not interested in a warriorโ€™s training. I doubt it would win me patrons in this town to have them know Iโ€™m doing such a thing.โ€

โ€œYou donโ€™t seem like a coward.โ€ The words rang between them.

Emerie bit her lip. But Nesta shrugged. โ€œSend word if you wish to join us. The offer stands.โ€

 

 

Cassian hated to admit it, but for a spoiled, soulless asshole, Eris had his uses. Mostly one: the bubble of heat that warmed them against the chill winds wending through the pines of the Illyrian Steppes. Some fire magic to warm their bones.

โ€œThe Dread Trove,โ€ Eris mused, surveying the heavy gray sky that threatened snow. โ€œIโ€™ve never heard of such items. Though it does not surprise me.โ€

โ€œDoes your father know of them?โ€ The Steppes werenโ€™t neutral ground, but they were empty enough that Eris had finally deigned to accept Cassianโ€™s request to meet here. After taking days to reply to his message.

โ€œNo, thank the Mother,โ€ Eris said, crossing his arms. โ€œHe would have told me if he did. But if the Trove has a sentience like you suggested, if itย wantsย to be found โ€ฆ I fear that it might also be reaching out to others as well. Not just Briallyn and Koschei.โ€

Beron in possession of the Trove would be a disaster. Heโ€™d join the ranks of the King of Hybern. Could become something terrible and deathless like Lanthys. โ€œSo Briallyn failed to inform Beron about her quest for the Trove when he visited her?โ€

โ€œApparently, she doesnโ€™t trust him, either,โ€ Eris said, face full of contemplation. โ€œIโ€™ll need to think on that.โ€

โ€œDonโ€™t tell him about it,โ€ Cassian warned.

Eris shook his head. โ€œYou misunderstand me. Iโ€™m not going to tell him a damned thing. But the fact that Briallyn is actively hiding her larger plans from him โ€ฆโ€ He nodded, more to himself. โ€œIs this why Morrigan is back in Vallahan? To learn if they know about the Trove?โ€

โ€œMaybe,โ€ Cassian lied. She was still trying to convince them to sign the new treaty. But Eris didnโ€™t need to know that.

โ€œHere I was,โ€ Eris said, โ€œthinking Morrigan was going there so often to hide from me.โ€

โ€œDonโ€™t flatter yourself. Itโ€™s only coincidence.โ€ He wasnโ€™t sure if the lie held.

โ€œWhy shouldnโ€™t I flatter myself with such thoughts? You flatter yourself, thinking youโ€™re more than a mongrel bastard.โ€

Cassianโ€™s Siphons glinted atop his hands, and Eris smirked at the evidence that heโ€™d landed the blow. But Cassian forced himself to say calmly, โ€œThatโ€™s all the information I have.โ€

โ€œYouโ€™ve given me a great deal to consider.โ€

โ€œMake sure you keep itย quiet,โ€ Cassian warned again. Eris winked before winnowing away.

Alone in the howling wild, Cassian blew out a breath. Embraced the chill winds, the pine-fresh scent, and willed it to wash away his irritation and discomfort.

But it lingered. For some reason, it lingered.

You'll Also Like