Cassian watched Rhysand carefully stir his tea.
Heโd seen Rhys slice up their enemies with the same cold precision that he was now using with that spoon.
They sat in the High Lordโs study, illuminated by the light of green glass lamps and a heavy iron chandelier. The two-level atrium occupied the northern end of the business wing, as Feyre called it.
There was the main floor of the studyโbedecked in the hand-knotted blue carpets that Feyre had gone to Cesere to select from its artisansโwith its two sitting areas, Rhysโs desk, and twin long tables near the bookshelves. At the far end of the room, a little dais led into a broad raised alcove flanked by more booksโand in its center, a massive, working model of their world, the stars and planets around it, and some other fancy things that had been explained to Cassian once before he deemed them boring and proceeded to ignore them completely.
Az, of course, had been fascinated. Rhys had built the model himself centuries ago. It could not only track the sun, but also tell time, and it somehow allowed Rhys to ponder the existence of life beyond their own world and other things Cassian had, again, instantly forgotten.
On the mezzanine, accessible by an ornate wrought-iron spiral staircase just to the left when one walked in, were more booksโthousands in this space aloneโa few glass cabinets full of delicate objects that Cassian
stayed away from (for fear of breaking them with his โbear paws,โ as Mor described his hands), and several of Feyreโs paintings.
There were plenty of those on the bottom level, too, some in shadow and meant to stay that way, some revealed by the streaming light reflecting off the river at the foot of the sloping lawn. Cassianโs High Lady had a way of capturing the world that always made him pause. Her paintings sometimes unsettled him. The truths she portrayed werenโt always pleasant ones.
Heโd gone to her studio a few times to watch her paint. Surprisingly, she had let him.
The first time heโd visited, heโd found Feyre tense at her easel. She was painting what he realized was an emaciated rib cage, so thin he could count most of the bones.
When he spotted a familiar birthmark on the too-thin left arm beside it, he eyed the same mark amid the tattoo on her own extended arm, brush in hand. He merely nodded to her, an acknowledgment that he understood.
He had never been as thin as Feyre during his own years of poverty, but he understood the hunger in each brushstroke. The desperation. The hollow, empty feeling thatย feltย like those grays and blues and pale, sickly white. The despair of the black pit behind that torso and arm. Death, hovering close like a crow awaiting carrion.
Heโd thought about that painting a great deal in the days afterwardโ how it had made him feel, how close theyโd all come to losing their High Lady before theyโd ever met her.
Rhys finished stirring his tea and set down his spoon with terrible gentleness.
Cassian raised his eyes to the portrait behind his High Lordโs mammoth desk. The golden faelight orbs in the room were positioned to make it seem alive, glowing.
Feyreโs faceโa self-portraitโseemed to laugh at him. At the mate whose back was to her. So she could watch over him, Rhys said.
Cassian prayed that the gods were watching overย himย as Rhys sipped from his tea and said, โYouโre ready?โ
He leaned back in his seat. โIโve gotten young warriors in line before.โ
Rhysโs violet eyes glowed. โNestaโs not some young buck pushing the boundaries.โ
โI can handle her.โ
Rhys stared at his tea.
Cassian recognized that face. That serious, unnervingly calm face.
โYou did good work getting the Illyrians back in order this spring, you know.โ
He braced himself. Heโd been anticipating this talk since heโd spent four months with the Illyrians, soothing the jagged edges amongst the war-bands, making sure the families whoโd lost fathers and sons and brothers and husbands were taken care of, that they knew he was there to help and to listen, and generally making it very fucking clear that if they rose up against Rhys, there would be hell to pay.
The Blood Rite last spring had taken care of the worst of them, including the troublemaker Kallon, whose arrogance hadnโt been enough to compensate for his shoddy training when heโd been slain just miles from the slopes of Ramiel. That Cassian had heaved a sigh of relief at the news of the young maleโs demise had lingered with him, but the Illyrians had stopped their grumbling soon after. And Cassian had spent the time since then rebuilding their ranks, overseeing the training of promising new warriors and making sure the seasoned ones were still in good enough shape to fight again. Replenishing their depleted numbers had at least given the Illyrians something to focus onโand Cassian knew there was little he could add anymore beyond the occasional inspection and council meeting.
So the Illyrians were at peaceโor as peaceful as a warrior society could be, with their constant training. Which was what Rhys wanted. Not just because a rebellion would be a disaster, but because of this. What he knew Rhys was about to say.
โI think itโs time for you to take on bigger responsibilities.โ Cassian grimaced. There it was.
Rhys chuckled. โYou canโt honestly mean to tell me you didnโt know the Illyrian situation was a test?โ
โIโd hoped not,โ he grumbled, tucking in his wings.
Rhys smirked, though he quickly sobered. โNesta is not a test, though.
Sheโs โฆ different.โ
โI know.โ Even before sheโd been Made, heโd seen it. And after that terrible day in Hybern โฆ Heโd never forgotten the Bone Carverโs whispered words in the Prison.
What if I tell you what the rock and darkness and sea beyond whispered to me, Lord of Bloodshed? How they shuddered in fear, on that island across the sea. How they trembled whenย sheย emerged. She took somethingโ something precious. She ripped it out with her teeth.
What did you wake that day in Hybern, Prince of Bastards?
That final question had chased him from slumber more nights than he cared to admit.
Cassian made himself say, โWe havenโt seen a hint of her power since the war. For all we know, it vanished with the Cauldronโs breaking.โ
โOr maybe itโs dormant, as the Cauldron is now asleep and safely hidden in Cretea with Drakon and Miryam. Her power could rise at any moment.โ
A chill skittered down Cassianโs spine. He trusted the Seraphim prince and the half-human woman to keep the Cauldron concealed, but there would be nothing they or anyone could do to control its power if awoken.
Rhys said, โBe on your guard.โ
โYou sound like youโre afraid of her.โ โI am.โ
Cassian blinked.
Rhys lifted a brow. โWhy do you think I sent you to get her this morning?โ
Cassian shook his head, unable to help his laugh. Rhys smiled, lacing his fingers behind his head and leaning back in his seat.
โYou need to get out in the practice ring more, brother,โ Cassian told him, surveying his friendโs powerful body. โDonโt want that mate of yours to find any soft bits.โ
โShe never finds any soft bits when Iโm around her,โ Rhys said, and Cassian laughed again.
โIs Feyre going to kick your ass for what you said earlier?โ
โI already told the servants to clear out for the rest of the day as soon as you take Nesta up to the House.โ
โI think the servants hear you fighting plenty.โ Indeed, Feyre had no hesitation when it came to telling Rhys that heโd stepped out of line.
Rhys threw him a wicked smile. โItโs not the fighting I donโt want them hearing.โ
Cassian grinned right back, even as something like jealousy tugged on his gut. He didnโt begrudge them their happinessโnot at all. There were plenty of times when heโd see the joy on Rhysโs face and have to walk away to keep from weeping, because his brother had waited for that love, earned it. Rhys had gone to the mat again and again to fight for that future with Feyre. Forย this.
But sometimes, Cassian saw that mating ring, and the portrait behind the desk, and this house, and just โฆ wanted.
The clock chimed ten thirty, and Cassian rose. โEnjoy your not-fighting.โ
โCassian.โ
The tone stopped him.
Rhysโs face was carefully calm. โYou didnโt ask what bigger responsibilities I have in mind for you.โ
โI assumed Nesta was big enough,โ he hedged.
Rhys gave him a knowing look. โYou could be more.โ โIโm your general. Isnโt that enough?โ
โIs it enough for you?โ
Yes, he almost said. But found himself hesitating.
โOh, youโre certainly hesitating,โ Rhys said. Cassian tried to snap up his mental shields, but found they were intact. Rhys was smiling like a cat. โYou still reveal everything on that face of yours, brother,โ Rhys crooned. But his amusement swiftly faded. โAz and I have good reason to believe that the human queens are scheming again. I need you to look into it. Deal with it.โ
โWhat, weโre doing some role reversal? Az gets to lead the Illyrians now?โ
โDonโt play stupid,โ Rhys said coolly.
Cassian rolled his eyes. But they both knew Azriel would sooner disband and destroy Illyria than help it. Convincing their brother that the Illyrians were a people worth saving was still a battle amongst the three of them.
Rhys went on, โAzriel is juggling more than heโll admit right now. Iโm not dumping another responsibility on him. This task of yours will help him.โ Rhys flashed a challenging smile. โAnd let us all see what youโre really made of.โ
โYou want me to play spy?โ
โThere are other ways to glean information, Cass, besides peeking through keyholes. Az isnโt a courtier. He works from the shadows. But I need someoneโI need youโstanding in the open. Mor can fill you in on the details. Sheโll be back from Vallahan at some point today.โ
โIโm no courtier, either. You know that.โ The thought made his stomach churn.
โScared?โ
Cassian let the Siphons atop the backs of his hands shimmer with inner fire. โSo Iโm to deal with these queens as well as train Nesta?โ
Rhys leaned back, his silence confirmation.
Cassian strode toward the shut double doors, reining in a string of curses. โWeโre in for a long few months, then.โ
He was almost to the door when Rhys said quietly, โYou certainly are.โ
โDid you keep those fighting leathers from the war?โ Cassian said to Nesta by way of greeting as he stalked into the entry hall. โYouโll need them tomorrow.โ
โI made sure Elain packed them for her,โ Feyre replied from her perch on the stairs, not looking at her stiff-backed sister standing at their base. He wondered if his High Lady had noticed the disappearing servants yet.
The secret smile in Feyreโs eyes told him she knew plenty about it. And what was coming for her in a few minutes.
Thank the gods he was getting out of here. Heโd probably have to fly to the sea itselfย notย to hear Rhys. Or feel his power when he โฆ Cassian
stopped himself before he could finish the thought. He and his brothers had put a good deal of distance between the stupid youths theyโd beenโfucking any female who showed interest, often in the same room as each otherโand the males they were now. He wanted to keep it that way.
Nesta just crossed her arms.
โAre you winnowing us up to the House?โ he asked Feyre.
As if in answer, Mor said from behind him, โI am.โ She winked at Feyre. โSheโs got a special meeting with Rhysie.โ
Cassian grinned as Mor strode in from the residential wing. โI thought you wouldnโt be back until later today.โ He threw open his arms, folding her against his chest and squeezing tight. Morโs waist-length golden hair smelled of cold seas.
She squeezed him back. โI didnโt feel like waiting until the afternoon.
Vallahan is already knee-deep in snow. I needed some sunshine.โ
Cassian pulled away to scan her beautiful face, as familiar to him as his own. Her brown eyes were shadowed despite her words. โWhatโs wrong?โ
Feyre rose from her seat, noting the strain as well. โNothing,โ Mor said, flipping her hair over a shoulder.
โLiar.โ
โIโll tell you all later,โ Mor conceded, and looked toward Nesta. โYou should wear the leathers tomorrow. When you train up at Windhaven, youโll want them against the cold.โ
Nesta leveled a bored, icy look at Mor. Mor just beamed at her in return.
Feyre took that as a good moment to casually step between them, Rhysโs shield still hard as steel around her. Never mind that theyโd all be real damn close in about a minute. โToday weโll let you get settled at the Houseโyou can unpack your things. Get some rest, if you want.โ
Nesta said nothing.
Cassian dragged a hand through his hair. Cauldron spare them. Rhys expected him to play politics when he couldnโt even navigateย this?
Mor smirked, as if reading the thought on his face. โCongratulations on your promotion.โ She shook her head. โCassian the courtier. I never thought Iโd see the day.โ
Feyre snickered. But Nestaโs eyes slid to him, surprised and wary. He said to her, if only to beat her to it, โStill a bastard-born nobody, donโt worry.โ
Nestaโs lips thinned.
Feyre said carefully to Nesta, โWeโll talk soon.โ Nesta again didnโt reply.
It seemed she had stopped speaking to Feyre at all. But at least she was going willingly.
Semi-willingly.
โShall we?โ Mor said, offering up either elbow.
Nesta gazed at the floor, her face pale and gaunt, eyes blazing.
Feyre met his stare. The look alone conveyed everything she was begging of him.
Nesta stepped past her, grabbed Morโs forearm, and watched a spot on the wall.
Mor cringed at him, but Cassian didnโt dare share the look. Nesta might not be gazing at them, but he knew she saw and heard and assessed everything.
So he merely took Morโs other arm and winked at Feyre before they all vanished into wind and darkness.
Mor winnowed them into the sky right above the House of Wind.
Before the stomach-dropping plunge could register, Nesta was in Cassianโs arms, his wings spread, as he flew toward the stone veranda. It had been a long while since sheโd been held by him, since sheโd seen the city so small below.
He could have flown them both up here, Nesta realized as he alighted and Morrigan vanished from her deadly plummet with a wave. The rules of the House were simple: no one could winnow directly inside thanks to its heavy wards, so it was a choice to either walk up the ten thousand steps, winnow and drop a terrifying distance to the verandaโlikely breaking bonesโor winnow to the edge of the wards with someone who had wings to fly the rest of the way in. But being in Cassianโs arms โฆ Sheโd rather
have risked breaking every bone in her body from the plunge to the veranda. Thankfully, the flight was over in a matter of seconds.
Nesta shoved out of his grip the moment her feet hit the worn stones. Cassian let her, folding his wings and lingering by the rail, all of Velaris glittering below and beyond him.
Sheโd spent weeks here last yearโduring that terrible period after being turned Fae, begging Elain to demonstrate any sign of wanting to live. Sheโd barely slept for fear of Elain walking off this veranda, or leaning too far out of one of the countless windows, or simply throwing herself down those ten thousand stairs.
Her throat closed at the surge of memories and at the sprawling viewโ the glimmering ribbon of the Sidra far below, the red-stoned palace built into the side of the flat-topped mountain itself.
Nesta dug her hands into her pockets, wishing sheโd opted for the warm gloves Feyre had coaxed her to take. Sheโd refused. Or silently refused, since she had not uttered a word to her sister after theyโd left the study.
Partially because she was afraid of what would come out. For a long moment, Nesta and Cassian watched each other.
The wind ripped at his shoulder-length dark hair, but he might have been standing in a summer field for all the reaction he yielded to the coldโ so much sharper up here, high above the city. It was all she could do to keep her teeth from clattering their way out of her skull.
Cassian finally said, โYouโll be staying in your old room.โ
As if she had any sort of claim on this place. On anywhere at all. He went on, โMy roomโs a level above that.โ
โWhy would I need to know that?โ The words snapped out of her.
He began walking toward the glass doors that led into the mountainโs interior. โIn case you have a bad dream and need someone to read you a story,โ he drawled, a half smile dancing on his face. โMaybe one of those smutty books you like so much.โ
Her nostrils flared. But she walked through the door he held open for her, nearly sighing at the cozy warmth filling the red stone halls. Her new residence. Sleeping site.
It wasnโt a home, this place. Just as her apartment hadnโt been a home.
Neither had her fatherโs fancy new house, before Hybern had half-destroyed it. And neither had the cottage, or the glorious manor before that.ย Homeย was a foreign word.
But she knew this level of the House of Wind well: the dining room to the left, and the stairway to her right that would take her down two levels to her floor, and the kitchens a level below that. The library far, far beneath it.
She wouldnโt have cared where she stayed, except for the convenience of the small, private library also on her level. Which had been the place where sheโd discovered those smutty books, as Cassian called them. Sheโd devoured a few dozen of them during those weeks sheโd first been here, desperate for any lifeline to keep her from falling apart, from bellowing at what had been done to her body, her lifeโto Elain. Elain, who would not eat, or speak, or do anything at all.
Elain, who had somehow become theย adjustedย one.
In the months leading to and during the war, Nesta had managed. Had stepped into this world, with these people, and started to see itโa future.
Until sheโd been hunted by the King of Hybern and the Cauldron. Until sheโd realized that everyone she cared for would be used to hurt her, break her, trap her. Until that last battle when she couldnโt stop one thousand Illyrians from dying, and had instead been able to save only one.
Him. She would do it again, if forced to. And knowing that โฆ She couldnโt bear that truth, either.
Cassian aimed for the downward stairs, his every movement brimming with unfaltering arrogance.
โI donโt need an escort to my room.โ No matter that his rooms were that way, too. โI know how to get there.โ
He threw a smirk over a muscled shoulder and strode down the stairs anyway. โI just want to make sure you arrive in one piece before I settle in.โ He nodded to the landing they passed, the open archway that led into the hall with his bedroom. She knew it only because sheโd had little more to do during those initial weeks as High Fae than wander this palace like a ghost.
Cassian added, โAz is in the room two doors down from mine.โ They reached the level of her bedroom and he swaggered along the hall. โYou probably wonโt see him, though.โ
โHeโs here to spy on me?โ Her words bounced off the red stone.
Cassian said tightly, โHe says heโd rather stay up here than at the river house.โ
That made two of them. โWhy?โ
โI donโt know. Heโs Az. He likes his space.โ He shrugged, the faelight filtering through the golden sconces gilding the taloned apex of his wings. โHeโll keep to himself, so most of the time itโll be only you and me.โ
She didnโt dare reply. Not to all that statement implied. Aloneโwith Cassian. Here.
Cassian stopped in front of a familiar, arched wood door. He leaned against the jamb, hazel eyes monitoring her every step.
She knew the House belonged to Rhys. Knew Cassianโs entire existence was paid for by Rhys, just as the High Lord bankrolled all of his Inner Circle. Knew that the fastest and deepest way to annoy Cassian, hurt him right now would be to strike for that, to make him doubt the work he did and whether he deserved to be here. The instinct crept up, a rising wave, each word selected to slice and wound. Sheโd always had the gift, if it could be called that. Yet it wasnโt a curse, not entirely. It had served her well.
He scanned her face as she stopped in front of the bedroom door. โLetโs hear it, Nes.โ
โDonโt call me that.โ She dangled the words like bait. Let him think her vulnerable.
But he pushed off the door, wings tucking in. โYou need a hot meal.โ โI donโt want one.โ
โWhy?โ
โBecause Iโm not hungry.โ
It was true. Her appetite had been the first thing to go after that battle. Only instinct and the occasional social requirement to appear like she gave a shit about anything kept her eating.
โYou wonโt last through an hour of training tomorrow without food in your belly.โ
โIโm not training at that horrible place.โ Sheโd hated Windhaven from the first time sheโd seen it, cold and bleak and full of humorless, harsh-faced people.
The Siphon strapped atop Cassianโs left hand gleamed, a red band of light twining from the stone to wrap around the door handle. It yanked the iron downward, the door swinging open with a creak, then vanished like smoke. โYou were given an order, as well as the alternative to following it. You want to go back to the human lands, be my guest.โ
Then go somewhere else.
Heโd likely have that preening Morrigan dump her over the border like so much baggage.
And Nesta would have called the bluff, except โฆ she knew what sheโd face down south. The war had done little to warm human sentiments toward the Fae.
She had nowhere to go. Elain, mourn as she might for the life she would have had with Graysen, had found a place, a role here. Tending to the gardens of Feyreโs veritable palace on the river, helping other residents of Velaris restore their own destroyed gardensโshe had purpose, and joy, andย friends: those two half-wraiths who worked in Rhysandโs household. But those things had always come easily to her sister. Had always made Elain special.
Had made Nesta fight like hell to keep Elain safe at all costs.
The Cauldron had learned that. The King of Hybern had learned it, too.
An old, heavy weight tugged her down, oblivion beckoning. โIโm tired.โ Her words came out mercifully flat.
โTake the day to rest, then,โ Cassian said, his voice a shade quiet. โMor or Rhys will winnow us up to Windhaven after breakfast tomorrow.โ
She said nothing. He went on, โWeโll start easy: two hours of training, then lunch, then youโll be brought back here to meet with Clotho.โ
She didnโt have the energy to ask further about the training, or the work in the library with its high priestess. She didnโt really care. Let Rhysand and Feyre and Amren and Cassian make her do this bullshit. Let them think it could somehow make a lick of difference.
Nesta didnโt bother to reply before she strode through the archway and into her bedroom. But she felt his stare on her, assessing every step over the threshold, the way her hand gripped the side of the door, the way she flexed her fingers before she slammed it shut.
Nesta waited mere feet inside the bedroom, blinking at the glaring light through the wall of windows at its other end. A scuff of boots on stone informed her that heโd left.
It wasnโt until the sound faded completely that she took in the room before her, unchanged since sheโd last been in it, the connecting door to Elainโs old suite now sealed shut.
The wide space easily accommodated a mammoth four-poster bed against the wall to her left, as well as a small sitting area to her right, complete with a sofa and two chairs. A carved marble fireplace occupied the wall before the sitting area, mercifully dark, and multiple rugs lay scattered throughout, offering reprieve from the chilly stone floors.
But that wasnโt what sheโd liked about this room. No, it was what she now faced: the wall of windows that overlooked the city, the river, the flatlands and distant sparkle of sea beyond. All that land, all those people, so far away. As if this palace floated in the clouds. There had been some days up here when the mist had been thick enough to block the view below, swirling so close to the window that sheโd been able to trail her fingers through it.
No tendrils of mist drifted by now, though. The windows revealed nothing but a clear early-autumn day, the sunlight near-blinding.
Seconds ticked by. Minutes.
A familiar roaring built in her ears. That heavy hollowness tugged her down, as surely as some faerie creature wrapping its bony hands around her ankle and yanking her beneath a dark surface. As surely as she had been shoved under that eternal, icy water in the Cauldron.
Nestaโs body became distant, foreign, as she shut the heavy gray velvet curtains against the light. Shrouding the room in darkness bit by bit. She ignored the three bags and two trunks set beside the dresser as she approached the bed.
She barely managed to toe off her shoes before she slid beneath the layers of white down blankets and quilts, closed her eyes, and breathed.
And breathed. And breathed.