Synopsis: Following ACOSF until Nesta’s confrontation with Amren. Rather than going to hike and soul search with Cassian in the wild, Nesta uses her powers to disappear.
A woman stood a couple yards away. No, not a woman, a High Fae. The female had dark skin and her tightly braided hair was pulled back, revealing her pointed ears. Despite her ears marking her as High Fae, Nesta couldn’t help comparing her to the Illyarians. She wore fighting leathers somewhat similar to theirs, and they were form fitting around the muscles of her torso and arms. A bow and quiver were slung over her back, with a sword sheathed at her side.
Nesta froze as she silently cursed herself for not having any weapons of her own. She had no idea how she had used her magic before and had very little faith in it if the female decided to attack. She however, had her arms crossed and one eyebrow raised at Nesta as she slowly looked her over.
“Do you speak? I asked who you are and what you are doing here.”
The arrogance in the female’s voice made Nesta grind her teeth but also stand straight and lift her chin.
“You didn’t actually.”
“Excuse me?”
“You didn’t ask what I was doing here before. You only asked who I was.”
The female tilted her head and narrowed her eyes at Nesta. “You know I don’t think you are in a position to have so much attitude.”
Despite Nesta’s rapidly beating heart, she forced her face to be impassive as she gave a dry smile. “Funny, I was about to tell you the same thing.”
Nesta wasn’t sure how she expected the female to react, but to burst out laughing wasn’t it. Her laugh was high pitched and infectiously jovial. At least it would have been if it wasn’t at Nesta’s expense. Nesta felt heat rush to her face but retained her still exterior as the female leaned over her knees while attempting to catch her breath.
When she finally calmed down enough to wipe tears from her eyes she took in Nesta again, her face softer than before.
“I don’t know what I was expecting, but you’ve surprised me.”
Nesta had no idea what that meant, but she bit back, “You haven’t surprised me.”
The female snorted. “Nevertheless, if you want to live you should probably come with me.”
Taken aback, it took Nesta a moment to respond, “I don’t need your help nor will I go anywhere with you. Turn around and go back to wherever you came from.”
The female rolled her eyes. “Mother, you are a piece of work, aren’t you? We both know that you didn’t intend to come here or even know where here is. If you want food and shelter and help you will come with me, Nesta.”
Nesta stepped back at her name, trying to call to magic for help but it was silent. “How do you know my name?”
The female’s lips curved it into a tight smile, but she simply shrugged and turned away. “Welcome to the Forest of the Lost,” she said over her shoulder before heading to disappear between the trees.
Part of Nesta told her to let the female go, but another part screamed at her to get answers.
“Wait!” The female stopped. “Tell me your name if you want me to follow.”
The female turned back slowly, a mischievous look in her eyes.
“I’m Thalia. Now keep up.”
•••••
Cassian - After Appear
The Obsidian Isles were named so for the smooth rocks that made up the beaches instead of sand. Flying towards them from above, they looked like dark slashes dividing the rough sea and dense evergreen forests of the Isles.
Cassian glanced at Feyre flying to his right, trying to be calm as he flew towards his heaven and his hell. It had been decided that only Cassian, Feyre, Rhys, and Azriel would go to meet Nesta. Elain had made her feelings clear, and no one explicitly had said it, but it was understood that it is probably better to keep Mor and Amren far away from Nesta.
They had sent Azriel to scout ahead as usual, but the Northern Island and the rest of the Isles were all free of Fae. Azriel could find no evidence that anyone had even visited recently, or where exactly they were expected to meet Nesta.
So now they flew towards the dark beaches, all four of them on high alert.
They landed in the center and examined the tree line. “Anything?” Rhys asked Azriel.
Az shook his head. “Place seems as abandoned and cursed as usual.”
Besides from their location in the cold and gray north, the soil of the Isles were fertile, and the surrounding waters prime fishing. Despite that, no Fae settlement had ever lasted. Stories of tragedies befalling any settlement were plentiful, from lighting burning down a half built cabin to an entire colony disappearing. This fact had been pointed out repeatedly by Mor as she argued with him and Feyre to not be stupid by coming here.
Cassian wasn’t worried, as there had never been any tragedy for someone visiting the islands. Even if there was a curse, Cassian would settle down to stay here if Nesta asked him too.
Stupid. Cassian’s logical voice chided him. He couldn’t let his emotions influence him right now. He was still angry with his family for their mistrust of Nesta, but he also needed to think as the General he was. Nesta had managed to get into Velaris without anyone knowing, at least twice. How many times had she gone there besides the two times they knew about? Cassian didn’t want to consider she had been so close without him knowing while he worried about her, but he knew now not to make assumptions.
“Should we go into the trees and look for her?” Feyre asked as the beach remained empty.
“No,” Rhys replied. “We shouldn’t risk an ambush hidden among the trees.”
Feyre shot her Mate a dark look. “Nesta is not going to ambush us.”
Rhys and Feyre fell silent, speaking mind to mind. Knowing better than to get involved, Cassian turned to the trees again.
Cold winds swept off the sea, making Cassian shiver. As he looked at the trees, his gaze snagged on a boulder about 60 yards away, just slightly beyond the tree line. There was nothing special about it, besides it’s massive size probably being a foot higher than Cassian’s height, and just as wide. But as he stared at it, Cassian suddenly felt a tug in his gut.
“There.” He said, before moving toward it without waiting for a response.
Cassian walked around it, examining the smooth surface for any signs. He met Azriel at the back, as he had gone around the other side.
“Do you see something in this bolder we don’t, Cass?” Feyre asked as she and Rhy joined them.
“I…” Cassian frowned. “No, I thought something was telling me this was it.”
“This was what?” Rhys asked.
“A giant boulder of obsidian, of course.”
The voice that spoke those words did not belong to any of them.
In an instant Rhys had thrown Feyre behind him, his dark power surrounding them. Cassian and Azriel both drew their swords and siphoned up shields around them, jumping back.
However, they all froze upon seeing the figure now perched atop the rock.
Emerie sat there cross legged, an amused look on her face as she looked down on them.
“It really is just a rock,” Emerie said as she hopped down to stand in front of them.
Emerie turned to Rhys and Feyre to bow. “Good to see you again my Lord and Lady.” She straightened to look at Cassian and Azriel, smiling. “You two as well.”
Cassian thought back to the last time he had seen Emerie. After Nesta had disappeared, Cassian had stopped training the priestesses and Emerie. Had stopped doing a lot of things. His last conversation with Emerie had been a couple days after Nesta had gone, when it had become clear to him that neither Emerie or Gwyn had any idea how or where Nesta went.
Azriel had tried to continue to train them all for a while, but between looking for Nesta, Feyre’s pregnancy, the threat of the human queens, Koschei, and the talks with Vallahan, Cassian later learned training had been put on hold. That was another thing for Cassian to feel guilty about after they were also gone.
“Emerie,” Rhys said, looking her up and down. She wore leathers like the ones Feyre had described Nesta wearing, her wavy hair braided with feathers down her back. And the missing sword was hanging from her belt. “What are you doing here?”
She opened her mouth to respond, but before she could Cassian felt the world shift. Every molecule of his being was suddenly pulled to the right as time seemed to slow down and he turned.
“She is helping me show you all what I told Feyre was the truth.”
Nesta said this from 10 feet away, standing between two trees where she had certainly not been a moment before. She looked as Feyre had described. Wearing well worn fighting leathers, molded to show off the sleek muscles of her arms, stomach, and thighs. Her golden streaked hair shone in the sunlight, with a silver feather braided into it. Her smooth skin now had a warm tan, making her glow. Cassian had never been able to take his eyes off her, but now there was no denying how devastatingly beautiful she was.
She stood straight, her arms crossed with the Great Sword at her belt. Her stormy grey eyes were bright like a thunderstorm as dusk as she surveyed them all. Except for Cassian. She seemed to be dutifully ignoring his stare.
“The reason I asked you all here is because this is the meeting point of those within the Night Court who are working with the Rising to steal the Night Court’s power.”
“Hello Nesta,” Rhys said, his voice cold. “It’s been a while.”
Nesta took in Rhys with an equal level of disdain as he gave her. After a moment she simply said “Yes,” before turning to Azriel and continuing.
“The fact that your shadows have not picked up this group’s activities tells me that they are probably already well established in Prythian.”
“Nesta,” Feyre said, stepping forward. “If you want us to believe you, why not start with how you left eight years ago and what you have been doing since them.”
Nesta sighed. “I ended up on the continent and met some people who… helped me. They also were interested in helping the priestess. Something I understand you lost interest in once I was gone.” Nesta still didn’t look at Cassian but he felt as if she punched him in the gut. “The group consists primarily of lesser Fae who want to upset the hierarchy of power between them and High Fae. Actually they really just want to flip it, and subject the High Fae to the same treatment they revived. They call themselves The Rising,” Nesta rolled her eyes. “So to answer your inevitable question as to how we know this, the former priestesses have been tracking this group’s movement on the continent. We intercepted one of their correspondences to a contact here.”
“How do you know they have a source within the Illyrians?” Azreil asked, the only one of them not completely taken aback by Nesta’s explanation.
Nesta nodded to Emerie, who removed a parchment from her pocket. “This is the last message we intercepted,” She explained as she handed it over to Azreil.
Az brow furrowed slightly as he read the paper before handing it to Rhys.
“What is it?” Cassian asked as Rhys got the same look.
“The top part is Illyrian but the bottom part is in a language I don’t recognize,” Rhys explained as Cassian took a look for himself.
The part in Illyrian read: PEAK SUNRISE DROUGHT CEILING
“What is that supposed to mean?” Feyre asked after they translated the Illyrian for her.
“We aren’t sure either,” Nesta said. “We think it refers to another meeting place. And we were hoping one of you knew what the other language was.”
“Amren might know,” Azreil said.
Nesta stiffened at the female’s name. “That would be helpful,” She said.
Cassian blinked in surprise. Nesta wasn’t one to appreciate someone else helping, especially Amren.
“And how exactly does the Rising think they can steal Prythian’s High Lords’ powers?” Rhys asked.
“Like I told Feyre before, by finding the physical manifestation of it in Prythian.” Nesta leveled Rhys a glare. “If you know, you might want to check it, and the Illyarians. And look out for Riding members infiltrating the courts.”
Rhys examined Neata with the High Lord stare that regularly brought Fae to their knees. “And what will you be doing, Nesta?”
Nesta held her chin high, weathering the power rolling of Rhys. “My friends and I will be handling them on the Continent.”
Cassian couldn’t take it anymore. “Oh, that’s all?” He growled.
Nesta finally looked to Cassian, her face impassive. That look made his blood boil, in conjunction with how it felt like she was ripping out his heart.
“We have been trying to stop this group from spreading on the Continent for years now. I have no interest in seeing Prythian become subject to their misguided revolution.”
“You sure you and your friends can handle it?” Cassian spit out. “Sounds like you have been failing for years.”
Out of the corner of his eye Cassian sensed Emerie step back. Silver flames danced in Nesta’s eyes.
“We’ve done a lot in the past eight years.” She said in a deadly quiet. “I’ve done a lot of things. I’m doing this to save the lives of innocents. I’m not interested in another war or anything else.”
Cassian fell silent.
In all the times he had imagined seeing her again, it wasn’t like this. He knew she was the queen of pushing people away, but even at her worst he knew what to expect from her. He could take her yelling and cursing at him. He hadn’t really believed Feyre before about Nesta looking good. Hadn’t truly believed she could be happy without him when not a day had gone by where he hadn’t missed her. But Cassian didn’t know how to handle her standing tall, strong, confident, and beautiful, telling him what to do. All without him.
Synopsis: Following ACOSF until Nesta’s confrontation with Amren. Rather than going to hike and soul search with Cassian in the wild, Nesta uses her powers to disappear.
In celebration of being done with my finals I finally finished chapter 2! I found writing the inner circle hard because I wanted to be consistent with the books but also got frustrated at them… Enjoy!
“Don’t finish all the wine before Feyre gets here.” Cassian met Mor’s gaze over the top of his wineglass, her own hovering just about her lips, curved in a teasing smile.
“You’re one to talk,” he shot back.
“It’s not my fault Feyre’s late.”
“You both have a problem.” Cassian looked at Amren, who was practically in Varian’s lap next to Mor on the couch.
“Where is Feyre anyways?” Elain asked from her seat next to Cassian. That was addressed to Rhys, who was walking into the sitting room from checking on Nyx.
Rhys took a seat in one of the two open arm chairs in front of the fire. “She said she lost track of time in the studio. Is on her way back now.”
“What is she doing? Walking?” Mor asked.
“Yes, said she wanted to enjoy the night.” Rhys said this casually, but Cassian knew his brother well. He could tell Rhys was bothered by Feyre’s absence. They hadn’t had a planned dinner tonight, their family convening spontaneously as Cassian and Mor reported in on court business to Rhys and Amren. Azriel had been here after training Nyx earlier. Varian was the only one besides Feyre told to come over.
Dinner had been casual and quick as Nyx had been full of energy before Rhys got him down. Nyx had asked for his mother, and Cassian didn’t think she had ever unexpectedly missed his bedtime, especially just to paint. Rhys seemed to be thinking the same thing. Cassian knew his brother probably wanted to go get Feyre himself, but she had most likely told him no. Rhys understood how important it was to respect Feyre’s independence.
Still, Rhys accepted the glass of whiskey Azriel placed in his hand before returning to his chosen spot leaning against the sideboard.
Rhys was about to take a sip when his head snapped to the doorway.
Feyre stood there.
Cassian could immediately tell something was wrong. She didn’t say anything, barely glanced at any of them as she made her way to take the last open seat in front of the fire. Rhys stood, but Feyre only reached out to take his glass of whiskey before sitting, and downing the glass.
“Feyre, what’s wrong?” Rhys asked this with a deadly calm Cassian knew was to cover his panic and rage at whatever had happened. The fact that he asked it out loud meant she must not be responding through their bound, something not lost on anyone else in the room.
Feyre finished the glass and closed her eyes, letting out a sign.
“What happened girl?” Amren asked somewhat tentatively. Tentatively for Amren, which was even more alarming. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” It was true, Feyre was deathly pale and her hands shook slightly.
Feyre let out a shaky laugh. “I have.”
No one spoke, the crackling fire the only sound.
Feyre’s eyes fluttered open, going straight to Cassian. In that split second before she spoke, Cassian already knew what she was going to say.
“I saw Nesta.”
Time stood still as a million different things flashed through Cassian’s mind. He saw her, Neata, the last day he had seen her eight years ago. Her face flushed with anger, then frozen, her eyes empty. He saw her burn herself up in silver flames, then gone.
He also saw the memories of her he clung too. Training with that determined look in her eyes. The I will slay my enemies look. A ghost of a smile on her lips as she talked with Emerie and Gwyn, or even with him, even when she fought it. He saw her naked, breathing heavily beneath him while looking at him with a feeling in her eyes he had thought he knew but was too scared to voice. A feeling he now understood had just been wishful thinking on his part.
“What do you mean you saw Nesta?” Rhys’ deadly voice brought Cassian back, his eyes still locked with Feyre’s. At the threat of violence in Rhys’ tone however, Cassian found his gaze drifting to Rhys, who still stood next to Feyre, and a rising tide of his own anger with it.
“She showed up at my studio as I was leaving.”
Cassian found his voice to ask, “And where is she now?” Save for Rhys, who was focused on Feyre, Cassian sensed everyone else watching him.
“She left again. She was only there for a few minutes.”
“What did she say?” asked Amren
“She said…” Fryre stumbled over her words as she stared towards the back of the room, as if she could see Nesta standing there now. “She looked great.”
Cassian frowned. He had pictured Nesta as she had been at her lowest. In the old apartment, drunk, and reeking of sex. These past eight years had also been ample time for him to imagine her lost, starving, bleeding out. He had pictured her in the same pain he had been since she had left. He didn’t understand what Feyre meant by ‘great’. “What do you mean?”
“She looked healthy. She had the Great Sword with her.”
“Of course she did,” Mor scoffed. “Did she have the other weapons with her? Did you ask?”
“No, but she told me… some things.”
“What things?” Amren demanded.
“She said we needed to look for dissent among the Illyarians, that some were conspiring with… someone on the continent.”
Cassian exchanged a glance with Azriel. “Feyre, can you start at the beginning, what happened.” Az said this as he switched Feyre’s empty glass for one with wine.
They waited as she took a sip before explaining how Nesta had appeared behind her, and what she had told Feyre about a group on the continent looking for Prynthia’s power.
It was Mor who broke the silence that followed. “Well that sounds like a load of shit if I have ever heard it. Seriously, she expects us to believe that? If there is a threat to Prynthia, it’s her. Did you ask her about the kidnapped priestesses?”
“No, I didn’t think of it. But she wants to meet in two days.”
“Absolutely not,” Rhys finally cut in. “I’m not having my mate go anywhere near her.”
Feyre set down her wine glass to glare at her mate. “She’s my sister, of course I’m going.”
“A sister who lied, left, and stole from you,” Amren scoffed. “Nesta didn’t deserve you before, girl, nor does she now.”
Cassian’s head and heart were pounding. Part of him wanted to rip into Rhys, Amren, and Mor for what they said, but he was feeling too much. He should say something, but they all knew how he felt already anyways. They had seen him in the weeks and months after she disappeared after all.
Azriel, thankfully, spoke up. “We should meet her. If not to hear what she has to say but then at least to check out her magic. My shadows have never been able to track her. She seems to have mastered her powers if she was able to get into the city and sneak up on Feyre.”
“She also could have help,” Varian added. “Getting into the city itself is a feat, but she was able to get those weapons and priestesses out seven years ago, right?”
“I agree Nesta is a problem to be dealt with, but that should be done without meeting in a situation she controls.” Rhys said.
“What do you mean ‘dealt with’?” Cassian asked with a deadly calm.
Rhys turned to Cassian, his face cold.
“I told you before her power is death. I will not tolerate any threat to the Night Court.”
“Nesta’s a threat to the Night Court? Or do you just think she is a threat to you?” Cassian growled. Cassian would never forget Rhy’s threat to kill Nesta after she had told Feyre about the risk of the baby. Despite his later apology, Cassian knew Rhys had meant it at the time.
Rhys’ violet eyes flared and the air became charged with his powers. Cassian’s siphons flared in response.
“Enough!” Feyre jumped up and stepped in between them before they both did something they would regret. In over the 500 years Cassian had known Rhys, the only things that had ever caused them to threaten real violence towards each other were Feyre and Nesta.
Feyre whirled on Rhys. “I am in no mood for your overprotective male bullshit. Nesta is my sister and I am High Lady. I will meet her if I wish.”
Rhys settled back a bit, but his voice was still hard as he replied to his mate, “You are also a mother. What about Nyx.”
“Don’t use our son as a reason I can’t do something. Besides, Nesta is not a threat.”
Once again, a tense silence filled the room. Cassian couldn’t remember the last time he had seen Rhys and Feyre fight like this, if ever. Usually they kept their disagreements silent and between them.
“What do you think Elain?” Azriel asked, breaking the tension even if it required him addressing Elain. They had enough tension between them without getting involved in other’s. Still, Rhys and Feyre both took a step back from each other and turned their attention to Elain next to Cassian.
Elain, who had been sitting so silent throughout the debate that Cassian had forgotten she was there, stood. “I think Nesta has always made the wrong choices. But she wouldn’t have come back or asked to meet without a reason. You should at least go meet her.”
“You?” Feyre asked, frowning. “You don’t want to see her?”
“No, I don’t.” Elain said this with a confidence Cassian rarely heard from her. “Hear her out, but I agree with Mor. She can’t be trusted. I’m going to bed, let me know what you decide in the morning.” With that, Elain left the room.
Cassian attempted to keep his voice neutral as he said, “So we will meet her in two days where she said.”
“It seems so.” was all Rhys said.
Cassian knew he wouldn’t be able to keep it together for much longer so he downed the last of his wine and walked to the doors leading outside. No one tried to stop him.
Out on the patio he breathed in the cool air in an attempt to calm his pounding blood. He flared his wings with the intention of flying to cliffs on the coast to scream out everything he was feeling, when the door opened behind him.
Feyre stood there, her eyes, Nesta’s eyes, sad.
“I’m sorry Cassian.”
“What do you have to be sorry for?”
“I’m sorry for everything,” Feyre ran a hand over her face. “I’m sorry for her leaving, I’m sorry for how she behaved before that, and for how I behaved towards her. I’m sorry she came to me and not you.”
Cassian’s chest tightened. He didn’t want to feel this way, but envy wasn’t rational, and he couldn’t stop the pain at the thought that Nesta went to Feyre but not him.
“She’s your sister, of course she went to you.”
Feyre gave him a sad smile and leaned against the railing, looking up at the stars. “She did ask about you.”
Cassian’s voice was breathy as he said, “Really?”
“Yes.”
They both continued to examine the stars before Cassian asked what had been nagging him the most. “What did you mean by she looked great and healthy?”
“She was tanned and looked to have a good amount of weight from what I could see. I think she was in fighting leather’s, but not Illyarian ones.”
“But she didn’t give any clue as to where she has been the past eight years?”
Feyre shook her head. “Said it was a long story.”
“I’m sure,” Cassian scoffed, the back of his mouth bitter.
“We will find out in two days.”
Cassian nodded, but didn’t say anything more as he spread his wings and launched into the night.
•••••
Nesta - After Disappear
The first thing Nesta became aware of was the sound of wind rustling thousands of tree needles somewhere above her.
Nesta took a deep breath of the earthy, spiced tinged air as her eyes fluttered open. The world was a mix of red and green, but far above where she lay, Nesta could make out bits of blue sky and white clouds through the forest canopy.
Gods, her head pounded. But not like it did after she drank. No, the last time Nesta had felt like this was after the battle with Hyburn. Memories flashed in Nesta’s mind as she recalled what happened. Cassian asking her for sword names, to the rage she had felt at them all, herself, and then the tears she caused Feyre to spill.
And the magic. Nesta had not just let her powers slip, she had used them, allowed them to take her. To here. Wherever this was.
Nesta’s fists closed around handfuls of soft wood and dirt. Slowly, she pushed herself up to take in her surroundings, and her breath caught. She was surrounded by the most enormous trees she had ever seen. Their orange-red trunks were thicker than her family’s old cottage, with the lowest branches several stories above her head.
Nesta had never felt so small. So insignificant.
She had done it. She had left Velaris and her sisters. And Cassian. She had left Gwyn and Emerie with no explanation. Guilt settled in her as Nesta remembered their concern after she had argued with Cassian earlier that day. Oh gods, what day was it?
Nesta pushed to her feet only to almost collapse immediately, her head spinning. She had no way of knowing how long it had been since she had left. Her mouth felt like sandpaper and her stomach ached painfully.
The forest around her was unsettlingly peaceful. Wind high about shifted the needles and branches, but the world at the ground where Nesta stood almost seemed frozen in time. By the sun’s soft light, she figured it was mid morning. She saw no animals, or much vegetation besides small bushes and ferns scattered about the bases of the trees.
It would be a fine place to lay down and die. Of all the places Nesta had ever been, this forest was one the nicer places. Better than her run down apartment, or Feyre’s ornate palace on the river. Definitely better than the townhouse and it’s claustrophobic walls.
Nesta felt a pang in her chest as she thought of the House. It may be ridiculous but the House was her friend, and the first home she had felt comfortable in. Even if it hadn’t been her choice.
Now it was all gone. Everything she knew was gone. He was- no. This had been her choice.
The thought spurred Nesta to move. She picked a random direction and started walking. She needed water. And food. And shelter.
Despite everything her family had been through, Nesta realized, she had never truly been without. Even in the grips of poverty they had a house, no matter how small and rundown. And Feyre had always been responsible for food. A familiar heavy wave came over Nesta. None of that mattered anymore. She wouldn’t be a problem for them anymore.
There was too much to take in as Nesta made her way through the huge forest. She felt like an ant crawling on twigs as she made her way around and over fallen branches. The red trees were soft, with many branches and old trunks shattered across the ground.
It was hard navigating, as the trees made it hard to see more than a few meters.
A small stream came into sight and Nesta had to restrain herself from jumping into it. Swallowing her dry mouth took a lot of effort now. Walking to a mini waterfall where the water ran clear, Nesta collapsed to her knees beside it. She cupped her hands and drank, not caring about the water she dribbled down the front of her training leathers.
The water was rejuvenating. After thoroughly quenching her thirst, Nesta splashed water on her face.
Refreshed, Nesta sat back and closed her eyes, taking a breath. The water helped, but Nesta knew she needed food. And shelter, and a plan. Because she had no idea what she was doing.
Nesta tried to clamp down on her rising panic. She would get her wish and she would die here in this strange forest because she was so unskilled she lacked the basic abilities required to survive and feed herself. For all her training with Cassian, he had never taught her to be self reliant. She hadn’t even trained with a real sword.
Nesta felt a sob build in her throat and tears threaten to spill despite holding her eyes shut. It was only shock that stopped Nesta’s breakdown. Shock when a voice said from behind her:
Synopsis:Following ACOSF until Nesta’s confrontation with Amren. Rather than going to hike and soul search with Cassian in the wild, Nesta uses her powers to disappear.
Hey! So I am going to write this fic. I have never posted anything I have written before so please let me know what you think or if you have any advice. Also let me know if you want to be tagged.
Feyre sent a huff of a laugh back at Rhys. Why? Does somebody miss me?
Two somebodies actually, Rhys replied. Nyx wants to show you how he has improved his flying with Uncle Azriel today.
Feyre smiled at the image of her son jumping off couches to fly around the room played in her mind. She currently sat in her studio, working on a painting of Nyx flying with his father. She planned on saving it for his eighth birthday present in a couple months.
Feyre glanced out the window, where the streets were only illuminated by starlight on the moonless night. She hadn’t realized how late it had become.
I’ll be home soon, I just have to clean up.
Don’t keep me waiting too long, Rhys rumbled back. A shiver went down Feyre’s spine as she cut off the connection with her mate to concentrate on cleaning.
She walked around the room, turning off most of the lights before going to the back to wash her brushes and pallet. As she stood at the sink, she suddenly felt a cold breeze at the back of her neck.
Feyre froze. She raised her head to look at the paint-splattered mirror above the sinks. Through the smudged glass, she could see a dark cloaked figure standing behind her.
Slowly, Feyre turned. “Who are you?” She demanded. “It’s not wise to sneak up on a High Lady.”
The figure stood perfectly still. As they stared at each other the temperature in the room seemed to drop. Finally, the figure tilted their head to the side slightly. “Well? What do you want?”
An indignant huff came from beneath the cloak before reaching up to pull back the hood.
Feyre’s mind went blank as she took in her sister, whom she hadn’t seen or heard from in over 8 years.
“Hello Feyre.” That was all Nesta said.
Feyre stared at her older sister. Not a day had gone by since that terrible day in Amren’s apartment that Feyre hadn’t thought of Nesta. Not a day she hadn’t wondered, worried. They had searched for her. Had even reached out to the other courts when they became desperate for answers. But there had been no trace of her since Cassian had seen her consumed by silver flames.
Now standing before her, the first thing Feyre noticed was how healthy she looked. Nesta had slowly begun to look better after living in the House and training with Cassian for a few weeks. She had been gaining a little weight and some color back then.
But stepping into the light cast from lanterns on the back counter, Nesta seemed to glow with health. Her hair was braided in its classic crown, but her face was full and tanned from being in the sun. Her eyes still held the same stormy intensity they always had, but the haunted look she had had was now replaced with a silver gleam.
Although most of her body was covered in a dark cloak, Feyre could see she was wearing fighting leathers— not Illyarian leathers. And peaking out over her right shoulder was the pommel of a great sword. The Great Sword, the one she had accidentally Made. The sword that, along with the two other Made weapons, had been stolen from where they had been locked in the river house. The same night several priestesses disappeared from the Library as well.
That had been nearly a year after Nesta. They had all suspected Neata, as later it was found that the last time Emerie had been seen in Windhaven was that day. But they had never been sure. All that was left of the priestesses was a note to Clotho not to worry, that they had left by choice.
“Nyx is growing up fast.“
Nesta was still staring back at Feyre, but as she continued to blink at Nesta, Nesta nodded towards the painting on the easel. Her face was impassive as she said “He looks like he is a handful.”
Nesta’s words caused Feyre to snap her mouth shut, which had been hanging open. “What? Nesta… where…how…why…” Silence filled the room as Feyre trailed off. Nesta continued to stand with that preternatural Fae stillness, but she seemed to be considering Feyre now.
“I came here with a warning for you and your court”, Nesta finally said.
Again, Feyre felt her mouth fall open as she stammered “Excuse me?”
Nesta let out a bored sigh as she moved to the cart next to Feyre’s easel and picked up a paintbrush to examine.
“I am sure you have many questions, but I only came here because there are some things you as the High Lady of the Night Court should know. There is a movement growing on the continent threatening Prynthia. I don’t believe the ruling powers of Montesere and Vallahan are involved, especially with the peace treaties you have established with them, but there may be some within those territories that support it. The majority of this group has been operating in the Wild Lands of the Faerie Realms on the continent. What I do know is that those involved with this movement believe there is a way to steal the power of Prynthia’s courts. They say the ruling High Fae power’s here come from a physical source in this land, and if found, they can take it for themselves.” Nesta twirled the paintbrush in her hand as she turned to face Feyre again. “This group has been trying to subtly infiltrate Prynthia’s courts, and we believe they have gained a source within the the Illyarians.” Nesta said all this deadpanned, returning to staring at Feyre with a blank face as she finished speaking.
Feyre’s anger came hot and fast. “Are you kidding me Nesta? What are in the Cauldron are you talking about!”
Nesta simply raised an eyebrow at Feyre’s outburst. “Which part of what I said was unclear? You and your court need to look into dissent among the Illyarians.”
Feyre let out a disbelieving laugh, “It’s been 8 years, Nesta!”
“Yes.”
“Eight years since you disappeared without a trace and now you come back and the first thing you tell me is this? With no explanation as to where you have been? What you have been doing? Seriously? That’s all you have to say after you ran away, never contacted your family, but apparently returned to steal weapons?” Feyre gestured to the sword on Nesta’s back.
Nesta examined the paintbrush in her hand, but said cooly “Since I created the weapons, it wasn’t stealing.” She looked up to Feyre, eyes chips of ice. “The what and where I have been are a long story. I only came to warn you.”
Silence once again filled the dim room.
“Why should I believe you?” Feyre asked, defeated.
It was Nesta’s turn to ask “What?”
“Why should I believe you,” Feyre repeated, “when you have done nothing to show that I can trust you?”
Nesta’s infuriating nonchalantness finally slipped a little, and Feyre felt a flash of anger. However, her voice was calm as she responded. “For all our history Feyre, did I ever lie to you, or do anything to make you think I wished harm on you?”
Feyre opened her mouth to respond “no”, but stopped herself. Looking at the Nesta before her, she didn’t know who this person was.
After a moment she said, “I don’t know.”
It was quick, but Feyre saw something flash in Nesta’s stormy eyes before her face was once again a mask of cool indifference.
“Okay then.” Nesta turned to return the paintbrush she still held to its proper place. “As I am sure the rest of your court will also need convincing, I can show you proof if you can meet me on the Obsidian Isles in the East Sea of the Night Court in two days. Noon, on the Northernmost island.
Feyre was really tired of saying this, but “What?”
Nesta let out an annoyed sigh as she clasped her hands together in front of her and said plainly “Bring your mate and court and meet me in two days to prove to you all I told you was the truth. Is that acceptable to you?”
Feyre nodded.
“Good. See you in two days.” With that, Nesta turned on her heels and stalked to the door.
Yet Nesta paused with her hand on the doorknob. For the first time since being in the room, Nesta seemed to waiver. She didn’t move, staring straight at the door.
“How is he?” She finally asked. It was barely audible, barely more than a whisper as if she was afraid to say it too loud. But it was the one thing Feyre didn’t need to ask what she meant.
“He searched for you,” There was too much, and not enough to be said.
Nesta turned her head, hand still on the knob, not to look back at Feyre but to stare at the wall to her left.
“He will come with you to the island.” Feyre couldn’t tell if that was a question or order.
Either way, Feyre said “Yes.” Even though she didn’t know if he actually would. Feyre didn’t know how he would react to any of this.
Nesta stood still for a second, before nodding and pushing open the door. She didn’t say another word as she pulled up her hood, stepped out, and vanished into the night.
Feyre didn’t know how long she stood there, staring out the open door into the dark. It was only when she felt an invisible weight lift off her shoulders, that she realized that the entire time she had been talking to Nesta, she hadn’t been able to feel her bond with Rhys.
Ok let’s be honest. I’m most looking forward to when Nesta and Cassian have an honest talk about how much they have been freaking pinning and longing for each other. SINCE THE FIRST DAY THEY MET.
I want them to finally admit that each time they said something hateful it was in an attempt not to keep their true lovey feelings from pushing out.
Like we all know. All the other characters know. Even they know deep down.
In the short time that Nesta has known Cassian she has seen him literally on deaths door step like 3 times. She has seen him in pain countless other times. She avoids him because she doesn’t want to be first in the long line of people waiting to get the news that he died. She is trying to protect herself.
Now love is worth the risk but she doesn’t know that yet
I have often thought that Nesta’s power isn’t death
First, because Feyre is convinced it is death. And When has Feyre ever been known to truly get her sister?
Second, it was said at one point that Nesta took from the cauldron everything it had taken from her. It is assumed she got the death powers because it had killed her but in reality the cauldron was also giving her life, a new life.
Third, I think often because if Nesta’s bluntness and brutality in conversation it is thought that she is similar to death. But no we know she is sensitive and caring behind her outer wall. She is life and creation more than death and killing
Fourth, just because the bone carver heard of Nests dosent mean she is death. She could be deaths greatest enemy - life
Nesta is life she is creation she is a new beginning
“Cassian extended a wrapped hand, his fingers curling in a comehither motion. “Scared?” “Why should I be scared of an oversized bat who likes to throw temper tantrums?”” - Chapter 19, page 203, ACOWAR
Here’s the final drawing of this scene from acowar. This scene never fails to make me laugh love nessian’s banter
Let me know in the comments what your favourite scene from ACOSF is (nessian or non-nessian) and would like me to draw. Looking for ideas ☺️
Alright, I nearly pulled my hair out and threw my iPad across the room colouring this. I had multiple attempts trying all different colouring techniques, from realism to cartoon, and failed at all of them colouring is definitely not a strong point of mine! (Though I’ll keep trying )
But this is the best of them but it still needs some improvement originally I wasn’t going to have the glittery stuff on the border but it seemed so plain that I needed to add something. Also feel like something needs to be in the middle because it feels bare, but maybe that’s just me ♀️
But hopefully one day soon, I’ll get the hang of it. ACOSF is released tomorrow! I’m so excited
“My sisters ate breakfast with Rhys and me, Azriel gone to wherever he’d taken the Attor. Cassian had flown off to join him the moment we returned. He’d given Nesta a mocking bow, and she’d given him a vulgar gesture I hadn’t realised she knew how to make.” Acomaf, Chapter 28, page 273.
Popping in real quick to post this for you all before leaving again from fear of acosf being spoiled! I’m trying out a new art style, which is this detailed linart (over the next couple of days before acosf release, I’ll try out colouring techniques and will post the results).
I have an Instagram now for my art, @bec_speight.art - so feel free to check it out, give it a like and follow also I’ve uploaded a time lapse reel of this and my Cassian piece on Instagram if that interests you
Nesta Archeron has been rebuilding her life after a devastating breakup left her with little more than the clothes upon her back and a fifteen-year-old Civic. She has great friends and a good job, more than most people her age can hope for.
But after making one little mistake at work, her stubborn pride rears its ugly head, sending Nesta on a collision course with a handsome stranger, reintroducing feelings she thought she’d long since buried.
Assuming, of course, that Nesta is able to drop her mask.
“Hello there, Miss Archeron,” I said to the absolute goddess on my lap, after finally removing both the blindfold and the last pretence between us.
She shuddered a little, and I’m not confident her reaction resulted strictly from over-stimulation. So I held my breath when she blinked, taking in her surroundings while her vision adjusted to the sudden brightness. The room’s lighting remained relatively low, but Miss Archeron likely needed a minute to adapt to the unexpected disparity.
Guess who got to the airport way too early and then got to sit at the gate bored out of her mind? Me. It’s me. So I wrote this drabble while I’m waiting. This goes out especially to @moodymelanist ;) Enjoy!
A… D… H… Ha… He… Nesta’s finger stutters to a stop where it was gliding along the various colorful spines on the shelf. She goes back, making sure she hasn’t misread the names displayed, but sure enough, the one she is looking for is distinctly missing. With a huff, she steps back from the shelf. Her eyes scan back and forth across the different books on display, wondering if perhaps it was reshelved in the wrong place. She has no luck there either though.
Nesta can feel her annoyance beginning to bubble as she digs her phone out of her bag. She double checks she has the right author’s name, and once she has that confirmation, she turns quickly on her heel and heads for the front of the library. There’s a librarian with wild curls pulled back with a scarf and wide, round glasses perched on her nose sat primly behind one of the desks.
“Excuse me,” Nesta greets politely. “I was wondering if you might help me find a book?”
“Of course, dear,” the librarian tells her, smiling brightly up at Nesta. “What’s the book name?”
“Existentialism and Humanity.”
The librarian types the name into her computer, squinting through her glasses as she reads what the screen says. She does some more typing and scrolling, the various hums and hmm’s she lets out not boding well for Nesta. When she finally meets Nesta’s eyes again, it’s with a soft, apologetic sigh.
“I’m sorry, dear, but we don’t have that book available,” the librarian explains.
Confused, she patted the sheets beside her to find them still warm, as if he’d only just risen. It was hardly dawn, but she supposed it wasn’t abnormal for him to be up this early.
Her sleepy eyes trailed away from the abandoned sheets to the light coming from beneath the bathroom door, where she could hear the sounds of a bath beginning to fill. She slid out of bed, padding on bare feet to the door.
Cassian was washing his face in the sink when she came in, squinting against the lamp light. He smiled at her in the slightly fogged mirror. “Good morning, my love. I didn’t mean to wake you.”
She scrubbed her eyes. “What are you… why are you up?”
“I’m just gonna take a bath before heading into Illyria. They need me to speak to some of the camp lords.”
She grumbled and shuffled closer to wrap her arms around him from behind. “‘Ts cold.”
He ran loving hands up and down her forearms as she rested her head between his wings. “You can go back to bed, my love. I’ll be back later today.”
She let out a low whine and squeezed him tighter.
“Nesta,” he sighed, unwrapping her from him so he could turn around. “Do you want me to tuck you in?”
She deposited her face in his chest. “Mmm, no.”
“Well, I have to take a bath, so you can either get dressed or go get some more sleep. Aren’t you helping with the young Valkaries today?”
She whined louder.
“Alright.” Cassian bent down to pick her up by her thighs and she hooked her feet behind his back.
Burying her face in his neck, she began to grumble again when he made his way back into the bedroom.
“What?” he asked, exasperated.
Her hands lifted to tug at his hair. “Bath,” she mumbled.
“You don’t have to be ready for a few more hours, my love. You can take your bath later.”
“Noooo.”
“You’re just gonna fall asleep in the tub.”
“Nooooooo.”
He sighed once more before turning to set her on the bathroom counter. “Alright, but no funny business or I’m gonna be late.”
Nesta lifted her arms in signal for him to take off her sweater.
He peeled it off of her effortlessly before discarding his own night clothes and ridding her of the rest of hers.
The bath was thankfully big enough for them both as well as a pair of Illyrian wings. Nesta sighed in content when he set her in the water, blissfully hot. She tugged him insistently down in front of her so she could cling to his back once more.
He huffed but resigned himself to the treatment as he went about washing himself. Nesta laid her head on his shoulder, content to watch until his hands lifted to his hair.
She hissed, wriggling away from him. “Nooo. Let me.”
He looked over his shoulder at her to deliver a single brow raise. “You want to wash my hair?”
She nodded, moving to sit on the far bench. “Pretty hair.”
“Has anyone ever told you how articulate you are in the mornings?”
Her half-lidded eyes lifted to an almost-glare.
He laughed softly, but leaned into her arms.
She grabbed the pitcher beside the tub, filling it with water to pour over his head until his hair was as soaked as the rest of him. Then she lathered it with shampoo, her long fingers massaging his scalp.
Cassian let out an animal-like purr as he closed his eyes, his wings going limp inside the water. “Mmm. Fuck. So good.”
“Very articulate,” Nesta mumbled as her hands worked the soap in. Once he had almost fully melted, she rinsed it from his hair before reaching for the conditioner.
He turned onto his stomach as she did so, water sloshing over the sides of the tub. She didn’t mind, though. Not as his brow leaned against her sternum, his arms wrapping around her. He hummed while she worked the conditioner in, nuzzling into her.
She rinsed that too, his hair going silken in her grasp, and grabbed the rag he’d abandoned, filling it with soap. She scrubbed at his shoulders and upper back, down the column of his spine as far as she could reach. When she made to start on his wings, however, he lifted his head to glare at her.
“I said no funny business.”
Nesta pouted but resigned herself to rinsing the rest of the soap from his body. When she was done, he rose and lifted her with him, both of them dripping wet.
“Will you go back to bed now?” Cassian asked as he wrapped her in a fluffy towel and set her on the edge of their bed.
She shook her head, watching him in growing appreciation as he dried himself.
He huffed, grabbing his hair brush from the vanity.
Nesta snatched it from him, arching a brow when he tried to contradict her. “Sit,” she ordered, pointing to the space between her legs on the floor.
He plopped down at her feet and her legs swung carefully over his shoulders and wings to keep him in place. As she brushed through the dripping tangles of his hair, he massaged her calves, occasionally turning his head to kiss her knee.
“Stay still,” she said as she set the brush aside.
His hands paused when he felt her beginning to part his hair. “What are you doing?”
She didn’t answer and he didn’t push, instead surrendering himself once more to her ministrations.
Ten minutes later, she was done, finally allowing him to rise. He went to the vanity mirror to find four braids neatly worked along the left side of his head, stopping just above his ear. His smile was the one reserved only for her as he turned back. “Thank you, my love.”
She gave him a similar smile in return, if a little more sleepy, and let out a yawn, lifting her arms. He obeyed the unspoken command, moving her further onto the bed so she could lay properly on the pillows. “I’m going to cancel your training today,” Cassian said, working the towel out from under her.
Her eyelids fluttered. “Why?”
He tucked the comforter into her sides with expert care. “Because I want you just like this when I get home.”
She didn’t have the energy to fight, instead snuggled into his pillow. “‘Kay.”
He pressed a kiss to her brow, but she had already drifted off. “I love you.”
Author’s note: Hello, I’m back. My computer broke there for a while, but I was finally able to buy and new one and actually sit my ass in the chair to write. Anyway, this is like wholly unedited because I really wanted to just get it out there and posted because a few people have been asking if this series was going to continue. Enjoy!
For the first time in a long while, Nesta was cold. She stood on the beach wrapped in a flimsy shirt, listening for the sound of footsteps on the sand behind her. There weren’t any for a long while. Just this silence.
She took a moment to breathe and smelled dead fish.
“I hope I didn’t keep you waiting,” a voice came from behind her.
She didn’t turn, the wind ruffling her hair. “What do you need me to do?”
“Show me your siren form.”
At that, she looked over her shoulder. Hybern stood a few paces back, a woman to his left and a man holding a camera box. The carriage loomed behind them, horses nickering. Nesta tensed. “My face won’t be in any of the photos.”
“Of course, my dear. They will simply be for record keeping.” He showed his hands, palms up in a placating gesture.
He was lying. She knew photographs were expensive, but they were impossible to fake. No one would waste that kind of money if they didn’t expect profit.
She took a step back towards the sea. “Tell me what you plan to do first.”
“I have done my research on the mythologies. I have scoured the sea for your kind for decades and the people thought I was crazy. Now, I will have my proof.” He stepped towards her and she stepped back again, feeling the sea begin to lap at her heels.
“I will let you photograph me and nothing more.”
“That isn’t what we agreed to.”
He was right. They’d agreed to an experiment.
“I want scale and blood samples.” Hybern waved the man on his right forward. What she had thought held a camera, was actually simply a normal box. The man set it on the ground and lifted a syringe from it.
Nesta swallowed hard.
“What are you waiting for, my dear? You need to shift. We have an agreement.”
“Why did you let me think you had a camera?” It wasn’t even the right lighting for photographs. How could she have missed that?
“I do have a camera. We will take photos later.” Hybern spoke quietly with the other man for a moment before lifting his head. “Do you have gills? Where are they on your body?”
“No.”
“Really? How do you breathe, then?” He was moving closer, the other man coming in from the other side, as if they were trying to trap her against the sea.
“No. I will be breaking our agreement.” She was up to her ankles now in the surf, the sea waiting like a predator behind her.
Hybern laughed. “Oh, my dear. You don’t have a choice. If you will not come willingly, then I have other forms of persuasion.”
“There is nothing you can do to keep me.”
He sighed. “I really didn’t want it to come to this, but we had a deal and now you leave me no choice.” He snapped his fingers and the woman approached with a net. It was one of the large, sturdy ones, made for heavy extreme amounts of fish from the sea.
Nesta moved without thought, her body turning into a dive as her fin replaced her legs.
She screamed as Hybern slammed a knife through the end of her tail, pinning her in place. Her hands scrambled on the rocks while she felt another pair of hands on her, pulling at her golden scales.
“Where’s that damned syringe?” Hybern snapped. “Hurry up. Both of you.”
Nesta shrieked again when the net collapsed on top of her, the holes too small to fit her hands through. Her voice echoed across the beach as she was pulled out of the water. The waves chased her, spindly cold fingers grasping her skin, letting her slide easily over the smooth rocks.
She kicked out her tail, ignoring the spike of blinding pain in search of a way out of the net. Through its metal fibers, she could see the man Hybern had brought with him, carrying that syringe.
As he approached in quick, purposeful steps, she realized that it wasn’t empty. There was already liquid inside–likely a sleeping agent or something to weaken her.
No. If they got her to a separate location, she would be dead.
In her panic, she shifted back and forth between her forms, but found the pain to be worse as a human, drawing her back into her scales. She was crying as the man knelt beside the net and wondered what Cassian would think if he saw her right now.
Pathetic. His mighty siren reduced to a blubbering mess.
His siren.
Hybern’s man grinned a slimy grin. “Thomas sends his regards.”
She had made a vow when Cassian gave her his heart. A vow that had gone unbroken, her lips sealed shut against the song that threatened to pour out.
The man lifted the syringe.
She would break that vow.
The man froze in time as the notes started quietly, barely a whisper, but just loud enough to be heard over the crashing of the waves. His eyes widened, becoming glazed as the syringe slipped from his fingers.
The rocks crunched as Hybern yelled, “Plug your ears!” but it was too late.
“Will you give me your heart?” Nesta asked the man.
“Yes. Gods yes.”
“Take off the net.”
“No!” Hybern was still shouting and Nesta’s gaze snapped to him as the net lifted. His fingers were in his ears like a child refusing to listen, but Nesta could see the struggle. See his eyes roll back, then widen.The woman he’d brought was on her knees, crawling across the beach to Nesta.
“Grab the knife,” Nesta told her.
She scrabbled for where it had fallen, still sticky with seafoam. Hybern lunged at her, but his knees collapsed underneath him as another voice joined the song.
Nesta didn’t turn, not ready to see the other siren ready to drag her back to her watery grave. They would let her do this, at least. Let her deliver her hearts.
“Cut out his heart,” Nesta ordered the girl and in an instant she was on top of the other man, the knife sinking into his chest with animalistic fury. Nesta turned her face away to watch Hybern, who was clutching his head now.
When the girl finished, she returned to Nesta like an obedient dog, her blue eyes wide as saucers.
Nesta lifted her chin between thumb and forefinger. “And your heart? Can I have that one too?”
The girl nodded, knife turning in her hand. It sank with expert precision into the skin above her breast. She stared at Nesta with a pain-free expression, however, as she carved the center of her chest out, her body becoming weaker with every movement until she was dead.
Nesta took the knife from her and shifted into her human form, limping over to Hybern.
“I won’t give it to you,” he hissed into the remaining silence. She hadn’t even noticed the other siren stop singing. “You can’t have it.”
“I don’t want your heart,” Nesta said simply, and drove the knife into his neck.
His eyes widened, a gurgling sound coming from his lips as his hands reached up to scrabble at hers while she twisted the knife over and over again.
It was two passes before his head fell from his shoulders.
Nesta watched it roll across the beach.
Slow clapping came from behind her. She turned, chin raised and palms bloody. She’d kill a siren too. Whatever got in her way.
Amren had perched herself on a boulder, her tail as blunt and short as a sharks. “I thought I would come help. Well done.”
“You—”
She held up a hand, her nails catching the moonlight. “I’m not going to hurt you, dear girl, but we need to move and quickly. Every siren in a twenty-mile radius likely heard your shrieking.”
“What?”
“Why are you still standing there like a fool? Shift and lets go. Plans have moved up. We’re leaving tonight.”
Sorry about the wait and the short chapter, but I hope you enjoy.
Land, when she came to it, was welcome. Nesta climbed from the water on two legs and collapsed onto the sand until the tides rose and threatened to take her again. Then, under the cover of night, she slipped into the nearest village, snatching clothes from some poor woman’s home. She also managed to find some stale bread and sweaty cheese, gnawing on the food as she tried to figure out where she was.
And so her journey began.
Traveling across Asia, then Europe, it was months before she heard word of the Velaris.
“It was rescued by Hybern’s men,” a man said, wiping grease from his hands. “But that was months ago. No one has heard anything since.”
So she went to Hybern.
He was a busy man, living at the tip of Italy. It took her a week of pestering to get an audience.
Nesta didn’t bother to straighten her ragged clothes, to make herself look anything more than a beggar on the streets as she entered the ostentatious office.
“Where are they?” she demanded.
“Where are who?”
“They people of the Velaris. There had to be survivors.”
“Ah. I was wondering when someone would come asking about that.” He scribbled something on a paper before folding it and handing it off to a trembling servant. “Most survived. Casualties were few and far between thanks to my men.”
“What happened?” she breathed, trying not to let her relief show.
“Ship caught fire. Tragic, really. But… you don’t believe that, do you?” His cold eyes finally lifted to hers. “If I tell you where they are, what will you give me, little siren?”
“What do you want?”
He rubbed a hand across his beard, a smirk playing on his lips. “Would you give up that last hope? That last chance of being human? What about your memories? Would you give me those?” He leaned back in his chair. “You know, sirens only remember when they have given up their heart. A heart for a mind. Who has your heart, little siren? I want it.”
She didn’t answer and, carefully, pushed Cassian from her mind.
“I will tell you where your friends are if you will meet me on the cove at midnight tonight. I have an experiment I’d like to perform.”
“Done.” “Brilliant.” His wicked smile gleamed. “The people you are looking for have been imprisoned by the Navy for piracy. They were granted pardon on the condition that they work their sentences building houses for the homeless. Their workshop is three blocks to the East.”
She didn’t thank him as she rushed from the room.
Those three blocks were the furthest she’d traveled. She ran as fast as she could, finding the building instantly amongst the others. It was a large warehouse, nearly falling apart at the seams. From inside, she could hear the sound of hammers and drills.
Many men heaved and sweated the day away, driving cars to the build sites, stacked full of lumber. Nesta found Rhysand first, wiping moisture from his brow as he fed a length of wood through a saw, a black P branded onto his wrists.
He looked up when he felt her gaze, eyes widening as he realized just who stood before him.
Nesta could bring herself to say anything.
Rhys roared and launched himself at her.
She braced herself for the beating, but Feyre was there first, her arms thrown around her sister. Then it was Elain. Nesta thought her legs might have given out, but their embrace held her up.
Distantly, she heard Rhys yelling, but it was muffled, as if she were underwater. Elain pulled back, cradling her face like she was a child. “I can’t believe you’re okay. We didn’t know what to think when you both disappeared.”
“Where’s Cassian?” Azriela asked cooly from behind her. “If he’s dead, tell us now.”
Nesta wiped at her face, detangling herself from her sisters. “He’s alive.”
“Then where is he?” Rhysand snarled.
She swallowed. “I… I think we should all sit down.”
*****
Nesta stared at her hands in the silence.
Rhys was the first to speak up, his voice breaking. “This is all your fault. You did—”
“Shut the fuck up,” Azriel snapped. “We just… we need to find a way to fix this.”
“There’s no way,” Nesta whispered. “There’s no way to reverse the curse.”
“No way that anyone has found.” Elain glanced at her, eyes wide with hope. “According to the books, sirens have been around for hundreds of years. I’m sure… I’m sure we could find something.”
Nesta’s eyes burned, but she swallowed thickly as she said, “We can look.”
Feyre shook her head. “We’re not allowed to leave.”
“What? Why?”
She turned her wrist, revealing the dark P branded there. “It’s the law. It was either this or death row.”
Nesta’s upper lip curled and a bit of the siren surfaced. “I’m going to kill them all. Slowly.”
“That won’t be necessary.”
She turned, finding Amren wiping her dirty hands on a rag as she approached.
“Why not?”
“Because we’re leaving. Today. And we’re going to find him.”
*****
Nesta couldn’t help but gape.
Because before her, balancing between beams thicker than her, was a pirate ship.
“This… you built this?” She looked at them all, caught a hint of pride on Rhysand’s face beneath all the fury.
“At night, when everyone was asleep.” Amren was dwarfed by the ship. “That’s what we’ve been doing all these months.”
“How… how did you hide it?”
“Nobody comes into this part of the warehouse. And those that wandered in, we offered a seat. Everyone wants out of here.”
The fact that such a large section of the building could go empty this long was astonishing in and of itself. “How do we get it into the water?”
“Connections,” Azriel said and that was all.
She didn’t dare to ask if she’d be welcome on the ship. She’d swim beside it if need be. “What did you name her?”
“Dreamer,” Feyre said, reaching up to run her hand across the boards. “We’ll leave tomorrow night if everything goes as planned.”
Nesta nodded even as her heart sank a bit. How long had it already been? Weeks? Months? Could they even convince him to come with them, or had he already… had he…
She pushed the thought away. She’d already crossed continents for him.
The ocean would be nothing.
*****
He stared at the girl beneath him as he ripped her heart from her chest. It was warm in his hand, a slight weight that he’d grown used to.
He left the corpse just above the drop off, strings of blood still drifting up from her body. The animals would get to her if the sea didn’t sweep her to shore first.
He didn’t know her name.
But his… What was it again? He’s heard it once, lifetimes ago, but it had been swallowed by the sea as all things were.
He backed away from the drop off, the endless ocean opening up beneath him.
Cassian: Doesn’t count when you use your hands to do most of the work.
Nesta: I bet that isn’t what you’ve been telling yourself at night.
Cassian: Is that what those smutty books teach you? That it’s only at night? It could be anytime—dawn’s first light, or when I’m bathing, or even after a long, hard day of practice.
Nesta: Sounds like you have a lot of time on your hands, Cassian.
Ships aside can we all get an f in the chat for all of Azriel’s past and future partners. Like we all know how Rhysand was described and I didn’t think it could have gotten worse, but then we got to see Cassian in Silver Flames. And it’s well known that Azriel has the biggest wingspan, but how in the world could he be bigger than Cassian!? Like it can’t be possible. I am praying for whoever ends up with Azriel in the future books, she’s gonna need all the help she can get.
A/N: This Nessian one-shot wouldn’t leave me alone and effectively blocked my progress on any of my other WIPs, so I gave in and followed the inspiration.
This is set in canon, during the war but prior to the final battle with Hybern. It’s full of Nessian longing/ pining, so enjoy
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Her bones ached.
The night’s cool air added to the discomfort, another meager annoyance that had the potential to break them all.
The cries of battle had been fierce and electrifying. Too quickly they had given way to cries of pain; anguish both physical and emotional. Nesta wondered how many Illyrian soldiers had lost family during the day’s fight; biological or found. She hadn’t allowed herself much time to dwell on it. Injuries were plentiful in various degrees of severity, and she was running ragged already trying to keep up.
A/N: This Nessian one-shot wouldn’t leave me alone and effectively blocked my progress on any of my other WIPs, so I gave in and followed the inspiration.
This is set in canon, during the war but prior to the final battle with Hybern. It’s full of Nessian longing/ pining, so enjoy
——————————————————————————
Her bones ached.
The night’s cool air added to the discomfort, another meager annoyance that had the potential to break them all.
The cries of battle had been fierce and electrifying. Too quickly they had given way to cries of pain; anguish both physical and emotional. Nesta wondered how many Illyrian soldiers had lost family during the day’s fight; biological or found. She hadn’t allowed herself much time to dwell on it. Injuries were plentiful in various degrees of severity, and she was running ragged already trying to keep up.
A/N: This Nessian one-shot wouldn’t leave me alone and effectively blocked my progress on any of my other WIPs, so I gave in and followed the inspiration.
This is set in canon, during the war but prior to the final battle with Hybern. It’s full of Nessian longing/ pining, so enjoy
——————————————————————————
Her bones ached.
The night’s cool air added to the discomfort, another meager annoyance that had the potential to break them all.
The cries of battle had been fierce and electrifying. Too quickly they had given way to cries of pain; anguish both physical and emotional. Nesta wondered how many Illyrian soldiers had lost family during the day’s fight; biological or found. She hadn’t allowed herself much time to dwell on it. Injuries were plentiful in various degrees of severity, and she was running ragged already trying to keep up.
The evening passed in a blur of experiences, some arbitrary and innocuous, yet seemingly loaded all the same. Each bucket of water she hauled into a tent held a value she’d never known before it meant a wound could be properly cleaned. The sound of linen ripping into strips was rhythmic and comforting because it meant enough resources remained to treat the wounded. The crunch of earth beneath her feet was a reminder of purpose.
She was alive, albeit exhausted. Being uninjured and fully able-bodied, she found the motivation to keep moving. She had to keep moving.
And she had. She’d walked until blisters rubbed beneath her shoes, and her clothes were torn in various places. Dirt was smudged over her hands, the exposed skin of her arms. Pieces of her hair had long since fallen from her coronet, but she couldn’t be bothered to care. The wind had kept it out of her face well enough.
A certain trance had fallen over Nesta over the course of the day, and the sun had descended behind the rolling mountains before she finally relented and decided to rest. The healers within the camp had badgered her on it throughout the day, and none had been overly impressed with her stubbornness. They’d been grateful, of course, but they couldn’t afford another convalescent.
Nesta rubbed at her tired eyes, pausing before the canvas of her tent to press her fingers into her temples. Her eyes squeezed shut against the tension and ache she felt, and she loosed a heavy breath to ease what she could. Her arm moved the canvas flap aside clumsily, and she dragged her too tired body over the threshold.
She startled, and her steps came to an abrupt halt. It had happened so quickly that the tent flap brushed against her back when it eased closed, causing her to flinch once more. Seconds passed before anything began to make any sense.
Cassian stood over an expansive round table with a large piece of parchment held in place by weights at each corner. Some of his siphons, she realized, upon further examination. She watched as he studied the map, extending his arm to push several small pawns across a strip of land.
The fact that he hadn’t whirled on her, a weapon to her throat before she could blink, meant he knew no threat was present. Whether he knew it was Nesta in his tent remained a mystery.
“I—”she stuttered, unsure what to say. She blinked, damning the blush that rose to her cheeks. “Wrong tent.”
Cassian rested his fingers against the table top, his keen eyes continuing their path over the map. His wings twitched, relaxed. Nesta was fascinated by them. Studying their details, imagining the stories of every scar, was a welcome distraction from the compulsion she’d felt toward her destination.
“You’re welcome to visit anytime, Sweetheart,” he replied, mirth laced through the words. “Consider it an open invitation.”
The temper he stoked so artfully rose to the surface, even in spite of her exhaustion. Cassian didn’t deign to look in her direction, but she rolled her eyes at his comment anyway.
Nesta scoffed. “How gracious,” she deadpanned.
Why she hadn’t made any moves to leave was lost on her. Cassian had won the upper hand in antagonizing her, by insinuating she’d purposely shown up in search of his company. Nesta wondered why he needed such validations considering the high opinion he clearly held of himself.
Cassian made another adjustment to his formations. “If not for my stellar company, why’d you come in?”
The barb was loaded at the tip of her tongue, ready to cut into his arrogance and insufferable teasing— how each step had been a mistake, how her exhaustion had made her desperate enough to overlook details of the various tents. It dissolved when Cassian turned to address her fully, his features crumpling when he realized her state.
“Nesta,” he murmured, taking several slow steps in her direction. ”Are you alright? What happened?”
Whatever he’d been working on was forgotten. He scanned the space around them, gesturing to a small seating area near the table. When Nesta didn’t make any moves to take him up on the offer, his brow pulled together in a frown. She had no doubt that the same expression had compelled many others to comply with his every whim before, but unfortunately for Cassian, Nesta wasn’t much like them.
She held up a slender hand. “Don’t starting fussing. I’m fine.”
His wings rustled, pulled in tight. He crossed his arms and balanced his stance, settling into a form Nesta was all too familiar with from their many verbal spars.
“I asked you a question.”
“I answered it.”
Cassian’s eyes slid closed while he took a long, deep breath. The underlying sentiment was shared entirely, Nesta thought.
“The second part— what happened to you?”
His expression shifted with the question. It was something foreign, yet Nesta felt her body relax at seeing it. Even their sparring was comforting in its own way and gave her some semblance of solid ground, but she wouldn’t dare reveal such a thing. She squeezed her eyes shut against the burning and fluttered them open again.
“Nothing happened. I helped the healers today. I’m tired.”
Her spine bowed marginally at the admission, and as if that tiny change in her posture pained him, Cassian closed the distance.
“I should have known,” he said, his voice like warm rain. A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth. “You’d have to be exhausted to end up here.”
His throat bobbed, and Nesta fought the urge to touch the skin below his jaw and trail her fingers over it. Blissful heat radiated off his body, warming her skin against the night’s chill, and she steadied her body against the urge to sag against him. Cassian fixed his gaze over her shoulder, ran a callused hand through his black hair.
“Thank you. I know they appreciated the help.”
Nesta nodded, her voice temporarily lost in favor of taking his intoxicating scent into her lungs.
“Come sit. I have tea. Have a cup, and you can be on your way if you want.”
“No need,” Nesta rasped, her throat tightening when his hazel eyes found hers. “I won’t keep you.”
Cassian huffed a sardonic laugh and reached out to wrap her hand in his. The touch sent a rush of sensation up her arm and through her chest; something she was all too willing to ignore. Without a word, he tugged gently and led her to the pile of pillows and furs nearby.
His scarred eyebrow lifted in challenge. “Sit,” he ordered.
The fight left Nesta entirely. The soft furs brushed the delicate skin at her ankles, and the promise of warmth was all it took to lower herself against several pillows. She arranged them to prop herself in a seated position, and by the time she got situated, Cassian was holding out a cup of steaming tea.
“I interrupted your work.”
He shrugged, unbothered. “I could use a break,” he admitted, pouring his own cup of tea.
“If you need to get back to it, I won’t bother you. There’s no need to entertain me.”
Cassian’s mouth ticked up in a small smile. He turned toward her and traveled the short distance to where Nesta was seated. He lay down on his side atop the palette of furs, allowing Nesta as much space as possible. He adjusted his weight to prop on an elbow, his other arm draped over his waist.
“Maybe it’s me that needs to be entertained.”
Nesta bit her cheek against the smile that threatened to emerge. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction.
“Certainly, there’s someone in this camp better equipped to do so.”
Cassian’s chuckle raked over her spine, sending gooseflesh over her body. “You’re closest.”
With a wink, he lifted his mug to his mouth, a smile still evident in the crinkle around his eyes. Nesta wanted to return the smile and throttle him in equal measure.
“It terrifies me to think of what would entertain you,” she quipped, taking a sip of her own tea to mask her amusement. It was harder to accomplish with Cassian’s responding laugh.
“I can imagine,” he answered, before trailing off in favor of the calming quiet around them.
Nesta closed her eyes, allowing herself the indulgence of such vulnerability in the middle of a war zone. She guessed she was safer doing so in the General Commander’s tent than anywhere else. The issue came when the quiet allowed too many of the day’s thoughts to wreak havoc on her mind. Before things could spiral, she heaved a breath, feeling an eerie and unexpected sort of calm tugging at the space between her ribs. She was thankful for the blessing to avoid such a display in Cassian’s tent.
His voice, raspy from the day’s battle, permeated her thoughts. “What are you thinking about?”
She shook her head, blinking to orient herself back to the present. A part of her felt compelled to withhold the truth, but she couldn’t muster the energy.
“Today. So many people injured and in pain. It makes me feel ridiculous for daring to feel tired after a day of caring for them. It’s negligible by comparison.”
“I disagree,” Cassian replied, adamant. “What you did today was just as necessary as fighting to protect our people. Don’t underestimate it.”
Nesta nodded, running her index finger around the lip of her mug. She decided to bite her tongue rather than point out that they weren’t “their people” at all. Cassian was quiet for a moment until his eyes flitted to her face, a softness in his expression that she wanted to hold onto forever. It made him look younger somehow, like the deeply etched weariness of loss and pain disappeared entirely.
“I found myself wondering,” he began, pausing to find his words. “At times, while the fighting was happening, I wondered where you were. Hoped you were safe.”
Her throat constricted. They had lived habitually at each others’ throats when they bothered with one another in the first place. Cassian’s confession was equal parts confusing and frustratingly relatable. The brute managed to occupy far too many of her thoughts. It wasn’t for lack of Nesta trying to prevent it.
“I did, too,” she murmured, surprising herself with the truth. She cleared her throat, forced a surety she didn’t feel. “Every time someone was carried into the tent, I wondered if it would be you.”
Cassian nodded, considered her words. He allowed her a small mercy and chose not to dwell on them. They finished their tea in quiet contemplation, and Cassian got up to put their mugs away. Before he returned to his previous spot, he stopped near a large iron pot and lifted the lid. Nesta watched curiously as he grabbed a rolled towel and carried it over to her.
“Madja warmed these earlier. They’ve been soaked in water and a blend of healing oils. They’re good for soreness.”
Rather than hand it over, he lowered himself onto a knee in front of Nesta. He unrolled it from its original shape and worked it until he had it twisted the way he wanted. His features were schooled in concentration as he lifted it over Nesta’s head and rested it around the back of her neck.
She nearly moaned at the warmth of it, at the gentle brush of his fingers against her skin. Her eyelids fluttered closed, and she swore she heard Cassian’s breath hitch each time he freed a rogue piece of her hair from beneath the towel’s weight. Too soon, he was pulling his hands away and settling into his original position across from her.
“Why do you fight?”
The question surprised him if his rapid blinking was any indication. He bit the inside of his cheek and traced an idle path over the furs in front of him.
“It’s what I know. It’s how I serve my court.”
Nesta wasn’t satisfied with his answer. She indulged in a quick glance over his form, how the loose ties of his tunic allowed a glimpse at his tattooed chest. He seemed so humble, so ordinary in that tent with her. As ordinary as a towering Fae male, strong as if he was carved from stone, could be, anyway. The image didn’t align with the Cassian she’d seen far more often. General Commander of the Night Court’s Armies. Member of the High Lord’s inner circle. War legend.
She got the impression he didn’t readily acknowledge his status or how important his survival would be to the Night Court.
“It seems it would make more sense to ensure you’re protected. If something happened to you, who would lead in your stead?”
“Rhysand,” he answered quickly, casually. “He’s made aware of all plans and strategies, and in the event he couldn’t, Azriel could do it.”
Nesta swallowed, trying and failing to mute the sound of his steady heartbeat. It felt too big for the space and fought to derail her focus, but it soothed her all the same.
“I don’t think that’s true. You realize you’re not so readily replaced, surely.”
Cassian’s gaze met hers for a split second and dropped to the space between them. “Careful, Sweetheart. That was almost a compliment.”
He huffed a laugh, and Nesta joined him for a brief moment. Easing onto his stomach, he rested his cheek atop his forearms and allowed his wings the barest stretch.
“There’s no point in arguing over it,” he continued. “For all we know, Hybern could use the Cauldron to obliterate the world tomorrow. It wouldn’t matter if I stood on the front line or in Velaris.”
The concept made Nesta’s stomach lurch. He’d said it in jest, she knew, but the mere possibility had her power threatening to rise to the surface. She closed her eyes and forced it under. What she’d stolen that day wasn’t inclined to go quietly; a prize she’d won and a curse altogether. Cassian studied her, and the action forced her back to the present.
“And to think, you would have spent your last hours with someone who stumbled uninvited into your tent and proceeded to drink your tea and use your things.”
His responding chuckle felt like he’d dragged the pads of his fingers over the knots of Nesta’s spine. He eased his eyes closed while he recovered and blinked them open lazily.
“We’re unlikely company, but we’ve done alright, I think.”
Nesta crossed her arms, feeling strangely exposed by his words. The walls she’d spent so much time carefully crafting had eroded without her notice, but they would slide back into place readily. They always did.
“What would you do— assuming you knew the Cauldron was going to dissolve everything— if you got to choose?”
She needed the deflection, to shift Cassian’s focus elsewhere. He’d be the first to point out how she began to withdraw, and she’d rather he didn’t. He thought a while on his answer; long enough for Nesta’s attention to get lost tracing patterns over his wings. They rested within reach, and her fingers twitched to physically trace those patterns against the thin membrane. As if he’d felt her intent, they retracted toward the center of his back.
“I’d fly. I would take my time appreciating Velaris and the Night Court, travel up to Illyria to visit all my favorite spots. It can be cold and brutal, but it’s beautiful if you know where to look.”
Nesta considered his answer. She hadn’t expected Cassian, of all people, to spend his final hours on his own.
“I thought you would say ‘with your family’ or something. It’s hard to imagine that you wouldn’t ride it out with them.”
His defined shoulders tensed in an approximation of a shrug. “Of course I’d stop by,” he teased. “But, I don’t want anyone to feel obligated to me. They all have others they would want to see and spend their time with— mates, family. I wouldn’t want to be yet another person they worried about.”
It was the genuine self-sacrifice that chipped away at Nesta’s defenses. His response had been so earnest that she knew he meant every word, and it inspired a sadness on his behalf and her own circumstances. She had no aversions to solitude, but she didn’t think she would need to excuse anyone of any obligation to her. She’d be alone by choice, first and foremost, but if she decided on the reciprocal, would anyone be there anyway?
“What about you?” he murmured. “How would you spend your time?”
Nesta took a moment to think. If the Cauldron obliterated their existence effective the following day, how would she truly spend her time? A weighted veil descended over her mood. She had barely settled into her immortality, so entertaining yet another endless death felt heavier than she cared to entertain.
“I don’t know,” she nearly whispered. Cassian’s brow pulled together in concentration, and he moved to sit up in front of her, as if hanging on her every word. “I’ve spent all these months trying to make peace with this version of my life. That hasn’t left much time to entertain my last days.”
He hummed, and the low tone of his voice floated over her skin like a phantom touch. A barrage of possibilities assaulted her— the roughness of his calluses, the taste of his skin, the fascinating texture of his wings beneath her fingers. Nesta shook her head to re-focus.
“I think I would spend it somewhere quiet with my favorite books. I’d surround myself in nothing but warm linens and keep a kettle of hot tea nearby. I would leave this world comfortable, I think.”
The words poured from her, and it wasn’t until she finished that she realized how true they were. Her human existence had included its fair share of pain, not to mention Hybern’s kidnapping and the bone-deep chill of the Cauldron. She wouldn’t go out that way again. She refused.
Cassian blinked, and Nesta wished she knew why his gaze felt so loaded. He recognized something in her, something in her pain and her past. Learning of his pain felt unbearable somehow, but she wanted so badly to understand. That conversation could wait for another time.
“No family for you either?”
He had found her sore spot efficiently, flawlessly. She shook her head to buy herself some time.
“I guess the more appropriate answer would be that I’d be mated to some Fae male by then, and we would spend it together.”
Cassian’s eyes snapped shut, but he opened them just as quickly. His expression seemed neutral enough, but something unidentifiable was off about it. Nesta studied him in the time between their words, trying to decipher what left her feeling hollow as he looked at her.
“I don’t know how it all works, but I doubt that’s in the Cauldron’s plans for me. I’d be satisfied enough with having a say in my death this time around.”
Pain flashed across Cassian’s handsome face, both at her words and something deeper. It was already gone by the time he spoke.
“I hear you. If it’s any consolation, it took over 500 years for me to believe that I have a mate, so I think it’s fair that you don’t quite have your mind around it.”
His words were acid dripping within her ribcage, but she forced the pain down with the same vigor she did her unwelcome powers. She would no sooner touch what the discomfort meant.
“You have a mate?”
She watched his hand lift to the back of his neck and traced the movement in his forearm when he squeezed his tense muscles. “No, not that I’m aware. I just meant I assumed I wouldn’t have one for a long time.”
The acidic burn was relentless.
“What changed your mind?”
Nesta held her breath while she waited for his response. She wasn’t sure why she’d asked at all, but she had the sense that his next words belonged to something much bigger than either of them.
Finally, he shrugged. “Maybe I started to want it more than I did in the past, or maybe it’s just a hunch. I wonder what it’s like, you know— what it feels like when it snaps into place.”
She swallowed against the sand in her throat, trying once more to avoid choking on her reply. “I wouldn’t have a clue to even speculate.”
Her words felt disingenuous, though that idea was absurd. They were as honest as she could manage, but they remained unpalatable. The combination of hers and Cassian’s thoughts on the matter intensified her discontent, and she brushed it off in favor stretching her legs in front of her.
“I suppose I’ve kept you long enough.”
She stood, soreness already roaring through her tired muscles. Cassian rose swiftly and held his hands out as if to brace her at the shoulders, but Nesta took a subtle step back. She couldn’t bear the contact; not if she intended to return to her tent with those walls still resolutely in place.
Cassian dropped his hands and nodded toward his abandoned map. “I should get back to it, anyway.”
“Alright. Thank you for the tea.”
She straightened her spine by sheer will. Turning for the tent’s opening, she focused to keep her pace productive without too much urgency. She eased it open and ducked her head in preparation to brave the cold air in search of her own tent. Cassian’s husky voice brought her to a halt and rooted her to the spot.
“Nesta?”
She paused, turning to him with the tent flap still within her grasp.
“Despite it all—“ he paused, fixing his eyes on the ground near his feet. His steps were silent as he traveled across the tent, stopping barely two feet away from her. Close enough to touch, to breathe in his distinct scent yet again. She’d know him by any of her senses, down to the nuanced sound of his twitching wings . “If the Cauldron were to level our world tomorrow, I’d be right here.”
Nesta swallowed, anything to buy her time to formulate a coherent response. The forgotten cloth around her neck has grown cold, sending a shiver down her spine. She slid it free and held it out, her breath hitching as his warm hand wrapped around the towel and her fingers. Without a second thought, she dropped the tent flap in favor of draping her free hand over the back of his palm.
Cassian’s throat bobbed, but the characteristic intensity of his focus remained on her face. His eyes scanned every plane, as intense as the chaotic beating of his heart.
“I like to think I’d find myself here, too.”
He gave a tight nod and pulled his hand slowly— so slowly— from between hers. At the break in connection, reality faded back into the fringes of Nesta’s attention. It poured over her like rain, leaving an unwelcome chill over her skin.
Cassian tossed the towel over his shoulder and turned back toward his work. With his back to her, those magnificent wings balanced behind him, he was every bit the warrior the legends made of his name.
Nesta allowed herself another second to take him in before turning to lift the canvas flap. She’d traveled a single step before his quiet voice stopped her once more.
“Goodnight, Nesta.”
She looked over her shoulder to find his attention fixed resolutely on his task, as if his parting words left him vulnerable in a way he wouldn’t allow her to see.
“Goodnight,” she murmured, stepping out into the frigid darkness.
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