A Court of Wings and Ruin (A Court of Thorns and Roses 3)

Neither Cassian nor I could muster a laugh as we both reached for Rhys’s outstretched hands. “You better bring your bargaining skills tonight,” was all Cassian muttered to my mate before we vanished into shadow.

CHAPTER

24

When we returned to the town house in the height of summer afternoon heat, Cassian and Azriel drew sticks for who would remain in Velaris that night.

Both wanted to join us at the Hewn City, but someone had to guard the city—part of their long-held protocol. And someone had to guard Elain, though I certainly wasn’t about to tell Lucien that. Cassian, swearing and pissy, got the short stick, and Azriel only clapped him on the shoulder before heading up to the House to prepare.

I followed after him a few minutes later, leaving Cassian to tell Rhys the rest of what the Carver had said. What he wanted.

There were two people I needed to see up at the House before we left. I should have checked in on Elain earlier, should have remembered that her would-have-been wedding was in a few days, but … I cursed myself for forgetting it. And as for Lucien … It wouldn’t hurt, I told myself, to keep tabs on where he was. How that conversation with Azriel had gone yesterday. Make sure he remembered the rules we’d set.

But fifteen minutes later, I was trying not to wince as I walked down the halls of the House of Wind, grateful Azriel had gone ahead. I’d winnowed into the sky above the highest balcony—and since I figured now was as good a time as any to practice flying, I’d summoned wings.

And fallen twenty feet onto hard stone.

A rallied wind kept the fall from cracking any bones, but both my knees and my pride were significantly bruised by my graceless tumble through the air.

At least no one had witnessed it.

My stiff, limping steps, at least, had eased into a smoother gait by the time I found Elain in the family library.

Still staring at the window, but she was out of her room.

Nesta was reading in her usual chair, one eye on Elain, the other on the book spread in her lap. Only Nesta glanced my way as I slipped through the carved wooden doors.

I murmured, “Hello,” and shut the doors behind me.

Elain didn’t turn. She was wearing a pale pink gown that did little to complement her sallow skin, her brown-gold hair hanging in loose, heavy ringlets down her thin back.

“It’s a fine day,” I said to them.

Nesta arched an elegant eyebrow. “Where’s your menagerie of friends?”

I leveled a steely look back at her. “Those friends have offered you shelter and comfort.” And training—or whatever Amren was doing. “Are you ready for tonight?”

“Yes.” Nesta merely resumed reading the book in her lap. Pure dismissal.

I let out a little snort that I knew would make her see red, and strode for Elain. Nesta monitored my every step, a panther readying to strike at the merest hint of danger.

“What are you looking at?” I asked Elain, keeping my voice soft. Casual.

Her face was wan, her lips bloodless. But they moved—barely—as she said, “I can see so very far now. All the way to the sea.”

Indeed, the sea beyond the Sidra was a distant sparkle. “It takes some getting used to.”

“I can hear your heartbeat—if I listen carefully. I can hear her heartbeat, too.”

“You can learn to drown out the sounds that bother you.” I had—entirely on my own. I wondered if Nesta had as well, or if they both suffered, hearing each other’s heartbeats day and night. I didn’t look to my other sister to confirm it.

Elain’s eyes at last slid to mine. The first time she’d done so.

Even wasted away by grief and despair, Elain’s beauty was remarkable. Hers was a face that could bring kings to their knees. And yet there was no joy in it. No light. No life.

She said, “I can hear the sea. Even at night. Even in my dreams. The crashing sea—and the screams of a bird made of fire.”

It was an effort not to glance to Nesta. Even the town house was too far to hear anything from the nearby coast. And as for some fire-bird …

“There is a garden—at my other house,” I said. “I’d like for you to come tend it, if you’re willing.”

Elain only turned toward the sunny windows again, the light dancing in her hair. “Will I hear the earthworms writhing through the soil? Or the stretching of roots? Will the bird of fire come to sit in the trees and watch me?”

I wasn’t sure if I should answer. It was an effort to keep from shaking.

But I caught Nesta’s eye, noting the glimmer of pain on my eldest sister’s face before it was hidden beneath that cool mask. “There’s a book I need you to help me find, Nesta,” I said, giving a pointed stare to the stacks to my left.

Far enough away for privacy, but close enough to remain nearby should Elain need anything. Do anything.

Something in my chest cracked as Nesta’s eyes also went to the windows before Elain.

To check, as I did, for whether they could be easily opened.

Mercifully, they were permanently sealed, likely to protect against some careless fool forgetting to close them and ruining the books. Likely Cassian.

Nesta wordlessly set down her book and followed me into the small labyrinth of stacks, both of us keeping an ear on the main sitting area.

When we were far enough away, I threw up a shield of hard wind around us. Keeping any sound inside. “How did you get her to leave her room?”

“I didn’t,” Nesta said, leaning against a shelf and crossing her slim arms. “I found her in here. She wasn’t in bed when I awoke.”

Nesta must have panicked upon finding her room empty—“Did she eat anything?”

“No. I managed to get her to drink some broth last night. She refused anything else. She’s been talking in those half riddles all day.”

I dragged a hand through my hair, freeing strands from my braid. “Did anything happen to trigger—”

“I don’t know. I check on her every few hours.” Nesta clenched her jaw. “I was gone for longer yesterday, though.” While she trained with Amren. Rhys had informed me that by the end of it, Nesta’s rudimentary shields were solid enough that Amren deemed my sister ready for tonight.

But there, beneath that cool demeanor—guilt. Panic.

“I doubt anything happened,” I said quickly. “Maybe it’s just … part of the recovery process. Her adjustment to

being Fae.”

Nesta didn’t look convinced. “Does she have powers? Like mine.”

And what, exactly, are those powers, Nesta? “I—don’t know. I don’t think so. Unless this is the first sign of something manifesting.” It was an effort not to add, If you’d talk about what went on in the Cauldron, perhaps we’d have a better understanding of it. “Let’s give her a day or two—see what happens. If she improves.”

“Why not see now?”

“Because we’re going to the Hewn City in a few hours. And you don’t seem inclined to want us shoving into your business,” I told her as evenly as I could. “I doubt Elain does, too.”

Nesta stared me down, not a flicker of emotion on her face, and gave a curt nod. “Well, at least she left the room.”

“And the chair.”

We exchanged a rare, calm glance.

But then I said, “Why won’t you train with Cassian?”

Nesta’s spine locked up. “Why is it only Cassian that I may train with? Why not the other one?”

“Azriel?”

“Him, or the blond one who won’t shut up.”

“If you’re referring to Mor—”

“And why must I train at all? I am no warrior, nor do I desire to be.”

“It could make you strong—”

“There are many types of strength beyond the ability to wield a blade and end lives. Amren told me that yesterday.”

“You said you wanted our enemies dead. Why not kill them yourself?”

She inspected her nails. “Why bother when someone else can do it for me?”

I avoided the urge to rub my temples. “We’re—”

But the doors to the library opened, and I snapped my barrier of hard air down entirely at the thud of stalking footsteps, then their sudden halting.

I gripped Nesta’s arm to keep her still just as Lucien’s voice blurted, “You—you left your room.”

Nesta bristled, teeth flashing. I gripped her harder, and threw a new wall of air around us—holding her there.

Weeks of cloistering Elain had done nothing to improve her state. Perhaps the half riddles were proof of that. And even if Lucien was currently breaking the rules we had set—