She had gone too far. She … Oh, gods.

Amren said, “I think it is best, girl, if you speak to Rhysand about this.”

Nesta couldn’t bear it—the pain and fear and love on Feyre’s face as she caressed her stomach.

Amren growled at Nesta, “I hope you’re content now.”

Nesta didn’t respond. Didn’t know what to say or do with herself. She simply turned on her heel and ran from the apartment.

Cassian had gone to the river house. That had been his third mistake of the day.

The first had been how clumsy he’d been in asking about a sword name, prompting Nesta’s suspicion. He hadn’t been able to lie to her, so he’d told her everything.

The second mistake had been letting Nesta hide in her room and not barging in to speak to her. Letting her take a bath, thinking it’d cool her off. He’d done the same, and when he’d emerged, he’d followed her scent to the floor with the exterior stairs, where the door stood open.

He had no idea if she had made it out or if she’d collapsed within, so he’d taken the steps, too. All ten thousand of them, her scent fresh and furious.

She’d made it to the bottom. The door had been left open.

He’d launched skyward, knowing he’d have trouble tracking her scent in the bustling city, hoping to spot her from the air. He assumed Amren was working at the river house, so that was where he’d gone.

Only Amren wasn’t there. And neither was Nesta.

He’d reached Rhys’s study when word came. Not from a messenger, but from Feyre—mind to mind with her mate.

Rhys was at his desk, face tight as he silently spoke to her. Cassian saw that look, knew who he spoke to, and went still. Neither was here, which meant they were probably at Amren’s apartment, and if Feyre was giving a report …

Cassian whirled for the doors, knowing he could be there in a two-minute flight, praying he’d be fast enough—

“Cassian.”

Rhys’s voice was a thing of nightmares, of the darkness between the stars.

Cassian froze at that voice he’d so rarely heard, and never once directed at himself. “What happened?”

Rhys’s face was wholly calm. But death—black, raging death—lay in his eyes. Not a star or shimmer of violet remained.

Rhys said in that voice that was like hell embodied, “Nesta saw fit to inform Feyre of the risk to her and the babe.”

Cassian’s heart began thundering, even as it splintered.

Rhys held his stare, and it was all Cassian could do to weather it as his brother, his High Lord said, “Get Nesta out of this city. Right now.” Rhys’s power rumbled in the room like a rising storm. “Before I fucking kill her.”

CHAPTER

47

Cassian found Nesta sprinting down a side street, as if she suspected that Rhysand was about to set out on a hunt that only her spilled blood could halt. But he knew she only ran from what she had done, ran from herself. Ran toward one of the taverns she favored so much.

Cassian didn’t give Nesta the chance to see him as he soared down the alley, snatched her around the waist and beneath the knees, and swept them into the sky.

She didn’t fight him, didn’t say a word. Just lay in his arms, her face cold against his chest.

Cassian soared over the House of Wind to find Azriel there, hovering in place, a heavy pack in his hand. Whether that had been from a separate warning from Rhys, or Az’s own shadows whispering, he didn’t know.

Cassian grabbed the pack, looping it around a wrist and grunting against its weight as he kept hold of Nesta. Az didn’t say anything as Cassian careened past, into the autumn skies.

And did not dare look back at the city behind him.

There were no sounds in her head, her body. She knew Cassian held her, knew they flew for hours and hours, and she didn’t care.

She had done an unforgivable thing.

She deserved to be turned into bloody mist by Rhysand. Wished Cassian had not come to save her.

They flew into the mountains until the sun sank behind them. By the time they landed, their surroundings were veiled in darkness. Cassian grimaced as he alit, as if every part of him hurt, and dumped the pack Azriel had given them at his feet.

“We’ll camp here tonight,” he said quietly—coldly.

She didn’t want to speak. Resolved not to say another word for the rest of her life.

“I’ll make a fire,” he went on, and there was nothing kind in his face.

She couldn’t stand it. So she turned away, surveying the small area where he’d landed—a flat bit of dry earth just under the overhang of a black boulder.

In silence, she walked to the deepest part of the overhang. In silence, she lay down upon the hard, dusty earth, using her arm for a pillow, and curled herself toward the rock wall.

She closed her eyes and willed herself to ignore the snapping and cracking of the wood as the fire consumed it, willed herself to melt into the earth, into the mountain, and disappear forever.

Cassian.

Feyre’s voice filled Cassian’s mind, pulling him from where he’d been watching the stars appear over the sprawling view. He’d flown Nesta to the Sleeping Mountains, the range that separated Illyria from Velaris. They were smaller peaks, not yet in winter’s grasp, with plenty of rivers and game to hunt.

Cassian.

I forgot you can mind-speak.

Her laugh sounded. I can’t decide whether I should be insulted or not. Perhaps I should be using the daemati gifts more often. She paused before saying, Are you all right?

I should be asking you that.

Rhysand overreacted. He completely and utterly overreacted.

Cassian shook his head, though Feyre couldn’t see it. I’m sorry you had to learn of it.

I’m not. I’m furious with all of you. I understand why you didn’t tell me, but I’m furious.

Well, we’re furious with Nesta.

She had the courage to tell me the truth.

She told you the truth to hurt you.

Perhaps. But she was the only one who said anything.

Cassian sighed through his nose. She … He thought it over. I think she saw the parallels between your situations and, in her own way, decided to avenge both of you.

That’s my feeling, too. Rhys disagrees.

I wish you’d found out a different way.

Well, I didn’t. But we’ll face it together. All of us.

How can you be so calm about this?

The alternative is fear and panic. I will not let my son feel those things. I will fight for him, for us, until I no longer can.

Cassian’s throat tightened. We’ll fight for you, too.

I know. Feyre paused again. Rhys had no right to chase you from the city, or to threaten Nesta. He has realized that, and apologized. I want you to come back home. Both of you. Where did you even head off to?

The wilderness. Cassian looked over a shoulder, to where Nesta had been asleep for the past few hours, curled into a tight ball against the wall of rock. I think we’ll stay out here for a few days. We’re going to hike.

Nesta has never been on a hike in her life. I guarantee she will hate it.

Then tell Rhys this is her punishment. Because Rhys, despite apologizing for his threats, would still be furious. Tell him that Nesta and I are going to hike, and she’s going to hate it, but she comes home when I decide she’s ready to come home.

Tags: Sarah J. Maas A Court of Thorns and Roses
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