A Court of Silver Flames - Sarah J. Maas Page 0,165

flared. “We were just leaving,” Cassian said with steady calm, hand reaching for Nesta’s. He’d launch them into the air. But would he be fast enough to avoid Tamlin’s claws? Or power?

Tamlin’s gaze remained on her. Raging and hateful.

This was the male, the beast, her sister had once loved. Had given up everything, including her mortal life, to save. Who had then taken her love and twisted it, nearly breaking Feyre in the process. Until Rhys. Until Cassian and the others had helped bring her back. Helped her learn to love herself once more.

Nesta didn’t care if he’d come to help during the final battle with Hybern. Tamlin had hurt Feyre. Unforgivably.

It had never concerned her before. Irked her, yes, but … Nesta found her fingers curling. Found her lips peeling back from her teeth as she snarled.

Her youngest sister had been taken by this male because Nesta herself hadn’t been able to face him. Tamlin had even looked at her and asked if she’d go in Feyre’s place. And she had said no, because she was a hateful, horrible coward.

She would not be a coward now.

Nesta let an ember of her power glow in her eyes. Let Tamlin see it as she said, “You will not touch us.”

“I have every right to kill trespassers on my lands.” The words were guttural, nearly impossible to understand. As if Tamlin had not spoken in a long while.

“Are these still your lands?” Nesta asked coolly, stepping out from behind Cassian. “Last I heard, you don’t bother to rule them anymore.”

Eris remained utterly still. He’d been caught meeting with them, she realized. If Tamlin told anyone—

Nesta said, “I suggest you keep your maw shut about this.”

Tamlin bristled, hackles rising. “You’re exactly as nasty as your sister said you were.”

Nesta laughed. “I’d hate to disappoint.”

She held his emerald stare, knowing silver flames flickered in her own. “I went into the Cauldron because of you,” she said softly, and could have sworn thunder grumbled in the distance. Cassian and Eris faded away into nothing. There was only Tamlin, only this beast, and what he had done to her and her family.

“Elain went into the Cauldron because of you,” Nesta went on. Her fingertips heated, and she knew if she looked down, she’d find silver embers flaring there. “I don’t care how much you apologize or try to atone for it or claim you didn’t know the King of Hybern would do such a thing or that you begged him not to do it. You colluded with him. Because you thought Feyre was your property.”

Nesta pointed at Tamlin. The ground shook.

Cassian swore behind her.

Tamlin shrank from her outstretched finger, claws digging into the earth. “Put that finger down, you witch.”

Nesta smiled. “I’m glad you remember what happened to the last person I pointed at.” She lowered her arm. “We’re going now.”

She stepped back to where Cassian was already waiting, arms open. He wrapped them around her waist. Nesta glanced to Eris, who gave her a shallow, approving nod, then vanished.

Nesta said to Tamlin before they shot into the skies, “Tell anyone you saw us, High Lord, and I’ll rip your head from your body, too.”

Nesta stared into the pit of darkness at the bottom of the library.

She’d been unable to sleep, barely able to keep from returning to the encounter with Tamlin all day. Cassian had flown to the river house, and had not returned. Perhaps Rhys had gone to ensure Tamlin’s silence about their scheming with Eris. Maybe Rhys would do them all a favor and turn Tamlin’s mind into jelly.

Nesta rested her arms on the railing of Level Five, letting her head hang. This late, no one was up, and she didn’t know where the dormitories were, so she couldn’t seek out Gwyn. Not that she’d want to wake her friend. She doubted Gwyn would want to hear her problems anyway.

A glass of warm milk appeared on the railing beside her.

Nesta peered at the dim library. “Thank you,” she said to the House.

The Spring Court had felt stagnant. Hollow. Empty despite its growing life. But this House was alive. It welcomed her, wanted her to grow and thrive. It was a place where she might rest or explore, where she could be whoever and whatever she wished.

Was that what home was? She had never learned. But this place … Yes, home might be a good name for it. Perhaps that was what Feyre had felt, too, when she’d left the Spring Court and come