A Court of Silver Flames - Sarah J. Maas Page 0,197

began throughout the mountain. Petrified, pleading screaming, fists pounding. Not on the rock or the doors that held them, but on the opposite walls of their cells. As if they were begging the Prison to spare them from her and that sword.

Lanthys had fallen. And the occupants of the Prison had felt it.

Even the footsteps of the Autumn Court soldiers seemed to slow at the sound.

Nesta smiled darkly, and picked up the Harp. “We’re not running out of here. And we leave the Autumn Court soldiers untouched.” If only to prove Eris wrong. But Cassian’s wounds … Yes, they needed to leave. Quickly. “Hold on to me,” she commanded, and whispered, “The front lawn of Feyre’s house along the Sidra River in Velaris.”

Cassian barked a warning, but she plucked three strings this time. Only pulling one had carried her down here, so she supposed that two would take them perhaps a bit farther than that, and Velaris … Well, it seemed like it’d take three strings. She didn’t want to know where all twenty-six strings might take her if strummed. Or if someone made a melody.

The world vanished; again she had the sensation of falling while standing still, and then—

Sun and grass and a crisp autumn breeze. A massive, lovely estate behind them, the river before them, and not a trace of the Prison or Lanthys. Nesta let go of Cassian as Rhysand burst out of the house’s glass doors. He gaped at his friend, and when Nesta beheld Cassian in the daylight … Blood trickled from his hair down his cheek. His lip was split; his arm hung at an odd angle—

That was all Nesta saw before Cassian collapsed to the grass.

CHAPTER

55

“It’s a small cut. Stop fussing.”

“Your skull was cracked, and your arm was broken. You’re grounded for a few days.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, I most certainly am.”

Nesta might have smiled at Cassian and Rhysand’s standoff had she not agreed with the High Lord. Feyre stood beside her mate, concern tightening her features.

Ataraxia still weighed heavy in Nesta’s hand. The Harp in the other.

Her sister’s eyes slid to her. Nesta swallowed, holding Feyre’s gaze. She prayed that her sister could read the silent words on her face. I am sorry for what I said to you in Amren’s apartment. I am truly sorry.

Feyre’s eyes softened. And then, to Nesta’s shock, Feyre answered into her mind, Don’t worry about it.

Nesta steeled herself, shaking off her surprise. She’d forgotten that her sister was … What was the word? Daemati. Able to mind-speak, as Rhys could. Nesta said, heart thundering, I spoke in anger, and I’m sorry.

Feyre’s pause was considerable. Then she said, the words like the first rays of dawn, I forgive you.

Nesta tried not to sag. She intended to ask about the baby, but Rhys turned to her and said, “Put the Harp on the desk, Nesta.”

Nesta did, careful not to touch any of the twenty-six silver strings.

“It allowed you to winnow within and outside of the Prison,” Feyre said, peering at the Harp. “I suppose because it is Made, and exists beyond the rules of ordinary magic?” She glanced to Rhys, who shrugged. Feyre’s mouth pursed. “If any of our enemies got their hands on this, they’d use it against us in a heartbeat. No wards around this house, the House of Wind, around any of our caches and hiding places would be safe. Not to mention that the Harp seems to have a will of its own—a desire to stir up trouble. We can’t plant it back in the Prison, not now that it’s been awakened.”

Rhys rubbed his jaw. “So we lock it up with the Mask, warded and spelled so it can’t act out again.”

“I’d keep them separate,” Feyre advised. “Remember what happened when the halves of the Book were near each other? And why make it easier for an enemy to get both of them?”

“Good point,” Cassian said, wincing as if the words made his skull ache. Madja had healed the hairline fracture just above his temple, but he’d be in pain for a few days. And his broken arm was healed, but still delicate enough to require care. The sight of all the bandages was enough to make Nesta wish she could kill Lanthys again.

Rhys drummed his fingers on the desk, surveying the Harp. Then he asked Nesta, “Beyond seeing Briallyn, you said you also saw something when you first touched the Harp?”

Nesta had briefly explained it when they’d arrived. “I think whoever used it