A Court of Silver Flames - Sarah J. Maas Page 0,217

still drinking, but as she hadn’t been offered any wine—or wanted any, for that matter—she had not joined them in their singing and dancing. Though she had helped herself to thirds of Feyre’s ridiculously large pink birthday cake.

Cassian had said they were going to stay here tonight, as he’d be too drunk to fly them back to the House of Wind, and Mor and Azriel would be too drunk to winnow them, not to mention that he’d still have to fly them the last bit of the way. Rhys and Feyre would likely be enjoying each other by the time they were all ready to leave.

The door Feyre had directed her to was already open, faelights glowing inside the opulent bedroom bedecked in whites and creams and tans. Candles flickered in glass jars on the marble mantel. The curtains were already down for the night, heavy swaths of blue velvet—the only pop of color in the room, along with a few blue trinkets. It was soothing and smelled of jasmine, precisely the sort of room she’d have designed for herself if she’d been given the chance.

She had been given the chance, she realized. Feyre had asked, and she’d refused. Apparently, Feyre had done it herself, somehow knowing what she’d like.

Nesta sat at the small vanity, staring at her reflection in the quiet.

Her door opened with a creak, and then Cassian was there, leaning against her doorway, gazing at her in the mirror. “You didn’t want to say good night?”

Her heart began thundering. “I was tired.”

“You’ve been tired for a few nights now.” He crossed his arms. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing.” She twisted on the cushioned stool of the vanity. “Why aren’t you downstairs?”

“You never asked about your present.”

“I assumed I wasn’t getting one from you.”

He pushed off the door frame and shut the door behind him. He took up all the air in the room just by standing there. “Why?”

She shrugged. “I just did.”

He pulled a small box from his jacket and set it on the bed between them. “Surprise.” Cassian swallowed as she approached, the only sign that this meant something to him.

Nesta’s hands turned sweaty as she picked the box up, examining it. She didn’t open it yet, though. “I am sorry for how I behaved last Solstice. For how awful I was.”

He’d gotten her a present then, too. And she hadn’t cared, had been so wretched she’d wanted to hurt him for it. For caring.

“I know,” he said thickly. “I forgave you a long time ago.” She still couldn’t look at him, even as he said, “Open it.”

Her hands shook a little as she did, finding a silver ball nestled in the black velvet box. It was the size of a chicken egg, round save for one area that had been flattened so it might be set upon a surface and not roll. “What is it?”

“Touch the top. Just a tap.”

Throwing a puzzled glance at him, she did so.

Music exploded into the room.

Nesta leaped back, a hand at her chest as he laughed.

But—music was playing from the silver orb. And not just any music, but the waltzes from the ball the other night, pure and free of any crowd chattering, as if she were sitting in a theater to hear them. “This isn’t the Veritas orb,” she managed to say as the waltz poured out of the ball, so clear and perfect her blood sang again.

“No, it’s a Symphonia, a rare device from Helion’s court. It can trap music within itself, and play it back for you. It was originally invented to help compose music, but it never caught on, for some reason.”

“How did you get the crowd noise out when you trapped the sound the other night?” she marveled.

His cheeks stained with color. “I went back the next day. Asked the musicians at the Hewn City to play it all again for me, plus some of their favorites.” He nodded to the ball. “And then I went to some of your favorite taverns and found those musicians and had them play …”

He trailed off at her bowed head. The tears she couldn’t stop. She didn’t try to fight them as the music poured into the room.

He had done all of this for her. Had found a way for her to have music—always.

“Nesta,” he breathed.

She shut her eyes against the realization rising within her like a tidal wave. It would sweep away everything in its path once she admitted it. Consume her entirely. The thought was enough for