A Court of Silver Flames - Sarah J. Maas Page 0,47

is insane.”

She smoothed her thick cream sweater. “So is Rhys.”

Cassian sniffed, trying and failing to detect her scent. “He’s got your scent shielded, too?”

Feyre grinned. “It’s all part of the same shield. Helion wasn’t joking about it being impenetrable.”

And despite everything, Cassian grinned back. Memory washed over him from when he’d met her in the dining room several levels below, this girl who would become his High Lady. She’d been so horribly thin then, so dead-eyed and withdrawn that it had taken all his self-control not to fly to the Spring Court and rip Tamlin limb from limb.

Cassian shook the thought away, focusing instead on the revelation before him.

One last time. He’d try one last time.

CHAPTER

12

Nesta stood in the training ring atop the House of Wind and scowled. “I thought we were going up to Windhaven.”

Cassian strode over to the rope ladder laid out on the ground and straightened a rung. “Change of plans.” No trace of that red-hot anger had remained on his face this morning when she’d walked into the breakfast room. Azriel was already gone, and Cassian hadn’t said a word about why he’d left. Something about the queens, presumably, judging by what she’d heard the previous night.

When she’d finished her porridge, she’d looked for any sign of Morrigan, but the female had never appeared. And Cassian had led her here, not speaking on the walk up.

Everyone hates you. The words had lingered, like a bell that wouldn’t stop ringing.

He finally clarified, “Mor’s gone back to Vallahan, and Rhys and Feyre are busy. So there’s no one to winnow us to Windhaven. We’ll be training here today.” He gestured to the empty ring. Free of any watching eyes. He added with a sharp grin that made her swallow, “Just you and me, Nes.”

Nesta had said last night she wasn’t training at the village. She’d said it multiple times, Cassian had realized. She wasn’t training at that miserable village.

He should have realized it days ago. He knew her better than that, after all.

Nesta might be willing to face down the King of Hybern himself, but she was proud as all hell. Appearing foolish, making herself vulnerable—she’d rather die. Would rather sit on a freezing rock in the icy wind for hours than look like a fool in front of anyone, especially arrogant warriors predisposed to mock any female who attempted to fight like them.

It didn’t matter to him where she trained. So long as she began the training.

If she refused today, he didn’t know what he’d do.

The morning sun beat down, promising a warm day, and Cassian removed his leather jacket before rolling up a shirtsleeve. “Well?” he asked, lifting his eyes to her face.

“I …”

The hesitation made his chest tighten unbearably. But he stomped on that hope, slowly folding his other sleeve. He wondered if she noticed his fingers trembling slightly.

Pretend everything is normal. Don’t scare her off.

There was nowhere for her to plant that beautiful ass here. He’d already moved the lounge chairs that Amren—and sometimes Mor—liked to use for sunbathing while he and the others trained.

When Nesta remained by the doorway, Cassian found himself saying, “I’ll make a bargain with you.”

Her eyes flashed. Fae bargains were no idle thing. He knew Feyre had already versed Nesta in them, when her sister had first come here. As a precaution. From Nesta’s wary gaze, he knew she remembered Feyre’s warnings well: Fae bargains were bound by magic and marked in ink upon one’s body. The ink would not fade until the bargain had been fulfilled. And if the bargain was broken … the magic could exact terrible vengeance.

Cassian maintained a casual stance. “If you do an hour of exercises right now, I’ll owe you a favor.”

“I don’t need any favors from you.”

“Then name your price.” He struggled to calm his racing heart. “An hour of training for whatever you want.”

“That’s a fool’s bargain for you.” Her eyes narrowed. “I thought you were a general. Aren’t you supposed to be good at negotiating?”

His mouth quirked upward. She wasn’t fighting him. “For you, I have no strategies.”

She studied him with unflinching focus. “Anything I want?”

“Anything.” He added wryly, “Anything short of you ordering me to fall out of the sky and smash my head on the earth.”

She didn’t smile the way he’d hoped. Her eyes turned to chips of ice. “You truly believe me capable of such a thing?”

“No,” he said without hesitation.

Her mouth tightened. Like she didn’t believe him. And—those were purple smudges under her eyes. How long