A Court of Silver Flames - Sarah J. Maas Page 0,86

was no doubt there. Everything that had just happened with Elain—

Feyre seemed to sense the direction of her thoughts. “Elain was right. We’ve become so focused on how her trauma impacted us that we forget she was the one who experienced it.”

“It was directed at me, not you.”

“I’ve been guilty of the same things, Nesta.” Sorrow dimmed Feyre’s eyes. “It was unfair for Elain to level that truth only at you.”

Nesta didn’t have an answer to that, didn’t know where to start. “Why not tell Elain about the baby’s sex first?”

“She discovered the pregnancy. I wanted you to know this part before anyone else.”

“I hadn’t realized you were keeping score.”

Feyre gave her an exasperated look. “I’m not, Nesta. I just … Do I need an excuse to share things with you? You’re my sister. I wanted to tell you before anyone else. That’s it.”

Nesta didn’t have an answer to that, either. Thankfully, Cassian’s voice filled the hallway as he bid his farewell to Rhys.

“Good luck,” Feyre said softly before rushing to meet a jubilant Cassian, and Nesta knew her sister didn’t only mean with the Dread Trove.

CHAPTER

22

“Do you think Nesta can find the Trove?” Azriel asked Cassian as they relaxed in the sitting room that separated their bedchambers, flames crackling in the hearth before them. The night had turned chill enough that they needed the fire, and Cassian, who’d always loved fall despite the pricks in the Autumn Court, savored the warmth.

“I hope so,” Cassian hedged. He couldn’t stomach the thought of Nesta putting herself in danger, but he understood her motivations entirely. If he’d had to pick between sending one of his brothers into danger or doing it himself, he would always—always—choose himself. Though he’d winced at every harsh word that had come out of Nesta’s mouth to Elain, he couldn’t fault the fear and love behind her decision. Could only admire that she had stepped up—if not for the good of the world, then to keep her sister safe.

Azriel said, “Nesta really should do a scrying.”

Cassian gazed across the space between their two armchairs. They’d sat in them, before this fire, so many times that it was an unspoken rule that Azriel’s was the one on the left, closer to the window, and Cassian’s the one to the right, closer to the door. A third sat to Azriel’s left, usually for Rhys, and a fourth to Cassian’s right, always for Mor. A lace-lined golden throw pillow adorned the fourth chair, a permanent mark of her ownership. Amren, for whatever reason, rarely stayed here long enough to see this room, so no chair had ever been held for her.

“Nesta isn’t up for a scrying,” Cassian said. “We don’t even know what power she has left.”

But Elain had confirmed it for everyone: both sisters still possessed their Cauldron-gifted powers. Whether they were as powerful as before, he had no idea.

“You do know, though,” Azriel countered. “You’ve seen it—even beyond when it glows in her eyes.”

Cassian hadn’t told anyone about the step he’d found with the clear finger holes burned into it. He wondered if Azriel had somehow learned of them, the news brought to him on his shadows’ whispers. “She’s volatile right now. The last time she did a scrying, it ended badly. The Cauldron looked at her. And then took Elain.” He’d seen every horrific memory flash before Nesta’s eyes today. And though he understood that Elain had spoken true, claiming the trauma of that memory, Cassian knew firsthand the lingering horror and pain of a loved one stolen and hurt.

Azriel stiffened. “I know. I helped rescue Elain, after all.”

Az hadn’t so much as hesitated before going into the heart of Hybern’s war-camp.

Cassian leaned his head against the back of the chair, rustling his wings through the gaps crafted to accommodate them. “Nesta will scry on her own, eventually, if she’s capable.”

“If Briallyn and Koschei find just one of the Dread Trove items—”

“Let Nesta try it her way first.” Cassian held Az’s stare. “If we go in and order her to do it, it’ll backfire. Let her exhaust her other options before she realizes only one is viable.”

Azriel studied his face, then nodded solemnly.

Cassian blew out a breath, watching the flames leap and flutter. “We’re going to be uncles,” he said after a moment, unable to keep the wonder from his voice.

Azriel’s face filled with pride and joy. “A boy.”

It wasn’t a guarantee that a High Lord’s firstborn would be his heir. The magic sometimes took a while to