Emerie picked up a brass tin, pried open the top, and inhaled. The smoky, velvety scent of tea leaves floated out. “Oh, this is good stuff.” She lifted a glass vial of finely ground powder. When she twisted the lid off, a nutty, spicy scent filled the shop. “Cumin.” Her sigh was like a lover’s. She moved to another and another, six glass containers in total. “Turmeric, cinnamon, allspice, cloves, and …” She peered at the label. “Black pepper.”
Cassian laid the last container on the table, a large marble box that weighed at least two pounds. Emerie yanked off the lid and let out a laugh. “Salt.” She pinched the flaky crystals between her fingers. “A lot of salt.”
Her eyes shone as a rare smile flitted across her face. It made her look younger, wiped away the weight and scars of all those years with her father. “Please tell her I say thank you.”
He cleared his throat, remembering the speech Nesta had drilled into him. “Nesta says you can thank her by showing up to training tomorrow morning.”
Emerie’s smile wavered. “I told her the other day: I have no means to attend.”
“She thought you’d say that. If you want to come, send word, and one of us will bring you.” It’d have to be Rhys, but he doubted his brother would object. “If you can’t stay the full time, that’s fine. Come for an hour, before your shop opens.”
Emerie’s fingers fell away from the spices and tea. “It’s not the right time.”
Cassian knew better than to push. “If you ever change your mind, let us know.” He turned from the counter, aiming for the door.
He knew Nesta had given the gift in part to tempt Emerie to join, but also from the kindness of her heart. He’d asked why she was sending these items, and she’d said, “Emerie needs spices and good tea.” It had stunned him, just as it had stunned him earlier to hear her admit that she liked Gwyn.
Nesta around Gwyn was a wholly different creature than who she was with the court. They didn’t tease or laugh with each other, but an easiness lay between them that he’d never witnessed, even when Nesta was with Elain. She’d always been Elain’s guardian, or Feyre’s sister, or Cauldron-Made.
With Gwyn … he wondered whether Nesta liked the girl because with her, she was simply Nesta. Perhaps she felt that way around Emerie, too.
Had she gone into Velaris, night after night, not only to distract and numb herself, but to be around people who didn’t know the weight of all she carried?
Cassian reached the door, blowing out a soft breath. He’d refused to think of what she’d done to him in the dining room while they’d been training, especially with Gwyn there, but seeing Nesta’s tentative smile as she’d shoved the tea and spices into a bag had him suppressing the urge to push her against the wall and kiss her.
He had no idea where things stood with them. If they were back to a favor for a favor. She’d given him no inkling about whether she’d let him into her bed, or if she’d gotten on her knees to knock him out of the brooding he’d fallen into.
If she had, it implied some level of caring about his well-being, didn’t it? And pity. Fuck, if she’d sucked him because she pitied him—
No. It hadn’t been that. He’d seen the desire in her eyes, felt the softness of her mouth on his neck in those initial touches. It had been comfort, given in the only way she knew how.
Cassian opened the door and looked back, finding Emerie still at the counter, her hand resting on the array of spices and tea. Her eyes were solemn, her lips a tight line. She didn’t seem aware of his presence, so he took that as his cue to leave and leaped into the skies.
Nesta climbed the steps to the training ring, pondering the Dread Trove. She assumed the others had met with no better luck than she had, and if things were indeed as urgent as Azriel had claimed, then perhaps library research wasn’t the best route.
But her stomach clenched to weigh the other option, to recall what had occurred the first and only time she’d scried. Her hands shook as she climbed the last of the steps. She squeezed her fingers into fists, blowing out a steady breath through her nose.
Cassian already stood in the center of the ring. He grinned as she emerged.
It was a wider grin than his usual ones, excited and—pleased.
Nesta’s eyes narrowed as she stepped into the brightness of the ring. Gwyn was already waiting a few feet from Cassian, a smile lighting her own face.
And before them, drinking a glass at the water station, stood Emerie.