CHAPTER
28
As graceful as Gwyn had been, Emerie proved to be equally awkward and unbalanced.
“It has to do with your wings,” Cassian said with such gentleness that Nesta, balancing on one leg and sweeping the other up behind her, nearly fell into the dirt next to Emerie. “Without full use of your wings, your body compensates for its off-kilter balance in ways like that.” He nodded toward the ground-eating spill she’d taken.
Gwyn halted her own balancing. “Why?”
“The wings usually act as a counterweight.” He offered a hand to help Emerie rise. “They’re full of delicate muscles that constantly adjust and steady without us so much as thinking about it.” Emerie ignored his hand and stood herself. Cassian explained carefully, “Many of the key muscles can be impacted when someone’s wings are clipped.”
Gwyn glanced to Nesta, who tensed, frowning. Gwyn and Emerie had fallen into an easy camaraderie within minutes. That could have been due to Gwyn peppering Emerie with questions about her shop as they’d gone through the opening exercises.
Emerie dusted the dirt off the legs of her leathers, looser than the ones Nesta wore, as if she were uncomfortable with the skintight norm.
Cassian’s eyes softened. “Which of the healers clipped you?”
Emerie’s chin lifted, color stealing across her face. She met his eyes, though—with a level of directness that Nesta could only admire. “My father did it himself.”
Cassian swore, low and nasty.
Emerie said, voice cold, “I fought him, so his work became even sloppier.”
Gwyn and Nesta kept quiet as Emerie stretched out her right wing nearly all the way before it bunched and shuddered. So did Emerie’s face. “I can’t extend this one past here.” She stretched out the left wing—to barely half its length. “This is all I can get on this side.”
Cassian looked like he’d be sick. “He deserved to die in that battle. Deserved to die a long time before that, Emerie.” His Siphons glared in answer, and something wild and wicked heated in Nesta’s blood at the pure rage in his face, his growling words.
Emerie folded back her wings. “He deserved to die for far more than what he did to my wings.”
“If you’re going to come to Velaris every day, I can get Madja up here. She’s the court’s private healer.” Rhys had brought Emerie, Nesta had learned. And would return her in an hour.
Emerie only went stiffer. “I appreciate the offer, but it’s unnecessary.”
Cassian opened his mouth, but Nesta interrupted, “Enough chitchat. If we only get Emerie for an hour today, then walk us through the punching, Cassian. Let her see what she’ll need to catch up to.”
Emerie threw her a grateful look, and Nesta offered her a slight smile in return.
Cassian nodded, and from the gleam in his eye, she knew he was well aware of why she’d interrupted.
Gwyn asked Emerie, “Do you have libraries in Illyria?” Another lifeline thrown.
“No. I’ve never been in one.” The stiffness faded from Emerie’s posture, word by word.
Gwyn retied her shining hair at the nape of her neck. “Do you like to read?”
Emerie’s mouth curled upward. “I live alone, up in the mountains. I have nothing to do with my spare time except work in my garden and read whatever books I order through the mail service. And in the winter, I don’t even have the distraction of my gardening. So, yes. I like to read. I cannot survive without reading.”
Nesta grunted her agreement.
“What manner of books?” Gwyn asked.
“Romances,” Emerie said, adjusting her own hair, the thick black braid full of reds and browns in the sunlight. Nesta started. Emerie’s eyes lit. “You too? Which ones?”
Nesta rattled off her top five, and Emerie grinned, so broadly it was like seeing another person. “Have you read Sellyn Drake’s novels?”
Nesta shook her head. Emerie gasped, so dramatically that Cassian muttered something about sparing him from smut-obsessed females before heading farther into the ring. “You must read her books. You must. I’ll bring the first one tomorrow. You’ll stay up all night reading it, I swear.”
“Smut?” Gwyn asked, catching Cassian’s muttered words. There was enough hesitation in her voice to make Nesta draw up straight.
Nesta glanced at Emerie, realizing the female didn’t know about Gwyn—her history, or why the priestesses lived in the library. But Emerie asked, “What do you read?”