Nesta knelt in the bed, and stared at the door, the silence her only answer.
CHAPTER
38
“You took him to your bed, didn’t you?”
Emerie’s whispered question had Nesta whipping her head toward her, stomach muscles quivering as she held the upward positioning of her curl. Emerie, a mirror image to her left, simply smirked at the shock on Nesta’s face. Gwyn, on Emerie’s other side, was just wide-eyed.
Nesta schooled her features into neutrality and uncurled to the ground, making sure to hold her abdominal muscles tight until her back was flat against the stone once more. “Why would you say that?”
“Because you and Cassian have been exchanging sultry looks all morning.”
Nesta scowled at Emerie. “We have not.”
It was an effort not to look across the ring, to where Cassian was now walking the newest group of priestesses—two this time, Ilana and Lorelei—through foot positioning and balance. Nesta had, in fact, caught him staring her way twice since the lesson had begun two hours ago, but she’d made a point not to engage in lingering eye contact.
“You have,” Gwyn whispered, low enough that Cassian’s Fae hearing wouldn’t pick up her words. Nesta rolled her eyes.
“Well, if you won’t talk about that,” Emerie said with equal quiet, “then at least tell us what happened yesterday—why there was no lesson, and where you were in the afternoon.”
“I was asked to keep it secret,” Nesta said. Her wounds had healed and vanished already, making it easy to do so.
“It has something to do with the Trove,” Gwyn said, those teal eyes noticing too much.
Nesta didn’t reply, and that was answer enough. Emerie knew the basics—as much as Gwyn had been told—and frowned. But she kept her voice whisper-soft. “So you really didn’t sleep with him?”
Nesta did another curl, torso rising to her knees. “I didn’t say that.”
Emerie let out a hmmm.
Nesta’s cheeks flushed. Emerie and Gwyn swapped glances. And it was Gwyn who said, “Was it good?”
Nesta did another curl, and Cassian barked from across the ring, “Emerie! Gwyn! If you can do those curls as well as you run your mouths, you’d be done by now.”
Emerie and Gwyn grinned fiendishly. “Sorry!” they shouted, and launched into motion.
Nesta grew still as Cassian’s gaze met hers. The space between them went taut, the sounds of the exercising priestesses fading into nothing, the sky an azure blur above, the wind a distant caress on her cheeks—
“You too, Archeron,” he ordered, pointing to where Emerie and Gwyn now exercised, apparently doing their best not to laugh. “Do another fifteen.” Nesta threw a scowl at all of them and began her curls again. That was why she’d been avoiding eye contact with him.
Cassian’s attention slid elsewhere, but with each curl upward, Nesta found herself reining in the urge to gaze his way. She lost count three times. Bastard.
Between curls, Gwyn said, “You know, Nesta, if you’re having trouble concentrating …”
“Oh, please,” Nesta muttered.
Gwyn let out a breathy laugh. “I mean it. I learned about a new Valkyrie technique last night. It’s called Mind-Stilling.”
Nesta managed to ask, body screeching with the effort of the curls, “What is it?”
“They used it to steady their minds and emotions. Some of them did it three or four times a day. But it’s basically the act of sitting and letting your mind go quiet. It might help with your … concentration.”
Emerie snickered, but Nesta paused, ignoring Gwyn’s implication. “Such a thing is possible? To train the mind?”
Gwyn halted her exercising, too. Her teasing smile turned contemplative. “Well, yes. It requires constant practice, but there’s a whole chapter in this book I summarized for Merrill about how they did it. It involved deep breathing and becoming aware of one’s body, then learning to let go. They used it to remain calm in the face of their fears, to settle themselves after a hard battle, and to fight whatever inner demons they possessed.”
“Illyrian warriors do no such thing,” Emerie murmured. “Their heads are full of rage and battle. It’s only gotten worse since the last war. Now that they’re rebuilding their ranks.”
“The Valkyries found heightened emotions distracting in the face of an opponent,” Gwyn said. “They trained their minds to be weapons as sharp as any blade. To be able to keep their composure, to know how to access that place of calm in the midst of battle, made them unshakable opponents.”