“We could only manage to contain two,” Cassian said tightly. “Under Briallyn’s influence, they were practically rabid.”
“Let’s not lie to ourselves. You only bothered to contain two, by the time your brute bloodlust ebbed away.”
Nesta saw red at the words, and Cassian sucked in a breath. “We did what we could. There were two dozen of them.”
Eris snorted. “There were certainly more than that, and you could have easily spared more than two. But I don’t know why I’d expect someone like you to have done any better.”
“Do you want me to apologize?” Cassian snarled. Nesta’s heart began to pound wildly at the anger darkening his voice, the pain brightening his eyes. He regretted it—he hadn’t liked killing those soldiers.
“Did you even try to spare the others, or did you just launch right into a massacre?” Eris seethed.
Cassian hesitated. Nesta could have sworn she saw the words land their blow. No, Cassian had not hesitated. Nesta knew he hadn’t. He would never hesitate to save someone he loved from an enemy. No matter what it cost him.
Nesta took one step closer to Eris. “Your soldiers shot an ash arrow through one of Azriel’s wings.”
Eris’s teeth flashed. “And did you join in this massacre, too?”
“No,” she said frankly. “But I wonder: Did Briallyn arm the soldiers with those ash arrows, or did they come from your private armory?”
Eris blinked, the only confirmation required. “Such weapons are banned, aren’t they?” she asked Cassian, whose features remained taut. The conflagration within her burned hotter, higher. She returned her attention to Eris. If he could toy with Cassian, then she’d return the favor. “Who were you storing those arrows for?” she mused. “Enemies abroad?” She smiled slightly. “Or an enemy at home?”
Eris held her stare. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Nesta’s smile didn’t waver. “Would an ash arrow through the heart kill a High Lord?”
Eris’s face paled. “You’re wasting my time.”
Nesta shrugged. “And you’re wasting ours. For all we know, you bespelled your soldiers to kill us. Claimed your hounds found scents at the site of their disappearance that linked it to Briallyn, and then lied about Beron’s alliance. Perhaps you even got Morrigan’s father to delay his visit to Velaris as a piece in a grand scheme to gain our trust. All part of your game.”
Cassian’s gaze was a physical touch on her face, but she kept her attention on the stiff-backed Eris. “If you want to play warmonger, go right ahead, Eris.” Her smile widened. “I like an interesting opponent.”
“I am not your enemy,” Eris spat, and Nesta knew she’d won. From the brush of Cassian’s fingers at the small of her back, he knew, too.
Cassian said, “I regret that I couldn’t save more of your soldiers, Eris. I really do. The remaining two will be sent back to you today, though they remain in the Crown’s thrall. But I’m not your enemy, either. Briallyn and Koschei are our enemies—both of ours. If the families of those soldiers need anything, I will gladly give what I can to help them.”
Something like pride bloomed in her at Cassian’s earnest words. He’d give all he had to those families, if it would right this wrong.
Eris glanced between them. Noted the hand on her back. What Cassian had left exposed.
Eris said to Nesta with a smirk, “You’re a pretty little treat. I’d be happy to play any manner of game with you, Nesta Archeron.”
Cassian’s fingers tightened on her back. Eris seemed to sense that, too. Did Cassian have any idea of the things he left vulnerable for people like Eris to strike at? He lived too honestly, too boldly, to notice or care. She couldn’t help but admire it.
“When you get tired of the animal,” Eris said to her, jerking his chin toward Cassian, “come find me. I’ll show you how a future High Lord plays.”
Cassian growled, opening his mouth, but halted.
Eris went still as well.
Nesta felt it a heartbeat later. The presence creeping toward them on soft paws.
Cassian shoved her behind him just as a golden-furred beast with curling horns leaped from behind the brambles, landing in the forest clearing.
She’d never forget that beast. How it had broken down the door of their cottage and terrified her to her bones. How all she’d been able to think of was shielding Elain while Feyre had grabbed that knife to face it. Face him.