Cassian slid into the chair opposite hers, his food instantly appearing before him, and said with grating cheer, “Morning, Nesta.”
She threw him an equally saccharine smile. “Good morning, Cassian.”
Azriel’s hazel eyes danced, but he said nothing as he gracefully took his place beside Cassian, a plate of his own food appearing.
“I haven’t seen you in a while,” Nesta said to him. She couldn’t remember the last time, actually.
Azriel took a bite of his eggs before replying. “Likewise.” The shadowsinger nodded toward her clothes. “How’s training?” Cassian cut him a sharp look.
Nesta glanced between them. There was no way Azriel didn’t know about yesterday. Cassian had probably gloated about the incident with the stairs, too.
She sipped from her tea. “Training is fantastic. Absolutely riveting.”
Azriel’s mouth curled up at the corner. “I hope you’re not giving my brother a hard time.”
She set down her teacup. “Is that a threat, Shadowsinger?”
Cassian took a long drink from his own tea. Drained it to the dregs.
Azriel said coolly, “I don’t need to resort to threats.” The shadows coiled around him, snakes ready to strike.
Nesta gave him a smile, holding his stare. “Neither do I.”
She leaned back in her chair and said to Cassian, who was frowning at both of them, “I want to train with him instead.”
She could have sworn Cassian went still. Interesting.
Azriel coughed into his tea.
Cassian drummed his fingers on the table. “I think you’ll find that Az is even less forgiving than I am.”
“With that pretty face?” she crooned. “I have a hard time believing that.”
Azriel ducked his head, focusing on his food.
“You want to train with Az,” Cassian said tightly, “then go ahead.” He appeared thoughtful for a moment, his eyes lighting before he added, “Though I doubt that you’ll survive a lesson with him, when you can’t manage to walk down a hundred stairs without being so sore the next morning that you’re unable to get out of your chair.”
She braced her feet on the floor. He’d read every tinge of pain on her face if she stood, but letting him see he was right—
Azriel studied the two of them as she planted her hands on the table, bit down on her yelp, and stood in a great rush.
Cassian shoveled more eggs into his mouth and said around them, “Doesn’t count when you use your hands to do most of the work.”
Nesta schooled her face into utter disdain, even as a hiss rose inside her. “I bet that isn’t what you’ve been telling yourself at night.”
Azriel’s shoulders shook with silent laughter as Cassian set down his fork, his eyes gleaming with challenge.
Cassian’s voice dropped an octave. “Is that what those smutty books teach you? That it’s only at night?”
It took a heartbeat for the words to settle. And she couldn’t stop it, the heat that sprang to her face, her glance at his powerful hands. Even with Azriel now biting his lip to keep from laughing, she couldn’t stop herself.
Cassian said with a wicked smile, “It could be anytime—dawn’s first light, or when I’m bathing, or even after a long, hard day of practice.”
She didn’t miss the slight emphasis he put on long, hard.
Nesta couldn’t stop her toes from curling in her boots. But she said with a slight smile, striding for the doorway, refusing to let one bit of the discomfort in her sore legs show, “Sounds like you have a lot of time on your hands, Cassian.”
“You’re in deep shit,” Azriel said mildly to him on the chilly veranda as Nesta donned her cloak inside.
“I know,” Cassian muttered. He had no idea how it had happened: how he’d gone from mocking Nesta to taunting her with his own bedroom habits. Then imagining her hand wrapped around him, pumping him, until he was a heartbeat away from exploding out of his chair and leaping into the skies.
He knew Az had been well aware of the shift in his scent. How his skin had become too tight at the way she said his name, his cock an insistent ache rubbing against the buttons of his pants.
He could count on one hand the number of times she’d addressed him by name.
The thought of that one hand led him back to her hand, squeezing him rough and hard, just the way he liked it—
Cassian gritted his teeth and breathed in the crisp morning air. Willed it to settle him. Made himself focus on the morning wind’s sweet song. The wind around Velaris had always been lovely, gentle. Not like the vicious, unforgiving mistress that ruled the peaks of Illyria.