“That’s enough,” Feyre snapped at Rhys. “I told you to keep out of it.”
He dragged his star-flecked eyes to his mate, and it was all Nesta could do to keep from collapsing onto the couch as her knees gave out at last. Feyre angled her head, nostrils flaring, and said to Rhysand, “You can either leave, or you can stay and keep your mouth shut.”
Rhys again crossed his arms, but said nothing.
“You too,” Feyre spat to Amren. The female harrumphed and nestled into her chair.
Nesta didn’t bother to look pleasant as Feyre twisted to face her, taking a proper seat on the couch, the velvet cushions sighing beneath her. Her sister swallowed. “We need to make some changes, Nesta,” Feyre said hoarsely. “You do—and we do.”
Where the hell was Elain?
“I’ll take the blame,” Feyre went on, “for allowing things to get this far, and this bad. After the war with Hybern, with everything else that was going on, it … You … I should have been there to help you, but I wasn’t, and I am ready to admit that this is partially my fault.”
“That what is your fault?” Nesta hissed.
“You,” Cassian said. “This bullshit behavior.”
He’d said that at the Winter Solstice. And just as it had then, her spine locked at the insult, the arrogance—
“Look,” Cassian went on, holding up his hands, “it’s not some moral failing, but—”
“I understand how you’re feeling,” Feyre cut in.
“You know nothing about how I’m feeling.”
Feyre plowed ahead. “It’s time for some changes. Starting now.”
“Keep your self-righteous do-gooder nonsense out of my life.”
“You don’t have a life,” Feyre retorted. “And I’m not going to sit by for another moment and watch you destroy yourself.” She put a tattooed hand on her heart, like it meant something. “I decided after the war to give you time, but it seems that was wrong. I was wrong.”
“Oh?” The word was a dagger thrown between them.
Rhys tensed at the sneer, but still said nothing.
“You’re done,” Feyre breathed, voice shaking. “This behavior, that apartment, all of it—you are done, Nesta.”
“And where,” Nesta said, her tone mercifully icy, “am I supposed to go?”
Feyre looked to Cassian.
For once, Cassian wasn’t grinning. “You’re coming with me,” he said. “To train.”
CHAPTER
2
Cassian felt as if he’d loosed an arrow at a sleeping firedrake. Nesta, bundled in that worn blue coat, with her stained shoes and her wrinkled gray dress, looked him over and demanded, “What? ”
“As of this meeting,” Feyre clarified, “you’re moving into the House of Wind.” She nodded eastward, toward the palace carved into the mountains at the far end of the city. “Rhys and I have decided that each morning, you will train with Cassian in Windhaven, in the Illyrian Mountains. After lunch, for the rest of the afternoon, you will be assigned work in the library beneath the House of Wind. But the apartment, the seedy taverns—all of that is over, Nesta.”
Nesta’s fingers curled into fists in her lap. But she said nothing.
He should have positioned himself beside her, instead of allowing his High Lady to sit on that couch within arm’s reach of her. No matter that Feyre already had a shield around herself courtesy of Rhys—it had been there at breakfast, too. Part of my ongoing training, Feyre had muttered when Cassian asked about the ironclad defenses, so strong they even masked her scent. Rhys is having Helion teach him about truly impenetrable shields, so of course I have the pleasure of being the test subject. I’m supposed to try to break this one to see if Rhys is following Helion’s instructions correctly. It’s a new kind of insanity.
But one that had proved fortuitous. Even if they didn’t know what Nesta’s power could do against ordinary magic.
Rhys seemed to be thinking the same thing, and Cassian poised himself to jump between the two sisters. His Siphons flared in warning as Rhys’s power rumbled.
Cassian had no doubt Feyre could defend herself against most opponents, but Nesta …
He wasn’t entirely sure Feyre would hit back, even if Nesta launched that terrible power at her. And he hated that he didn’t know if Nesta would sink low enough to do it. That things had become so bad that he even considered the possibility.
“I’m not moving to the House of Wind,” Nesta said. “And I’m not training at that miserable village. Certainly not with him.” She threw him a look that was nothing short of venomous.