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Sarah J. Maas

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“He said down the bond, I would have waited five hundred more years for you. A thousand years. And if this was all the time we were allowed to have... The wait was worth it. He wiped away the tears sliding down my face. 'I believe that everything happened, exactly the way it had to... so I could find you.' He kissed another tear away.”

“The old woman read, 'I write to you not as a High Lord, but as a male in love with a woman who was once human. I write to you to beg you to act quickly. To save her people- to help save my own. I write to you so one day we might know true peace. So I might one day be able to live in a world where the woman I love may visit her family without fear of hatred and reprisal. A better world.' She set down the letter. Rhys had written that letter weeks ago... before we'd mated. Not a demand for the queens to meet- but a love letter. I reached across the space between us and took his hand, squeezing gently. Rhys's fingers tightened around my own.”

“After a while, Rhys lifted his chest enough to take my right hand. To examine the tattoos inked there. He kissed one of the whorls of near-black blue ink. His throat bobbed. 'I missed you. Every second, every breath. Not just this,' he said, shifting his hips for emphasis and dragging a groan from deep in my throat, 'but... talking to you. Laughing with you. I missed having you in my bed, but missed having you as my friend even more.”

“He smiled at me, and I found myself smiling back. I didn't need to pretend, didn't need to be anything but what I was right then, being twirled about the meadow, the will-o'-the-wisps dancing around us like dozens of moons. Our dancing slowed and we stood there, holding each other as we swayed to the songs of the spirits. He rested his chin upon my head and stroked my hair, his fingers grazing the bare skin of m neck. 'Feyre,' he whispered onto my head. He made my name sound beautiful. 'Feyre,' he whispered again- not in question, but simply as if he enjoyed saying it.”

“I followed him into the trees, through the ever-lightening world. His hand was solid and unmovable around mine as we passed through the low-lying mists, and he helped me up a bare hill slick with dew. We sat atop its crest, and I hid my smile as Tamlin put an arm around my shoulders, tucking me in close. I rested my head against his chest, while he toyed with the flowers in my garland. In silence, we stared out over the rolling green expanse. The sky shifted into periwinkle, and the clouds filled with pink light. Then, like a shimmering disk too rich and clear to be described, the sun slipped over the horizon and lined everything with gold. It was like seeing the world being born, and we were the sole witnesses. Tamlin's arm tightened around me, and he kissed the top of my head. I pulled back, looking up at him. The gold in his eyes, bright with the rising sun, flickered. 'What?' 'My father once told me that I should let my sisters imagine a better life- a better world. And I told him that there was no such thing.' I ran my thumb over his mouth, marvelling, and shook my head. 'I never understood- because I couldn't... couldn't believe that it was even possible.' I swallowed, lowering my hand. 'Until now.' His throat bobbed. His kiss that time was deep and thorough, unhurried and intent. I let the dawn creep inside me, let it grow with each movement of his lips and brush of his tongue against mine. Tears pricked beneath my closed eyes. It was the happiest moment of my life.”

“I followed him into the trees, through the ever-lightening world. His hand was solid and unmovable around mine as we passed through the low-lying mists, and he helped me up a bare hill slick with dew. We sat atop its crest, and I hid my smile as Tamlin put an around my shoulders, tucking me in close. I rested my head against his chest, while he toyed with the flowers in my garland. In silence, we stared out over the rolling green expanse. The sky shifted into periwinkle, and the clouds filled with pink light. Then, like a shimmering disk too rich and clear to be described, the sun slipped over the horizon and lined everything with gold. It was like seeing the world being born, and we were the sole witnesses. Tamlin's arm tightened around me, and he kissed the top of my head. I pulled back, looking up at him. The gold in his eyes, bright with the rising sun, flickered. 'What?' 'My father once told me that I should let my sisters imagine a better life- a better world. And I told him that there was no such thing.' I ran my thumb over his mouth, marvelling, and shook my head. 'I never understood- because I couldn't... couldn't believe that it was even possible.' I swallowed, lowering my hand. 'Until now.' His throat bobbed. His kiss that time was deep and thorough, unhurried and intent. I let the dawn creep inside me, let it grow with each movement of his lips and brush of his tongue against mine. Tears pricked beneath my closed eyes. It was the happiest moment of my life.”

“Any words to say before you die?' I came up with a plethora of curses, but I instead looked at Tamlin. He didn't react- his features like stone. I wished that I could glimpse his face- if only for a moment. But all I needed to see were those green eyes. 'I love you,' I said. 'No matter what she says about it, no matter if it's only with my insignificant human heart. Even when they burn my body, I'll love you.' My lips trembled, and my vision clouded before several warm tears slipped down my chilled face. I didn't wipe them away. He didn't react- he didn't even grip the arms of his throne. I supposed that was his way of enduring it, even if it made my chest cave in. Even if his silence killed me. Amarantha smiled sweetly. 'You'll be lucky my darling, if we even have enough left of you to burn.”

“I am High Lady of the Night Court,' I said quietly to them all. Even Eris stopped sneering. His amber eyes widened, something like fear now creeping into them. 'There's no such thing as a High Lady,' one of Lucien's brothers spat. A faint smile played on my mouth. 'There is now.' And it was time for the world to know it.”

“Cassian's focus had gone right to Mor, Azriel indulging in all of a glance before scanning the people around them. Most shirked from the spymaster's eyes- though they trembled as they beheld Truth-Teller at his side, the Illyrian blade peeking above his left shoulder. Azriel, his face a mask of beautiful death, silently promised them all endless, unyielding torment, even the shadows shuddering in his wake. I knew why; knew for whom he'd gladly do it. They had tried to sell a seventeen-year-old girl into marriage with a sadist- and then brutalised her in ways I couldn't, wouldn't, let myself consider. And these people now lived in utter terror of the three companions who stood at the dais. Good. They should be afraid of them. Afraid of me.”

“I studied the stable behind him instead. At least it was big, open, the stable hands now off in another wing. I usually had little issue with being inside, which was mostly whenever I was bored enough to visit the horses housed within. Plenty of space to move, to escape. he walls didn't feel too... permanent. Not like the kitchens, which were too low, the walls too thick, the windows not big enough to climb through. Not like the study, with not enough natural light or easy exits. I had a long list in my head of what places I could and couldn't endure at the manor, ranked by precisely how much they made my body luck up and sweat.”

“I studied the stable behind him instead. At least it was big, open, the stable hands now off in another wing. I usually had little issue with being inside, which was mostly whenever I was bored enough to visit the horses housed within. Plenty of space to move, to escape. the walls didn't feel too... permanent. Not like the kitchens, which were too low, the walls too thick, the windows not big enough to climb through. Not like the study, with not enough natural light or easy exits. I had a long list in my head of what places I could and couldn't endure at the manor, ranked by precisely how much they made my body luck up and sweat.”

“Lucien was the first to turn where I lurked in the doorway, falling silent mid-sentence. But then Tamlin's head snapped up, and he was racing across the room, so fast that I hardly had time to draw breath before he was crushing me against him. I murmured his name as my throat burned, and then- Then he was holding me at arm's length, scanning me from head to toe. 'Are you all right? Are you hurt?' 'I'm fine,' I said, noticing the exact moment when he realised the Night Court clothes I was wearing, the strip of bare skin exposed at my midriff. 'No one touched me.' But he kept scouring my face, my neck. And then he rotated me, examining my back, as if he could discern through the clothes. I tore out of his grip. 'I said no one touched me.' His breathing was hard, his eyes wide. 'You're all right,' he said. And then said it again. And again. My heart cracked, and I reached to cup his cheek. 'Tamlin,' I murmured. Lucien and the other sentries, wisely, made their exit. My friend caught my gaze as he left, giving me a relieved smile. 'He can harm you in other ways,' Tamlin croaked, closing his eyes against my touch. 'I know- but I'm all right, I truly am,' I said as gently as I could. And then noticed the study walls- the claw marks raked down them. All over them. And the table they'd been using... that was new. 'You trashed the study.' 'I trashed half the house,' he said, leaning forward to press his brow to mind. 'He took you away, he stole you-' 'And left me alone.”

“Why- why do any of this?' He leaned in closer, so close that I had to tip my head back to see him. 'Because your human joy fascinates me- the way you experience things, in your life span, so wildly and deeply and all at once, is... entrancing. I'm drawn to it, even when I know I shouldn't be, even when I try not to be.' Because I was human, and I would grow old and- I didn't let myself get that far as he came closer still. Slowly, as if giving me time to pull away, he brushed his lips against my cheek. Soft and warm and heartbreakingly gentle. It was hardly more than a caress before he straightened. I hadn't moved from the moment his mouth had met my skin. 'One day- one day there will be answers for everything,' he said, releasing my hand and stepping away. 'But not until the time is right. Until its safe.' In the dark, his tone was enough to know that his eyes were flecked with bitterness. He left me, and I took a gasping breath, not realising I'd been holding it. Not realising that I craved his warmth, his nearness, until he was gone.”

“The longest day of the year, I said into the bond, sending along flickers of all that had occurred atop that hill. I wish I could spend it with you. He would have enjoyed my performance- would have laughed himself hoarse afterward at the expression on Ianthe's face. ... Rhysand's voice filled my mind. It'd be an honour, he said, laughter in every word, to spend even a moment in the company of Feyre Cauldron-blessed. ... Rhysand's faint voice filled my head once more. I wish I could spend today with you, too. The words wrapped a fist around my heart...”

“Slowly, Tamlin's head lifted, his unbound golden hair dull and matted. 'Do you think she will forgive me?' The question was a rasp, as if he'd been screaming. I knew whom he meant. And I didn't know. I didn't know if her wishing him happiness was the same as forgiveness. If Feyre would ever want to offer that to him. Forgiveness could be a gift to both, but what he'd done... 'Do you want her to?' His green eyes were empty. 'Do I deserve it?' No. Never. He must have read it on my face, because he asked, 'Do you forgive me- for your mother and sister?' 'I don't recall every hearing an apology.' As if an apology would ever right it. As if an apology would ever cover the loss that still ate at me, the hole that remained where their bright, lovely lives had once glowed. 'I don't think one will make a difference, anyway,' Tamlin said, staring at his felled elk once more. 'For either of you.' Broken. Utterly broken. You will need Tamlin as an ally before the dust has settled, Lucien had warned my mate. Perhaps that was why I'd come, too. I waved a hand, my magic slicing and sundering, and the elk's coat slid to the floor in a rasp of fur and slap of wet flesh. Another flicker of power, and slabs of meat had been carved from its sides, piled next to the dark stove- which soon kindled. 'Eat, Tamlin,' I said. He didn't so much as blink. It was not forgiveness- it was not kindness. I could not, would not, ever forget what he'd done to those I loved most. But it was Solstice, or had been. And perhaps because Feyre had given me a gift greater than any I could dream of, I said, 'You can waste away and die after we've sorted out this new world of ours.' A pulse of my power, and an iron skillet slid onto the now-hot stove, a steak of meat thumping into it with a sizzle. 'Eat, Tamlin,' I repeated, and vanished on a dark wind.”

“When he paused before a set of wooden doors, the slight smile he gave me was enough to make me blurt, 'Why do anything- anything this kind?' The smile faltered. 'It's been a long time since there was anyone here who appreciated these things. I like seeing them used again.' Especially when there was such blood and death in every other part of his life. He opened the gallery doors, and the breath was knocked from me. The pale wooden floors gleamed in the clean, bright light pouring in from the windows. The room was empty save for a few large chairs and benches for viewing the... the... I barely registered moving into the long gallery, one hand absent-mindedly wrapping around my throat as I looked up at the paintings. So many, so different, yet all arranged to flow together seamlessly. Such different views and snippets and angles of the world. Pastorals, portraits, still lifes... each a story and an experience, each a voice showing or whispering or singing about what that moment, that feeling had been like, each a cry into the void of time that they had been here, had existed. Some had been painted through eyes like mine, artists who saw in colours and shapes I understood. Some showcased colours I had not considered, these had a bend to the world that told me a different set of eyes had painted them. A portal into the mind of a creature so unlike me, and yet... and yet I looked at its work and understood, and felt, and cared. 'I never knew,' Tamlin said from behind me, 'that humans were capable of...' He trailed off as I turned, the hand I'd put on my throat sliding down to my chest, where my heart roared with a fierce sort of joy and grief and overwhelming humility- humility before that magnificent art. He stood by the doors, head cocked in that animalistic way, the words still lost on his tongue. I wiped at my damp cheeks. 'It's...' Perfect, wonderful, beyond my wildest imaginings didn't cover it. I kept my hand over my heart. 'Thank you,' I said. It was all I could find to show him what these paintings- to be allowed into this room- meant. 'Come here whenever you want.' I smiled at him, hardly able to contain the brightness in my heart. His returning smile was tentative but shining, and then he left me to admire the gallery at my own leisure. I stayed for hours- stayed until I was drunk on the art, until I was dizzy with hunger and wandered out to find food.”

“The Spring Court had felt stagnant. Hollow. Empty, despite its growing life. But this House was alive. It welcomed her, wanted her to grow and thrive. It was a place where she might rest or explore, where she could be whoever and whatever she wished. Was that what home was? She had never learned. But this place... Yes, home might be a good name for it. Perhaps that was what Feyre had felt, too, when she'd left the Spring Court and come to these lands. Perhaps Feyre had fallen in love with this court as much as she had its ruler.”

“Tamlin gripped my hand as we strode through the darkness. Neither of us said anything when a glimmer of sunlight appeared, staining the damp cave walls with a silvery sheen, but our steps quickened as the sunlight grew brighter and the cave warmer, and then both of us emerged onto the spring-green grass that covered the bumps and hollows of his lands. Our lands. The breeze, the scent of wildflowers hit me, and despite the hole in my chest, the stain on my soul, I couldn't stop the smile that spread as we mounted a steep hill. My faerie legs were far stronger than my human ones, and when we reached the top of the knoll, I wasn't nearly as winded as I might once have been. But the breath was knocked from my chest when I beheld the rose-covered manor. Home. In all my imaginings in Amarantha's dungeons, I'd never allowed myself to think of this moment- never allowed myself to dream that outrageously. But I'd made it- I'd brought us both home.”

“Tamlin slipped an arm around my shoulders, tucking me close to him as he rested his cheek on my head. My lips trembled, and I wrapped my arm around his waist. We stood atop the hill in silence, until the setting sun gilded the house and the hills and the world and Lucien called us to dinner. I stepped out of Tamlin's arms and kissed him softly. Tomorrow- there would be a tomorrow, and an eternity, to face what I had done, to face what I shredded into pieces inside myself while Under the Mountain. But for now... for today... 'Let's go home,' I said, and took his hand.”

“I was leaving just when this place had become more than a sanctuary, when the command of the Suriel had become a blessing and Tamlin far, far more than a saviour or friend, I was leaving. It could be years until I saw this house again, years until I smelled his rose garden, until I saw those gold-flecked eyes. Home- this was home.”

“Lucien asked, 'What is this place?' We all looked at him. 'Home,' I said. 'This is- my home.' I could see the details now sinking in. The lack of darkness. The lack of screaming. The scent of the sea and citrus, not blood and decay. The laughter of children that indeed continued. The greatest secret in Prythian's history. 'This is Velaris,' I explained. 'The City of Starlight.' His throat bobbed. 'And you are High Lady of the Night Court.' 'Indeed she is.”

“Sunlight still leaked in through the windows of the town house. The scent of citrus and the sea and baked bread still filled every room. And distantly... Children were still laughing in the streets. Home. Home was the same- home was untouched. I squeezed Rhys's hand so tightly I thought he'd complain, but he only squeezed tight back. And even thought we had all bathed, as we stood there... there was a grime to us. Like the blood hadn't entirely washed off. And I realised that home was indeed the same, but we... perhaps we were not.”

“Rhys pressed a kiss to my hair. 'You're home.' A shuddering, small sound came out of me as I nodded, squeezing him tighter. Home. Not just Velaris, but wherever he was, our family was. Ebony claws stroked along the barrier in my mind- in affection and request. I lowed my shields for him, just as his own dropped. His mind curled around mine, as surely as his body now held me. 'I missed you every moment, ' Rhys said, leaning down to kiss the corner of my mouth. 'Your smile.' His lips grazed over the shell of my ear and my back arched slightly. 'Your laugh.' He pressed a kiss to my neck, right beneath my ear, and I titled my head to give him access, biting down the urge to beg him to take more, to take faster as he murmured, 'Your scent.”

“You declared yourself High Lady.' 'Was I not supposed to?' He released my arm to brush his knuckles across my cheek. 'I've wanted to roar it from the rooftops of Velaris from the moment the priestess anointed you. How typical of you to upend my grand plans.' A smiled tugged on my lips. 'It happened less than an hour ago. I'm sure you could go crow from the chimney right now and everyone would give you credit for breaking the news.' His fingers threaded through my hair, tilting my face up. That wicked smile grew, and my toes curled in their boots. 'There's my darling Feyre.”

“He took a step closer to me, the laughter still dancing on his face. 'Feeling better today?' I mumbled some noncommittal response. 'Good,' he said, either ignoring or hiding his amusement. 'But just in case, I wanted to give you this,' he added, pulling some papers from his tunic and extending them to me. I bit the inside of my cheek as I stared down at the three pieces of paper. It was a series of five-lined... poems. There were five of them altogether, and I began sweating at words I didn't recognise. It would take me an entire day just to figure out what these words meant. 'Before you bolt or start yelling...' he said, coming around to peer over my shoulder. If I'd dared, I could have leaned back into his chest. His breath warmed my neck, the shell of my ear. He cleared his throat and read the first poem. There once was a lady most beautiful Spirited, if a little unusual Her friends were few But how the men did queue But to all she gave a refusal. My brows rose so high I thought they'd touch my hairline, and I turned, blinking at him, our breath mingling as he finished the poem with a smile. Without waiting for my response, Tamlin took the papers and stepped a pace away to read the second poem, which wasn't nearly as polite as the first. By the time he read the third poem, my face was burning. Tamlin paused before he read the fourth, then handed me back the papers. 'Final word in the second and fourth line of each poem,' he said, jerking his chin toward the papers in my hands. Unusual. Queue. I looked at the second poem. Slaying. Conflagration. 'These are-' I stared. 'Your list of words was too interesting to pass up. And not good for love poems at all.' When I lifted my brow in silent inquiry, he said, 'We had contests to see who could write the dirtiest limericks while I was living with my father's war-band by the border. I don't particularly enjoy losing, so I took it upon myself to become good at them.' I didn't know how he'd remembered that long list I'd compiled- I didn't want to. Sensing I wasn't about to draw an arrow and shoot him, Tamlin took the papers and read the fifth poem, the dirtiest and foulest of them all. When he finished, I tipped back my head and howled, my laughter like sunshine shattering age-hardened ice.”

“I didn't notice that someone stood beside me until the heap from his body leaked onto mine. I went rigid when I smelled that rain and earthen scent, and didn't dare turn to Tamlin. We stood side by side, staring out at the crowd, as still and unnoticeable as statues. His fingers brushed mine, and a line of fire went through me, burning me so badly that my eyes pricked with tears. I wished- I wished he wasn't touching my marred hand, that his fingers didn't have to caress the contours of that wretched tattoo. But I lived in that moment- my life became beautiful again for those few seconds when our hands grazed.”

“You're shivering so hard the bed is shaking,' he said. 'My hair is wet,' I said. It wasn't a lie. Rhys went silent, then the mattress groaned, sinking directly behind me as his warmth poured over me. 'No expectations,' he said. 'Just body heat.' I scowled at the laughter in his voice. But his broad hands slid under and over me: one flattening against my stomach and tugging me against the hard warmth of him, the other sliding under my ribs and arms to band around my chest, pressing his front into me. He tangled his legs with mine, and then a heavier, warmer darkness settled over us, smelling of citrus and sea. I lifted a hand toward that darkness, and met with a soft, silky material- his wing, cocooning and warming me. I traced my finger along it, and he shuddered, his arms tightening around me. 'Your finger... is very cold,' he gritted out, the words hot on my neck. I tried not to smile, even as I tilted my neck a bit more, hoping the heat of his breath might caress it again. I dragged my finger along his wing, the nail scraping gently against the smooth surface. Rhys tensed, his hand splaying across his stomach. 'You cruel, wicked thing,' he purred, his nose grazing the exposed bit of neck I'd arched beneath him. 'Didn't anyone ever teach you manners?' 'I never knew Illyrians were such sensitive babies,' I said, sliding another finger down the inside of his wing.”

“Greedy,' he murmured, his lips hovering over my neck. 'First you terrorise me with your cold hands, now you want... what is it you want, Feyre?' ... Rhysand's teeth scraped against my neck in a lazy caress. 'What is it you want, Feyre?' He nipped at my earlobe. I cried out a little, arching fully against him, as if I could get that hand to slip exactly where I wanted it. I knew what he wanted me to say. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of it. Not yet. So I said, 'I want a distraction.' It was breathless. 'I want- fun.' His body again tensed behind mine. And I wondered if he somehow didn't see it for the lie it was; if he thought... if he thought that was all I indeed wanted. But his hands resumed their roaming. 'Then allow me the pleasure of distracting you.”

“Nesta only lifted her chin. 'I...' I'd never seen her stumble for words. 'I do not want to be remembered as a coward.' 'No one would say that,' I offered quietly. 'I would,' Nesta surveyed us all, her gaze jumping past Cassian. Not to slight him, but... avoid answering the look he was giving her. Approval- more. 'It was some distant thing,' she said. 'War. Battle. It... it's not anymore. I will help, if I can. If it means... telling them what happened.' ... 'You went off to battle for a court you barely know- who barely see you as friends. Amren showed me the blood ruby. And when I asked you why... you said because it was the right thing. People need help.' Her throat bobbed. 'No one is going to fight to save the humans beneath the wall. No one cares. But I do.' She toyed with a fold in her dress. 'I do.”

“High Fae and various lesser-faeries I'd never encountered and didn't know the names of wandered the streets. It was the latter that I noticed more than the others; some long-limbed, hairless, and glowing as if an inner moon dwelled beneath their night-dark skin, some covered in opalescent scales that shifted colour with each graceful step of their clawed, webbed feet, some elegant, wild puzzles of horns and hooves and striped fur. Some were bundled in heavy overcoats, scarves, and mittens- others strode about in nothing but their scales and fur and talons and didn't seem to think twice about it. Neither did anyone else. All of them, however, were preoccupied with taking in the sights, some shopping, some splattered with clay and dust and- and paint.”

“Tell me a secret no one knows, Lord of Night, and I'll tell you mine.' I braced myself for whatever horrible truth was about to come my way. But Rhysand said, 'My right knee gets a twinge of pain when it rains. I wrecked it during the War, and it's hurt ever since.' The Bone Carver bit out a harsh laugh, even as I gaped at Rhys. 'You always were my favourite.”

“And you,' she hissed at me. 'You,' Her teeth gleamed- turning sharp. 'I'm going to kill you.' Someone cried out, but I couldn't move, couldn't even try to get out of the way as something far more violent than lightning struck me, and I crashed to the floor. 'I'm going to make you pay for your insolence,' Amarantha snarled, and a scream ravaged my throat as pain like nothing I had know erupted through me. My very bones were shattering as my body rose and then slammed onto the hard floor, and I was crushed beneath another wave of torturous agony. 'Admit you don't really love him, and I'll spare you,' Amarantha breathed, and through my fractured vision, I saw her prowl toward me. 'Admit what a cowardly, lying, inconstant bit of human garbage you are.' I wouldn't- I wouldn't say that even if she splattered me across the ground. But I was being ripped apart from the inside out, and I thrashed, unable to out-scream the pain. 'Feyre!' someone roared. No, not someone- Rhysand. But Amarantha still neared. 'You think you're worthy of him? A High Lord? You think you deserve anything at all, human?' My back arched, and my ribs cracked, one by one. Rhysand yelled my name again- yelled it as though he cared. I blacked out, but she brought me back, ensuring that I felt everything, ensuring that I screamed every time a bone broke.”

“Are you all right?' he said as he scooped me into his arms to fly us to another location. I nestled into his warmth, savouring it. 'The fact that it was so easy, that I felt so little, upsets me more than the encounter itself.' Perhaps that had been my problem all along. Why I hadn't dared take that final step at Starfall. I was guilty that I didn't feel awful, not truly. Not for wanting him. A few mighty flaps had us soaring up through the trees and sailing low over the forest, rain slicing into my face. 'I knew things were bad,' Rhysand said with quiet rage, barely audible over the freezing bite of the wind and rain, 'but I thought Lucien, at least, would have stepped in.' 'I thought so, too,' I said, my voice smaller than I intended. He squeezed me gently, and I blinked at him through the rain. For once, his eyes were on me, not the landscape below. 'You look good with wings,' he said, and kissed my brow. Even the rain stopped feeling so cold.”

“Cassian stepped in Nesta's path when she tried to walk past him. Put a tan, callused hand on her forehead. She shook off the touch, but he gripped her wrist, forcing her to meet his stare. 'Any one of those human pricks makes a move to hurt you,' he breathed, 'and you kill them.' ... Cassian pressed one of his knives into Nesta's hand. 'Ash can kill you now,' he said with lethal quiet as she stared down at the blade. 'A scratch can make you queasy enough to be vulnerable. Remember where the exits are in every room, every fence and courtyard- mark them when you go in, and mark how many men are around you. Mark where Rhys and the others are. Don't forget that you're stronger and faster. Aim for the soft parts,' he added, folding her fingers around the hilt. 'And if someone gets you into a hold...' My sister said nothing as Cassian showed her the sensitive areas on a man. Not just the groin, but the inside of the foot, pinching the thigh, using her elbow like a weapon. When he finished, he stepped back, his hazel eyes churning with some emotion I couldn't place. Nesta surveyed the fine dagger in her hand. Then lifted her head to look at him. 'I told you to come to training,' Cassian said with a cocky grin, and strode off. I studied Nesta, the dagger, her quiet, still face. 'Don't even start,' she warned me, and headed for the stairs.”