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“What is that,' Devlon asked. Nesta merely stared at him, one hand clamping the edges of her grey cloak together at her chest. One of the other camp lords made some sign against evil. 'That,' Cassian said too quietly, 'is none of your concern.' 'Is she a witch?' I opened my mouth, but Nesta said flatly, 'Yes.' And I watched as nine full-grown, weathered Illyrian warlords flinched. 'She may act like one sometimes,' Cassian clarified, 'but no- she's High Fae.”

FunnySarah J MaasWitchCassianNesta ArcheronNestaA Court Of Wings And RuinHigh FaeDevlonFlinching
Book:A Court of Wings and Ruin
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“Cooldown.' 'You sound eager.' She met his stare. 'I...' She swallowed. Hated herself for balking and forced herself to say, 'The breathing makes my head stop being so...' Horrible. Awful. Miserable. 'Loud.' 'Ah.' Understanding washed over his face. 'Mine too.' For a moment, she held his gaze, watched the wind tug at the strands of his shoulder-length hair. The instinct to touch the sable locks had her pressing her palms to the mat, as if physically restraining herself. 'Right,' Cassian cleared his throat. 'Cooldown.”

Sarah J MaasBreathingCassianNesta ArcheronNestaA Court Of Silver FlamesCalmingExercisingClear MindCooldown
Book:A ​Court of Silver Flames
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“He paused a foot away, and frowned. 'Dresses aren't good for flying, ladies.' Nesta didn't reply. He lifted a brow. 'No barking and biting today?' But Nesta didn't rise to meet him, her face still drained and sallow. 'I've never worn pants,' was all she said. I could have sworn concern flashed across Cassian's features. But he brushed it aside and drawled. 'I have no doubt you'd start a riot if you did.”

ConcernDressesSarah J MaasPantsRiotCassianNesta ArcheronNestaA Court Of Wings And RuinDrained
Book:A Court of Wings and Ruin
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“Nesta didn't see the lake, or the stones, or the sunlight and green. Her vision blurred, and her eyes stung as if they had been sliced- cleaved open to allow the tears to pass. She made it to the stones before she fell to her knees, so hard the rock bit into her bones. Was she worth being counted? She knew the answer. Had always known it. Cassian whirled toward her, but Nesta didn't see him, either, or hear his words.. Not as she buried her face in her hands and wept.”

Sarah J MaasCryingWorthlessBreaking DownCassianNesta ArcheronNestaA Court Of Silver FlamesCountWept
Book:A ​Court of Silver Flames
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“Nesta, it should not have come out as it did.' 'Did Cassian tell you that?' He'd gone to Feyre, rather than here? 'No, but I can guess as much. He didn't want to keep anything from you.' 'My issue isn't with Cassian.' Nesta levelled her stare at Amren. 'I trusted you to have my back.' 'I stopped having your back the moment you decided to use that loyalty as a shield against everyone else.' Nesta snarled, but Feyre stepped between them, hands raised. 'This conversation ends now. Nesta, go back to the House. Amren, you...' She hesitated, as if considering the wisdom of ordering Amren around. Feyre finished carefully, 'You stay here.' Nesta let out a low laugh. 'You are her High Lady. You don't need to cater to her. Not when she now has less power than any of you.' Feyre's eyes blazed. 'Amren is my friend, and has been a member of this court for centuries. I offer her respect.' 'Is it respect that she offers you?' Nesta spat. 'It is respect that your mate offers you?' Feyre went still. Amren warned, 'Don't you say one more fucking word, Nesta Archeron.' Feyre asked, 'What do you mean?' And Nesta didn't care. Couldn't think around the roaring. 'Have any of them told you, their respected High lady, that the babe in your womb will kill you?' Amren barked, 'Shut your mouth!' But her order was confirmation enough. Face paling, Feyre whispered again, 'What do you mean?' 'The wings,' Nesta seethed. 'The boy's Illyrian wings will get stuck in your Fae body during the labour, and it will kill you both.' Silence rippled through the room, the world. Feyre breathed, 'Madja just said that the labour would be risky. But the Bone Carver... The son he showed me didn't have wings.' Her voice broke. 'Did he only show me what I wanted to see.' 'I don't know,' Nesta said. 'But I do know that your mate ordered everyone not to inform you of the truth.' She turned to Amren. 'Did you all vote on that, too? Did you talk about her, judge her, and deem her unworthy of the truth? What was your vote, Amren? To let Feyre die in ignorance?' Before Amren could reply, Nesta turned back to her sister. 'Didn't you question why your precious, perfect Rhysand has been a moody bastard for weeks? Because he knows you will die. He knows, and yet he still didn't tell you.' Feyre began shaking. 'If I die...' Her gaze drifted to one of her tattooed arms. She lifted her head, eyes bright with tears as she asked Amren, 'You... all of you knew this?' Amren threw a withering glare in Nesta's direction, but said, 'We did not wish to alarm you. Fear can be as deadly as any physical threat.' 'Rhys knew?' Tears spilled down Feyre's cheeks, smearing the paint splattered there. 'About the threat to our lives?' She peered down at herself, at the tattooed hand cradling her abdomen. And Nesta knew then that she had not once in her life been loved by her mother as much as Feyre already loved the boy growing within her. It broke something in Nesta- broke that rage, that roaring- seeing those tears begin to fall, the fear crumpling Feyre's paint-smeared face. She had gone too far. She... Oh, gods. Amren said, 'I think it is best, girl, if you speak to Rhysand about this.' Nesta couldn't bear it- the pain and fear and love on Feyre's face as she caressed her stomach. Amren growled at Nesta, 'I hope you're content now.' Nesta didn't respond. Didn't know what to say or do with herself. She simply turned on her heel and ran from the apartment.”

RegretSarah J MaasFeyre ArcheronRhysandCassianNesta ArcheronNestaA Court Of Silver FlamesAmrenBombshell
Book:A ​Court of Silver Flames
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“Nesta ate until she couldn't fit another morsel into her body, helping herself to thirds of the soup. The House seemed more than happy to oblige her, and had even offered her a slice of double-chocolate cake to finish. 'Is this Cassian-approved?' She picked up the fork and smiled at the moist, gleaming cake. 'It certainly isn't,' he said from the doorway, and Nesta whirled, scowling. He nodded toward the cake. 'But eat up.' She put down the fork. 'What do you want?' Cassian surveyed the family library. 'Why are you eating in here?' 'Isn't it obvious?' His grin was a slash of white. 'The only thing that's obvious is that you're talking to yourself.' 'I'm talking to the House. Which is a considerable step up from talking to you.' 'It doesn't talk back.' 'Exactly.' He snorted. 'I walked into that one.' He stalked across the room, eyeing the cake she still didn't touch. 'Are you really... talking to the House?' 'Don't you talk to it?' 'No.' 'It listens to me,' she insisted. 'Of course it does. It's enchanted.' 'It even brought food down to the library unasked.' His brows rose. 'Why?' 'I don't know how your faerie magic works.' 'Did you... do anything to make it act that way?' 'If you're taking a page from Devlon's book and asking if I did any witchcraft, the answer is no.' Cassian chuckled. 'That's not what I meant, but fine. The House likes you. Congratulations.' She growled, and he leaned over to pick up the fork. She went stiff at his closeness, but he said nothing as he took a bite of the cake. He let out a hum of pleasure that traveled along her bones. And then took another bite. 'That's supposed to be mine,' she groused, peering up at him as he continued to eat. 'Then take it from me,' he said.”

FunnyHouseMagicSarah J MaasCassianNesta ArcheronNestaA Court Of Silver FlamesTeasingChocolate Cake
Book:A ​Court of Silver Flames
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“He pleaded. 'I didn't mean it like-' ' 'I'm calling in my favour,' she said. He went still, brows bunching. And then his eyes widened. 'Whatever you're-' 'I want you to leave. Go up to the House of Wind for the night. Do not speak to me until I come talk to you, or until a week has passed. Whichever comes first. I don't care.' Until she'd mastered herself enough to not hurt him, to stop feeling the old urge to strike and maim before she could be wounded. Cassian lurched toward her, but winced, back arching. Like the bargain tattoo on his back had burned him. 'Go away,' she ordered. His throat worked, eyes bulging. Fighting the power of the bargain with his every breath. But then he whirled, wingbeats booming as he leaped into the skies above the river. Nesta remained on the quay as her spine tingled, and she knew her tattoo had vanished.”

ArgumentSarah J MaasMatesFavourCassianNesta ArcheronNestaA Court Of Silver FlamesDealBargain
Book:A ​Court of Silver Flames
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“By the Cauldron,' a familiar male voice said beside Cassian, and he turned to find Lucien in the archway to the training area. ... 'Feyre said she was training, but I hadn't realised she was... well, training.' ... 'Did you think she was filing her nails?' Lucien's mechanical eye clicked. His face tightened as Nesta threw a spectacular left hook into the wood beam. It shuddered with the impact. 'I wonder if there are some things that should not be awoken,' he murmured. Cassian cut him a glare. 'Mind your own business, fireling.' Lucien just watched Nesta attack, his golden skin a little pale. 'Why are you here?' Cassian asked, unable to help the sharpness. 'Where's Elain?' 'I am not always in the city to see my mate.' The last two words dripped with discomfort. 'And I came up here because Feyre said I should. I need to kill a few hours before I'm to meet with her and Rhys. She thought I might enjoy seeing Nesta at work.' 'She's not a carnival attraction,' Cassian said through his teeth. 'It's not for entertainment.' Lucien's red hair gleamed in the dimness of the rainy day. 'I think Feyre wanted a progress assessment from someone who hasn't seen her in a while. 'And?' Cassian bit out. Lucien threw him a withering look. 'I'm not your enemy, you know. You can drop the aggressive brute act.' Cassian gave him a grin that didn't meet his eyes. 'Who says it's an act?' Lucien let out a long sigh. 'Very well.”

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“I don't think Nesta will ever forgive me for what happened in Hybern. To her- but mostly to Elain.' 'Your wings were shredded. You were barely alive.' For that was guilt- ravaging and poisonous- in each of Cassian's words. What the others had been fighting against in the loft. 'You were in no position to save anyone.' 'I made her a promise.' The wind ruffled Cassian's hair as he squinted at the sky. 'And when it mattered, I didn't keep it.' I still dreamed of him trying to crawl toward her, reaching for her even in the semi- unconscious state the pain and blood loss had thrown him into. As Rhysand had once done for me during those last moments with Amarantha. Perhaps only a few wing beats separated us from the broad landing veranda, but I asked, 'Why do you bother, Cassian?' His hazel eyes shuttered as we smoothly landed. And I thought he wouldn't answer, especially not when Rhys gracefully landed beside us and strode in ahead with a wink. But Cassian said quietly as we headed for the dining room, 'Because I can't stay away.”

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Book:A Court of Wings and Ruin
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“Nesta was sprawled upon the stones. I knew that she was different. From however Elain had been Made... Nesta was different. Even before she took her first breath, I felt it. As if the Cauldron in making her... had been forced to give more than it wanted. As if Nesta had fought even after she went under, and had decided that if she was to be dragged into hell, she was taking that Cauldron with her. As if that finger she'd pointed was now a death-promise to the King of Hybern.”

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Book:A Court of Mist and Fury
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“Elain was staring over Nesta's shoulder. At Lucien- whose face she had finally taken in. Dark brown eyes met one eye of russet and one of metal. Nesta was still weeping, still raging, still inspecting Elain- Lucien's hands slackened at his sides. His voice broke as he whispered to Elain, 'You're my mate.' ... Nesta, however, whirled on him. 'She is no such thing,' she said, and shoved him again. Lucien didn't move an inch. His face was pale as death as he stared at Elain. My sister said nothing, the iron ring glinting dully on her finger.”

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“She knew she was going into that Cauldron. Knew she would lose this fight. Knew no one was going to save her: not sobbing Feyre, not Feyre's gagged former lover, nor her devastated new mate. Not Cassian, broken and bleeding on the floor. The warrior was still trying to rise on trembling arms. To reach her. The King of Hybern- he had done this. To Elain. To Cassian. And to her. The icy water bit into the soles of her feet. It was a kiss of venom, a death so permanent that every inch of her roared in defiance. She was going in- but she would not go gently. The water gripped her ankles with phantom talons, tugging her down. She twisted, wrenching her arm free from the guard who held it. And Nesta Archeron pointed. One finger- at the King of Hybern. A death-promise. A target marked. Hands shoved her into the water's waiting claws. Nesta laughed at the fear that crept into the king's eyes just before the water devoured her whole. In the beginning. And in the end. There was darkness. And nothing more. She did not feel the cold as she sank into a sea that had no bottom, no horizon, no surface. But she felt the burning. Immortality was not a serene youth It was fire. It was molten ore poured into her veins, boiling her human blood until it was nothing but steam, forging her brittle bones until they were fresh steel. And when she opened her mouth to scream, when the pain ripped her very self in two, there was no sound. There was nothing in this place but darkness and agony and power- They would pay. All of them. Staring with the Cauldron. Starting now. She tore into the darkness with talons and teeth. Rent and cleaved and shredded. And the dark eternity around her shuddered. Bucked. Thrashed. She laughed as it recoiled. Laughed around the mouthful of raw power she ripped out and swallowed whole; laughed at the fistfuls of eternity she shoved into her heart, her veins. The Cauldron struggled like a bird under a cat's paw. She refused to relent. Everything it had stolen from her, from Elain, she would take from it. Wrapped in black eternity, Nesta and the Cauldron twined, burning through the darkness like a newborn star.”

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Book:A ​Court of Silver Flames
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“But she ignored it, leaning her brow against the cool glass of the window. She let the starlight gently brush her head, her face, her neck. Imagined it running its shimmering fingers down her cheek, as her mother had done for her and her alone. My Nesta. Elain shall wed for love and beauty, but you, my cunning little queen... You shall wed for conquest.”

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“I am not a child to be fought over.' Nesta's pulse pounded throughout her body, 'Do you not remember the war? What we encountered? Do you not remember the Cauldron kidnapping you, bringing you into the heart of Hybern's camp?' 'I do,' Elain said coldly. 'And I remember Feyre rescuing me.' Roaring erupted in Nesta's head. For a heartbeat, it appeared that Elain might say something to soften the words. But Nesta cut her off, seething at the pity about to be thrown her way. 'Look who decided to grow claws after all,' she crooned. 'Maybe you've become interesting at last, Elain.' Nesta saw the blow land, like a physical impact, in Elain's face, her posture. No one spoke, though shadows gathered in the corners of the room, like snakes preparing to strike. Elain's eyes brightened with pain. Something imploded in Nesta's chest at that expression. She opened her mouth, as if it could somehow be undone. But Elain said, 'I went into the Cauldron, too, you know. And it captured me. And yet somehow all you think of is what my trauma did to you.”

TraumaSarah J MaasProtectiveNesta ArcheronNestaA Court Of Silver FlamesHurtfulBitchElain ArcheronElain
Book:A ​Court of Silver Flames
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“Nesta's stare drifted to the paint flaking off the walls. The intricate little designs. Cassian followed her stare. 'Did Feyre paint that?' Nesta swallowed, and managed to get out, 'She painted every chance she got. Any extra coins she managed to save went toward paints.' 'Have you ever seen what she's done to the cabin up in the mountains?' 'No.' She'd never been there. 'Feyre painted the whole thing. Just like this. She told me once that there's a dresser here...' Nesta aimed for the bedroom. 'This one?' Cassian followed her, and gods, it was so cramped and dark and smelly. The bed was still covered with stained linens. The three of them had slept here for years. Cassian ran a hand over the painted dresser, marvelling. 'She really did paint stars for herself before she knew Rhys was her mate. Before she knew he existed.' His fingers traced the twining vines of flowers on the second drawer. 'Elain's drawer.' They drifted lower, curling over a lick of flame. 'And yours.' Nesta managed a grunt of confirmation, her chest tight to the point of pain.”

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“He told me that he's got three daughters who live here. And that he failed them for many years. But he would not fail them this time.' The ships at the front of the human armada became clear, along with the gold lettering on their sides. 'He named his three personal ships after them,' Drakon said with a smile. And there, sailing at the front... I beheld the names of those ships. The Feyre. The Elain. And leading the charge against Hybern, flying over the waves, unyielding and without an ounce of fear... The Nesta. With my father... our father at the helm.”

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Book:A Court of Wings and Ruin
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“It nearly killed me. It trapped me like a bird in a cage.' Elain said, 'Then I will find it. I might require some time to reacquaint myself with my powers, but I could start today.' 'Absolutely not,' Nesta spat, fingers curling at her sides. 'Absolutely not.' 'Why?' Elain demanded. 'Shall I tend to my little garden forever?' When Nesta flinched, Elain said, 'You can't have it both ways. You cannot resent my decision to lead a small, quiet life while also refusing to let me do anything greater.' 'Then go off on adventures,' Nesta said. 'Go drink and fuck strangers. But stay away from the Cauldron.”

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“Amren said to her, 'I'm surprised you didn't take the king's head back to have stuffed and hung on your wall.' Nesta's eyes shot to her. Mor clicked her tongue. 'Some would consider that joke to be in bad taste, Amren.' 'I saved your asses. I'm entitled to say what I want.' And with that Amren stalked out of the house and into the city streets. 'The new Amren is even crankier than the old one,' Elain said softly.”

FunnySarah J MaasNesta ArcheronNestaA Court Of Wings And RuinMorCrankyAmrenElain ArcheronElain
Book:A Court of Wings and Ruin
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“There was nothing that could have been done to save him, Nesta.' The words were kindling. Elain had accepted his death as inevitable. She hadn't bothered to fight him, as if he hadn't been worth the effort, precisely as Nesta knew she herself wasn't worth the effort. This time, Nesta didn't stop the power from shining in her eyes, she shook so violently she had to fist her hands. 'You tell yourself there's nothing that could have been done because it's unbearable to think that you could have saved him, if you'd only deigned to show up a few minutes earlier.' The lie was bitter in her mouth. It wasn't Elain's fault their father had died. No, that was entirely Nesta's own fault. But if Elain was determined to root out the good in her, then she'd show her sister how ugly she could be. Let a fraction of this agony rip into her. This was why Elain had chosen Feyre. This. Feyre had rescued Elain time and again. BUt Nesta had sat by, armed only with her viper's tongue. Sat by while they starved. Sat by when Hybern stole them away and shoved them into the Cauldron. Sat by when Elain had been kidnapped. And when their father had been in Hybern's grip, she had done nothing, nothing to save him, either. Fear had frozen her, blanketing her mind, and she'd let it do so, let it master her, so that by the time her father's neck had snapped, it had been too late. And entirely her fault. Why wouldn't Elain choose Feyre?”

BlameSarah J MaasFeyre ArcheronNesta ArcheronNestaA Court Of Silver FlamesSelf LoathingElain ArcheronElainLashing Out
Book:A ​Court of Silver Flames
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“Good morning.' Cassian's fingers idly smoothed her hair. 'Good morning to you, too.' He glanced toward the mantel- the small wooden clock in its centre, then lurched up. 'Shit.' Nesta frowned. 'You have somewhere to be?' He was already hopping into his pants, scanning the floor for the rest of his clothes. Nesta silently pointed to the other side of the bed, where his shirt lay atop her dress. 'Snowball fight. I'll be late.' Nesta had to unload every word of his statement. But she could only ask. 'What?' 'Annual tradition, with Rhys and Az. We go up tot he mountain cabin- remind me to take you there one day- and... Well, it's a long story, but we've done it pretty much every year for centuries, and I haven't won in years. If I don't win this year, I will never hear the end of it.' All of this was said while shoving himself into his shirt, leather jacket, and boots. Nesta just laughed. 'You three- the most feared warriors in all the land- have an annual snowball fight?' Cassian reached the door, throwing her a wicked grin. 'Did I mention we take a steam in the birchin attached to the cabin afterward?' From that wicked grin, she knew he meant completely naked.”

FunnySarah J MaasCassianNesta ArcheronNestaA Court Of Silver FlamesRunning LatePost CoitalIllyrian WarriorsSnowball Fight
Book:A ​Court of Silver Flames
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“How's the training?' She gave him a smile- a true one. 'Good. We're learning how to disembowel a male.' Lucien choked on his drink, nearly spewing it onto her head. Cassian appeared, a cup of tea steaming in his hands, and passed it to her before he declared proudly to Lucien, 'As you'd expect, Nes excels at it.' Mor lifted her glass in a mockery of a toast. 'My favourite part of training.”

FunnySarah J MaasCassianNesta ArcheronNestaA Court Of Silver FlamesLucienMorLucien VanserraDisembowel
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“So Nesta held her sister tightly, with Time halted around them, and she whispered, 'If you show me how to save her, you can have it back.' The world paused. Worlds beyond their own paused. Nesta buried her face in the cold sweat of Feyre's neck. She opened that place within herself, and said to the Mother, to the Cauldron, 'I'll give back what I took from you. Just show me how to save them- her and Rhysand and the baby.' Rhysand- her brother. That's what he was, wasn't he? Her brother, who had offered her kindness even when she knew he wanted to throttle her. And she him. and the baby... her nephew. Blood of her blood. She would save him, save them, even if it took everything. 'Show me,' she pleaded.”

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“Cassian.' Rhys's voice was a thing of nightmares, of the darkness between the stars. Cassian froze at that voice he'd so rarely heard, and never once directed at himself. 'What happened?' Rhys's face was wholly calm. But death- black, raging death- lay in his eyes. Not a star or shimmer of violet remained. Rhys said in that voice that was like hell embodied, 'Nesta saw fit to inform Feyre of the risk to her and the babe.' Cassian's heart began thundering, even as it splintered. Rhys held his state, and it was all Cassian could do to weather it as his brother, his High Lord said, 'Get Nesta out of this city. Right now.' Rhys's power rumbled in the room like a rising storm. 'Before I fucking kill her.”

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“She didn't remember a time when she hadn't been angry. ... She couldn't quell this relentless, churning anger. Couldn't stop herself from lashing out before she could be wounded. She was no better than a rabid dog. She had been a rabid dog with Amren and Feyre. A beast, exactly like Tamlin. She hadn't even cared that she'd made it down the House stairs at last- did it count, when it was driven by fury? Did she count- was she worth being counted? It was the question that sent everything crumpling inside her.”

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“I suppose that loudmouthed bastard told you more than was necessary.' 'You voted against me,' she said, her cold voice belying the crack in her chest. 'You have done nothing to prove you are able to handle such a terrible power,' Amren said with equal iciness. 'On that barge, you told me as much when you walked away from any attempt at mastering it. I offered to teach you more, and you walked away.' 'I walked away because you chose my sister.' Just as Elain had done. Amren had been her friend, her ally, and yet in the end, it hadn't mattered one bit. She'd picked Feyre. 'I didn't choose anyone, you stupid girl,' Amren snapped. 'I told you that Feyre had requested you and I work together again, and you somehow twist that into me siding with her?' Nesta said nothing. 'I told them to leave you alone for months. I refused to speak about you with them. And then the moment I realised my behaviour was not helping you, that maybe your sister was right, I somehow betrayed you?' Nesta shook. 'You know how I feel about Feyre.' 'Yes, poor Nesta, with a younger sister who loves her so dearly she's willing to do anything to get her help.' Nesta blocked out the memory of Tamlin in his beast form, how she had wanted to rip him limb from limb. She was no better than him, in the end. 'Feyre doesn't have me.' She didn't deserve Feyre's love. Just as Tamlin hadn't. Amren barked out a laugh. 'That you believe Feyre doesn't only proves you're unworthy of your power. Anyone that willingly blind cannot be trusted. You would be a walking nightmare with those weapons.' 'It's different now.' The words rang hollow. Was it any different? Was she any different that she'd been this summer, when she and Amren had fought on the barge, and Amren's utter disappointment in her failure to be anything had surfaced at last? Amren smiled, as if she knew that, too. 'You can train as hard as you want, fuck Cassian as often as you want, but it isn't going to fix what's broken if you don't start reflecting.' 'Don't preach at me.. You-' She pointed at Amren, and could have sworn the female stepped out of the line of fire. Just as Tamlin had done. As if Amren also remembered that the last time Nesta had pointed at an enemy, it had ended with his severed head in her hands. A joyless laugh broke from her. 'You think I'd mark you with a death-promise?' 'You nearly did with Tamlin the other day.' So Cassian had told them all about that, too. 'But I'll say to you again what I said on that barge. I think you have powers that you still do not understand, respect, or control.' 'How dare you assume you know what is best for me?' When Amren didn't answer, Nesta hissed, 'You were my friend.' Amren's teeth flashed. 'Was I? I don't think you know what that word means.' Her chest ached, as if that invisible fist had punched her once again. Steps thudded beyond the shattered door, and she braced for Cassian to come roaring in- But it was Feyre.”

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Book:A ​Court of Silver Flames
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“Cassian. I forgot you can mind-speak. Her laugh sounded. I can't decide whether I should be insulted or not. Perhaps I should be using the daemati gifts more often. She paused before saying, Are you all right? I should be asking you that. Rhys overreacted. He completely and utterly overreacted. Cassian shook his head, though Feyre couldn't see it. I'm sorry you had to learn of it. I'm not. I'm furious with all of you. I understand why you didn't tell me, but I'm furious. Well, we're furious with Nesta. She had the courage to tell me the truth. She told you the truth to hurt you. Perhaps. But she was the only one who said anything. Cassian sighed through his nose. She... He thought it over. I think she saw the parallels between your situations and, in her own way, decide to avenge both of you. That's my feeling, too. Rhys disagrees. I wish you'd found out a different way. Well, I didn't. But we'll face it together. All of us. How can you be so calm about this? The alternative is fear and panic. I will not let my son feel those things. I will fight for him, for us, until I no longer can. Cassian's throat tightened. We'll fight for you, too. I know. Feyre paused again. Rhys had no right to chase you from the city, or to threaten Nesta. He has realised that, and apologised. I want you to come back home. Both of you. Where did you even head off to? The wilderness. Cassian looked over a shoulder, to where Nesta had been asleep for the past few hours, curled into a tight ball against the wall of rock. I think we'll stay out here for a few days. We're going to hike. Nesta has never been on a hike in her life. I guarantee she will hate it. Then tell Rhys this is her punishment. Because Rhys, despite apologising for his threats, would still be furious. Tell him that Nesta and I are going to hike, and she's going to hate it, but she comes home when I decide she's ready to come home. Feyre was quiet for a long moment. He says that he knows he's supposed to say that's unnecessary, but to tell you he's secretly delighted. Good. I am secretly glad to hear that. Feyre laughed, and the sound was proof that she might have been hurt, startled by the news, but she was indeed adapting to it. Would not let it make her cower and cry. He didn't know why he'd expected any less of her. Feyre said, Please take care of her, Cassian. And yourself. Cassian glanced to the sleeping female nearly hidden in the shadows of the rock. I will.”

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Book:A ​Court of Silver Flames
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“Nesta,' he said into her ear. 'Nesta, open your hand and come back.' Her breathing sharpened. The cold deepened. 'Nesta,' he snarled- And the cold halted. It didn't vanish, but rather... stopped. Nesta's eyes flicked open. Silver fire burned within. Nothing Fae looked out through them. Rhys shoved Feyre behind him. She shoved her way back to his side. But Nesta's hand continued to squeeze Cassian's. He squeezed back, let his Siphons send a bite of power into her skin. She turned her head so slowly it was like watching a puppet move. Her eyes met his. Death watched him. But Death had walked beside him every day of his life. So Cassian stroked his thumb along her palm and said, 'Hello, Nes.' Nesta blinked, and he let his Siphons bite her with his power again. The fire flickered. He nodded to the map, 'Let go of the stones and bones.' He didn't let her scent his fear. Here was the being the Bone Carver had whispered about, exalted and feared. 'Let go of the stones and bones, and then you and I can play.”

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“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 behaviour.' 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 behaviour, 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.”

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“All you have done is help yourself to our money.' 'Your mate's money.' Another flash of hurt. 'Thank you so much for taking time out of your home-making and shopping to remember me.' 'I built a room in this house for you. I asked you to help me decorate it. You told me to piss off.' 'Why would I ever want to stay in this house?' Where she could see precisely how happy they were, where none of them seemed remotely as decimated as she'd been by the war. She'd come so close to being a part of it- of that circle. Had held their hands as they'd stood together on the morning of the final battle and believed they might all make it. Then she'd learned precisely how mercilessly it might be ripped away. What the cost of hop and joy and love truly was. She never wanted to face it again. Never wanted to endure what she'd felt in that forest clearing, with the King of Hybern chuckling, blood everywhere. Her power hadn't been enough to save them that day. She supposed she'd been punishing it for failing her every since, keeping it locked up tight inside her. Feyre said, 'Because you're my sister.' 'Yes, and you're always sacrificing for us, your sad little human family-”

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“I am not a thing to be controlled by you,' Nesta said icily. Everything in her life, from the moment she was born, had been controlled by other people. Things happened to her; anytime she tried to exert control, she'd been thwarted at every turn- and she hated that even more than the King of Hybern. 'That's why you're going to train at Windhaven. You will learn to control yourself.' 'I won't go.' 'You're going, even if you have to be tied up and hauled there. You will follow Cassian's lessons, and you will do whatever work Clotho requires in the library.”

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“She didn't possess Rhys's skill set, but having survived in the Court of Nightmares, she'd learned to read the subtlest of expressions. A mere blink, she'd once told him, might mean the difference between life and death in that miserable court. 'She's settled, then?' Cassian knew who she meant. 'Taking a nap.' Mor snorted. 'Don't.' His attention drifting to the glittering Sidra mere feet away. 'Please don't.' Mor sipped her tea, the portrait of elegant innocence. 'We'd be better off throwing Nesta into the Court of NIghtmares. She'd thrive there.' Cassian clenched his jaw, both at the insult and the truth. 'That's exactly the sort of existence we're trying to steer her away from.' Mor assessed him with a bob of her thick lashes. 'It pains you seeing her like this.' 'All of it pains me.' He and Mor had always had this kind of relationship: truth at all costs, however harsh. Ever since that first and only time they'd slept together, when he'd learned too late that she'd hidden from him the terrible repercussions. When he'd seen her broken body and known that even if she'd lied to him, he'd still played a part. Cassian blew out a breath, shaking away the blood-soaked memory still staining his mind five centuries later. 'It pains me that Nesta has become... this. It pains me that she and Feyre are always at each other's throats. It pains me that Feyre hurts over it, and I know Nesta does, too. It pains me that...' He drummed his fingers on the table, then sipped from his water. 'I really don't want to talk about it.”

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“Then Cassian screamed. I looked toward him. Away from my father. Not twenty feet away, Cassian was on the ground. Wings- snapped in spots. Blood leaking from them. Bone jutted from his thigh. His siphons were dull. Empty. He'd already drained them before coming here. Was exhausted. But he had come- for her. For us. He was panting, blood dribbling from his nose. Arms buckling as he tried to rise. The King of Hybern stood over him, and extended a hand. Cassian arched off the ground, bellowing in pain. A bone cracked somewhere in his body. 'Stop.' The King looked over a shoulder as Nesta stepped forward. Cassian mouthed for her to run, blood escaping from his lips and onto the moss beneath him. Nesta took in his broken body, the pain in Cassian's eyes, and angled her head. The movement was not human. Not Fae. Purely animal. Purely predator. And when her eyes lifted to the king again... 'I am going to kill you.”

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“Running steps approached, and then Nesta rounded a tent, skidding to a halt in the mud. She let out a sob at the sight of Elain, still in Azriel's arms. I'd never heard a sound like that from her. Not once. She isn't hurt, I said to her, into that chamber in her mind. Because words... I couldn't form them. Nesta broke into another sprint. I reached for Rhysand, his face taut as he stalked for us- But Nesta got there first. I swallowed my shout of pain as Nesta's arms went around my neck and she embraced me so hard it snatched my breath away. Her body shook- shook as she sobbed and said over and over and over, 'Thank you.”

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“... when Nesta made to pull back, Cassian gripped her fingers in his good hand. She lifted her gaze to his. 'Thank you,' he said hoarsely. Nesta did not yank her hand away. Did not open her mouth for some barbed retort. She only stared and stared at him, at the breadth of his shoulders, even more powerful in that beautiful black armour, at the strong column of his neck above it, his wings. And then at his hazel eyes, still riveted to her face. Cassian brushed a thumb down the back of her hand. Nesta opened her mouth at last, and I braced myself- 'You're hurt?' At the sound of Mor's voice, Cassian snatched his hand back and pivoted toward Mor with a lazy smile. 'Nothing for you to cry over, don't worry.' Nesta dragged her stare from his face- down to her now-empty hand, her fingers still curled as if his palm lay there. Cassian didn't look at Nesta as she rose, snatching up the pitcher, and muttered something about getting more water from inside the tent.”

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“The flame in her eyes was not of your usual sort, I take it.' Lucien shook his head. 'No. It spoke to nothing in my own arsenal. That was... Ice so cold it burned. Ice and yet... fluid like flame. Or flame made of ice.' 'I think it's death,' I said quietly. I held Rhys's gaze, as if it were again the tether that had kept me in this world. 'I think the power is death- death made flesh. Or whatever power the Cauldron holds over such things. That's why the Carver heard it- heard about her.' 'Mother above,' Lucien said, dragging a hand through his hair. Cassian gave him a solemn nod. But Rhys rubbed his jaw, weighing, thinking. Then he said simply, 'Only Nesta would not just conquer Death- but pillage it.”

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“We are the same, you and I,' Amren said. I wasn't sure I was breathing. Through the bond, I wasn't sure Rhys was, either. 'Not in flesh, not in the thing that prowls beneath our skin and bones...' Amren's remarkable eyes narrowed. 'But... I see the kernel, girl.' Amren nodded, more to herself than anyone. 'You did not fit- the mold that they shoved you into. The path you were born upon and forced to walk. You tried, and yet you did not, could not, fit. And then the path changed.' A little nod. 'I know- what it is to be that way. I remember it, long ago as it was.' Nesta had mastered the Fae's preternatural stillness far more quickly than I had. And she sat there for a few heartbeats, simply staring at the strange, delicate female across from her, weighing the words, the power that radiated from Amren... And then Nesta merely said. 'I don't know what you're talking about.' Amren's red lips parted in a wide, serpentine smile. 'When you erupt, girl, make sure it's felt across worlds.”

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“The Carver stroked the shard of bone in his palm, attention fixed upon a stone-faced Cassian. 'What if I tell you what the rock and darkness and sea and beyond whispered to me, Lord of Bloodshed? How they shuddered in fear, on that island across the sea. How they trembled when she emerged. She took something- something precious. She ripped it out with her teeth.' Cassian's golden-brown face had drained of colour, his wings tucking in tight. 'What did you wake that day in Hybern, Prince of Bastards?' My blood went cold. 'What come out was not what went in.' A rasping laugh as the Carver laid the shard of bone on the ground beside him. 'How lovely she is- new as a fawn and yet ancient as the sea. How she calls to you. A queen, as my sister once was. Terrible and proud, beautiful as a winter sunrise.' Rhys had warned me of the inmates' capacity to lie, to sell anything, to get free. 'Nesta,' the Bone Carver murmured. 'Nes-ta.' I squeezed Cassian's hand. Enough. It was enough of this teasing and taunting. But he didn't look at me. 'How the wind moans her name. Can you hear it, too? Nesta. Nesta. Nesta.' I wasn't sure Cassian was breathing. 'What did she do, drowning in the ageless dark? What did she take?”

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“I don't think even the Carver knows what Nesta is. But I wanted to see- just in case.' 'Why?' 'I want to help.' It was answer enough. We fell into silence, the stream gurgling as it rushed by. 'Would you be frightened of her, if Nesta was- Death? Or if her power came from it?' Cassian was quiet for a long moment. He said at last, 'I'm a warrior. I've walked beside Death my entire life. I would be more afraid for her, to have that power. But not afraid of her.' He considered, and added after a heartbeat. 'Nothing about Nesta could frighten me.' I swallowed and squeezed his hand. 'Thank you.”

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“A moment later, Nesta was stomping through the front door, her face a remarkable shade of green. 'I need- a toilet.' I met Rhys's stare as he prowled in behind her, hands in his pockets. What did you do? His brows shot up. ... Me? Rhys leaned against the bottom post of the banister. She complained that I was flying deliberately slow. So I went fast. ... Cassian gaped at Rhys, 'What did you do?' 'I asked him the same thing,' I said, crossing my arms. 'He said he "went fast".' Nesta vomited again- then silence. Cassian sighed at the ceiling. 'She'll never fly again.”

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“Cassian extended a wrapped hand, his fingers curling in a come-hither motion. 'Scared?' ... Nesta stepped from the open doorway into the blinding light of the courtyard. 'Why should I be scared of an oversized bat who likes to throw temper tantrums?' I choked, and Cassian shot me a warning glare, daring me to laugh.”

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