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Sarah J. Maas

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“Nesta glanced up the stairs past Feyre. Elain had again opted to remain in her room when Nesta was present, which was just fine. Absolutely, utterly fine. Elain could make her own choices. And had chosen to thoroughly shut the door on Nesta. Even as she fully embraced Feyre and her world. Nesta's chest tightened, but she refused to think of it, acknowledge it. Elain was a like a dog, loyal to whatever master kept her fed and in comfort.”

“Seeing Cassian so flustered pushed away the shadows in her heart. Thoughts of the Mask became a distant rumble. 'Do you want to get in?' He sucked in a breath, but something like pain washed over his features. 'You're hurt.' ... 'Do I look injured to you?' He nodded toward the scabbed cuts all over her body, her face. 'Yes?”

“When you hammered those blades, you imbued them- the two swords and the dagger- with your power. The Cauldron's power. They're now magic blades. And I'm not talking nice, pretty magic. I'm talking big, ancient magic that hasn't been seen in a long, long time. There are no magic weapons left. None. They were either lost or destroyed or dumped in the sea. But you just Made three of them. You created a new Dread Trove. You could create even more objects, if you wished.' Her brows rose higher with each absurd word. 'I Made three magic weapons?' 'We don't know yet what manner of magic you have, but yes.' She angled her head. Emerie and Gwyn halted their chatting at the water station, as if they could see or sense the shift in her. And it wasn't the fact that she'd Made these weapons that hit like a blow. 'Who is "we"?' 'What?' 'You said " We don't know what manner of magic they have." Who is "we"?' 'Rhys and Feyre and the others.' 'And how long have all of you known about this?' He winced as he realised his error. 'I... Nesta...' 'How long?' Her voice became sharp as glass. The priestesses were watching, and she didn't care. He did, apparently. 'This isn't the place to talk about it.' 'You're the one trying to coax a name out of me in the middle of training!' She gestured to the ring. Her blood pounded in her ears, and Cassian's face grew pained. 'This isn't coming out the way it should. We argued about whether to tell you, but we took a vote and it went in your favour. Because we trust you. I just... hadn't gotten a chance to bring it up yet.' 'There was a possibility you wouldn't even tell me? You all sat around and judged me, and then you voted?' Something deep in her chest cracked to know that every horrible thing about her had been analyzed. 'It... Fuck.' Cassian reached for her, but she stepped back. Everyone was staring now. 'Nesta, this isn't...' 'Who. Voted. Against me.' 'Rhys and Amren.' 'It landed like a physical blow. Rhys came as no surprise. But Amren, who had always understood her more than the others; Amren who'd been unafraid of her; Amren with whom she'd quarrelled so badly... Some small part of her had hoped Amren wouldn't hate her forever. Her head went quiet. Her body went quiet. Cassian's eyes widened. 'Nesta-' 'I'm fine,' she said coldly. 'I don't care.' She let him see her fortify those steel walls within her mind. Used every bit of Mind-Stilling she'd practiced with Gwyn to become calm, focused, steady. Breathing in through her nose, out through her mouth. She made a show of rolling her shoulders, of approaching Emerie and Gwyn, whose faces bunched with concern in a way Nesta knew she didn't deserve, in a way that she knew would only day vanish, when they, too, realised what a wretch she was. When Amren told them what a pathetic waste of life she was, or they heard it from someone else, and they ceased being her friends. She wouldn't if they'd even say it to her face, or if they'd just disappear. 'Nesta,' Cassian said again. But she left the ring without looking back at him. Emerie was on her heels instantly, trailing her down the stairs. 'What's wrong?' 'Nothing,' Nesta said, her own voice foreign to her ears. 'Court business.' 'Are you all right?' Gwyn asked, a step behind Emerie. No. She couldn't stop the roaring in her head, the cracking in her chest. 'Yes,' she lied, and didn't look back as she hit the landing and vanished down the hall.”

“What do you know?' Nesta breathed. 'You're just a half-wild beast with the nerve to bark orders at all hours of the day and night. Keep it up and someday- someday, Feyre, you'll have no one left to remember you or to care that you ever existed.' ... I'd heard the words before- and knew she only repeated them because I'd flinched the first time she spat them. They still burned anyway.”

“What did you dream about?' Nesta's body locked up, but she launched back into motion, refusing to let the memories master her. 'I dreamed of the Cauldron. What it did to me.' Gwyn said, playing with her hair, 'I dream of my past, too.' But Gwyn's admission, Nesta's own, didn't weigh them down. Nesta's head had cleared slightly. And somehow, she found she could push herself harder. Perhaps in voicing those truths, they'd given them wings. And sent them soaring into the open sky above.”

“What did you see?' 'Why?' Nesta asked. 'Do you see things in that darkness?' Her voice was thin. 'No, but some of the others do. They say the dark has trailed them. Right to their doors.' Gwyn shivered. 'I saw darkness,' Nesta managed to say. Her heart would not calm. 'Pure darkness.”

“Heart racing, Nesta lifted the lantern in one hand and gazed at the darkness, untouched by the light from the library high, high above. The heart of the world, of existence. Of self. The heart of the House. 'This...' Her fingers tightened on the lantern. 'This darkness is your heart.' As if in answer, the House laid a little evergreen sprig at her feet. 'A Winter Solstice present. For me. She could have sworn warm hands brushed her neck in answer. 'But your darkness...' Wonder softened her voice. 'You were trying to show me. Show others. Who you are, down deep. What haunts you. You were trying to show them all those dark, broken pieces because the priestesses, and Emerie, and I... We're the same as you.' Her throat constricted at what the House had gifted her. This knowledge. She lifted the lantern higher and blew out its flame. Let the darkness sweep in. Embraced it. 'I'm not afraid,' she whispered into it. 'You are my friend, and my home. Thank you for sharing this with me.' Again, Nesta could have sworn that phantom touch caressed her neck, her cheek, her brow. 'Happy Solstice,' she said into the beautiful, fractured darkness.”

“I thought I'd find you here. Well, either here or the stairs to the city.' Cassian's voice sounded behind her, and Nesta whirled. He went on alert, but Nesta glanced over a shoulder toward the darkness. Nothing. It was gone. Or she'd imagined it. 'It's nothing,' she said as she peered over the railing. 'Just shadows.' Cassian blew out a breath, leaning against the railing. 'Can't sleep?' 'I keep thinking about Tamlin.' 'You did well with him. And you did well against Eris, too. I don't think he'll forget that anytime soon.' 'He's a snake.' 'Glad we agree on something.' Nesta huffed a laugh. 'I didn't appreciate him speaking to you like that.' 'It's how a lot of people speak to me.' 'That doesn't make it right.' She had spoken to him like that. She had said far worse things to Cassian than Eris had. Her throat tightened. But she said, 'I can't believe Feyre ever loved Tamlin.' 'Tamlin never deserved her,' Cassian rested a hand on her back. 'No,' Nesta again peered into the darkness below. 'He didn't.”

“What's wrong?' Nesta pressed. Emerie's eyes turned bleak. 'It's... I swear, I can hear my father yelling down here.' Her hands trembled as she lifted one to brush a stand of hair behind an ear. 'I can hear him screaming at me, can hear the furniture breaking...' Nesta's blood went cold. She whipped her head to the downward slope to their right. No darkness lurked there, but they were low enough... 'This place is ancient and strange.' she said, even as she processed what Emerie had admitted. She had never spoken of her father beyond the wing clipping. But Nesta had gathered enough: the man had been a beast like Tomas Mandray's father. 'Let's go up a level, where the darkness doesn't whisper so loudly. I'm sure Gwyn will find us easily enough.”

“Did Nesta say why she won't train?' 'Because she hates me.' Feyre snorted. 'Cassian, Nesta does not hate you. Believe me.' 'She sure as shit acts like it.' Feyre shook her head. 'No, she doesn't.' Her words were pained enough that he frowned. 'She doesn't hate you, either.' he said quietly. Feyre shrugged. The gesture made his chest ache. 'For a while, I thought she didn't. But now I don't know.' 'I don't understand why you two can't just...' He struggled for the right word. 'Get along? Be civil? Smile at each other?' Feyre's laugh was hollow. 'It's always been that way.' 'Why?' 'I have no idea. I mean, it was always that way with us, and our mother. She only had an interest in Nesta. She ignored me, and saw Elain as barely more than a doll to dress up, but Nesta was hers. Our mother made sure we knew it. Or she just cared so little what we thought or did that she didn't bother to hide it from us.' Resentment and long-held pain laced every word. That a mother would do such a thing to her children... 'But when we fell into poverty, when I started hunting, it got worse. Our mother was gone, and our father wasn't exactly present. He wasn't fully there. So it was me and Nesta, always at each other's throats.' Feyre rubbed her face. 'I'm too exhausted to go over every detail. It's all just a tangled mess.' Cassian refrained from observing that both sisters seemed to need each other- that Nesta perhaps needed Feyre more than she realised. And from mentioning that this mess between the two females hurt him more than he could express. Feyre sighed, 'That's my long way of saying that if Nesta hated you... I know what it looks like, and she doesn't hate you.' 'She might after what I said to her tonight.”

“Cassian blurted, 'I didn't mean what I said last night- about everyone hating you.' She halted, her blue-grey eyes frosting. 'It's true.' 'It's not.' He dared one step closer. 'You're here because we don't hate you.' He cleared his throat, running a hand through his hair. 'I wanted you to know that. That we don't- that I don't hate you.' She weighed whatever the hell lay in his stare. Likely more than was wise to let her see. But she said quietly, 'And I have never hated you, Cassian.' With that, she walked through the doorway into the House, as if she hadn't hit him right in the gut, first with the words, then by using his name. It wasn't until she'd vanished down the stairs that he released the breath he'd been holding.”

“There are days,' Nesta said as she paused in front of the door to her room across from mine, 'when I want to ask him if he remembers the years he almost let us starve to death.' 'You spent every copper I could get, too,' I reminded her. 'I knew you could always get more. And if you couldn't, then I wanted to see if he would ever try to do it himself, instead of carving those bits of wood. If he would actually go out and fight for us. I couldn't take care of us, not the way you did. I hated you for that. But I hated him more. I still do.”