#amrian

Mercifully, before he had any room to doubt this questionable resolution, laughter sounded from the kitchen.

Mor, Elain and Feyre emerged, laughing amongst themselves while they balanced plates of food and bottles of liquor. The bottles were taken from Rhys’s personal collection, Cassian noticed with a grin.

He took no small pleasure in watching Azriel straighten suddenly at the presence of the females. Cassian silently wondered whether Mor or Elain caused the abrupt crack in Az’s armor…

Later, he resolved, he would mull that over later. He had enough to be worried about at the moment.

It had been a few months since their final battle with Hybern. The time had somehow dragged and flown. There had been much to do, and so much that still needed to be done. Recruiting and training the Night Court’s legions had taken near all his time, keeping him from Velaris for weeks on end. But he wasn’t the only one. While Feyre, Rhys and Mor had stayed behind, Mor spending most of her time protecting the city from the Court of Nightmares newfound presence and Feyre and Rhys busy with seemingly endless meetings with our allies. The rest of them had been away, tied up with various duties and responsibilities.  

Amren had volunteered to help rebuild the Summer Court. Azriel, in between recon missions, had spent most of his time helping Elain hone her seer abilities. They spent the majority of the past few months in the Dawn Court, experimenting with various inventions in an effort to enhance her powers. Lucien had gone with them as well, for protection.

Cassian wondered how that was going.  

As if he heard his thoughts, Lucien sauntered in from the back garden.  He and Azriel exchanged glances, ever the gentlemen, but at his entrance Elain fumbled with place settings, seeming very deliberately busy.  Cassian questioned whether she would hand Lucien the plate of food, or ask her sister to do so.  

They had all been away from each other for so long, but it many ways it felt like nothing had changed.

But if he was being honest, some absences weighed heavier on him than others. He hadn’t seen Nesta since the day after the final battle and their last interaction still ate away at him. Since then, Nesta had surprised everyone with the severity in which she took her position as emissary. In the months since the battle, she had formed her own coalition, an embassy of sorts, made up of delegates from their various alliances. High Fae, humans, and other Fae species, including Seraphim, Illyrians, and apparently even a Water Wraith, if reports were to be believed. The group was all female, a fact Cassian was more thankful for than he would care to admit.

Whatever the coalition was doing, it had kept Nesta busy. While she had returned to Velaris on several occasions, she never lingered. All business, she only stayed long enough to report to Feyre and Rhys. And each time, Cassian had been away. Part of him couldn’t help but wonder if this was intentional. But today, any minute now in fact, they would all be reunited.

Five days from now, the leaders of Prythian would hold a meeting and Feyre and Rhys had asked the inner circle to return to help prepare.

“Anyone care for a drink?” Mor’s blonde hair flashed in the corner of his vision as she twirled around the room.

Before he could answer, a rush of wind filled the living room and a cat like voice broke through the breeze. “What are my options?”

Cassian fell into an easy smile as the room turned its attention on the tiny arrival and her towering escort.  Amren, skin slightly bronzed from her time at the Summer Court, regarded her family with a serpentine smile. Varian stood beside her, hand resting on her lower back as if it was his most natural stance. Perhaps it now was, Cassian realized.

“Afraid we’re all out of blood, Am. Can I interest you in a glass of wine? Red, of course.” Rhysand stood at the living room threshold, his eyes full of a quiet joy as he surveyed us all.  

Feyre approached her mate, slipping under his arm. “There’s is a stray cat that’s been lurking in the garden, in case you’re desperate.”

Cassian barked out a laugh, nearly spilling the glass of wine Mor had slid into his hand. But Elain barely stifled a gasp, her eyes wide and full of horror. Cassian noticed Azriel flinch.

“Relax, seer.” Amren cooed, with more warmth in her voice than Cassian would have expected, “My tastes have changed.”

Varian smiled down at her. The look they exchanged was charged enough that Cassian turned his attention to the floorboards.

“Well,” Feyre cut in as she poured a glass for Amren and Varian, “I don’t have to tell you how good it is to see you all. We certainly have our work cut out for ourselves this week, but before we get to any of that-”

Cassian didn’t hear the rest of the sentence. Instead, his entire body went taut. He could feel his heart pounding as elegant steps approached the front door. Rhys’s eyes met his, before turning towards the entrance.

This is it.

Cassian started fidgeting again. Until Azriel pointedly cleared his throat, giving him a look that seemed to say: Be cool, man. Be cool.

Easier said than done, Shadowsinger. But Cassian took a deep breath, counting the seconds as Rhys opened the door.

Rhys reappeared first. The look on his face made Cassian go still.

“Nesta!” Elain exclaimed, as the eldest Archeron sister emerged into the living room.

She wore Illyrian fighting leathers and a black cloak, the hood drawn over her face. But Cassian didn’t need to see her. He could feel it. His thoughts blurred as he struggled to remain calm.

In response to her sister’s greeting, Nesta drew back her hood. It was as if the entire room, even the walls themselves, gasped.

Her soft brown hair was wound back into braids that disappeared in a complicated knot behind her head. Her face was as rigid and breathtaking as ever. But the right side… 

All around her right eye, her normally flawless porcelain skin was a deep purple. Her cheekbone and eyebrow were still slightly swollen and a large cut ran from her hairline to just above her eye. Despite her Fae healing, the gash was gruesome enough that Cassian wondered if it would leave a scar.

Before he could help it, he was moving. In less than two strides, he cleared the space between them. This close, his body roared around her, surging with longing, concern and earth shattering anger for the one who caused her injuries.

The room was as quiet as death, quieter. Cassian’s voice was tight with restraint when he said “How?”

She met his eyes, her gaze full of fire and steel. But there was something else there too. Something so unexpected that Cassian nearly reached down to trace his fingers along her face. But she didn’t answer him. Instead, she turned towards Feyre, who at some point had appeared at his side.

“We received intel that the human queens have been kidnapping children and transporting them to a fortress outside the capital.”

Feyre, still wide eyed from her sister’s appearance, shot Az a look across the room. He gave a curt nod in response.

“We learned of a transport, scheduled to leave the night before last, carrying fifty children.” Nesta hesitated then, and though she intentionally kept her eyes from Cassian, he could feel her stare all the same. “We were disguised as bandits. It was supposed to be a quick job, unlock the caravan, disengage the guards. We were told there would only be 10 of them, there were more.” 

Her eyes met Cassian’s briefly then, and as their gazes locked a charge of lightning went through him. 

“We failed.” Nesta’s voice was a whisper filled with fury.

“How could you be so reckless??” 

Cassian nearly jumped at Feyre’s tone. He had been so fixated on Nesta that he failed to notice the fury building in her sister.

Nesta slowly turned back towards her, any lingering remorse now gone. No one in the room was breathing.

When it was clear Nesta had no intention of responding, Feyre continued, this time her voice slightly softer, “You could have been killed.”

“I am emissary to the humans, Feyre. I am responsible for them. Did you expect me not to do my job?”

“I wish you had come to us first,” Rhysand cut in, sensing the tension. “Azriel has been monitoring the situation. This issue will be addressed at the meeting with the High Lords.”

“I’m sure the fifty children now imprisoned in that fortress will applaud your restraint.” Nesta bit back.

Cassian could feel her anger rising. The room crackled with tension. Elain stood to the side, worried eyes never leaving her sister. Mor downed a glass of wine before quickly pouring another. Only Amren seemed to be enjoying herself.

This reunion was not going well.

“I’ll train you.” The words left his mouth before he even had a second to consider them. Everyone, including Nesta, turned toward him.

“You’ll what?”

“I’ll train you.” Cassian said, “If you insist on trying to get killed, you should at least know how to defend yourself.”

“No.”

The immediacy of her response hurt more than he would have expected. Cassian changed tactics, his eyes finding his High Lady’s. Feyre regarded him, her anger fading into an unreadable expression. She and Rhys exchanged a glance then, a wordless conversation whirling between them.

“He’s right.” Feyre turned to Nesta, her shoulders back and face calm, every bit the High Lady. “I can’t stop you from risking your life. But if you insistent upon doing so, you should be prepared.”

“You can’t force me to train, either.” Nesta reminded her, her posture stiff and ready for a fight.

“I’m not forcing you.” Feyre answered, her eyes falling on Elain. “I’m asking you, as your sister.”

The response seemed to surprise Nesta, because for a moment she was quiet. The entire room waited on baited breath as she stood there, unmoving. Only once the tension had reached a boiling point, did she answer.

“Fine.”

Not a second later, Nesta turned and climbed the stairs. Even the walls seemed to sigh in relief at her departure.

“Well,” Amren purred, from where she sat draped across Varian’s lap “that was fun.”

Cassian blew out a heavy breath, the aftershocks of the encounter hitting him in waves. He couldn’t decide whether the conversation had been a roaring success or an utter disaster. He settled for both.

~:~

Nesta hadn’t come to dinner.  Afterwards, he lingered outside her bedroom door, tempted to knock.  Instead, he settled for a note under the door.

House of Wind. Nine O’Clock. See you then, Nes.

The ninth bell chimed through the night air as Cassian paced across the training ring. Still no sign of her.

Did you really have to call her Nes? Cassian thought, cursing himself.

If she didn’t show, he would just fly back to the townhouse and drag her here himself. His High Lady had demanded she train. But even as he said it, Cassian knew would do no such thing. If this had any chance, if they had any chance, it would need to be Nesta’s choice.

He was beginning to run through plausible excuses to return to the townhouse when a rush of icy flame coursed through him. He forced himself to take a calming breath before turning slowly.

Cauldron boil him.

Standing there in the starlight, Nesta was a vision. Even with the injuries. She was a steely, soul crushingly beautiful, vision.

She removed her cloak and he saw that she was still in her fighting leathers. The outfit clung to her features like a second skin. The sight alone nearly undid him.

He wanted to tell her that she was the most gorgeous creature he had ever laid his eyes on. He wanted to confess that not a moment had gone by since they parted that he hadn’t thought of her. He wanted to say so many things.

Instead, he said, “You’re late.”

Nesta didn’t even blink. She merely took a step forward, tossing her cloak to the side “You’re lucky I came at all.”

So this is how it’s going to be? Cassian could feel his temper rising. Why did she always insist on being so difficult?

Cassian crossed his arms, his mouth curling into an edged smile “When I left, Mor and Az were going dancing. I’d hardly call myself the lucky one.” It was a cheap comment, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself.

Nesta merely cross her arms as well, “Then go.”

Cassian watched her watch him, their standoff seized with tension. He knew his irritation was a placeholder for something else. The desperate frustration that overcame him whenever he was around her was enough to drive him insane.

But no matter what he did, he couldn’t seem to stay away. No matter what he said, there was nowhere he would rather be.

He took a step towards her. Their bodies, faces, lips, now only inches apart. This close, he could feel her heartbeat, the heavy rush of her blood coursing through her veins. He wondered if she could feel his.

So close, yet there was still so much space between them.

How had that happened? He knew what she felt. Not a day went by where he didn’t think back on that moment with the King of Hybern. The moment where Nesta offered her life to protect his.

It was there, it was all still there, he could feel it. But her walls had come up, harsher and stronger than before and he didn’t know how to break through.

His eyes fell on her lips and he felt her pulse shudder. What would happen if he tried? If he just said fuck it, and took her in his arms. His body begged for it, the need so fierce he could hardly see straight.

Instead, he met her eyes once more, his voice slightly unsteady “Pick your weapon.”

He was more than a little impressed when Nesta wordlessly selected two large fighting axes. She scoffed when he removed the shirt he was wearing, but she didn’t look away.

He gave her a smirk as he tied back his shoulder length hair. He could have sworn he caught a slight blush spreading across her cheeks.

Then, they began.

She was both faster and stronger than he remembered. Her time in the field had turned her into a weapon. Not for the first time, he wondered about that power that dwelled inside her. He had not seen or felt any sign of it, but as sword clashed with axe, Nesta spinning and slicing, meeting him blow for blow, he knew it was there.  How she could keep it buried, keep so much buried, he could not understand.

They had moved from defensive maneuvers to offensive strikes when he finally got up the nerve to ask, “Why didn’t you tell Feyre and Rhys about the mission?”

Small beads of sweat lay across her brow, her fingers twirled axes in both hands.

“There wasn’t time.” She answered simply.

That was bullshit and she knew it. But he didn’t want to fight he wanted to talk.

“Why so eager to put yourself at risk, Nes?” This may have been her first injury but it was hardly the first time she had been in danger. More and more of her missions had involved the human queens’ territories. But Cassian always seemed to learn about them after they had happened.

“Why do you care?” Nesta bit back, her weapons slashing and spinning.

Cassian stilled, pulling back from the exercise.

“You know why, Nesta.” His voice was low but firm.

Nesta straightened too, her posture suddenly defensive. When she looked up, her gray eyes burned with steely fire.

All at once, he couldn’t take it.

His sword clattered to the ground as he closed the space between them.

“What is going on with us?”

Her eyes bore into his, full of resentment, fear and something else. His resolve cracked all around him. He wanted to shout, to storm off in frustration, but more than anything, he wanted to take her into his arms and never let go.

“I know you feel it too.” It was almost a plea.

“What if I don’t want to?” 

Cassian drew back as if from a physical blow. The pain from her words was so strong he nearly brought his hand to his chest. He didn’t know what to do, how to react.

All he could think of was: Why?

He was so lost in thought that her voice surprised him.

“BECAUSE YOU ALMOST DIED!” She screamed, her tone unlike anything he had ever heard from her. “Because they all die! And if it was you- I couldn’t. Because, I couldn’t survive it.” Her words were heavy sobs; coming so fast Cassian could tell her shock was the same as his.

But it was the seconds that followed. The moment Cassian saw Nesta realize that he hadn’t asked the question aloud, that truly shook her. Her lips parted, her eyes a sea of panic as the implications began to set.

He knew. He had known for a long time now. Had she?

“We’re done here.” She whispered. The icy calm returning to her voice.

Before his mind could form a response, she turned and disappeared inside.

Cassian wasn’t sure how long he stood there. The cold wind wound through him as his frantic thoughts struggled to take shape. All he knew was he had five days. 

Five days to reach her. Five days to break through.