#casslain

Azriel must realize that Cassian’s here, watching him. He only tenses for a moment before trailing his scarred hands over the female’s soft skin. His fingers flex when he reaches her ass, squeezing as he angles her to deepen each thrust, pounding into her until her hands clutch at the back of the lounge chair she’s bent over.

“Gods, Az, ” she moans. The sound is breathy, muffled further as she presses her face against the fabric of the chair. Her hair is mussed, Cassian notices, her golden curls scattered around her until Azriel sweeps it back and tightens it around a fist. He uses his hold to shift her attention, to tilt her head until widened brown eyes land on Cassian.

Surprise leaves him stumbling back, until his shoulder hits the doorframe with a low thud.

His mind is reeling, yet she stares at him. With her flushed cheeks. And her full lips that part ever so slightly. And those fucking familiar doe eyes that never leave him.

It’s takes a moment for Cassian to piece together that she hasn’t stopped.

Unexpectedly, Elain thrusts back against Azriel—with more intensity than before—as she stares over her shoulder at another male. At him. Cassian, who’s cock twitches against his trousers at the sight of the two people fucking before him. Even from the distance, the interwoven scent of their arousal is enough to threaten the buckling of his knees. Yet, he holds firm against the doorframe until he forces a teasing smile to his lips.

Only then does he move further into the room.

“What do we have here?” he asks simply. Each word is a taunt, yet both Elain and Azriel tremble as if his question were a caress. It’s enough of an invitation that he allows his fingers to find the laces of his trousers, to draw them open and free his straining cock.

“We’re…” Elain begins, but her throat must go dry at the sight of him. Her mouth falls completely open. Her eyes glaze over as he fists himself—slow and purposefully. Circling the chair creaking beneath the weight of the two fae, he moves until he’s inches away from Elain’s face.

Up close, he can see the silvered edges to her eyes, can see the lashes fanning over her cheeks as she blinks up at him. With a rough movement, Azriel pulls on her hair until her back arches and her head tilts up just a bit more, exposing her throat. Her breasts thrust outward at the same time. The fullness of them is the perfect handful, Cassian notes; her pink nipples beg for his tongue.

But he has other plans, even as Azriel continues to fuck her.

“What have you gotten yourself into, Elain?” Cassian clicks his tongue, mock chastising.

“I…” She tries for words. “Az, he—”

“Do your sisters know you’re here, whoring yourself out to the shadowsinger?” His eyes dart up to Azriel and narrow before they shift back to her. “That you’re not getting muddied in a garden, but becoming absolutely filthy in Azriel’s office?”

“They… They don’t.”

“So you’ve been sneaking around?” When he slides his palm over his cock, Elain’s gaze tries to dip down, but Azriel’s hold on her hair keeps her still. “Hoping you wouldn’t get caught?”

Her tongue darts out, wetting her lips. She doesn't say a word, but a low whine escapes her.

“Or did you want someone to find you?” Cassian hums thoughtfully, dragging a thumb over the head of his dick. “Did you fuck Az where anyone can stumble upon you because you weren’t satisfied with just him?”

“I can satisfy her perfectly fine,” Az huffs, picking up his ceaseless onslaught between Elain’s legs.

“Oh, I’m sure.” The corners of Cassian’s lips curve upwards, his grin becoming genuine—less restrained. “I’m simply beginning to get the impression that our Elain would like it better if she were getting fucked by more than one dick.”

His thumb passes over his cock again, coming away wet.

“Isn’t that right, Lainy?” he asks. Yet, he already knows her response. He sees it in the way she blinks up at him, the way she seems torn between thrusting back against Azriel and shifting closer to him. Cassian puts her out of her misery—at least a bit—as he steps imperceptibly closer, raising his hand and the bead of precum that glistens against his skin. He gets his answer when he smears the wetness against her bottom lip, when her tongue arcs in a slow glide and tastes him.

The kitten was still about two feet out of reach when Elain slumped against the trunk of the tree, her chin uptilted looking longingly into the dense foliage.

“I don’t know what to dooo,” Elain whined, her arms coming to wrap around the trunk helplessly. Tears of frustration threatened to spill over.

“Sweet-talking your plants again, El?”

Cassian came sauntering down the lawn of the River house toward the large oak tree that grew along the edge of the Sidra. “I knew you’d have to have some sort of secret to growing the best gardens in Prythian.”

Elain huffed. “Of course not,” she retorted, her cheeks flushed with her exertions and dwindling patience. Her temper was boiling just beneath the surface at the petulant animals’ unwillingness to cooperate.

“This ridiculous cat is stuck in the tree and it’s not letting me help him down. He just keeps meowing at me like it’s my fault!”

“Mrreow!”

Elain just glared up at the branches like they had personally offended her. Her nose scrunched in irritation and Cassian chuckled, having heard the profanities she muttered under her breath.

Cassian craned his neck, ducking his head this way and that, trying to get a glimpse of the feline in question. “Ahh, there you are…”

Looking around at Elain’s attempts with the stool, he seemed to come up with a simple plan. Grasping her around the waist and hoisting her effortlessly into the air, he kicked the stool out of the way so he could stand in its wake.

Elain didn’t even bat an eye, she was used to being thrown around by Cassian. Whether he was lifting her out of his way to get to the dining table, or giving her a boost to reach the fruits that grew in the tall branches of the trees in her new orchard, she often found her feet off the ground when the General was around.

Elain sat perched upon Cassian’s beefy shoulder, having added several feet to her height, and she was able to now reach and coax the kitten out of the branches. Snaking her arms through the thick foliage, she lured the kitten into her awaiting embrace, its fuzzy little body trembling beneath her fingers.

“Got him!” she called down to Cassian when she had the cat clutched securely to her chest and he hefted her off his shoulder, placing her feet gently onto the grass once more.

“Aww look at the little guy, he’s shaking!” Cassian exclaimed, his eyes wide with concern for the tiny white kitten, prying him from Elain’s small hands.

Cassian’s hands in contrast seemed too big to be allowed, his large scar-flecked palms almost engulfing the kitten entirely.

“Come to daddy,” he crooned in the kittens’ face, which was answered with a tiny meow, nuzzling it’s cheek against Cassian’s bronze skin.

“Oh, he’s all sweet now,” Elain grumbled under her breath feeling scorned.

Cassian turned back towards the house, cooing and fussing over the trembling kitten leaving Elain to trail behind him, trotting to keep up with his long strides.

“C’mon Enalius, daddy will get you something to eat.”

Elain scoffed, feeling indignant that she had just spent the better half of the last hour trying to rescue the kitten only for it to schmooze up to the hulking Illyrian.

“Cassian! Who’s Enalius? Wait— that is not your cat!”

*******

@elainarcheronweek​

Their words became more clear as Feyre led them down the hall.

“…That might give us an advantage when contacting the queens,” a low, quiet voice said, almost like a whisper between the shadows.

Someone hummed their agreement, and as if on instinct, Elain’s shoulders rolled back, her back stiffening—readying for the approaching company.

“Come,” another man said. “Let’s make this introduction.”

Elain swallowed hard. Beside her, Nesta’s body went rigid, her icy stare fixed on the hallway.

Feyre appeared first, the jewels around her neck glistening in the light of the chandeliers. Her hair was like golden threads woven into the night as it cascaded down her gown, its shade of blue so deep it seemed to ripple into the darkness itself. Without their staff’s prying eyes, she had removed her cloak, her new, immortal form exposed to them in its full—so foreign and so utterly Fae. Elain found herself struggling to recognise the woman that now stood before her.

Not a woman. A female, she thought, something in her gut twisting at the thought. Was Feyre Archeron a sister…or a stranger?

She crossed the room, her jaw clenched tight as she beheld the distrust in their demeanour. Blue-grey eyes slid from Nesta to Elain, dimming slightly, and she halted, keeping enough distance for them to breathe freely in the already stiff air.

Then, Elain saw them.

Three figures entered the room, towering well over her little sister as they followed her closely behind. The first one, dressed in a fine black jacket and pants, had raven hair and violet eyes  that were unlike any she’d ever seen. He offered her a small smile—one of encouragement, she supposed. Too appealing, too inhuman to be harmless. Elain quickly averted his gaze.

She looked to the other two behind him, and her blood froze in her veins.

Were those…wings?

On the right, the man was draped in leathers, his chest and shoulders adorned with blue crystals, their intensity so chilling Elain felt as though she was somehow transported right to the raging winter outside their manor. Like the man closest to Feyre, he was beautiful—ridiculously so, in a way that was most definitely not human. He emanated what she could only describe as threat, even the light shying away from his presence.

The man on the left sucked the air from her lungs.

He was slightly larger than the other, with arms so broad and muscled Elain was certain he could lift the mountains had he only tried. His stones were red, their glint like the flames dancing wildly in the fireplace, and she forced herself to look away, too entranced by their shining warmth.

Fire and ice—they’d let them in, raw and wild and ready to destroy everything in their wake.

Her heart pounding against her ribs, Elain took in his face.

The wintry breeze must have ruffled his hair, the dark waves falling messily to his shoulders. She wondered if he ever tied it up—pulled it back enough to reveal the sharp angle of his jaw. There was a roughness to his features—like he’d been crafted by the wind itself, restless and unwavering. Cruel.

Fascinating.

Elain released a shaky breath, and before she managed to divert her attention anywhere else, their gazes locked and held.

The man smirked, and the blood drained from her face entirely.

From somewhere far beyond the grasp of her mind, Feyre’s voice cut through the thick air. “My sisters, Nesta and Elain Archeron.”

Elain did not curtsy, stopped by Nesta’s fisted hand on her back.

“Cassian,” Feyre said, inclining her head to the left. The man’s hazel stare ignited, not breaking free from hers for one second as her sister continued, “Azriel.” The blue one nodded, his attention immediately fading to an absent point outside the window. Feyre half turned. “And Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court.”

But Elain had stopped listening.

Cassian.

With weapons strapped to his sides, far deadlier than mere daggers carried by mercenaries in the village, the winged male was nothing short of extraordinary. He didn’t command the room, like the violet-eyed one, nor did he slip into its shadows like his other companion. No, Cassian had walked into the room and became the only thing inside it that was worthy of attention. He had a presence about him—something that, against her best, most rational wishes, made her want to step in closer and ask if the red light of his stones was not one of fire, but the blood of those that perished under his hands.

Rhysand’s voice was but a blur in the background as Elain drowned in those hazel eyes, her breaths growing more and more shallow with each second they lingered on her own. A low bow towards her and Nesta finally made her tear her gaze away, only to see a warm smile on the High Lord’s face. Nesta made no effort to return it, and for a moment, there was nothing but silence.

“The cook left dinner on the table,” Elain said, her voice tight as she looked over their guests. “You must be hungry.”

Something flashed in Cassian’s eyes as they focused on her once again. “Yes.”

Azriel let out a quiet cough.

Nesta gripped her hand, nails digging into her skin as she said, “We should eat before it goes cold.” And with that, she pulled her toward the polished cherry table.

“Nice to meet you,” Elain only rasped.

***

To her horror, Cassian claimed the spot beside her, and she clenched her fork as she felt a brush of his wings against the frame of her chair.

As expected, the silence had only been temporary, her sisters quirky falling into an argument as though it was their second nature. That, at least, had not changed.

Instead, Elain found herself eyeing the man beside her—so comically enormous in his seat that she fought the urge to pull up another chair for his comfort. Those wings stopped her—large enough to wrap around the opposite ends of the table, she guessed. Brutal in their might and clawed like a bat’s. A gulp formed in her throat at the thought of touching them—could he feel them as one could feel their own hands? Would he attack her with the sword at his side if she dared to find out?

Cassian devoured his meal without a word, and she watched his strong, calloused hands, roughened with battle. A warrior, she decided. Cassian was a warrior.

“If you ever come to Prythian, you will discover why your food tastes so different,” Rhysand’s voice ripped her from her thoughts. Nesta’s stare was lethal as she narrowed her eyes at him.

“I have little interest in ever setting foot in your land, so I’ll have to take your word for it.”

Beside her, Cassian was clenching his jaw so hard she swore she could hear his teeth gritting. Perhaps that was why she murmured, “Nesta, please.” 

Cassian looked at her, then back to Nesta, grimacing.

Her sister snarled softly. “What are you looking at?”

This couldn’t end well.

“You seem…hostile.”

Nesta bared her teeth. “I only wish to protect my sister from those intending to put her life in danger.”

He cocked his head. “What about your other sister? Does her life not matter to you?”

Feyre’s face paled.

“She risked her life in the woods every day since she was fourteen years old. For you. What did you do to protect her, Nesta Archeron?” Cassian asked. “Feyre died—died—and is willing to do so again. For my people. She may not be my blood, but I will not repeat your mistake. The question is,” he said, “will you?”

Nesta did not so much as blink as she surveyed his face. Cassian stiffened, bracing for impact, but her sister said nothing as she turned to Feyre instead.

“Cassian,” Elain whispered, and his head snapped back to her, eyes wide with surprise. “Nesta…we…it is very hard to understand. We are raised to believe your kind inflicts nothing but harm. Apart from Feyre today, and that beast in the cottage so long ago…” Feyre flinched. “We have never even known…” She shook her head. “What you’re telling us, it’s… it’s all very disorienting. Our own neighbour, Clare Beddor, was taken, her family murdered…”

Aside from Nesta, everyone at the table went still, and Elain wondered if any of them knew—knew what exactly had happened to the long-lost girl who’d been taken in the dead of the night, never to be returned again. Her voice wobbled as she continued, “We were scared. We are scared. And we’ve failed Feyre because of it—both of us.” Her attention was fully on Cassian as she added, “But we will not fail her again.”

She could have sworn she heard Feyre release a breath.

Cassian took her in, the creases in his face fading slowly as he beheld her fully. Then, he nodded.

The air seemed to return to the room at that. Nesta only said, “I assume you’ll want to stay the night.”

Rhysand glanced at Feyre. “If it’s not too much trouble, then yes,” her sister said. “We’ll leave after breakfast tomorrow.”

Elain explained, “The staff has been dismissed, but we can get a few rooms ready for you before nightfall.”

Nesta rose from her seat. “If we’re done eating, then this meal is over,” she announced, striding out of the room. Elain followed, a pair of hazel eyes trailing behind her.

***

Elain forced a steadying breath before she dared to knock on the door.

Within seconds, Cassian stood before her, no weapons in sight.

“Elain,” he only said in what she supposed was a manner of greeting. This…impropriety…she found it endearing, really.

“I…” she cleared her throat. “I brought you fresh sheets.”

“Oh.” His gaze dropped to the soft, white fabric folded carefully in her hands. “Right. Thank you, I—come in.”

Run, her mind shouted. Elain took a step forward. 

Cassian closed the door behind her. “Is Azriel not here?” she asked.

A chuckle. “He doesn’t take too well to sleeping in unknown territory.”

Her brows knotted. “He’s outside?”

“Scouting the area for the night,” Cassian nodded. “Don’t worry. He’s usually too restless to sleep, anyway.”

Elain was more than certain he could take care of himself just fine—it was another problem caused by his absence that made her mouth go dry and tension stir in her gut.

They were alone.

She set the bedsheets on the mattress, her back turned to him as she said, “I’m sorry about dinner.”

Behind her, he took a step closer. “You have nothing to apologise for. None of you do.”

Perhaps not. Perhaps Cassian—and Feyre, and the rest of her new court—understood just how foreign this situation was for someone born to fear—to resent their kind. Her eyes were fixed on the bed as she let out a nervous breath. As a lady—though a newly reinstated one, she supposed—she had always been able to muster an appropriate response. But now…

“Feyre tells me you command the Night Court’s armies,” she said a shade pathetically. Another step of those heavy boots. He was less than two feet away—close. Too close.

She turned to find those hazel eyes glinting. “Have you been asking about me, Elain?” he teased, crossing his arms on his broad, powerful chest.

“I was merely curious.”

“Hmmm.”

Elain shifted on her feet. “Have you been asking about me?”

Cassian smiled, his face a picture of wickedness. “Maybe.”

Her chest heaved, something kindling inside it at the confession. “What did she tell you?” she asked.

Before she registered the movement in time to run for her life, he reached up, brushing back a stray strand of her golden brown hair with his calloused fingers. Elain went still as death, pulses of lightning shooting through every nerve in her body, her breath only escaping the tight muscles of her throat when Cassian’s hand returned safely to his side.

“She told me you have a fiancé,” he said, darkness creeping into his tone. “A human man.”

“What else would he be?” Elain asked weakly.

Cassian’s gaze narrowed on her own. “She told me he hates our kind.”

“Loathes is more like it.”

He angled his head slightly. “Do you?”

Elain blocked out the memory of Clare Beddor, of her house collapsing into the flames. “I don’t know anything about you.”

“I can think of a way or two to remedy that.”

Elain stepped back, a small noise getting past her lips as her legs hit the hard, wooden bed frame. She was trapped with a predator, his attention entirely on his prey.

It excited her.

“Elain,” Cassian rasped, so close she felt the gravelly sound on her skin.

Her stomach twisted, eyes averting the intensity of his stare, looking anywhere but into those dangerous, magnetic pools. “Your ears, they’re not…ah…”

The corner of his mouth twitched. “No, they’re not.”

Elain swallowed. “It makes you look more…human.”

He angled his head again. “Does that put you at ease?”

“Yes,” she admitted.

“It shouldn’t.”

Elain sucked in a breath, a thrill slowly penetrating her blood, the air growing more and more thick around them. She dared to look into his eyes again, and her toes curled when she found them bleeding black.

“You’re not like the men here,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

Something feral flashed in Cassian’s dark eyes. “No, I’m not.”

“Show me,” Elain breathed.

Cassian did not need to be told twice.

Those strong arms wrapped around her, and she collapsed onto the mattress. Cassian undressed them so fast she could barely make out the move of his fingers, quickly unlacing his pants, his shirt long gone. Her eyes scanned his broad, powerful chest, the hard muscles that sculpted the golden brown skin. She had never seen a man like him—he looked as though the old gods themselves had brought him to life, a warrior sent to conquer. Elain was happy to submit, her body arching desperately for him, begging to take, take, take.

He didn’t stop until she was laid bare underneath him, knees buckled together, hiding the gleaming slickness of her sex. Cassian smiled, propping his hands by the sides of her hips, and slowly lowered himself down to her flushed skin.

Elain’s breath hitched in her chest when his mouth pressed a small, teasing kiss atop both of her knees. His voice dropped to a low rumble as he uttered a single command. “Relax.”

Elain obeyed.

Her legs parted for him, and Cassian let out a growl, the sound so remarkably Fae she felt its purring settling deep into her bones. “You’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.”

And with that, he slid a finger into her.

A sharp gasp stung at her lungs, and her walls tightened suddenly, trapping him inside its heat.

Cassian tsked, finger plunging deeper into her, deeper than Greysen had ever managed to reach her the night of their first joining. “What did I tell you, Elain?”

She exhaled shakily, opening for him once more before grinding her hips into his hand slowly.

“That’s more like it,” the low rasp of his voice sounded in her ear, threatening to explode all that need swirling through her body. “So stubborn, you Archerons. But you’re not like your sisters, are you, Elain?”

Pleading, her fingers curled into the sheets, her walls twitching around his fingers as he pumped in and out of her in a quickening pace. “No,” was all she managed to breathe, hips rocking desperately on his digits.

A low chuckle. “I didn’t think so,” Cassian said, brushing his thumb over her clit.

Stars burst into Elain’s vision at the touch, and she shuddered almost violently. It was too much—and yet, it was not enough.

“No,” he mused absently, his gaze fixed on her sopping core, the obscene sounds it made around him turning his hazel eyes dark. “I think you’re going to take everything I give you and come like a good girl.” His middle finger dragged against the spongy roof of her walls, so thick and heavy her back arched off the mattress in desperation. “And then you’re going to come again.” Another thrust, stroking impossibly deep. “And again,” he promised, a feral edge to his words that filled her veins with lightning as he chased the feeling of her impending arousal on his calloused skin.

“Yes,” Elain mewled, her heart thumping loud against her ribs, unable to bear the rough circles his thumb traced on that swelling bundle of nerves.

“You want to be a good girl for me, Elain?” Cassian asked, his breath hot on her neck. “My pretty little slut?”

Her cunt fluttered wildly at the foul words. “Yes.”

“Then come for me, baby.”

Her climax knocked the breath from her.

The wetness of her release coated his fingers, dripping down their length, but Cassian made no move to stop their relentless pace, not until she was limp and empty, her mind nothing but a blur of pleasure.

Nothing had ever felt like this. Nothing.

And then, Cassian lowered his head between her legs.

Elain’s eyes widened. “What are you doing?”

He looked up, that hazel gaze dark and searching her own, and she thought she might come again simply from the sight. “Has your fiancé never tasted you before?”

She swallowed hard. “He says it’s filthy.”

Cassian growled again, the sound more threatening this time. “It is. But not in the way he thinks.”

“Then, why do you want to…”

“Tell me, Elain,” he said. “Don’t you like to get a little dirty every once in a while?”

For a brief moment, her mind escaped to her garden, the days she spent in the scorching sun, kneeling and covered in dirt. “I do.”

Cassian’s smile was a purely male thing. “That’s what I thought.”

Elain’s teeth dug into her bottom lip, considering. She looked into his eyes again—and found them glinting.

“Okay,” she nodded.

Cassian wasted no time.

His hands gripped her waist, and he pressed a single kiss to her inner thigh before his tongue licked clear up her centre.

Elain bowed off the bed, her moan so loud she was certain they were heard even by Azriel, hidden deep within the woods. Cassian only smiled, the feel of his lips against her sex like nothing she’d ever experienced. With a swift move of his hands, he hooked her legs over his shoulders, fingers digging into the soft, pliant flesh of her ass.

Feasting on her like a man starved, his tongue stroking the most delicious places inside her, hot and wet and sending thunder into her blood. He ravished her skin, slick and flushed with her arousal, and all Elain could do was chant his name.

“Cassian,” she panted, rocking her pelvis into his face.

He groaned into her folds, his iron grip on her tighter.

“Please.”

Cassian pulled back only an inch. “You’re the sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted, Elain,” he breathed, then dragged his tongue to her clit.

His mouth licked and sucked and teased, and all of Elain’s thoughts faded away, replaced by flashes of white, burning desire as her eyes fluttered shut and face contorted with pleasure.

“Cassian,” she warned, her voice nothing but a broken whimper.

Release came over her like a crashing wave.

She couldn’t help the cry that ripped free from her chest—not when everything inside her tightened and twisted and finally exploded with a force she didn’t know she held. Her body shook with the rush of her orgasm, her core running molten and pulsing against his mouth.

Elain closed her eyes, her chest heaving as he finally rose above her.

“Good girl,” Cassian praised. “Just like I thought you’d be.”

Brown eyes shot open.

Her legs tied around his back, gripping them tightly, and she flipped them so quickly Cassian blew out a surprised breath, his massive form sinking into the mattress.

Elain sat, the curve of her ass brushing against something new.

Her mouth went dry as she finally took in the length of his cock.

Cassian was going to ruin her.

“Look at you,” he muttered, his broad hands settling on her thighs. “Are you ready to take what you want, Elain?”

Elain had had a man before, but Cassian was no man. A male—a warrior, winged and dangerous and crass, everything she’d been warned against ever since she’d been allowed to lay her eyes on a man.

She was more than ready.

“Yes,” she said, her hands bracing on his muscled chest.

“Then take,” he told her. “Take everything and more.”

***

“We will not be hosting them again,” Nesta seethed as soon as the door shut behind them. “They cannot be trusted.”

“They’re with Feyre,” Elain protested.

“I don’t trust Feyre, either.”

“How can you say that? She is our sister.”

Nesta crossed her arms. “Only a few months ago, she was part of another court, and now she is sworn to another. A new court, a different man—a different male, who she claims is the most powerful of all those monsters. How are we to know he hasn’t used his power to gain her allegiance?

Elain scoffed. “They wouldn’t do that.”

“Like they wouldn’t harm Clare Beddor?”

It appeared Nesta had not missed it at dinner—the barest exchange of glances, the way Feyre’s face drained of blood at the mere mention of their old neighbour.

She opened her mouth. “We have no proof—”

“I don’t care,” Nesta’s words cut through the air. “I will not risk your life so you can go off fucking one of Feyre’s winged pets.”

Elain’s entire body went rigid.. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Do you think I’m a fool, Elain?” her sister asked. “You’ve never been good at keeping secrets.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You’d be surprised.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Her voice was an icy threat.

“It means I will do whatever the hell I want.”

“It looks like that Fae vulgarity is already rubbing off on you, sister,” Nesta hummed, her tone laced with mockery. “What would Lord Nolan and your little fiancé think?”

“Stay out of my business, Nesta,” Elain barked.

“I am trying to protect you! Think about the stories we hear, Elain!” Nesta beckoned. “Think about Clare!”

Elain hissed, “Cassian is nothing like the stories we hear.”

Nesta bared her teeth. “I don’t care what you think he is,” she said, her voice low. “But allow me to make one thing very clear. You are to stay away from him.”

“You can’t order me to do that.”

***

On the balcony of the House of Wind, Cassian looked up at the sky, wondering if the stars shone as brightly over the grand manor in the Mortal Lands.

He wondered if she looked to them too, thinking of him as often as he thought of her.

The long, five centuries of his life were driven by war. War, cruelty and pain.

Elain Archeron was the sun.

Warm, bright and kind. Cassian had known little kindness in his time. But she’d offered it to him—fully and unconditionally, despite her fear. In that moment, he knew—all those years of darkness were worth enduring for as much as a second he got spent in her light.

On the balcony of the House of Wind, Cassian made a promise to the stars.