#lmbyh

Her husband seemed nervous when he entered the library and rarely seemed to do so. Nesta assumed the years of neglect his family's legacy had seen made him feel uncomfortable, or perhaps it was something else entirely. Still, either way, Nesta did not mind that he rarely entered. 

She had thought she understood men very well up until her second marriage. There were men like Tomas, who wanted to show everyone how powerful they were, puffing their chests out like peacocks, just because he wanted to show the world something other than what he was. He seemed unable to move out of his brother's shadow and turned to anger. 

Then, there were men like Philip, who would crush anything they could not control. They were as slippery as an eel and sly as a fox and rarely had anyone tell them no. Those types of men were worse because they were much more confident in themselves compared to the kind of man Tomas was. At least with Tomas, Nesta knew she could play to his ego, which would appease him. 

Then there was the kind of man Robert Mandray was. He was so gentle he was almost like a woman. His brothers had no respect for him because of it, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't make himself more like his brothers. His wife had once disrespected his brother at the dinner table, so he slapped her across the face. Philip had looked proud, but Robert had looked horrified. He had left the house the following day, taking his wife with him. Nesta understood why; it was unsafe for either of them in a house like that. Robert was too gentle, and Philip was known for wandering eyes, hands and penis, too, if he could help it. It didn't matter if the recipient of his advances were open to them.

Perhaps the Duke was more like Robert, but then she wasn't sure if she believed that. He could command a room, and nobody could say he wasn't powerful. Nesta didn't understand much about the running of estates, but she knew the Duke of Illyria was good at it and had many profitable estates up and down the country. That kind of money came to someone other than someone who would run like Robert. Her husband had also gifted her with so much; she knew other men would dislike her being given such freedom and power. She was sure Tomas was turning in his grave, yet the Duke did not care. 

Perhaps this was the freedom someone with his status and power could expect. The Duke did not care that Nesta could run wild with all the freedoms he gave her. He was too rich and powerful to care. Even the talk of society didn't bother the Duke; it seemed not to reach his ears. Important people clearly didn't have the time for such things. The issue was that Nesta had never been around someone with such importance, so she had yet to learn how she should act. 

As Nesta steadied herself at the top of a ladder to clean the top of yet another shelf, she thought about how easy it would be for her to fall from this height. She could injure herself pretty badly if she landed on her head in the right way. She could die, and nobody would realise until lunchtime. But as soon as the horrific thought popped into her head, she shook it away. She couldn't do that. The burden that would put on her sisters and, worse, the Duke was too much. Feyre was so heavily pregnant, and she didn't want to do anything to put the baby at risk. Elain couldn't stop mentioning her children and wanting them to meet their aunt Nesta. And then, of course, the Duke would be the subject of a lot of scandalous talk if she died. No, she couldn't do that to them. She had a responsibility to them all. Her mother had always said it was her burden to shoulder these responsibilities. Even after her mother's death, she had been unable to move past that feeling. 

There was a knock at the door, one that startled Nesta out of her thoughts. Only Claude and the Duke came here, but neither knocked so timidly as this person did. There was another knock, this time a little louder at the lack of response. Nesta called for them to enter and started climbing down the ladder. 

To her surprise, it was a little boy who entered. The awe was evident on his face as he walked in, scanning the floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. The boy was so entranced by all the books he tripped over his own two feet but managed to catch himself before he hit the ground. He quickly straightened himself out, but his face started to colour when he looked over and saw that Nesta had been watching him. 

He cleared his throat awkwardly before finally speaking. "My Lady," he said and then paused. Then, he did the stiffest, most awkward bow known to man. 

Nesta stifled a laugh at that but decided to put the clearly nervous boy out of his misery. "How can I help you this fine morning, good sir?" She said, matching the boy's formality and curtsying back to him. 

The boy's eyes widened in horror. "Please, My Lady, you don't need to bow to me. My name's Arthur and I'm Eleanor's son; my mother said she's your maid?" The boy was clearly unsure if Nesta would even know who his mother was.

Now that the boy mentioned it, she could see their similarities. "Of course, it's nice to meet you, Arthur," Nesta said, putting on her best smile. It had been so long since she had smiled that she felt out of practice. "Is there anything I can help you with?"

"Oh, well, I was wondering if you needed any help, My Lady?" he said awkwardly while shifting around, avoiding eye contact. 

Nesta tried to control her facial expression at that. Why would this boy want to help her? Well, her first thought instantly went to her husband. He must've wanted the boy to spy on her. But then, another part of her questioned this logic. Why would the Duke wish to spy on her when nothing else entered the library? It would only make sense if he was worried about Claude, which also didn't make any sense. Claude loved the Duke far too much to risk doing anything that would anger him. 

"Why do you want to help me?" Nesta said, trying to keep her suspicions out of it. She didn't want the boy to feel like he was being backed into a corner. "This isn't where a young boy like yourself would want to spend his day. Surely, you'd rather go outside and play instead?" Nesta said, smiling so the boy didn't feel attacked by her words. 

"Well, ma'am, I know I'm young, but I want to work to help my mother. We- well, we don't live with our father anymore, so my mother works really hard. I'm the eldest, so I want to help her. Maybe, if I help you, the Duke will see and give me other tasks to do, too," the boy was nervous about telling her his motivations, but Nesta couldn't help but smile at how sweet he was. 

She had no idea Eleanor didn't have her husband with her, but her son was clearly nervous about mentioning him, so Nesta didn't delve into that anymore. "Well, as you can see, there's a lot to do around here, so I certainly wouldn't mind the help," Nesta said, gesturing around them. 

That put a smile on the boy's face. He rolled his sleeves up, readying himself for some action. "What do you want me to do first, ma'am? Just so you know, I know I look small, but I'm very strong, so if you need me to carry things, I can do that too!"  

Nesta wanted to avoid lumbering the poor boy by carrying books around for her, not when they were so heavy. The boy was skinny-looking, and although very eager to prove himself, she didn't know if his little body could take so much manual labour. Instead, Nesta looked for a kinder task that would allow him to help her without injuring him. She didn't know Eleanor very well, and while the woman was taciturn, she knew that there was a possibility that Eleanor could get angry if her son came back exhausted from a day in the library. 

"Well, actually, there's a task I've been putting off because I've been finding it too daunting," Nesta said conspiratorially. The boy nodded eagerly, waiting for her to carry on. "You see those piles of books over there?" Nesta said, pointing at the piles of books practically covering the lone table in the room. "Well, I need to figure out an order for them; the shelves I took them off were a mess. If someone could put them alphabetically, we could put them back onto the shelves much tidier. What do you think?" Nesta asked. 

The boy bit his lip anxiously before eventually replying to Nesta. "Well, ma'am, I think you could do that, and I could carry on cleaning. Wouldn't that be better?" Nesta was confused; clearly, the boy could see she wouldn't accept that without questioning him. "Ma'am, I can't read, so I can't organise your books. But I can clean for you," the boy said with a smile. 

Nesta blushed at that, cursing herself for being so thoughtless. Of course, someone like Arthur couldn't read. Although schools were around, they weren't open to accepting people from a lower class. Some factory owners in the north were known to build schools for the children who worked with them, but this was rare. Nesta wondered how many children on the Duke's estate couldn't read while she spent her day in a library. 

"Would you like to learn?" Nesta asked impulsively. It was too late to take the offer back, though, and now it lingered between the woman and child. 

"Would you really teach me?" Arthur asked cautiously. 

"If you want to learn, then yes. I've never taught anyone how to read before, but if that's alright with you, then-"

Before Nesta could continue, Arthur cut her off. "Yes! Please, I would love to learn how to read. I could get so many other jobs if I learned how to work. Please, ma'am, I'll work day and night if you teach me."

Nesta smiled at him. "I'm glad to hear you're so excited to learn. All I ask for is an eager student, so you don't need to work day and night."

As they both walked towards the table, Nesta finally felt that, for once in her life, she was doing something good. 

***

Her day with Arthur had been one of her best days in a long time. Nesta had spent two hours writing out upper- and lower-case versions of the alphabet and saying the phonetic sounds for them. Then she let Arthur try to copy her letters to the best of his ability while he said the sounds. While Arthur repeated the process, Nesta cleaned, staying close in case he needed her help. 

Claude had been delighted to see the boy with Nesta when he had come to serve lunch. Nesta had been glad that Arthur was a growing boy because he had eaten with such gusto that it had hidden how little she had eaten. The smell of the delicious food had made Nesta feel nauseous, so she had taken two bites and then left the rest while she listened to the energetic back and forth between Arthur and Claude. 

Claude had such a brilliant way with children, and his personality was infectious. She couldn't help but smile as she watched Arthur and Claude laugh. Nesta usually felt like an outsider left in the cold; being an outsider while Arthur and Claude talked was like being doused in sunlight. The warmth seeped into her bones, and she felt something inside her thaw as their joy hit her. 

When Claude had left, much later than he usually would, Nesta felt like she had been given a new burst of energy. She cleaned with renewed vigour, and Arthur decided to help her, which made the time go faster. Nesta also felt like she had gotten more done today, probably because there were two of them rather than her tackling things independently. Plus, when she was on her own, she tended to get distracted by the books she found, and before she knew it, the sun would be setting, and she had read a chunk of the most bizarre book ever. She wasn't sure which of the Duke's ancestors had been so obsessed with crocodiles, but she had found five copies of the same book. 

Nesta assumed that her lack of distraction today was why her body ached so much. Arthur had thrown himself into cleaning the lower shelves, so Nesta had felt like she needed to match that energy, but now she was paying the price since the boy was over ten years younger than her. Sitting at the dinner table across from her husband, struggling to lift her spoon to her mouth, certainly put her in her place. She wasn't feeling hungry. That queasy feeling from earlier hadn't dissipated as she had hoped. 

Claude had cooked a feast fit for kings, but she couldn't taste anything. Everything tasted like ash, so she kept her face passive. She didn't want anyone noticing, especially not her husband, who sat opposite her, talking about one of his tenants. Nesta never understood why her husband needed to tell her the ins and outs of his tenants; she couldn't imagine he wanted her opinion. Perhaps, like all great men, he wanted to talk about all the important things he did. 

Still, it was better than when he decided to be polite and ask her about her day, which was inevitable. 

"Claude told me that Arthur was helping you today," the Duke said. His tone was even; there were no accusations of anything, but she couldn't tell how her husband felt about Arthur spending time with her. Right now, he was just a boy, so there was no danger of him thinking Nesta could stray, but she wondered if that would come eventually as Arthur got older. 

"I had never met him before today, my Lord. He walked in and asked me for work," Nesta explained, not wanting her husband to think she spent her days talking to strangers.

The Duke just laughed, startling Nesta. "Arthur is ambitious and most likely getting underfoot wherever he had been spending his day before. I think it will do him some good. The boy is responsible; he just needs some guidance. He's a smart boy, and I'm sure he'll do well for himself in the future."

Nesta paused. The talk of Arthur's future made Nesta hesitate. Clearly, the Duke wanted the boy to succeed, but Nesta wasn't sure how he would feel about her teaching the boy how to read. While she had been helping the boy, it had occurred to her that she should've asked her husband for permission before taking something like this on, and of course, she should've asked permission from Eleanor, too. Some people could be peculiar about who their children spend their time with. 

"My Lord," Nesta said nervously. She could feel herself getting warm, the sweat gathering on her brow as she took a deep breath to calm her nerves before Nesta told her husband what she had offered without his permission. "Today, while in the library, Arthur mentioned that he could not read."

"Ah, well, I suppose that is to be expected," the Duke said with a sad smile. 

"Well, I offered to teach him," Nesta said quickly, looking down at her hands. She interlocked her hands to try and stop them from trembling so much. She knew she had done something wrong, and now she would have to pay whatever price her husband felt necessary. She just hoped that Arthur wouldn't suffer because of her.

"Is that something you want to do with your free time?" the Duke asked Nesta as though her opinion mattered to him.

"If you're happy to allow it, my lord," Nesta admitted. It was risky to say she wanted to do something, especially since she had already gone behind his back. He could see that she wanted to do this and take it away as a punishment.

"Of course, I'm happy for you to teach the boy. He's ambitious, and I didn't know what to do with him. It seems like you've found the perfect solution for him. I'm sorry that I didn't think of something like that sooner," the Duke contemplated. 

Nesta didn't reply; it felt like a trap to say she thought of something he didn't. Even suggesting such a thing would've gotten her the beating of a lifetime from Tomas. Despite knowing this act of the Duke was too good to be true, she wouldn't look the gift horse in the mouth. 

"There is no school for the lower class in this area. Rhys's mother once campaigned for it, but as far as I'm aware, she was told that unless there was evidence of some interest within the community, the government wouldn't be willing to throw that kind of money at the lower classes. They believed they could build a school, and the lower classes wouldn't send their children because it was easier for them to send them to work. I'm not sure how much truth there is in that, but it's a shame these children can't learn to read and write."

The Duke sounded thoughtful as he spoke, which Nesta had not expected to hear. Nor had she expected to listen to thoughts about supporting the lower classes. The Duke's family was an ancient one which could be traced back to the founding of Prythian. Meanwhile, the Mandray family had only recently been given their current rank. Yet, despite being so new to the money and social standing they currently had, neither Philip nor Tomas had ever looked at the lower classes with anything other than contempt or disgust. 

It was strange. Nesta had not expected her current husband to be so progressive. Then again, how he spoke of the issue made her feel like he had not thought about it in much detail before she had mentioned Arthur. But now that he knew it, he took the issue very seriously.

Nesta had heard whispers that her husband treated the issues of the tenants and people under his general management in such a way, too. He was unaware of all their problems, but if he was made aware of it, he would always try to help. He had apparently once helped a tenant whose ewe was birthing. The Duke had only been passing by, but the man had called out, needing some help, and the Duke had not faltered in rolling his sleeves up. The man had recounted the tale laughing one night, saying he had done little more than take instruction from the actual farmer, but Nesta couldn't help but think that he downplayed things a little. 

Nesta took a sip of her water as the silence started to linger. Where she'd usually water down her wine, she had bypassed it all together today. Nesta knew it wouldn't sit well in her already queasy stomach. She had hoped the water would help settle her stomach or, at the very least, end the pounding in her head, but it had not helped. 

"Are you alright, Nesta?" the Duke asked her, frowning. 

Nesta straightened her back, hoping her posture would help her look better. She didn't want to admit she wasn't feeling well. Any sign of weakness could be used against her; she had learnt that the hard way. Men didn't want to hear that their wives were not well. They didn't care, and it was disgusting to have to hear about anything like sickness. Women were meant to suffer in silence. 

"You look pale, and you've eaten less- I mean, you've not eaten very much," the Duke fumbled over his words. Nesta didn't have the energy to figure out what he really wanted to say; she was too tired, and her head felt full of cotton wool. She wondered how the Duke noticed she wasn't feeling well and why he would pay so much attention to her when he had better things to do. 

"No, no, I'm fine, my Lord," Nesta said, shaking her head and plastering on a fake smile. The Duke didn't seem convinced, but he didn't comment. He still eyed her plate, so Nesta knew he wouldn't stay quiet for long. "The food isn't quite sitting well with me; it's quite strong flavours and stodgy. I'll go to the kitchen to speak to Claude and get something to settle my stomach; it's nothing to worry about."

Nesta was loathed to explain herself further, but she knew the Duke enough to realise she needed to give him some sort of explanation. She didn't wait for him to reply, as she quickly got up and rushed to the kitchen before he could stop her. Perhaps there was something Claude could give her that would help- or at least something she could eat without being sick. 

There was chatter in the kitchen, but Nesta was past the point of processing it. The heat hit her as she rounded the corner and was met with various smells and sounds. She couldn't take it in; so much was going on, and her brain couldn't process it all in its overwhelming glory. 

Nesta had been to the kitchen only a handful of times since she had married the Duke. She knew she was not well-liked in the household, which was fine. They were very protective of their master, and everyone else kept their distance apart from Claude, who seemed like he could be friendly with a bear. That was fine; the distance meant fewer chances of anyone spying on her to report back to her husband. 

"My Lady, are you alright?" a younger man asked her. She didn't even notice when he came over to her. Claude had yet to notice her, but Nesta hadn't announced herself as she walked in. Her head felt so fuzzy that she had just ended up staring off into the distance at nothing. 

"I apologise; I know you all must be busy," Nesta said, trying to wade through the treacle in her brain to remember what she had wanted to say.

"It's no problem, ma'am. We're not busy; it's just Claude's chaos," the man smiled. Nesta had been introduced to him but couldn't remember his name for the life of her. 

At the sound of his name, Claude whipped around and beamed brightly as he saw Nesta. "Matthew, get back over there. You're not paid to chat with Lady Nesta," he said jovially. 

"Of course, Claude," Matthew replied, a grin adorning his face, and mischief sparkling in his eyes. That's you who's paid to talk to the Duchess."

Matthew ran off before Claude could say anything, but Nesta could see the humour dancing on his face. "Now that Matthew is doing his real job, how can I help you, my lady. Is there something wrong with the food?" Claude said, looking anxious. 

"No, Claude, definitely not. I just am not feeling too well. Is there anything you have that I can eat that will help?" Nesta said, blushing at her admission. 

"Oh, of course. I make some wonderful soups, but some tea might be quicker. What seems to be the issue, my lady? Perhaps Cassian needs to call the doctor instead," Claude said kindly, leading Nesta to a nearby stool.

Nesta shook her head. "It's fine; I just feel a bit queasy," she lied. 

Claude didn't look like he believed her but, thankfully, didn't say anything. To keep him from pressing the topic, she quickly spoke up, changing the subject. "Why do you call the Duke Cassian, but you're so formal with me?"

Claude smiled at that. "That idiot doesn't know how to treat a lady. He's the stupidest Duke I've ever seen," he laughed. "I jest. I've known him for a long time, and we've always been friends first, so it was natural to call him by his name. With you, well, I don't know you as well, so I wasn't sure if you would like me to be so forward and familiar with you. I wouldn't want to insult you."

"Well, I'm asking you to call me by my name. I would like to think we're friends," Nesta said softly. It was true. Claude was the closest thing she'd had to a friend for a long time. The last friend she'd had was long gone now. 

"I'm honoured, Nesta," Claude said, testing out saying her name. Here, let me make you some tea. What about having some pastry with it? Really, you should eat something if you don't feel well; it might help to settle your stomach."

"Thank you, Claude, but the tea will be more than fine. If I can manage something else, I will let you know," Nesta said kindly but firmly. She knew her stomach wouldn't be able to handle all that liquid and then food on top of that. 

Claude hesitated for a moment, weighing something up, before speaking. "Nesta, if we are friends, then I just want to say something as a friend. I hope you don't take offence, and I'm sorry if you do; it's just that I need you to know something. If you don't like something about my cooking or something specific you would like to eat, it would bring me great joy if you told me. I know you've said that you like my cooking in the past, but I can't help noticing you don't eat very much." Claude looked guilty like he had said something he shouldn't have. 

Nesta was frozen. She didn't know what to do or say. She knew her eating habits hadn't gone unnoticed, but she hoped people would just leave her to it. She should've known that Claude would never leave a food-related matter alone. Food was too important to him, and she knew he had perceived it as an insult because she didn't eat much of it. 

She could see no way around it. She had to tell him the truth. If she didn't, he would think she was rude, and in a house where he was one of the only people Nesta enjoyed the company of, she couldn't do that. She knew it was dangerous, becoming so attached to the man, but he was so soft and full of love and joy. Nesta couldn't help but be drawn into the man's orbit. She didn't think she had seen anyone so kind and willing to help others. She didn't even know people like Claude could exist. 

She took a deep breath, Claude studying her as she opened her mouth to finally voice the truth. "In the Mandray household, the wives were not to eat first. Tomas and his brothers would eat first at the table. Their mother and sister did not sit with them often; they ate in his mother's rooms. The men ate without any abandon and were not the tidiest of eaters. Once they had done and left the room, the wives could eat what was left," Nesta said quietly. She had never admitted it before. She had never had the bravery to say anything, unlike others.

Nesta looked up at Claude, only to notice how horrified he looked. Nesta had never seen horror etched so clearly onto someone else's face, but with Claude, it was hard to mistake it for anything else. "Nesta," Claude rasped out, his eyes filled with tears. "Did they starve you?"

Nesta hesitated. She had never really thought about it like that. At first, she thought it was so strange and questioned her husband about it a lot. Tomas had told her it was a long-standing tradition in their family when it came to married women, but it had always been about controlling them. 

"I never thought about it, but yes, they did, I suppose. There were times when we got nothing if we angered them. And then there were rules for if one of us was pregnant," Nesta explained, although she had no idea why she was explaining it. As the words came out of her mouth, she knew it all sounded horrific. 

"Were you- did you ever become?" Claude asked, clearly unsure how to proceed in that conversation. 

"No, not me, but my friend. She was married to Philip, Tomas' older brother. Her name was Clare, and she was the only person who understood what it was like in that house," Nesta said, her voice breaking as she spoke about her friend. She felt terrible for using Clare's pregnancy to avoid talking about her own, but then again, it was safer that way. She had no idea how the Duke would react if he knew she had been pregnant before, even if she didn't last very long.

"What happened to her?" Claude whispered

"She died in childbirth. The baby didn't survive either," Nesta said, wiping a tear which had escaped. Claude put a cup of tea down in front of her; she hadn't even noticed that he had done anything; she had been so consumed with her thoughts. 

"I can't believe how much you've been through, Nesta; how did you bear it?" Claude asked, clutching his own cup of tea. 

Nesta shrugged. "I did what I had to do. It was better when Clare was around; she understood how it was. I got used to things; I got into a routine. I knew how to avoid things." She knew getting used to things wasn't okay, but that was the truth. She didn't want to say that she had wanted to die. Claude seemed concerned enough as it was.

"That must've been hard, especially after your friend was gone," Claude said quietly.

"She was the only one who understood it, but I knew I had to carry on for her," Nesta said, taking a sip of her tea to give her some time to gather her thoughts. "Claude, I didn't tell you these things because I wanted you to pity me. I just needed you to understand that I'm trying my best. It probably doesn't seem like much, but it's all I can give now."

"No, of course!" Claude exclaimed. "And I'm honoured you felt like you could tell me."

Nesta didn't want to rain on his parade and tell him it was because she felt guilty for not eating his food, but then again, she would be lying to herself if she didn't admit that she felt some comfort around him. There was something about Claude which made her feel safe. She knew he wouldn't use the information against her like the staff in the Mandray household did. It was a strange sensation for her to actually trust someone. It had been so long she had forgotten how it felt.

"Will you tell Cassian?" Claude asked.

Nesta's eyes widened in horror. "No, absolutely not!"

Claude felt guilty for alarming her, so he held his hands out in surrender. "Sorry, I was just wondering if it would help understand the things you've been through," he said, trying to soothe her. 

"He can't know Claude. He didn't want to marry me; he just agreed for my sister's sake. I'm grateful to him, but I know he's burdened by my strange behaviour. I'll get better, though; I'll become the wife he wants if he just gives me some time. I just need to learn more about his likes and dislikes. Once I figure him out, I'll be the wife he wants, and then he won't have any problems," Nesta said without even thinking. Her brain felt full of cotton wool; she had no idea what she was saying. She felt like she was speaking too fast and too slow simultaneously. 

"Nesta, you know that's not what Cassian wants, right? I agree; I think you do need to get to know him, though, because when you do, I know you'll realise what he wants." Claude said.

Nesta didn't know how to react. Her brain was slowing down, so she raised her mug to take another sip of the tea. She didn't realise how much her hands shook until she spilt her tea down her front. Thankfully, the tea wasn't warm enough to scald her, but the shock of feeling the liquid on her startled her enough to make her drop her mug. 

She shot to her feet as Claude got up and grabbed a cloth. The room was spinning, and Nesta eventually concluded that she had not managed to fight the horrific feeling she'd been having all day. Her stomach churned worse than ever. 

Of course, her husband walked in on this chaos. "I heard some noise. What's going on?" the Duke asked, looking concerned. 

Claude said something, but Nesta didn't register it at all. The Duke clearly understood whatever it was that Claude had said, and took Nesta's hand to guide her away from the broken mug. 

She wouldn't usually be so glad he was so close to her, but she felt so unsteady that she gripped his hand like it was her lifeline. His hands felt so cool compared to her burning skin, and she fought the temptation to put his hand on her brow. Thankfully, her senses hadn't entirely left her, and she refrained.

"Nesta, you look pale and unsteady. Please, tell me what's wrong?" the Duke said in a frightfully close tone to begging her. 

"I'm not sure, I just feel-" Before she could downplay how ill she felt, she felt the bile rise in her throat as her stomach churned. To her horror, Nesta turned to throw up the contents of her stomach on her husband's shoes. 

It was over as quickly and suddenly as it had started, and Nesta felt the tiny bit of energy she'd managed to conserve throughout the day had left her body and lay at her husband's feet.

"Nesta? Fuck, are you okay?" the Duke sounded discomposed now, but his voice was starting to sound far away. She felt a hand touch her forehead, and some unsavoury curse words left the Duke's mouth. "Nesta, you're on fire; why didn't you say?" 

Nesta tried to say something, but her head was swimming, and even thinking of words took energy she didn't have. She just wanted to sleep, and she could feel it calling her like a siren calls a sailor. Everything was too much for her, so Nesta simply embraced the darkness. She had just enough time to register strong arms grabbing her as she fell into the darkness lingering in her mind. 

Tags list (ask if you'd like to be added or removed)

Nesta had seemed to be enjoying herself, talking to old Devlon. He hadn’t even known they were friends, but that made Kallon’s outburst at their wedding even worse. Then she was sat by her sister, and Feyre seemed so happy to spend time with Nesta. He somehow managed to lose sight of his wife, he thought she was safe with Feyre. He didn’t want to make it seem like he was following her, he had stayed close by if she needed him. He didn’t want to smother her.

It had come as a shock to him when Adelaide told him his wife was not feeling well, and he looked around to notice she wasn’t in the main hall like he thought. When he had tried to find Nesta, he had managed to get cornered by Ianthe, which he should’ve known would happen. Then of course, he was careless and Nesta saw them together, and as he tried to chase his wife and explain what she had seen, only for her to bump into Philp Mandray of all people. It was like a nightmare, only worse because Cassian knew without a shadow of a doubt that this was real. He wished he knew what he had done to deserve this. 

The events of the night felt like they were catching up with him, and his head certainly felt like it was spinning. He wished he could just go to sleep and forget any of this had happened, but he couldn’t. Cassian wasn’t sure how long he stood there, looking at Philip and Nesta before he managed to shake himself out of his daze. Seeing Philip was a shock to the system. He knew that Philip would not be welcome at Helion’s house. Helion had his own issues with Philip Mandray way before the issue of Cassian marrying Nesta had happened.  

“Nesta, are you alright?” Cassian asked loudly, reminding both Philip and Nesta of his presence. Nesta flinched at the sound of his voice. Cassian felt like a knife had pierced his chest at the sight of his wife, practically in another man’s arms, flinching at the sound of his voice hurt him more than he cared to admit. 

“She’s fine, she’s always been very clumsy,” Philip responded, his voice grating on Cassian’s nerves as he spoke, a smirk on his face. Cassian’s hands were balled up, wishing he could throw a punch, but he couldn’t let his anger get the better of him like it did at his wedding. He needed to make sure Nesta was okay. 

“I wasn’t aware that you had changed your name Mandray. Last time I checked, Nesta was my wife’s name. Care to explain why you decided to respond on her behalf?”

Philip’s face was instantly flooded with red, a mixture of anger and embarrassment, which brought Cassian great joy. Cassian hadn’t given a shit about Philip Mandray before, not until he had stopped Cassian from meeting Nesta before their wedding. Still, Cassian couldn’t bring himself to feel even the smallest ounce of guilt when it came to embarrassing Philip. 

“Nesta, sweetheart, are you okay?” Cassian asked softly as he stepped forward. He slowly walked towards his wife, putting himself between her and Philip. 

It seemed like that had been the right move, because Cassian coming into her line of sight seemed to snap her out of the state of shock she had gone into, and she didn’t flinch at the sound of his voice when she was looking at him. Cassian started to move his hand slowly to help her up, not wanting any sudden movements to startle his already terrified wife, but she didn’t even wait for his hand to become fully outstretched before she grabbed his arm so tightly Cassian wondered if she would leave marks. His wife was delicate and didn’t look like she would have the strength to do so, but she might prove him wrong.

She gripped him like she was afraid to let go, so Cassian brought her close by his side. Although he and his wife were not ones for public displays of affection, or any affection, Cassian felt that with Philip around, a united front was needed. 

“I wasn’t aware that you were invited to Helion’s party Mr Mandray,” Cassian said, in the hope of reminding the man that he was risking making a huge scene if the hosts discovered he was here uninvited. A man like Philip put a lot of thought into his appearance, and sometimes needed reminding that he was not as untouchable as he thought. 

“I was not, but I’m sure that I could’ve gotten an invite if I wanted. Anything can be bought for a price, after all,” Philip said, responding to Cassian but not taking his eyes off Nesta, who had buried her face in his chest. Cassian was trying not to focus on the fact this was the most physical contact they’d had since the wedding night.  

“Well, an invitation to this party cannot be bought. I suggest you leave before you end up embarrassing yourself by having to be removed forcibly. I’m sure the guests would enjoy the entertainment though, if you feel like putting on a show,” Cassian said, smirking at him.

“There’s no need for the threats. That’s not the kind of behaviour I would expect from a Duke,” Philip said, tutting and shaking his head in fake disappointment. 

“Ah yes but you forget, I’m not just simply a Duke. I was also in Her Majesty’s army. This is a tame reaction for a soldier,” Cassian said sternly. He didn’t remind people of his history very often, but Philip Mandray needed to be reminded that he was a threat.

Unfortunately for Cassian, it seemed that Philip didn’t give a shit. “What good is a soldier who has no experience in a war? We have been at peace for so long that your title is just for show.”

“I don’t need to justify my service to the likes of you. The Queen is aware of what I did for my country,” Cassian said, wishing he was able to say more. 

Thankfully, Nesta tightened her grip on Cassian’s arm, reminding him she was in desperate need to get out of there. Although they hadn’t spoken about him very much, Cassian was very aware of how terrified she was of Phillip. He simply decided to ignore Philip’s existence (as much as it pained him) and focus on his clearly terrified wife. 

“Do you remember what I said before we came? About how if you want to go home, you just need to say the word?” He asked quietly, so only Nesta could hear. Philip watched them with great curiosity, but Cassian ignored him. 

Nesta had been shaking in his arms before, but now she was still. Cassian knew she remembered what he had said, but she didn’t say a word. He didn’t know why he was forcing Nesta to tell him she was uncomfortable and wanted to leave, but he felt like it was important for her to say this.

He waited for a response, before deciding that perhaps it was best to ease her into these things. He knew she wouldn't have been allowed to voice her opinion while married to Tomas. 

“Nesta, I need an answer. Do you want to go home?”

Nesta was so still in his arms that he wasn’t sure she had heard him. He was about to repeat himself when she nodded, her face still buried in his chest, but it was enough of a step for Cassian. He knew that telling him she wanted to go home had not been easy for her. 

He didn’t bother glancing at Philip, who was glaring at him with such hatred that Cassian wished he could punch him. It seemed unfair that he had punched Kallon at the wedding, but had never once laid hands on Philip, despite him being far worse in some respects. 

Still, he had someone else to think about now. He couldn’t let his emotions rule him, not when he had Nesta to worry about. He led Nesta into Helion’s study, knowing the guards would be standing around. As lax as Helion could be, he would never give someone the opportunity to slip into his study when nobody was paying attention. He’d learnt the hard way that he always had to be prepared. 

Thankfully, the guards knew Cassian well enough to allow him into the study. He guided Nesta onto one of the many armchairs placed around the room, before going to the guard at the door, asking him to find someone to bring his carriage around to the side entrance. With the state Nesta was in, he didn’t want the partygoers to talk about her more than they already were. 

A servant was called and asked to relay a message to Helion and Adelaide that the two of them would be leaving now. They would pass the message on to Nesta’s sisters and the rest of their friends so nobody would worry. He would have to explain what happened later on, once he had made sure Nesta was okay. He knew he had some explaining to do to his wife first, but seeing Philip had clearly scared her. He needed to make sure she was okay before talking to her about anything else that had happened during the evening. He didn’t want to add to her stress and worsen her condition, because she looked incredibly unwell right now. 

Cassian was tempted to send a rider to go get the doctor so that they would arrive home at the same time as the doctor and he would be able to check Nesta over. Thankfully, the rational part of Cassian’s mind reminded him that his wife wasn’t even comfortable around him, so there was no way she would remain calm when a doctor tried to do an examination. 

Since she had been seated in the armchair, Nesta had gone still. Before, when she had been in his arms, she had been shaking uncontrollably; whether this was due to her fear or shock, Cassian was unsure. Now, she was not reacting to anything. He had called her name a few times, moving in front of her hoping to snap her out of her trance, but there was nothing, not even a trace of recognition. He didn’t want to risk touching her in case she reacted badly. She seemed to shy away from him at the best of times. 

Thankfully, the carriage pulled around the French doors, probably ruining Helion’s perfectly manicured lawn, but Cassian didn’t give a shit if he was perfectly honest. He knew that Helion and Adelaide wouldn’t care either. 

“Nesta, the carriage is here. Let’s get you home now,” Cassian said gently as he kneeled down in front of her, slowly putting his hand on Nesta’s. Thankfully, that seemed to be enough to bring Nesta back into the present, although she seemed disorientated. 

Cassian guided her into the carriage by her hand, similar to how you would take a child by the hand to guide them. Cassian joined her in the carriage, trying to give her as much space as possible in a carriage. 

Not knowing what to say, Cassian decided to stay silent. His silence allowed him to get lost in his own thoughts, which mostly consisted of him thinking how nice the calm before the storm had been. His mind kept going back to how beautiful Nesta had looked while dancing in his arms. He had never seen his wife radiate such joy, and he wished he could go back to that. Instead, it had all gone to hell as soon as she left his arms, or so it felt like. There had been chaos after, and Cassian couldn’t understand what happened. Only, that was a lie. He hadn’t been careful. He had let his guard down in his joy of being out with his wife.

He was pulled out of his melancholy thoughts by the sound of Nesta gasping for breath. It seemed like she had come out of the trance, and now the panic in her eyes told Cassian she was hyperventilating. 

“Nesta, it’s okay, you’re safe. Please, just breathe,” Cassian said, scrambling closer to her. His movements made her flinch away from him, so he stilled and sat as still as he possibly could in a moving carriage. 

His words were no help to her, Nesta’s mind was already riddled with panic, and her breathing was getting shallower and louder. Cassian knew she needed fresh air, but stopping their carriages on the mostly deserted roads was not safe either, so he made a decision, which was most definitely a stupid decision. 

He moved to the door of the carriage while he shucked off his overcoat, wrapping it around his hand clumsily, and then punched the glass. It shattered instantly, causing Nesta’s strangled-sounding breaths to stop. He ignored the pain in his hand and cleaned all the glass near Nesta so she wouldn’t get hurt. 

Once her path to the broken window was as safe as he could make it, he moved back to the other side of the carriage. “You needed fresh air to help make you feel better. Please mind the glass,” Cassian said, nodding at the window. 

She opened her mouth to say something, then closed it again after no words came out. She took some time, but eventually, she moved towards the broken window and closed her eyes. The gentle breeze moved the strands of hair that had come out of her coronet, and Cassian could almost fool himself into pretending she looked calm. 

For the rest of the carriage ride, Nesta closed her eyes and focused on her breathing while Cassian watched her cautiously from the other side of the carriage. She didn’t seem to be calming down, not that he could tell anyway, but she was certainly getting control of herself again. Cassian wished he knew what that meant though. Was it calming enough? Did that mean she felt better, or just better enough to hide her emotions from Cassian? He assumed it was the latter, but it didn’t stop him from wishing he knew his wife better. How could they live together if they didn’t know each other? Every time he tried opening up to her, he was met with a cold hard wall. He knew she didn’t want to share things about her previous marriage, and he assumed none of it could be good, but he knew nothing. 

A normal married couple would know things like each other’s likes and dislikes, and what made them happy or sad. A normal husband would know how to comfort his wife when she was in the state Nesta was in. But Cassian was no normal husband. How could he be, when Nesta was no normal wife? He didn’t need a normal relationship, and he had known that their marriage would be normal, but he didn’t imagine feeling so helpless. He had assumed that taking Nesta away from the Mandray house would free her. He didn’t realise the impact the years had on her until he started living with her. 

When the carriage stopped outside of their house, Cassian felt relief. He knew that, here at least, Nesta was safe and comfortable. He had control of the environment, the situation and the people now, so he might be able to be more useful to Nesta. At the very least, he could do things to distract himself from the helplessness while his wife fought the demons in her mind.  

He jumped out of the carriage, holding the door open for Nesta so she didn’t touch the broken glass. She stepped out gingerly, looking so weak that Cassian fought the urge not to scoop her up in his arms and carry her to bed. 

Hill was waiting at the door, watching pensively as they came in. She knew Cassian well enough to know when something was wrong, and nobody could look at Nesta and assume she was okay.

“What do you need me to do?” Hill asked, ready to jump into action as per usual. 

“I need some tea if you don’t mind,” Cassian said. Hill didn’t say anything, just rushing off towards the kitchen. 

He guided Nesta to their bedroom, trying his best not to come too close to her. She seemed to be walking in a trance, the part of her brain that knew her routine just took over as she walked to their rooms. Nesta walked in and took a step towards the dressing room before Cassian gently told her to sit down.

She froze, and Cassian was sure that she had forgotten he was even there. “If you would just take a seat for a few moments, Hill will be here soon. I would feel much better if you drank some tea to calm your nerves before attempting to sleep.”

He knew saying he wanted Nesta to drink the tea was a low blow, she would see it as a direct order from him, but right now he didn’t care. If she was only willing to sit and drink the damned tea because he told her to, he would order her gladly. He needed to do something, anything to make himself feel better. 

Nesta sat down, as he requested, on his mother’s armchair, which pleased Cassian, and he couldn’t quite say why. Either way, seeing his wife sitting in his mother’s favourite chair was a nice feeling. It calmed his nerves ever so slightly. 

“Your hand,” Nesta murmured, as Cassian sat down on one of the other chairs. 

“Pardon?” Cassian asked. She had spoken so quietly that he wasn’t sure he had heard her properly.

“Your hand, you hurt it,” Nesta said, looking at his injury. 

Cassian followed her gaze to his hand, and to his surprise, it was bleeding. It looked rather gruesome, and as though it should hurt, and yet Cassian hadn’t even noticed it. He had assumed his clumsily wrapped overcoat would do the job, but in all honesty, he hadn’t thought about it very much. He had been far too distracted to realise he had hurt himself, and Nesta was clearly confused about how he didn’t notice it himself. 

“It isn’t bothering me, my lady, there’s no need to worry,” Cassian said, trying to soothe her worries while covering his hand with his other hand. 

Nesta’s frown deepened. She leaned closer toward him and gently pulled his bleeding hand closer to her for inspection. Cassian went still, holding his breath so that any movement didn’t stop his wife from voluntarily holding his hand. Of course, the circumstances weren’t great, but she had willingly held his hand! He certainly wasn’t feeling any pain now that his wife was holding his hand in hers so gently. 

As a man, society dictated that Cassian didn’t need people to be gentle with him. It wasn’t something that had ever bothered him, he had simply accepted it was how life was and moved on. Nesta held his hand gently while she inspected it was the first time someone had been this soft since his mother had died. He hadn’t even realised he missed it. He had assumed when he thought about his mother and it hurt, he was missing her. He didn’t realise he was also missing the kind of love and affection that a man only ever receives from his mother.

It was strange how such a simple act of the slightest affection could make him feel that way. But it was also strange that Nesta seemed to find his injury grounding. When Hill walked into their rooms, he thought she would startle since she was very engrossed with his hand. Instead, Nesta looked up when she noticed Hill put the tea down next to her, and then listed the supplies for the things she needed. 

Hill looked as surprised as he felt, but she quickly gathered all the supplies. “Do you need any help with anything? I can clean Cassian’s hand while you… Drink your tea,” Hill said, looking at Nesta with her eyebrows raised. 

Nesta didn’t respond; she instead went still. “It’s quite alright, Hill. I think my wife can handle it. You can retire for the night now. We’ve taken up enough of your time,” Cassian said with a smile. He gave Hill a meaningful stare, wanting her to get out. If his wife was comfortable dealing with his bloodied hand, then he certainly would not pass the opportunity up. 

Hill left with a small shake of her head, likely knowing exactly what Cassian was thinking. Then again, Hill most likely thought there would be more going on tonight than just Nesta dealing with his injury.

Nesta worked in silence, but it was clear from her actions that she was an expert at cleaning wounds. She picked out the glass pieces and put them into a cloth. Thankfully, There were only two fairly small glass pieces and they had not dug into anything important. It seemed that most of the damage had been done when he had punched the glass window, which was to be expected with his poorly wrapped hand. Perhaps he should not have moved quite so hastily, but he was far too worried about Nesta to care. 

Once Nesta was sure his hand was clear of glass, she dipped another cloth into the bowl of water that Hill had provided, and gently cleaned his hand. Once the hand was clean and Nesta could inspect the wounds properly, she assessed that the cuts were not bad enough to warrant stitches. Cassian was glad to hear that news because although he was able to grit his teeth through the pain, he shuddered at the sight of a needle ready to sew his skin together. He could stomach it, but barely, and would rather drink some poppy syrup. He didn’t really want his wife to see him in that kind of state. 

Nesta wrapped his hand gently, smoothing down the bandages as though she was caressing his hand. He wished he could feel her caress on his skin. His longing was interrupted by Nesta. 

“You’ll need to keep it clean and change the bandage too. I do feel that we should perhaps get it checked over just in case the cut is deeper than it seems, or worse still if any glass remains.” Nesta said, looking at him with concern.

“I think perhaps it is too late to call on the doctor without it being an emergency, but I promise that I will get it checked tomorrow.”

Nesta nodded and then moved away from him to sit back in her chair properly. She slumped down, as though the toll of the day was physically weighing her down. They sat there in silence for a while, Nesta staring into the distance, Cassian watching her subtly. 

Eventually, Nesta stood up. “It’s late, and I think I’ll get ready for bed, if that’s alright with you, your Grace?”

Cassian ignored the way she still asked for his permission. He didn’t have the energy to fight that particular battle right now, not after the night they’d had. He simply nodded and watched as she quickly scurried away into her dressing rooms.

\\\///

Cassian had hoped that his fitful night’s sleep would fix everything, but he had known deep down that he was being foolish. When he woke the next morning and looked at his wife’s tired face, he knew that the previous night’s events had taken its toll on both of them more than he had hoped. He felt like he was fumbling and had no idea how he could fix this mess. 

Nesta seemed intent on carrying on with her day as though everything was normal. She went to her refuge, the library, even though she looked ready to drop. She asked for her breakfast to be taken to the library. Claude was thrilled, saying that it was a sign that she was feeling more comfortable making more demands. Cassian wasn’t so sure but didn’t want to say anything to make things worse. Plus, if he made Claude sad, the whole household would feel the effects of a sad Claude, and that was truly something to fear. 

Cassian worried about his wife. Her resilience was something he admired greatly, but he wished she didn’t need to be this way. He wished he knew how to talk to and comfort her, especially after seeing the fear in her eyes when she was with Philip. He didn’t want to be a traditional, stern husband who barely spoke to his wife. He wanted his wife to rely on him, to be able to talk to him and tell him how she feels and what she thinks. 

Nesta seemed perpetually terrified of everything, and he sometimes felt like she was probably afraid of her own shadow. The way she had looked at Philip was different though. Something had happened to make her scared of him. The problem was Nesta was not likely to confide in Cassian about these things, and unless she did so, he couldn’t reassure her that nothing like that happened to her again. But for her to believe that she would have to trust him, and Cassian knew she didn’t. He didn’t blame her, but it hurt a little.

Cassian tried his best to leave Nesta to her own devices, but it was no use. His mind was constantly occupied by worries for her, wondering if she was okay, and a week after the party he was close to his breaking point. He had to ask Jacob to repeat himself on multiple occasions, but Cassian was just thankful that Jacob hadn’t commented on his lack of focus. 

When Jacob had suggested that perhaps the problem with the tenants could wait until tomorrow, Cassian had felt grateful that he was being given an out. It was too soon after the chaos of yesterday for him to be able to carry on as normal. His tenants would survive one day without him. 

Cassian didn’t instantly want to go running to the library to see what Nesta was doing, worried that she would find him smothering. It was difficult for him because all Cassian wanted to do was check on his wife, spend time with her and get to know her. The fear of alienating his wife was the only thing that made him go see Claude in the kitchens instead.

“Cassian, what are you doing here? Surely you know better than to come into Claude’s territory unannounced!” Matthew said. 

Cassian smiled at the young man, who, braver than most in his household, had volunteered when Claude had needed an assistant in the kitchens. Even Hill had shuddered at the thought of working in the kitchens with Claude.

Matthew was either very brave or very stupid, and Cassian truly could not tell which one it was. He had volunteered to work with Claude, which was a first. Even Claude had been shocked since the cook was nothing if not self-aware of his tyranny in the kitchen.

“I promise not to touch anything. I was just wanting some company,” Cassian said, holding his hands up in surrender. 

Now it was Matthew’s turn to laugh. “And I suppose you seeking Claude out has nothing to do with how he sits with your wife. Your wife is quiet, but Claude manages to bring out the chatty side of her.”

Cassian had no clever response for that. He knew he had been caught. He smiled bashfully, and just shrugged, looking for Claude so he could talk to him. Matthew, knowing how these things work by now, simply informed him that Claude was outside and left them to it. 

Cassian walked outside to see Claude in his garden patch. Claude was a big believer that if you could do it yourself, you should, and so he grew many fruits and vegetables himself. It was yet another reason why Claude was one of the best chefs in Velaris.

“Let me guess, you need my help to woo your wife,” Claude said, not looking up from his thorough inspection of his carrots. 

Cassian spluttered, trying to come up with a way to sound less pathetic, but there was no way to achieve that. In the end, he gave up, took a deep breath and said, “I think I messed up.”

That made Claude look up in an instant, and a heart-stopping glare came his way. “What on earth have you done now? I should’ve known not to trust you with her alone. You’re such a brute. You have no idea how to treat a real lady,” Claude huffed in annoyance. 

“Honestly Claude, if you can tell me what I did and tell you how to fix it, I’ll owe you forever,” Cassian said, running his hands through his hair. That made Claude pause. He knew Cassian well enough to know when things were serious. 

“Tell me everything that happened.”

“It was all going really well, we danced, and she was smiling so much. I’ve not seen her that happy before. I could finally see some real emotions from her, not the ones she wears as a mask.” he sighed, thinking back to how radiant Nesta had seemed in the ballroom. It had been a moment where Cassian believed they could be happy together. They would work through whatever demons Nesta was fighting, and they would be able to be happy. 

“It’s probably my fault things went wrong. I was talking to the others, and Nesta got up. I don’t know where she went or who she spoke to. You know how mercenary those women can be. I should’ve prepared her better. We all should’ve. But then Adelaide told me Nesta was in distress and she needed me. I went to the room I thought she was in and Ianthe told me-”

“Ianthe? What did that snake want?” Claude spat. Ianthe was not popular with his friends and family, especially considering how she had tried to integrate herself into their group. Cassian decided it would be best to keep the details of their interaction to a bare minimum, or his life might end up in danger. 

“The usual, but that’s not the worst of it Claude. Nesta ran into Philip Mandray,” Cassian revealed. 

“Fuck!” Claude exclaimed. 

“My thoughts exactly. I have no idea what he said to her, Claude. They couldn't have been alone for more than two minutes before I got there, but it was enough for him to say something that troubled her. The colour had all drained away from her face, and I was worried she was about to faint. She looked so unwell.”

“Did you talk to her about it?” 

“At the time I was too focused on getting her home, it had all clearly been too overwhelming for her and then seeing Philip was just too much for her.”

“And what about since then? The next day did you try?”

“Claude, I know you don’t believe me when I say this, but I swear, I’m not actually an idiot. I’ve tried to broach the subject so many times, but she either leaves the room or changes the subject. Last night she even pretended to have fallen asleep, even though I could see her peeking to see if I had gone to sleep! I don’t know what else I can do.”

Claude’s angry expression melted away to sadness. “I’m not sure what I can suggest either, Cassian. I know she talks to me, but that doesn’t mean she’s open with me. In fact, she’s only ever talkative when asking me questions about my cooking. If I try to bring up other subjects she’s the same as when she talks to anyone else.”

“I don’t know what to do, Claude. At this point, I don’t even need her to open up to me. If she’s happier with me not knowing, that’s fine, but the problem is, Nesta won’t talk to anyone about what happened to her while married to Tomas. She won’t open up to her sisters, and she doesn’t seem to have any friends. It’s not healthy! The only thing that’s keeping me sane is that she seems to be happy in the library. I try to stay out of there as much as I can because it now feels like I’m encroaching on her safe space, but I worry about her being alone all the time.”

The two let the silence stretch on them until Matthew came out. “My goddess, it's miserable out here. What happened, did you two argue again?”

“No, we’re just worried about Nesta,” Claude said.

“Why?”

“She doesn’t talk to anyone and we’re worried that bottling things up is making her ill,” Claude explained.

“Well, has anyone else talked to her about their own struggles?” Matthew asked.

“What do you mean?” Cassian asked with a frown.

“Well, we all know what the Mandray house is rumoured to be like, so I understand your concern. The duchess does not act in a way that could be considered normal, but I’m sure she’s aware of that herself. Everyone who tries to get her to open up is doing so out of concern, but they don’t understand her. I don’t want to step out of line here, but is there anyone who she could relate to? Someone who’s been in a similar situation so she can see she’s not alone?” Matthew spoke as Claude and Cassian looked at each other with wide eyes. 

“Why, Matthew, you’re a genius!” Claude leapt up and hugged the man, startling Matthew. “Of course, she isn’t going to feel comfortable talking to us!”

“You’re right, but who could she possibly feel comfortable with?” Cassian asked, unwilling to let himself get excited about something when he had no idea how to carry out the admittedly good idea. 

At that moment, a boy called out for Cassian, and it was like he had been sent from someone up above as an answer to their question. 

“I’m really sorry, Mr Duke sir, but me and my sister were playin’ out by the front with a ball, and I think we broke a window, sir. It was my fault, sir, I’m terribly sorry,” the boy said, trembling in front of him, but making eye contact nevertheless. Cassian would guess the boy was no older than 6 or 7 years old.  

Claude let out a chuckle, startling the boy. “No need to worry about Cassian when it comes to broken windows Arthur. Cassian has probably broken every window in this place at some point or another.”

The boy, Arthur, looked from Claude to Cassian cautiously. “Why don’t you take me to where you were playing and show me what happened?” Cassian asked, gesturing to the boy to lead the way. It looked like that was the last thing he wanted to do, but clearly, Arthur felt like he had no choice. 

“Of course, sir,” he said, resigned to his fate clearly. 

“So, your mother is Eleanor, correct?” Cassian questioned, having finally been able to place the boy.

“Yes, sir, I’m the eldest. I have a little sister, Jane. She’s the one I was playing with, but it was all my fault, sir,” the boy sounded panicked, clearly worried his sister would get into trouble.

“It’s quite alright, Arthur. I know it’s hard to believe this, but I truly was a scoundrel when I was young. My mother used to despair when I played with my friends. Accidents happen, I’m just glad nobody was hurt.” The boy remained quiet, so Cassian attempted to change the subject. “Do you like living here?” He asked, not sure what other types of small talk he could make. 

“Yes sir, I’m ever so grateful you took us in and allowed my mother to work for you. I ask you not to punish my mother or sister for something I did. I’ll take any punishment you give, sir.”

At that, Cassian frowned. “I won’t punish you, your mother or your sister for this, Arthur. It was an accident, and I believe you.” Cassian stopped in the middle of the path leading them to the front of the house. They were almost there, but Cassian felt he needed to clear things up with the boy. “I will never raise my hand against any of you. If anyone ever dares to do so, then you come to me or Jacob. Even if you have to disturb us, it is our duty to make sure people are safe.”

“I’m the man of the house. My job is to look after my mother and sister,” Arthur said, puffing his chest out to show Cassian importance.

“That’s a very big responsibility for someone so small, but I have no doubt in my mind that you do the job well,” Cassian said with a smile.

The boy’s shoulders slumped at that. “I only look small. I’m actually 10 years old!” The boy said frustratedly.

Cassian was shocked at that. The boy didn’t look big enough for 10. He was all skin and bones, but Cassian remembered how Eleanor had looked when she had first arrived here. The look of hunger was not something that went away easily. Eleanor had admitted to Cassian that she had run away from her husband, and she was worried about him finding them and wanting retribution, but she had never gone into any further detail. Cassian hadn’t needed details from her when he had seen how hungry she looked. In all honesty, the marks she bore were enough for him to know that Eleanor needed his help. The fact that she had come to enquire about a job in the stables despite not knowing anything about horses was also a testament to how desperate she was for money. 

It had been lucky that Cassian had been thinking about the way he probably needed a lady’s maid, as he had recently agreed to marry Nesta. He knew Eleanor would be perfect for the role, so he took her and her children in with no questions. 

He had seen the children around, and they seemed happy, but he didn’t realise how much the children had suffered at their father’s hand. It shocked him that a man could treat his own flesh and blood so poorly, but then again, if a man hit his wife, what morals could he claim to have?

“I know you are a brave young man, Arthur, and I’m sure you protect your mother and sister very well. Sometimes being young can help in these matters,” Cassian told the boy, who was frowning, studying Cassian.

“How?”

“Well, someone like my wife might feel more at ease around you compared to a grown man,” Cassian said, probing to see if the boy would take the bait.

“Your wife?” The boy asked curiously. “Is that the lady who is in the library?”

“Yes! You see, I wish there was a young man like you to keep an eye on her. That way, I’d know she’s safe without making her feel uncomfortable.” Cassian hesitated, wondering how much he should tell the boy. “You see, the man she was married to before was not very nice, and neither was his older brother. He was like your father, actually.” 

At the mention of his father, Arthur looked angry. “I’ll make sure she’s safe from them all!” He declared angrily.

Cassan ruffled the boy’s hair affectionately. “I think she would appreciate some company in the library, especially with all those big heavy books. Perhaps when you have some spare time, you can help her?”

“Yes, of course!”

There was some commotion in the distance, reminding both of them of the broken window situation. “Oh, we’d best hurry to that window!”

They both rushed off and saw a little girl who Cassian assumed was Arthur’s sister Jane. Eleanor and Jacob had also turned up and were trying to comfort the little girl who was beside herself. The commotion had clearly attracted Nesta’s attention, as she hovered at the end of the path to her library, but she came no closer. She instead watched Cassian, probably to see what he would do. Cassian looked up at the window to see Hill already cleaning up the glass that had fallen inside. 

“Is that all?” Cassian asked as he looked at the damage. 

“Yes sir,” Arthur replied. 

Cassian let out a laugh. “I had assumed it would be so much worse. That is only a small crack. I was assuming I would have to replace the whole window and the pane, the way you described it to me.”

“I can arrange for it to be fixed by tomorrow, Cassian, but in the meanwhile, Hill said she’d board up the hole. Is that alright?” Jacob asked. Cassian nodded. 

“See, Janie, I told you there was nothing to worry about,” Arthur said, acting like he hadn’t been scared out of his mind to tell Cassian. Cassian decided to let the boy have this victory, though, as it stopped the little girl from crying.

As Arthur went over to comfort his sister, Eleanor came over to Cassian. “My lord, I can’t thank you enough. I will work unpaid until you have covered the costs of your window replacement,” she said in her quiet, gentle voice. 

“Eleanor, I’m not going to do that. But you don’t have to worry about it anyway. Arthur has taken care of it all.” Eleanor looked at him curiously but said nothing, so Cassian elaborated. “He’s going to spend some time with Nesta, keep an eye on her, and keep her company. I’m worried about her, but your son has a good head on his shoulders, and I trust him.”

“Thank you, my lord,” Eleanor said, smiling as she watched her children talking animatedly to Jacob, trying to explain how the window broke. Jacob was in good humour and went along with their dramatics. 

Cassian was well aware of his wife watching them from a distance, but he felt no need to try and rope her into this conversation. He was content that, finally, he might be able to bring her out of whatever she was going through. Watching the children, so innocent and full of joy, gave him hope. Their resilience reminded him that people could always come back from sadness, but sometimes they needed a little help.

Tags list, please let me know if you would like to be added, removed or your username needs updating!

He mainly had left her alone for the week and two days since the dinner party. Each morning they would have breakfast together, where he would talk, and Nesta would try to find the balance between participating in the conversation and not talking too much. Tomas hadn't minded so much when she hadn't spoken; in fact, often, he had preferred it. The Duke seemed to dislike when she didn't contribute to a conversation, although he had never voiced this. She didn't know how to be a proper wife while also talking. After all, everyone knew that a good wife was to be seen and not heard.

Nesta found all her interactions with the Duke to be perplexing. She didn't understand this man in the slightest, and it scared her, but the overwhelming emotion was actually the confusion. She didn't doubt this man could be cruel; it was like men to be malicious. She just didn't know how her new husband would show his cruelty or why he was holding back.

At first, it was because he wanted to lull her into a false sense of security before showing his true colours. Some predators like to play with their food, and the Duke must be the same. But then he didn't make his move; in fact, he seemed to be acting as though his behaviour was normal. That wasn't right. How could the Duke leaving his wife alone possibly be normal? Nesta knew enough of the Mandray's acquaintances who treated their wives the way Tomas and Philip did to understand that this was normal for men, no matter their social standing. Only Robert had been decent, a mama's boy down to his core. He did whatever he could to protect his mother from his older brothers, but that didn't extend to any other woman in the house. Nesta couldn't blame him for that; after all, he was the youngest brother and had very little power in the household. She just hoped he would protect his new wife from Philip like he protected his mother.

Nesta had tried to subtly enquire from the various staff members in the house about her new husband's behaviour before she arrived because she couldn't believe that this was how a man honestly behaved. Most of the staff seemed confused by her questions and even more confused that she would think the Duke was acting strange. She had to be careful about the questions she asked the staff anyway. She knew that they would report back to Hill, and with her pronounced dislike of Nesta, she had made no secret that there were two sides of this war that Nesta had no part in. She had other things to worry about than the staff in the house. She knew that they could never hurt her the way her husband could, although some may wish they could. Plus, she had dealt with staff worse than this in the Mandray house. She much preferred how everyone showed her how clearly they disliked her. She'd had enough of the staff trying to be her friend so they could betray her to know that this was less painful.

Either way, Nesta couldn't decide how she felt about the Duke's behaviour. On the one hand, she liked the fact that he left her alone. On the other hand, he had not asked her to service him at all. Although his body had not been protesting when they had consummated their marriage, he hadn't seemed eager. She'd thought it was another game of his, but he hadn't joined her in their bed at all. He didn't spend his days around her, so perhaps he was getting serviced by a mistress or harlot. Either way, she was grateful for their services to him because it meant that he didn't need her.

Of course, she had no proof other women were servicing him, but there was no further explanation for it. There was no way a man would keep his hands off a woman they owned unless they had found something better elsewhere. She told herself she was glad he had no need for her, even though there was the question of an heir The Duke needed one, and mistresses could not beget heirs. For that reason alone, Nesta couldn't help but feel confused at his actions. Why would the Duke avoid bedding her when he needed to ensure an heir? Did he think their one try on their wedding night was enough for now? Surely, a man of his standing knew that would not be enough. Perhaps the Duke was so unwilling to bed her that he would bed her once and then wait for her to bleed or not. She should probably tell him that her bleedings were few and far between due to her ill health. She had no idea how to tell her new husband this. She couldn't exactly bring it up at the dinner table.

Nesta tried her hardest not to let her thoughts drift back to their wedding night. Nesta had never thought about sex, especially when the sex was her own experience. There had never been much to think back to, especially nothing good. But her wedding night with the Duke had been different from sex with Tomas. The Duke couldn't have been more different to Tomas if he tried. He hadn't wanted to just take her, not the way Tomas did.

Nevertheless, he had somehow managed to coax a pleasure out of her that she hadn't known she was capable of feeling. It wasn't that it had always hurt with Tomas, but it definitely hadn't felt the way it had with the Duke. At most, Tomas had sometimes made her feel a slight tingle of something, and she had thought that was it. The big throes of pleasure were meant for fictional women and those who did it to boost their lover's ego.

Nesta had quickly realised that reminiscing about her wedding night was a bad idea. She felt this burning heat in the pit of her stomach and warmth she had only felt before marriage. Only before her marriage to Tomas, she had felt it for fictional characters; now, she felt it for a very real man, her husband. Perhaps a newlywed woman would find nothing wrong with these feelings, but Nesta knew her husband could easily use any feelings against her. She just didn't know when he would do it.

Still, despite her being on edge, they seemed to have fallen into a seemingly peaceful routine. They would dine together in the mornings and evenings, and then the Duke would attend to his duties, whatever they were, and Nesta would go to the library for the day. There was much to be done in the library. It hadn't looked that bad when she had first looked at it, but once she started working on it to make it properly, she realised just how much she had to do. She knew that she needed help, but she had no idea who to ask or how. She didn't want to force the staff to help her; they didn't like her very much anyway. She didn't know anyone else well enough to ask them for their help. Any friends she'd had before getting married to Tomas had probably forgotten she existed by now. The only friend who hadn't forgotten her when she married Tomas was dead.

She could always ask her sisters, but Feyre was heavily pregnant and probably wouldn't be very much help. There was a lot of cleaning and heavy lifting to do. Elain sounded like she had her hands full with her two children. Plus, she couldn't keep relying on her sisters for everything. They had their own lives and husbands. They had done enough for her by saving her from Philip. If Feyre hadn't convinced the Duke to marry her, then she would've been married to Philip by now. After all, who would ever question him marrying his brother's widow after his own wife died so suddenly. It was like tying up loose ends in everyone else's eyes. She knew without a doubt that the talk from society about the fact she had snubbed her brother-in-law would cause her trouble. Philip didn't like people talking about him unless he planned it. The Duke marrying her had definitely not been a part of Philip's plan, and a man like that did not like interference.

Nesta shuddered at the thought of Philip and his revenge. She knew it would come, but tried not to think about it. She had been keeping herself busy with thoughts of her new marriage and the library. She had tried to distract herself from the inevitable. She had lived in that house long enough to know that the quiet from Philip was not good. Despite her new husband claiming he would protect her, she didn't see an outcome where Philip wouldn't hurt her somehow. Her new husband would try his best to protect her, she was sure of that, but she knew Philip. He wouldn't rest until he got revenge.

A knock at the door broke Nesta out of her thoughts and back to where she was, realising that perhaps she should not be standing on the ladder having these thoughts. She called out to whoever was at the door to come in and started climbing down the ladder. She reached the bottom and turned to see George, a page.

"Good morning, your Grace!" The boy chirped as he strode towards her with confidence and swagger that only a teenager would possess. Nesta couldn't help but smile at how young he was. There wasn't that big of an age difference between them, Nesta being 23 and George being 17, but she felt like she was decades older than him. Then again, she had been 17 when she got married. Now, she looked at George, the same age as when she was 17 and realised just how different things were for men. She didn't doubt that somewhere out there, a 17-year-old girl was getting married just as she had. Men didn't have to get married until much later. They had a level of freedom that women would never achieve, and they would never understand what it was like to marry young. They were allowed to have childhoods when little girls were forced to grow up very young. She knew that was the way the world worked, but couldn't help but feel bitter when she saw a young man who was allowed to enjoy their life when she was not.

"Good morning George, how may I help you today?" Nesta said, trying to sound as pleasant as she could. George was one of the rare few who didn't seem to hate Nesta, and she was determined to keep him sweet. Claude was the only other person, but Nesta was sure that her lack of appetite would eventually gnaw away at his politeness. If she could cook food that beautiful, she would feel put out if the person she cooked for wasn't eating it. She could very quickly explain to him that she wasn't used to eating so much food, but then she would have to explain how the Mandray household worked, and she didn't have the energy for that.

"Just seeing you is enough for me, you Grace," George said with a slight bow and a wink. Nesta had no idea what that meant, but George was a strange boy, so she just smiled and nodded, which seemed to please him. She wasn't sure if that was a good thing, but she had no idea how to act around him. 

"Well, I'm glad I could help," Nesta said, not sure what to say when the boy let the silence linger. Finally, she turned to carry on with the shelves. She didn't know why the boy was watching her, which made her feel uncomfortable. Truth be told, she tried not to interact with the male staff body in case any allegations of unfaithfulness came her way, but she couldn't avoid them in this house. In the Mandray house, it was much easier to avoid the men, primarily because most of the staff were terrified of her husband and brother-in-law. 

"Actually, your Grace, there was a reason I popped by, but it momentarily slipped my mind. Cassian would like to see you in his study. He said something about a shopping trip, and maybe a ball?" George said with excitement. He seemed to look disappointed that she didn't react with the same level of enthusiasm. She couldn't blame him. Women were assumed to have nothing better to do than go shopping or get ready for balls. Nesta felt nothing but dread at the idea of both. The concept of a seamstress measuring her up, taking note of all the things wrong with her, and getting very up close and personal with everything she hated about her body was the furthest thing from fun. Then, following up a shopping trip with a ball, where she would be watched and ripped to pieces by the rest of the ton, was practically a nightmare. 

Even though the news George had shared made her want to curl up and hide in the corner of the library and never be found again, she offered him the most sincere smile she could muster and started her walk out of her safe haven and into the house. She had known that she wouldn't be able to hide away in the library forever. She wasn't sure how she had been careless enough to feel that the library was her safe space. She knew safe spaces could be violated easily. She should've known that she wouldn't be allowed to hide away. She was the wife of a Duke, and she knew she had been neglecting whatever duties she probably had to attend to as Duchess. As much as she wished to stay in the small world she had created for herself. 

She marched herself into the main house and towards the Duke's study, fighting the churning feeling in her stomach. She was careful with her food intake and knew that too much food would make her sick after all this time of not eating correctly, and so far, she had been successful in making sure her food did not reappear. However, there were so many things she had to be careful not to reveal. She wasn't sure what she would say to try to explain how things went in the Mandray household anyway, but she also didn't want the Duke to get any ideas from them.  

She knocked on the door of the study, not allowing herself time to hesitate. Somehow, even her knock sounded timid. She hated that. She knew that she needed to at least act assertive and confident. Who would respect a Duchess who was afraid of her own shadow? That was part of why the staff didn't respect her; she was sure of it. But, little did they know, she was afraid of more terrifying things than shadows. She was scared of things that happened in the shadows and what she had seen happen in dark shadowy corners. She had always been more cautious than Claire, and that was what had kept her alive. The saying curiosity killed the cat held some truth because Claire's curiosity had killed her in the end. Amongst other things. 

The Duke's rich, deep voice announced she could enter the study. Nesta took a deep breath to calm herself as she entered. She gave her husband a small smile, although she did not look directly at him. Instead, she smiled in his general direction towards his desk and dipped her head in deference. By now, she knew the Duke well enough to know that he would have a slight frown on his face at her actions. However, she didn't understand why her impeccable manners caused him to frown. Nesta had always been very well mannered due to her upbringing, but after her marriage, she ensured that nobody could fault her manners in any way, shape, or form. She had learnt the hard way that if a complaint about her behaviour got back to Tomas, he would punish her for it. 

"Please, my lady, take a seat," the Duke said, standing up and pulling the chair out for her. Nesta blushed at the gentlemanly way he treated her. She wished she could control how she reacted to him, especially since he seemed to do these gallant acts around her frequently. However, blushing every time he did something nice was getting rather inconvenient, as were the butterflies in her stomach.

Despite the gentleman act, which made her blush like a virgin, her husband could not distract her from the fact that there was something strange in the air today. She couldn't put her finger on what it was, but her instincts told her to be prepared for whatever it was. Not that she wasn't always ready for things to take a turn for the worst. 

"I thought I'd call you in to let you know that we received an invitation to a ball from the Duke of Eretria. It will be this Saturday evening, so you have a few days to prepare yourself. I thought I should tell you instantly so you can have your dress made. I don't know much about these things, but  Mor has instilled the earlier you go to the dressmaker, the better. Apparently, this kind of event will have all the ladies rushing out to buy a new dress, and the dressmakers get very busy," the Duke scratched his head as he spoke, making his hair puff up slightly as he did. She couldn't help but feel shocked that the suave looking Duke was so awkward. It felt like a novelty to see a man look so ruffled, and she hoped that this was something that would persist with the Duke. She could foolishly imagine herself becoming comfortable with a man who flustered like the Duke. 

"That's very kind of you, your Grace. I see no need to buy a new dress. I can simply use one of the dresses I already have," Nesta said, giving him a small smile. This test was easy to spot. He wanted to see if she was the kind of woman who wasted money. 

At her response, there was an awkward silence. Then, finally, Nesta looked up to see the Duke looking distressed. She wasn't sure what she had done which could warrant such a reaction; indeed, she should've passed his test with flying colours? 

"I, no, my lady, I think perhaps you should buy a new dress," he said, sounding every bit as uncomfortable as he looked. She hoped he never changed because it was a blessing to have a husband whose emotions she could see painted across his face. Even if she didn't understand the reason for his feelings, it still was nice to have a warning about his mood.  

Nesta wracked her brain now, trying to figure out his angle now. Clearly, she had gotten things wrong with her response, but it didn’t make sense. Every man hated how women were frivolous with money and spent it like they had money to burn. So indeed, she was showing she was a good wife by not wanting a new dress for every party they went to. 

The Duke must have picked up on her confusion because he decided to elaborate for her. "I just think it would be wise to get a dress that feels more, well, comfortable for you, that's all." 

That comment made it much more straightforward for Nesta. The Duke was thinking about the comments the Duchess of Hewn had made at the dinner party. She supposed her husband wouldn't want society's ridicule because his new wife wears outdated, ill-fitting dresses. But, of course, as much as not spending all of the Duke's money was important, she couldn't let outsiders know that they didn't spend their money. It was different to Tomas, who hadn't cared how she looked as long as she didn't dress like a whore, but it made sense. The Duke had a very different reputation to Tomas. 

"Well, I suppose one dress won't hurt. You are very kind to suggest it, your Grace," she demurred. 

"You can buy as many dresses as you want Nesta, I've seen your wardrobe; I think perhaps it would be good to buy some new clothes. You have the smallest wardrobe I've ever seen, and it feels a little strange that I have more clothes than my wife," the Duke spoke with humour in his voice, but Nesta could see in his eyes that he was serious. He really did think she needed more clothes. 

"You are very gracious."

Once again, the silence lingered. Nesta felt that the Duke wished to say more but remained quiet.  She was glad for it because she knew that whatever it was would make her feel uncomfortable. The Duke only hesitated when he got too close to a sensitive subject, usually to do with Tomas. She had no answer for the things she went through in their household. She could lie, but she knew those lies would crumble into dust easily. She could perhaps leave the worst bits out, but her story wouldn't make sense without them. She could not talk about Claire, but her avoidance of the subject of her best friend might draw attention to her, and that was the last thing she wanted. She just hoped that the Duke's manners would stay true, and he would continue to hesitate when it came to prying into her past. It was her only line of defence. 

"Well, you deserve nice things," the Duke finally said. Nesta relaxed ever so slightly, glad that he had decided to keep things safe, even if he was lying to her. When she didn't reply, the Duke sighed and then carried on. "Mor said she would come and collect you in her carriage so you could all go shopping."

"Who else will be in attendance?" Nesta asked, stiffening at the idea of socialising with so many people for so long. She had a limit to how long she could fake that she was okay, and it got exhausting. 

"Just the ladies you met at the dinner. Your sisters, Mor, Emerie and Gwyn."

"What about Lady Amren?" she asked, wondering about the quiet, grumpy lady from the dinner party. She wouldn't mind if she attended, if only so that she felt better. Lady Amren was known for being blunt and cold, so Nesta could feel better about herself. Also, if Lady Amren was there, nobody would be looking at Nesta and thinking she was strange.

"Amren does her own thing sometimes. She isn't the kind to go dress shopping, and if I'm honest, I don't even know if she'll go to the ball. But she does what she wants, and nobody dares question her," Cassian said with a fond smile for his friend. 

Nesta wished she was the type of woman who could act like that, do what she wanted and screw what other people thought. But she knew she couldn't be that woman. She wasn't as strong as a woman like Amren; she was weak. Few women in this world could be strong and didn't need men. She knew she was not one of them; she needed men, even if she didn't like them. She couldn't survive on her own; she needed their protection. 

***

The Duchess of Hewn's carriage pulled up outside the house's main entrance, and the doorman came to inform Nesta that they were here for her. Nesta thanked the doorman and grabbed her shawl. It was warm outside, and the sun was shining, but she still felt a slight chill. It was probably something to do with how little meat she had on her bones. 

She wandered over to the door before pausing. She didn't know where her husband was, so she had no idea how to tell him she was leaving with the Duchess. She hesitated, wondering if she should tell the doorman to let the Duke know she was going when she heard her husband's voice from outside. She breathed a sigh of relief. Clearly, her husband wanted to make sure she got into the carriage with her Grace if she tried to leave with someone else. That was fine; it made things easier for her if he saw her comings and goings, not that she planned on going anywhere much. She had no friends and no social life outside of the commitments she had with her husband. The library was more than enough to keep her busy, so she had no reason to leave. 

She stepped out of the house, closing her eyes for a second to savour the sun on her face. She felt the warmth seeping into her body, and it made her feel whole. The sun soothed her anxieties about the shopping trip, although not quite getting rid of them. She had no idea how she would even pay for things when she got to the dressmaker's shop but was too scared to ask. So she figured it was okay if she couldn't buy anything anyway. 

"There you are, Nesta!" the Duchess said, bounding over to her, completely cutting off the Duke. Nesta didn't think she was that important and saw no need to cut the Duke off when he was talking. 

"I apologise for the delay, your grace," Nesta said. 

"What? Don't be silly, you're right on time!" the Duchess said with a laugh, linking her arm through Nesta's so they could walk together, as two confidants would. It was jarring because the last person who she had walked like that with was Claire. It took her back to a time where she could almost be happy. Back when she walked around the grounds of the Mandray house for some exercise and to help them both forget about their troubles. 

"Would you stop talking her ear off, Mor?" her husband's voice cut through the layers of despair, bringing her back to her to the present. Somehow his voice managed to chase off the ghosts that lingered with such ease it scared her. She didn't understand how this man somehow helped her feel calm when common sense told her to stay away from him. 

The Duchess of Hewn blushed and let out an embarrassed laugh. "I do apologise, Nesta. I tend to get over-excited sometimes. Feel free to tell me to shut up; lord knows I need it sometimes."

"I would never, your Grace," Nesta said, shaking her head. How could she be so rude to a woman superior to herself? 

"Well, each to their own, I suppose," the Duchess said with a sad smile. "But please, don't call me your Grace. That reminds me too much of my parents," she said with a shudder which Nesta could tell was not for dramatic effect. Although she had been married to Tomas when her parents had died, Nesta had heard rumours of the nefarious activities the Duchess' parents had been involved with, along with the suspicious circumstances surrounding their deaths. It was kept quiet, but Philip had heard the rumours of foul play involved. If Philip knew something, the whole house would hear about it, if only to praise him for how clever he was, but he was angered by how well this knowledge was kept hidden. He had hoped it would prevent Lady Morrigan from inheriting her parent's estates and fortune, as he said it was disgusting for a woman to inherit such wealth. He had raged about it for days. 

"What should I call you?" Nesta asked, understanding why she would not want to remember her parents. The stories she had heard didn't paint them as good people, so she couldn't imagine them being good parents. 

"I would prefer Morrigan or Mor if I'm candid. Those feel more genuine than any title will ever make me feel."

"Of course, Morrigan," Nesta said, testing out using the name of someone higher than her. She felt as though she was doing something wrong, although Morrigan's face lit up. 

Her husband looked a little annoyed at her calling Morrigan her name, but she couldn't exactly ignore a direct request without looking disrespectful. She just hoped that her husband didn't punish her for it later on. But, unfortunately, with Tomas, even a direct appeal wouldn't have saved her from punishment, even if in public she was to carry on doing as other people asked. 

"Well then, let's get going! Cassian, I know you'll hate to part from your lovely wife, but you've kept her to yourself for long enough, and I think it's high time you learned how to share," Morrigan laughed. 

"Oh yes, because you share so well," Emerie said, popping her head out of the carriage door. Nesta hadn't seen her at first, likely because she had been sitting away from the door. The woman gave Nesta a quick smile that felt secretive. She felt like she had a connection with this woman, but perhaps that was just from the dinner party. Whether she knew it or not, Emerie and Gwyn had been a great help that evening. Nesta wasn't sure if she would've been able to continue clutching to the facade that had started crumbling before the dinner party had started. 

"Well, you should all probably get going," the Duke said, flashing them all one of his charming smiles with a hint of cheek thrown in for good measure. "Rhys won't be happy if he hears that Feyre spent all afternoon on her feet because you were all late for your shopping trip."

Nobody wanted to make a pregnant Feyre wait for them, so they quickly got into the carriage, waved Cassian goodbye as they left to go into town. Nesta was quiet, and thankfully Morrigan and Emerie left her alone, talking amongst themselves, but talking about subjects that she would be able to join the conversation if she wanted to. Nesta was much too busy staring out of the window to join their conversation. 

Since she had gotten married, she could count on her fingers the number of times she had been allowed to go to town or leave the grounds at all. Whenever she had been able to venture out into town, she had been rushed along by either Philip or Tomas. They didn't have the patience for shopping but also didn't allow her out of the house without an escort. She knew, of course, that it was to prevent her from talking to someone about what went on within the Mandray estate, but she still had wished that she could go and spend time in town more often. Everything had been so regular in town; Philip and Tomas had always acted like perfect gentlemen when there was such a captive audience around. Nesta had often wished they could live in the public eye forever so that everything would be okay. 

Before her marriage, she had loved shopping. She would find the best deals for lace to add to bonnets and always knew what was in fashion for the current seasons. Now, she had no idea what looked good and what did not. She didn't know her own body anymore; it was like she was trapped in someone else's body. This body was thin, weak and frail. The woman she saw in the mirror had expressionless eyes, dull skin and looked as though a strong gust of wind would blow her over. Before her marriage, she had prided herself in her glowing hair, bright eyes and healthy complexion, but she quickly lost the motivation for that once she had married Tomas. Although her mother had taught her how to look beautiful to secure a fine husband, what was the point in continuing once married? Especially when it angered Tomas if she tried to look pretty for him. His accusations of her being a whore and wanting attention from other men had been enough to put a stop to everything.

Tomas had thought Nesta was too frivolous with money and didn't trust her not to spend the whole Mandray fortune on dresses and shoes. Nesta didn't even know how much money the Mandray family had, but she knew they were tight-fisted with it. She would often wonder if they were running out of cash when Philip would spend it on something ridiculous. Then she realised what it really was. Men were allowed to spend their money however they chose, but women should not spend their husband's money. They should simply be grateful for whatever their husbands decided to give them. 

"It's beautiful scenery out there, is it not?" Emerie murmured quietly, so only Nesta, sitting beside her, could hear. 

"Yes, it all looks so beautiful," Nesta replied. 

"I think people who can see it so often don't notice how beautiful it all can be. Those of us who were denied it for so long have a much deeper appreciation for these things," Emerie said in a soft voice. 

Nesta turned to look at the woman beside her. She had said "us". Did that mean Emerie understood what Nesta was going through more than she let on? Nesta wasn't sure if that meant she should trust Emere, but she could see by the look on her face that she was being genuine. This small act of comradery, letting Nesta know she had been in a situation like hers, had been difficult. Opening yourself up to someone was always risky, Nesta knew, but more so for a woman who had been in a bad situation. There were so many risks associated with opening your mouth that it was better to keep quiet. Nevertheless, Emerie's small admission had been a huge step, and for that, Nesta gave her a small, grateful smile to let her know that she appreciated it. 

Thankfully they reached their destination soon after, saving Nesta from trying to make further conversation. Emerie and Morrigan stepped out first while Nesta took the chance to take deep breaths to calm her nerves. 

She could already hear the bustle of the street as people walked past the different shops. She could listen to the call from vendors selling their wares further down the road in the marketplace, where stalls were set up for people to come and trade. It was so busy, so full of life that it made Nesta feel nervous and out of place. Still, she braced herself and stepped out into the sunlight, unable to stop the small smile creeping onto her face. 

Nesta was too busy basking in the sun to notice a woman coming around the corner and walking straight into Nesta. Nesta stumbled back, hitting her back against the side of the carriage, which thankfully stopped her from falling over. 

She quickly opened her eyes to find the woman who was scowling at her. She had no idea why this woman was staring. The old Nesta, the one she had been before marrying Tomas, would've bitten this woman's head off, especially with the glare she was levelling at Nesta. However, the woman she was now just wanted to curl up and hide, as though that would protect her from this woman and her glare. 

"Can't you poor people see that you need to move out of my way? Honestly, the audacity of some people! If I wanted, I could probably buy you, so you should have some respect," the woman said in a shrill voice. Her anger was evident, even though it was her who had walked into Nesta. 

"I apologise, ma'am," Nesta said quietly, looking down. Apologising seemed like the quickest and easiest way to get this over and done with. Morrigan and Emerie hadn't noticed that she was not behind them yet, but they would see soon enough, and Nesta didn't want to try and explain the situation to them. The people who were standing around staring at them both was embarrassing enough. 

"Yes, I'm glad you have the sense to apologise. Now tell me, who do you work for? I shall be having a word about your behaviour with them."

Nesta opened her mouth to answer, but she was cut off by the sound of a carriage pulling up beside Morrigan's. She turned to look and watched as a coachman helped her pregnant sister out of the carriage. 

Feyre spotted Nesta straight away, flashing her a smile as she started waddling over. The smile quickly fell when the woman who stood with Nesta came into her line of view. 

"What the hell do you want?" Feyre growled with such ferocity that she couldn't help but wince. 

"Nothing with the likes of you, my dear, unless this girl is one of yours?" The woman's voice suddenly turned overly sweet. Nesta could hear the syrupy quality of her voice that she'd not heard when it was just the two of them.

"I am not your dear, Ianthe, so don't try to patronise my sister or me. I think it would be best if you actually left since it would cause an even bigger scene than last time if I was to punch you. Something about a pregnant lady fighting causes such a scene," Feyre smirked.  

The woman, Ianthe, clearly didn't have much sense, especially since Feyre had hinted that she had hit this woman before. It might have been 6 years, but Nesta knew Feyre hadn't changed. She would still hit this woman if she didn't leave. Ianthe clearly didn't care because she just continued talking. 

"Your sister? Is this the infamous Nesta Archeron? Sorry, Nesta Mandray, isn't it." She sounded gleeful as she assessed Nesta once again. 

"It's Nesta Barsotti, actually, although you shouldn't be speaking to the Duchess of Illyria with such familiarity. After all, I know how much you respect the ranks of society, Miss Priest." Feyre brandished Nesta's new title around like it was a weapon to be used, but Nesta hated it. She didn't feel like a Duchess, and the use of her title made her feel uncomfortable. 

"Ah yes, I did see in the announcements section that the Duke of Illyria had recently married. What a shame for the rest of us ladies. It seems you Archeron women are taking all the best ones. I sure hope you don't have any more hidden sisters, Feyre; otherwise, we will be in trouble."

"I'm sure society will breathe a sigh of relief to hear that we are only 3 sisters," Feyre said with an eye roll that she didn't attempt to hide. Feyre then stepped forward, forcing Ianthe to step back unless she wanted to come in contact with Feyre's protruding stomach. "If you'll excuse us, Ianthe, we have to go now. Talking to you probably isn't good for my baby, you see. I don't want the baby to be exposed to such idiots before joining this world."

Without giving Ianthe a chance to say goodbye, Feyre grabbed Nesta's hand and marched them both off towards the shop that she had seen Morrigan and Emerie enter. 

"Evil little witch," Feyre muttered to herself, shaking her head. 

"I'm sorry," Nesta said, feeling guilty for putting her sister in a situation where she felt so angry, especially when she was pregnant. 

"It's not your fault," Feyre said, shaking her head at Nesta's apology. "It's just, I have some bad blood with that woman. She's truly evil and will stop at nothing to get a rich husband. Before we got married, she tried to seduce Rhys, even though our engagement had been announced. She has no shame and does not care for any other woman or her feelings. The idea of any sisterhood is lost on that woman."

Although Nesta was appalled by what she was hearing, she was not surprised. The woman's attitude told Nesta everything she had needed to decide how she felt about her, and Nesta had decided to stay well away from that woman. Ianthe was nothing but trouble. 

"Feyre! Nesta!" Elain stood at the door of the dress shop, waving at the two of them. They reached her quickly, and Feyre let Nesta's hand go to give Elain a quick hug and step into the shop. Elain gave Nesta a tight squeeze, ignoring how stiff Nesta was in the hug.

Nesta had been on edge before, but now that she'd interacted with Ianthe, she just wanted to go home. She had been safe in her library, and leaving it was clearly a mistake. She had never enjoyed the company of other people, and now that she had been denied it for so long, she had lost all ability to socialise. 

She walked through the dress shop, not taking note of the dresses and material draped around to show the different designs available. There was a seating area towards the shop's back where Gwyn, Emerie and Morrigan were already seated. Nesta sat down on one of the smaller seats, leaving Feyre the larger armchair. 

"Good afternoon, ladies, it's nice to see you all back today!" a woman said as she bustled around the corner. She was immaculately dressed, and not a single hair was out of place. She was dressed effortlessly, but the quality of the dress was undeniable. 

"Hello Eliza, how are you doing today?" Emerie asked, standing up to give the woman a fond kiss on her cheek. 

Nesta was shocked by the affection between Emerie and the seamstress, but nobody else seemed to react. This was clearly very normal behaviour, so Nesta ignored her own shock to continue studying the scene playing out before her. The seamstress was chatting with Emerie, Morrigan occasionally chiming in. Eliza had a look that Nesta could only describe as motherly fondness as Emerie and Morrigan spoke. It made Nesta's heart hurt. She had never been on the receiving end of those looks from her own mother. The closest she had ever come was when she married Tomas. Her mother had been so smug with pride that she had married her daughter before her friends that it almost hid the way she was practically a corpse walking. Eliza's soft, motherly act made her long for Grace Mandray. The Mandray matriarch understood what she was going through all too well and had done her best to help herself and Claire. Nesta had received so much motherly love from Grace that it hurt to think of her. She knew the day she left the Mandray house, she probably would never see Grace again. 

Nesta took a deep breath to make the lump in her throat go and closed her eyes to will the tears away. Once she was suitably in control of her emotions and not about to make a fool of herself in public, she opened her eyes, only to make direct eye contact with Gwyn, who looked concerned. She didn't say anything or make a fuss, which Nesta was grateful for. The last thing she wanted was to cause a scene, which Elain and Feyre most certainly would create if they caught her crying. Gwyn simply gave her a soft smile and then turned away to provide Nesta with some privacy to wipe her eyes dry without anyone noticing. 

Thankfully, she had managed to look ordinary by the time Eliza noticed her. "Who might you be, my love?" she asked, coming over and giving her a quick hug. 

Nesta stiffened in the hug, knowing that the seamstress could feel every single one of her bones poking her. She knew she wasn't nice to hug or touch. She was all skin and bones. Still, Eliza pulled away from the hug with a smile on her face, and Nesta was impressed that she managed to make it seem genuine. 

Nesta gave her a weak smile, but she knew that everyone could see it was fake. "My name is Nesta, ma'am. I'm Feyre and Elain's sister," she finally replied. 

"Ah, so you're the lovely lady whose wedding dress I made!" Eliza said with a smile. 

"Yes, ma'am, and it was absolutely stunning. I can't thank you enough for it."

"It was no trouble, my dear, and I look forward to dressing you going forward."

"Yes, ma'am," Nesta nodded. She certainly didn't mind if this woman dressed her. She made Nesta want to trust her. She was never truly comfortable, but this was about as close as she would feel in a dress shop. 

"Please, just call me Eliza. I certainly don't feel comfortable with you calling me ma'am," she said with a smile. "Now, since you're the only one whose measurements I don't have, I just need to take your measurements in the back while this group of rabble-rousers have a look around. It won't take long, and then I'll put them on your records to save us time in the future. Is that okay?" Nesta nodded, trying to calm the feeling of dread that came over her. Of course, she wasn't looking forward to her body being scrutinised, but at least it would be once and then she wouldn't have to have such a close examination when she had a dress made. 

Eliza talked as she measured Nesta at the back, the curtains drawn for privacy. Eliza seemed to notice how thin Nesta was and didn't seem shocked at all. Nesta mused that she must see women in all sorts of conditions all the time. She was grateful for it because she hated the people who stared and made her feel like she had done something wrong. She had made none of the choices about her body, so there should be no accusing looks in her direction. Then again, it never mattered that it wasn't her who did this to herself. Nobody dared look at Tomas the way they looked at her, and now they couldn't since he was dead. 

"So Nesta, what kind of dress are you looking for? Cassian mentioned perhaps some more day dresses as well as some dresses for the ball? Perhaps you can pick them out now, but then, of course, I will get the one for the Duke of Eretria's ball ready first. How does that sound, my love?"

"Oh, thank you, ma- I mean, Eliza," Nesta said, stumbling over her words now. She didn't know how to say what was on her mind without coming across as rude, but she carried on anyway, praying Eliza didn't take any offence. "I think perhaps I won't buy dresses today. I just don't know how to pay for them, I have no money with me, and my husband is not with me," Nesta flushed as she explained, looking at her shoes now. 

"Oh my dear," Eliza said, holding onto Nesta's hand and stroking it softly. It was a comforting gesture but strange when Nesta had just said she wouldn't be able to buy anything today. "Clearly, that good for nothing husband of yours has forgotten to tell you, but he has an account with me. I also own the men's clothing store next door. He informed me that anything you buy should be charged to his account and told me to encourage you to buy as many dresses as you desire."

Nesta's mouth fell open as she let out a little "Oh." She hadn't expected her husband to have arranged for something like this at all and certainly wouldn't have expected him to encourage her to spend money. Although, it could very quickly be a sales tactic from Eliza. She was a kind lady, but she had to make a living somehow, and Nesta couldn't degrade her for that, but the more she thought about it, the more it made sense. Her husband had organised her dress to be charged to his account, but Eliza, knowing how well off the Duke was, though perhaps she could get more money out of her. Well, Nesta was being tested by her husband, and she would not fail that test by falling into Eliza's trap. 

"Well, my love, let's go and have a look at some dress material and designs," Eliza said with a smile, moving the curtain away to let Nesta back into the rest of the shop. 

Nesta joined the others as they joked and laughed with each other. She browsed the different dress material, not bothering to look at the lace and frills since she knew how much extra cost that would add. 

All the colours of the material she saw were bright, joyous colours. She knew that if she wore such colours, they would wash her out and show everyone just how dead she was inside. She didn't feel right wearing such happy-looking colours anyway. She couldn't wear black either, since it would look strange, even if she felt like she should be wearing black. She felt dead inside but had to pretend she was still living. 

Everything inside her screamed to leave as quickly as she could. The others could clearly sense that she was too tired to converse because they left her alone. She could feel the eyes of Gwyn follow her around, but thankfully she kept quiet. Gwyn didn't seem to be participating in their conversations very much either, occasionally saying something, but she stayed quiet most of the time. 

After browsing all the material options, Nesta concluded that Eliza did nothing by halves. That meant that there was no cheap material in this shop. Instead, everything was high quality, not like the kind of gowns Nesta had grown used to wearing at the Mandray house. When she had first bought a new dress like a married woman, the material had been so rough and itchy that her skin had been covered in red marks from how irritated her skin was from the material. She had mentioned this to Tomas in the evening and regretted it. He had torn the dress in such a way that it could never be repaired, and she had received such a punishment that she knew she could never be ungrateful again. Tomas had even cited her complaints as a reason not to buy her new clothes unless she really needed them.  

As Nesta continued to browse through the shop's content, not really paying it much attention, she finally saw something that caught her eye. A soft, pale grey material at the back of the stack of fabric she had been looking through. It seemed almost silver as it caught the light. Yet, the material was light, breathable and flowy, precisely what she needed for a ball where she knew she would feel suffocated. 

She looked up and caught the eye of Eliza, whom Nesta realised had probably been watching her. Eliza walked over to her with a smile on her face. "You want this one as a day dress?"

"No. I was actually hoping to get it made as a dress for the Duke of Eretria's ball, actually," Nesta said, a little nervous now. Did she think it was not suitable for a ball so extravagant? 

"Oh, of course. That will be lovely. You'll definitely look different in this colour. Of course, not many ladies would risk it, but I think it would suit you well. Would you like to look at some lace to go with it?"

"No, thank you, Eliza. I was hoping to do without for this dress."

"Nesta! You can't possibly wear a dress so simple to a ball!" Morrigan said in horror as she came over to them. 

"No, it's quite all right. I prefer it, really," Nesta said, feeling her cheeks start to heat with embarrassment. She had hoped that nobody would question her choices, but she was never that lucky. She walked over to a mannequin that had a very fancy-looking dress on display. "I want this design, though if that's okay, just without all the extra trimmings I want the dress to be simple and elegant," she said, hoping she had convinced them. 

"The design is stunning Eliza, you've really outdone yourself this time. These sleeves are amazing," Gwyn said, stroking the soft material of the dress on display. 

Morrigan opened her mouth to argue the point more, but thankfully Emerie stepped in. "I'm sure that Nesta is more than capable of choosing her own clothes," she said, with a stern glare in Morrigan's direction. 

Morrigan pouted slightly but then nodded. "Of course. And I'm sure with your hair done all fancily and some jewels and accessories, she'll look stunning."

"Nesta never really bothered with those things," Elain piped in, and Nesta was glad for it too. She never overly cared before she got married, but now, she cared even less. Plus, she knew the cost of those types of things would make her shopping bill skyrocket, and that was the last thing she needed. 

"Oh. Okay," Morrigan said, looking a little taken back by everything that had just transpired. She looked at Nesta like she was some sort of strange creature she had never seen before, as if unable to believe that someone could have no interest in these things. Perhaps if she'd had a different fate, where she'd married a kinder man, she would've cared about these things more. But, unfortunately, any interest in anything past surviving was beaten out of her very early in her marriage. So now she knew nothing but how to play dead until the monsters left her alone. If only the demons in her head would do the same, but she knew that they would never die. Tomas dying should've freed her, but instead, it caused her a different kind of pain. She didn't think there were more ways for her to hurt, but even in death, Tomas had been creative with ways he could hurt her. 

As though sensing Nesta's thoughts spiralling out of control, Gwyn quickly spoke up, saving her yet again. "Well, I should get going. I promised Azriel we would go on a walk before we dine tonight. He wants to watch the sun setting again."

Everyone smiled at the sweetness of the Duke and Duchess of the Western Isles and their newly wedded bliss. They had married shortly before Nesta and the Duke married, although the Duke of the Western Isles had courted Gwyn for a very long time from what Nesta had heard. 

"Nesta, I'll be going past your house, so if you'd like, I can take you home," Gwyn said with a smile. 

"That's very kind of you," Nesta said with a slight bow of her head. She owed both Gwyn and Emerie a great deal for somehow sensing her discomfort and helping to remove her from the situation. The fact they managed to do it twice told her that she owed these women. Of course, it felt uncomfortable, but that was something to worry about later. Right now, she was too drained to think about that. 

Gwyn walked to the carriage quickly, which Nesta was thankful for. Nesta followed after confirming with Eliza that she would come for a fitting when she was sent for. The carriage set off for the House of Wind, and Gwyn let Nesta calm before she tried to speak. The distance between herself and the dress shop made her relax instantly. 

"I'm nervous about the ball," Gwyn said, finally. 

Nesta looked up in surprise. This was not what she had expected Gwyn to say, but then again, nobody did what Nesta expected them to. 

"Why?"

"I had a bad experience at a ball once. It wasn't this type of ball, and those people were very different. Bad experiences stick with you, especially when they get to you so young. Balls, big crowded events in general even, make my hands so clammy that my gloves get wet."

"Oh," was all Nesta could say to that. She had no idea why Gwyn was telling her this. It felt like an attempt to put them on equal footing, but Nesta was still too wary of sharing anything with this woman, who was still practically a stranger. 

"I feel like I get swallowed up by the crowd, so I tend to stay on the outskirts of the ballroom. Thankfully, my husband likes the same. So if you feel overwhelmed, you can join us. Our corner will be very safe."

Nesta nodded but didn't have it in her to fake a smile. She saw no need for it anyway since Gwyn seemed to be able to see past them anyway. They didn't speak for the rest of the journey. Nesta turned to look out of the window, as she had done on the way to the dress shop. This time, however, she did not take in any of the nature on display. Instead, Gwyn's words churned around her mind along with the words Emerie had spoken earlier and what had transpired in the dress shop. Nesta's head felt heavy by the time they reached the House of Wind, and she was tired. 

She thanked Gwyn and walked into the house, spotting Hill instantly. After the tough couple of hours she had just had, Hill was the last person she had wanted to see. Still, she took a breath and walked up to her. She couldn't be afraid to speak to Hill; that was what the woman wanted. 

"Mrs Hill, I'm glad I caught you!" Nesta said, trying to sound a little more upbeat. But, unfortunately, she sounded so fake to her own ears that it made her wince. 

"What can I do for you?" Hill asked, assessing her with her piercing eyes.

"I just wondered if you could tell the Duke that I'm exhausted and will be taking a nap. I'm not very hungry, so he should eat his dinner without me," Nesta said, knowing she wouldn't have the energy to sit through an entire dinner with her husband. 

"Of course, I will let him know. I'm sure spending your husband's money must be draining for every fortune-hunting wife."

With that, Hill walked away, leaving Nesta even more exhausted than before. She was no fortune hunter, with her husband had never met her before they married. Nesta had barely spent anything on her dress and was secure in the knowledge that the low price reaffirmed she was a fortune hunter.   She knew she would do something silly if she let her thoughts stray. 

She got ready for bed in record time, her maids nowhere to be seen as it was only just 6 o'clock now. She collapsed into her bed, barely remembering to pull the covers up before she let herself fade into the blackness that had been lingering in her mind for so long that she felt at home in it. 

Tags List. Please let me know if you’d like to me added or removed! Bolded tags don’t work.

Cassian had always known he would have to marry eventually. He was a Duke, and he had a title to pass down. Perhaps it was foolish, especially considering his station in society, but he had always hoped to marry for love. Instead, he was on his way to marry a stranger, a widow who had been previously married to a criminal at that. He had no idea what this woman would be like, but he wouldn’t back out of this marriage. He couldn’t. It went against everything he stood for. 

He had long ago accepted his romantic ideas would probably amount to nothing, but Cassian assumed that he would at least know what his bride-to-be looked like. He hadn’t even met his future bride, yet here he was on the way to the church. The entire situation couldn’t be further from anything previously imagined.

He could've said no, and nobody would've questioned it. After all, a duke marrying a widow was practically unheard of. But this wasn't just any widow; she was Feyre's sister. Feyre was married to Rhysand, and that man was his brother in all but blood. When Feyre had come to him, begging him to ask for the hand of her sister, Cassian hadn't hesitated. Feyre had recently found out she was pregnant, and he would do anything to make sure her, the baby and his brother were stress-free. Feyre had almost collapsed in relief at his agreement, and that had been all he needed to know he was doing the right thing.

Feyre had eventually calmed herself enough to tell Cassian the full story of how her sister had married into one of the most notorious families of criminals in Prythian. Their mother had been ambitious with her daughters’ marriage prospects and prized the eldest daughter above the others. When their mother suddenly grew ill, it was apparent she did not have much time left in this world. Feyre's eldest sister, Nesta, had agreed to fulfil her mother's last wish and married a man chosen for her. Hearing the story had been enough to solidify in his mind, and heart, that he was doing the right thing. 

Nesta had barely been 17, but their father did not pay enough attention to notice these things, nor did he care when he was going to make money from their marriage, and their mother had been incessant. Neither parent had particularly worried their daughter was marrying into the Mandary family. The mother had only cared that Nesta would be wealthy and had bragged about that until she died. Cassian never knew the late Lady Archeron, nor did he know Lord Archeron, but he now knew that he hated them. The idea of anyone treating their children like this was so abhorrent to him, he was consumed by anger when told about their blasé attitude. 

Their mother had died a week after Nesta's extravagant wedding to the second Mandary son, Tomas, and Feyre and Elain had not seen their sister since the funeral. They had even gone to the Mandary household, only to be told their sister was busy or she was out. Eventually, the butler had stopped admitting them into the house at all. Feyre and Elain still weren’t sure if that was because Nesta had ordered it, or her husband.  

Cassian shook his head to clear his head of all these thoughts, taking a deep breath and bringing him back to now. He peered out of the carriage window and realised they were probably only 5 minutes away from the church. Rhysand and Azriel were with him in the carriage. His brothers in all but blood, although with Rhys, that would change very soon. They would be there with him every step of the way.

"Cassian, I want to thank you," Rhys said, breaking the silence that had fallen over them since entering the carriage.

Cassian shook his head at Rhys. He knew his brother felt responsible for this, and the guilt was weighing him down. Cassian searched for something to say, wanting to ease his brother's repentance, but the right words escaped him.

"Come now, did you think that Cassian would say no to Feyre? And even if it wasn't Feyre's sister, do you think Cassian is capable of leaving any woman in such a plight?" Azriel replied, saving him from responding.

Rhys sigh and ran his fingers through his hair, exhaustion colouring his features. "I know that, but it doesn't mean that I can't feel guilty about it."

"It's not for you to feel guilt. I am doing this out of my own free will. We cannot say the same for the lady," Cassian said, subtly voicing his concerns.

Rhys shook his head at Cassian's statement. "No, Cass, she agreed to this. You know we would never force someone into this, even if we were only trying to help them."

"And what a choice she had, it was either Philip Mandary or me and everyone knows the eldest brother is even worse than Tomas," Cassian said, anger seeping through him as he thought of the family of criminals. He had no idea what his wife-to-be would be like, but he couldn't imagine that living in that house for six years had left her untouched. 

"Cassian, I -" Rhys started, no doubt to try and take all the blame once again, as though this wasn't the fault of the Mandary brothers, Feyre's dead mother and very alive father who would walk his daughter down the aisle for the second time, much to Cassian's chagrin. He couldn't turn Lord Archeron away, but he wished he could. He felt like he would get angry, thinking about the stories Feyre and Elain had told him as soon as he saw the man. 

"Rhys, for fucks sake, just stop. It's nobody's fault but Feyre's parents and the Mandary family. The lady is a victim of circumstance," Cassian said, finally snapping at his brother. “I just wish I had been able to meet her, even once before today,” Cassian said, mournfully. He had tried to enter the Mandary house, only to be denied by Philip Mandary Jr, the current head of the family, and Tomas’s eldest brother. He had been rather gleeful at being able to deny Cassian entry, deeming it improper, even though Cassian had agreed to marry her already. In the end, Cassian had left before things got violent because he could sense that the older Mandary boy was itching for a fight, one that Cassian didn’t want to give him. He knew the Mandary boys fought dirty, and didn’t want to get involved in those kinds of things. Cassian couldn't tell if Philip had been angry at him for offering to marry Nesta, or being rejected, but either way, he had wished he could get Feyre's sister out of there earlier. If he had felt uncomfortable, he wasn't sure how any woman could feel safe living there.

"The lady in question was quite a viper, according to Feyre," Rhys said, trying to make their conversation lighter.

"Being married to Tomas Mandary for six years, I cannot imagine that she is anything like what Feyre and Elain remember," Azriel said, his voice sending a chill down Cassian's spine.

He was right, of course. There was no way that Nesta Mandary was anything like Nesta Archeron, and that thought alone invoked a deep sense of sorrow. Feyre and Elain tried to tell Cassian as many stories as possible about their sister, but they consisted of childhood memories or Nesta at Tomas's funeral, which they had surprisingly been allowed to attend. The two versions of Nesta did not seem to line up with each other. Cassian could only imagine how his wife-to-be had been treated, knew she likely underwent trauma, but as the carriage finally pulled up to the church, Cassian couldn't help but hope that, perhaps, he could be friends with his wife. He expected nothing from her but hoped for companionship. He hoped Nesta Barsotti would be a much happier woman than Nesta Mandary.

A/N: Chapter 1 will be up next weekend, but I will post a snippet of it this weekend! I’ll be posting every other week, so you’ll get a snippet on the weeks I don’t post a chapter.

Tags list (let me know if you’d like to be added or removed! Bolded tags don’t work)