Chapter 22 — Nesta / Feyre - A Court of Splintered Harmony

The Autumn Equinox had been the day from hell. If it was supposed to have been a celebration of the balance between light and dark, Nesta was inclined to believe that the dark part had hogged more than its fair share.

It was different from the glorious dark of the Night Court. Different from the star-flecked darkness currently pouring off that court’s High Lord.

She sat in the chair across from his desk, his formal study barely lit despite the early-morning hour. She’d crawled from Elain’s bed when Feyre did, minutes ago, hoping to steal some sleep in her own room for an hour or two, only for Rhys to say into her mind, My study. Now.

She was so exhausted, so hollow, that she didn’t bother to snap a response about not ordering her around.

So here they were. Just the two of them. A cup of tea steamed on the desk in front of her. The cup in front of Rhys didn’t steam—it wasn’t tea inside.

“What do you want?” Nesta said at last, too tired to bother trying to sound nice.

She hadn’t been alone with Rhys in days, since he’d hauled her out of the ocean and she’d puked up seawater all over this very rug. Then, his eyes had been alight with alarm and dismay.

Now, those eyes were as dark as she’d ever seen them. Not one star shone.

Ataraxia thumped onto the desk. The Mask, the Harp, and the Crown clattered beside it a moment later. Then the other blade she had Made. And finally, shining an unholy black, Gwydion.

Rhys’s face was like stone. Like death.

“Keep them,” he said.

“Why?” She didn’t reach for the weapons.

“Because my having them cost you vital moments yesterday against Bryaxis. The next time someone decides to terrorize my son, I want you already armed.” He jerked his chin toward the Trove. “And I want you to use these to obliterate them.”

She held his stare. Let him see everything that lay within her own. “I will.”

She didn’t let herself think on it—that a few days ago, he’d been questioning whether she could be trusted. Whether to ever let her near the Trove again.

Rhys added, tone thawing only a fraction, “Cassian told me this morning what you said last night—about the Trove terrifying you. Especially the Mask.”

It required a great deal of effort to keep her shock from showing. She’d confessed that to Cassian in confidence. She hadn’t said explicitly to keep it to himself, but . . . he’d told Rhys?

Rhys went on, “I didn’t realize you still had a healthy fear of it.”

She shoved down the flicker of anger at her mate and said truthfully, “I’ve always been afraid of the Trove. I didn’t give the Mask to Bryce Quinlan out of a lack of fear or appreciation for its true power. I understand it all too well.” It frequently haunted her dreams.

Rhys nodded—though still no light graced his stare. “I understand that now. Which is why I’m giving it back to you.”

Cassian had been trying to help by telling Rhys about her feelings regarding the Trove, no doubt. To get the two of them to this moment. It shouldn’t have stung, knowing that, but—it still did.

She again pushed aside the small ache and pivoted, “Teach me how to make one of those pocket realms so I can store them. And teach me how to craft wards around things—the sort only you know how to create. I want to be able to Make them.”

His chin dipped shallowly. A star, just one, returned to his gaze.

Nesta’s chin lifted as she added, “And teach me how to kill with magic. Not with arrows of fire or swords of water or whatever everyone else does. Teach me the way you kill.”

She needed to know how to explode an enemy into a bloody spray and shards of bone. To will it, and simply end someone’s existence. If it helped her loved ones stay alive . . . she wanted to know how.

Rhys’s lips pulled back from his teeth in a savage smile. “With pleasure.”

Nyx’s shrieking, chirping laughter filled my study, as glorious as the midmorning sunshine streaming through the windows. I’d never appreciated the beautiful sound more.

Nyx lay on his belly on the ornately woven rug, propped up by his hands, little wings twitching as he gleefully watched Cassian bounce his beloved stuffed rabbit in front of him. Every time the rabbit got close enough to Nyx’s chubby cheeks, it would “pounce” and give him a kiss right on the nose. And every time, right on cue, Nyx would shriek with delight, then bop his hands on the floor, demanding more.

I couldn’t help but revel in it—the pure, simple joy and excitement that radiated from my son, his dark blue shirt hitched up over his round belly, his arms and back and neck starting to figure out how to work together to sit up fully.

Gone was any trace of fear from yesterday. He hadn’t so much as whimpered while he’d slept. A small mercy from the Mother.

“Well,” Cassian announced from his spot on the floor in front of Nyx, “at least one person in this house is happy today.”

The rabbit booped Nyx on the nose again, and my son slapped his feet and hands on the silk rug, burbling with amusement. His grin was so broad it threatened to send my chest shattering into a million pieces, his almost feline curiosity about this stuffed rabbit prancing in front of him nearly propelling me to gather him into my arms and kiss him all over that soft, sweet-smelling body. I’d never loved anything or anyone as much as this happy little creature—and the force of that still took my breath away.

Yesterday had only made the feeling worse. Precious in a way that outright ached.

I slid a glance to Rhys, seated in an armchair a few feet from Nyx. He and Nesta had walked in together a few minutes ago, both quiet and pensive. But now, the same bewildered, overwhelmed look of wonder and love had bloomed across his beautiful face. Then Cassian’s words seemed to sink in, because the stars in Rhys’s eyes winked out as he said, “Last night was an unmitigated disaster.”

Nesta, on the couch beside me, snorted. We’d stayed with Elain until my daemati senses had told me Nyx was stirring, though I’d been awake shortly before that thanks to my aching breasts informing me it was time to feed my son.

Nesta had slipped out with me, leaving Elain sleeping, and two hours later, here we all were.

Well, most of us.

Elain hadn’t made an appearance yet, and Mor hadn’t come back last night. When I’d checked in with her mind to mind, she’d just said she’d spent the night out and was currently sleeping it off. I knew enough of the tangled history between Mor and Azriel to understand that perhaps the former needed some time to herself before she departed for Vallahan.

And Azriel . . . I didn’t know what to think. What to do. Knowing Az, he likely wanted space for a few days. Weeks.

Nyx reached a plump hand for the rabbit, and his uncle sweetly obliged. It went right into Nyx’s mouth, where he gummed it with a ferocity that made me wince for my nipples. No wonder they were chafed all the time.

“Did Azriel end up staying at the House of Wind or the town house?” Nesta asked Rhys, as if her own thoughts had drifted in the same direction as mine.

“Does it matter?” Rhys stared out the window at the near-cloudless autumn day.

“Rhys,” I chided. My mate turned toward me, pure thunder in his expression. I rolled my eyes. “We’re not kicking Az out of this house. Especially not after Bryaxis’s return.”

Rhys’s jaw tightened. “I warned Az at Solstice last year not to get involved with Elain. I told him there would be consequences if he crossed that line. He crossed it anyway. I’ve had it.”

“Az has always done whatever he’s wanted,” Cassian reminded him. “You had to know he wasn’t going to listen. Not if he was set on something.”

“Am I not his High Lord?” A soft, deadly question.

I groaned. “Oh, please. Let’s not start that nonsense.” Rhys threw me an incredulous look, but I slid to the ground beside Nyx, unable to stop myself from tickling the round belly peeking from under the hem of his shirt. Nyx burbled with delight, chewing harder on his rabbit. “Maybe if you tried talking to Az as his brother and not ordering him about as his High Lord, this wouldn’t have gone so far.”

Rhys gaped at me. I didn’t take it back.

Cassian added, “I’d also like to know why I wasn’t told of any of this, when it’s clear you three knew a good deal.”

“Because you have the biggest mouth of anyone,” Nesta said smartly.

Cassian chuckled, inclining his head. “Fair.”

Despite everything, my heart lightened at their teasing. Something had changed between the mates—something vital had been repaired in the midst of all this fear.

I tucked away the cheerful thought as I advised Rhys, “Give it a few days. Az pretends he’s cold as ice, but he’s got a temper worse than you two combined.” I nodded to him and Cassian, who shrugged, not denying it.

“And what about Lucien?” Nesta asked. “Does one of us go after him?”

“Not yet,” Cassian countered. “We need to figure out how we’ll approach him after this.”

“Should Elain approach him?” I wondered. “Try to talk to him?” Perhaps it was worth a shot.

Nesta stiffened. “We can’t ask that of her. I don’t think she would, even if she could. Let Elain have some peace.”

I nodded. I couldn’t argue with that.

“Do you think,” Cassian asked Rhys, “that Lucien will invoke the Blood Duel?” I’d never seen a Blood Duel, but I knew of the Autumn Court ritual, a formal fight to the death when one’s honor was impugned. I hoped I would never see one.

Rhys slid onto the carpet as well, crossing his powerful legs beneath him, and pulled Nyx onto his lap. Nyx gurgled, beaming up at Rhys. And despite his next words, Rhys smiled at our son, kissing his dark hair. “I think Lucien is smarter than most people give him credit for. And I think he knows that in a Blood Duel against Azriel, one-on-one, he would stand no chance of surviving.” He kissed the top of Nyx’s head again while our son picked at the silver thread along Rhys’s jacket, entranced by the embossed, shiny buttons. “If Lucien is to retaliate, it would be from a position of strength.”

“What could he do?” Cassian asked, incredulous. “Send Vassa after us?”

“Maybe,” Rhys said gravely.

I winced, remembering the fiery hell she’d unleashed on Hybern’s armada during the war.

“But I don’t think Vassa would agree to it,” Rhys said, gently prying a button out of Nyx’s mouth before he could gnaw it off and choke on it. Nyx’s little wings twitched in annoyance, and he tried again. Rhys offered him the rabbit instead while he went on, “Vassa, wild as she seems, wouldn’t attack us, or risk hurting innocents. But the Autumn Court… Beron would love the excuse to attack us. Especially on behalf of his estranged son, newly returned to the fold.”

“You know Lucien best,” Nesta said to me, and they all turned my way. “Would he do that?”

I thought through all I knew about Lucien, all I remembered from my days at the Spring Court, and our time since. How the day I’d slipped into his mind, I’d felt such sadness, such pain and loneliness—

“I don’t think Lucien’s going to return to his father,” I said. “As furious as he is . . . he’s not that sort of male. He hates his father more than we do.” Even if Beron wasn’t Lucien’s true father. Helion had that honor, whether Lucien knew it or not.

When that particular truth came out, perhaps at a time when Rhys chose to wield it to our maximum advantage . . . Gods, I didn’t want to think about the explosive consequences across courts.

And as if in agreement with me, a horrific, bubbling splat came out of my son’s backside. Right atop where he was perched in Rhys’s lap.

Cassian gagged. I pointed immediately to Rhys. “Your turn.”

My mate winced. “Considering that I think he managed to get some on me . . . I’ll gladly go clean us both up.” In a graceful, powerful movement, Rhys stood, Nyx in his arms, cheerfully pulling at my mate’s hair. And yes—there was a giant, reeking wet patch on Rhys’s pants. And one on the back of Nyx’s. His little wings twitched happily, though. “I bet that felt good to get out,” Rhys murmured to our son, who clapped a pudgy hand on Rhys’s face seeming to say, Yes! It did!

Rhys winnowed, leaving only the lingering stench behind.

Cassian waved at the air in front of his nose. “On that note, I’m going back to Windhaven for a few hours. I need to brief Devlon on Bryaxis’s return, and establish additional patrols to monitor for any enemy movement. Especially any hint of trouble from Hybern.” He jerked his chin to Nesta as he got to his feet, flexing his powerful wings. “Want to join, Nes?”

I could guess what might happen while the two of them were in the air. That is, if the deepening chill didn’t prevent them from getting certain parts naked.

“After yesterday,” Nesta said, blushing slightly, “I need a bit of a rest.”

“What’s got you feeling so sore?” he teased. “Finally got in a good workout?”

I bit my lip to keep from laughing.

Nesta’s blush deepened. But she lifted her chin and said to her mate, “If you see Emerie, check on her. She was rattled after yesterday and I didn’t get the chance to speak with her before she left.” Right—because my sister had been with Madja, getting her bones pieced back together.

My stomach twisted. Nesta had acted as if it were nothing, but she had done it without thought. To save us. Save my son.

Cassian nodded, a general receiving orders from his queen, and leaned to press a kiss to the top of Nesta’s head. Then mine. “See you at dinner.”

With a salacious wink at his mate that implied she would be his dinner, he shut the door behind him. I immediately whirled to my sister, grinning.

“Don’t even start,” Nesta grumbled, but a brightness remained in her eyes. Happy—at least about this. I held up my hands in acquiescence. Nesta’s mouth quirked to the side, attention going to the windows and the sky beyond. Her amusement faded, replaced by contemplation.

She clearly wanted to say something, so I let her gather the words.

“I think you should go see Azriel,” she said finally. “Someone should talk to him.”

I weighed the worry on her face, so surprising to me, even now. The Nesta I’d grown up with, even the one of a year ago, wouldn’t have thought twice about anyone other than Elain.

So I asked as casually as I could, “Why don’t you?”

“You’re his High Lady,” Nesta said, brushing off my question. “Rhys acted like a tyrant last night”—fair enough—“and it might help Azriel feel . . . less alone if his High Lady talked to him.”

“All right,” I conceded. “But you—”

The door cracked open, and I was instantly on my feet. Elain entered, as tired and haggard as I’d ever seen her. She wore a simple pale rose gown, her hair tied back.

Elain shut the door with barely a click. Her voice was utterly empty as she said, “I’m going to finish preparing the garden for winter, but first I wanted to apologize for any disgrace my actions have brought upon my family and friends.”

“Disgrace?” I blurted. “Elain—there is no disgrace.” I looked to Nesta, but my sister had remained seated, and was watching Elain with the grave intensity she usually reserved for people not in her family.

Elain’s eyes met Nesta’s. Noted that expression. And Elain said in a tone I hadn’t heard her use before, “What?”

Nesta was clearly considering her words very, very carefully. Likely to avoid hurting or distressing Elain any more than necessary—

“Your mate was in this house, and you couldn’t even give him the dignity and respect of keeping your hands off Azriel.”

I choked at Nesta’s sharp words. At the fact that Azriel was somehow extended her grace and concern, but our own sister was not.

Elain’s mouth thinned into a straight line. “Lucien is nothing to me.”

“That’s not fair,” Nesta said with quiet venom. “You haven’t even tried to get to know him.”

“Why should I bother?” Elain’s laugh was vacant. Awful. “I didn’t want the mating bond with him. I’m not like you two, who just so happened to fall in love with the males who are your mates. I was given to him, like some piece of property, without any will or desire of my own.”

“I’m not arguing against that.” Nesta rose to her feet with a warrior’s grace and surety. “And you have every right to reject the mating bond—I will support that choice with my last fucking breath if I have to, Elain. But I’m talking about common decency. You are technically still mated to that male, and he treats you with the respect that mates give each other, and you . . .” Nesta shook her head slowly. Disgust limned her face, suffused every word as she finished, “The Elain I know and love wouldn’t have done something like that.”

Another dull laugh. “The Elain you know and love died in the Cauldron.” I’d never heard Elain speak like this, never seen her features so contorted with anger. “The Elain you know and love has been miserable these past few years, alone and forgotten, barely more than a secondary thought to all of you while you go off on your adventures and fall in love with your mates.”

“You want to go on adventures?” Nesta challenged, unfazed. “Fine. There’s the door. There’s a whole world of creatures out there who’d love a shot at killing you. In fact, here.” She snapped her fingers.

I startled as Ataraxia, then another blade clattered to the floor. They thrummed with magic—big, terrifying magic that only my eldest sister could have imbued them with.

“Take your pick,” Nesta dared. “Might as well go out there armed.”

Elain recoiled from the blades, step after step until her back was to the door, hissing at Nesta, “Put those away.”

Nesta did no such thing. Instead, a jerk of her chin, and—

Another sword thumped onto the carpet. Gwydion.

The black blade absorbed the morning light, and the others seemed to shiver in response.

Rhys must have given them to her. Why?

No matter the reason, it certainly hadn’t been for her to use them as a cudgel against Elain.

“You want a big adventure?” Nesta pointed to Gwydion. “Take that one out into the wilds. We haven’t had a chance to try it yet. Make yourself useful. We have plenty of enemies we’d be glad to get rid of.”

“That is not what I’m saying,” Elain said, pressing herself to the door so hard it was a wonder the wood wasn’t breaking. “I am talking about the fact that you all seem perfectly content to let me just watch the baby or garden or bake or plan your parties. I’m talking about the fact that those are the only things you want from me, and you never ask me to do anything more—”

“What does this have to do with you fucking Azriel?” Nesta snapped.

“Nesta,” I protested. My hands were shaking. I couldn’t entirely explain why.

Rhys said into my mind, Everything all right?

I knew if I asked, he’d arrive in a moment. He’d probably already handed Nyx to Ana, sensing my tension.

Just sisters having it out, I sent back.

I knew Rhys would likely remain in the nursery until this conversation was over, for the same reason I’d run there last night.

Elain had never demonstrated any power beyond her Seer’s abilities, but she, too, had gone into the Cauldron. Had been given … gifts.

We’d never pushed her far enough to see what might emerge. As far as I knew, she hadn’t pushed herself to find out, either.

“What this has to do with my fucking Azriel,” Elain said, spitting out the word, “which I did not do—”

“Looked like you were well on your way,” Nesta cut in.

Elain’s eyes welled with tears. “What do you want from me?” She splayed her arms. “I had a future before all this. I had a man that I loved—”

“Graysen didn’t deserve you.”

“That isn’t your judgment to make,” Elain shot back, slamming a fist against the door behind her, then laying that hand on her heaving chest. “I loved him, and he loved me—”

“That wasn’t love, not even close,” Nesta barreled on. “Not if your body changing from human to Fae could alter his feelings. Love doesn’t crumble like that.”

“No, it just crumbles when you betray your court and mate by handing over the Mask to a stranger,” Elain retorted.

I didn’t know whether to wince for Nesta or applaud Elain for getting in a blow. Even if it was a low one.

Power brewed in Nesta, a building storm that set the hair on my arms tingling. My own surged to meet it, intercept it—if hers came out as silver flames, then I’d smother it with ice straight from the heart of the Winter Court. But Nesta just said to Elain, “Cassian and I have moved past that.”

Elain shook her head. Not at Nesta’s words, but at herself. “I’m not supposed to be here,” she said despondently, tracing the small dent she’d made in the heavy, carved wood of the study door. Unaware of the strength of her Fae body, even now. “I thought I’d found my place, thought I had a future with Azriel, but . . .” She bleakly surveyed me and Nesta. “Look at you two—it’s like you were never human. Never lived below the wall.”

“Elain,” I urged as Nesta continued simmering, “why don’t you sit? Yesterday was hard for all of us—not only last night, but I’m sure what Bryaxis showed you left you shaken. What you saw was a lie, nothing more. Let’s get some tea and we can talk about this.” I slid a reproachful glance to Nesta. “We don’t need to find answers today, but—”

“I don’t want to be here.”

“All right, we can go to the dining room—”

“No,” Elain said, the word shaking. “I told you last night. I don’t want to be here. In this house. This city.”

“I’m afraid there’s . . . We don’t really have somewhere else for you to go.”

I could see all the fight drain out of Elain, from her slumping shoulders to her drooping head. Even the color seemed to leach from her skin, her hair. “My life wasn’t supposed to turn out this way,” she murmured.

“Well, it did,” Nesta said, even as that silver fire banked. “And you can either wallow in your misery or make something of it. But don’t destroy everything for the rest of us in the process.”

The brown eyes that lifted to Nesta were pure, frozen fury. I didn’t recognize a shred of the warm sister I knew in them. “And what of the leniency you received for a whole year? Am I unworthy of that?”

“I was drinking and fucking my way through this city. Not jeopardizing key alliances when we’re on the brink of war. We should have spent this morning discussing how to deal with Bryaxis and why she reappeared. Instead, we spent it trying to find a way to salvage the mess you made with one of our few allies.”

I couldn’t argue with that.

Elain slowly shook her head again. “I don’t know who you are anymore. I don’t think I even like this person.”

Nesta picked at her nails, longer than they had been in the midst of her Valkyrie training. “The feeling is mutual.”

Elain just whirled to the door. She slammed it on her way out.

For a moment, we said nothing. I dared a peek at Nesta to find her face pale, features tight. Gazing at the swords littering the floor as she dropped onto the couch.

“I don’t agree with Elain, you know,” I said tentatively.

Nesta’s eyes lifted to me. She looked wretched. Exhausted.

“I know who you are, Nesta,” I said, willing her to see the earnestness in my stare. “I see who you are becoming. Yesterday, the way you fought for us, for Nyx, the way you got up, ran after Bryaxis—I’m proud of you.”

Nesta’s throat bobbed. “And are you proud of that whole … display?” She waved a hand toward the space where Elain had been, indicating their argument.

“That,” I admitted, sinking onto the couch beside her, “is not going to live on in history as one of our finer moments as sisters. But you spoke a lot of truth.”

“Badly.”

“It takes practice.” I hesitated, but then damned caution to hell and took her hand in mine. Her fingers were ice-cold. I squeezed them. “I think Elain is so used to you defending her at every turn, no matter what, that she’s not ready to face the Nesta who not only defends her sister, but also her friends—whose world has widened, become richer. Elain had you to herself for a long, long while. I think she walked in here expecting all to be forgiven, for you to defend her with no questions asked, especially after we all stayed together last night. And when that didn’t happen, a lot more feelings about the matter came rushing out of her than she expected.”

Nesta sighed, heavy and weary. “I think I was in shock last night about what happened. And then this morning, I just … I know it’s not fair, to be concerned about Azriel’s feelings and not Elain’s, but after that initial shock wore off, there were so many things I had to say to her. I truly botched it, though.”

“Next time you two talk, mention it,” I advised. “It might make it easier if you both know that you’re trying your best, even when you fall short of finding the right words.”

Nesta stared down at our linked hands. Slowly, her fingers closed around mine.

“When did you get so wise?” she asked. “I know for a fact our mother never taught you this kind of thing.”

I snorted. No, she certainly hadn’t. I was keenly aware of that lack of love, of kindness, every time I held my son, every time I promised myself to do better, be better, than her. “It’s been an intense few years,” I hedged. I had a feeling we had another intense few years ahead. I took the carved rabbit Lucien had gifted Nyx out of my pocket. “Father taught me some of it, broken as he was,” I admitted.

I watched Nesta’s eyes trace the lines our father had lovingly and skillfully carved into the wood. This piece of him had been passed on to a grandson who would never know him. “He’d be very proud of you,” Nesta said softly.

My throat closed up, and I squeezed her fingers tightly.

Then Nesta lifted her gaze to mine, all trace of that silver fire gone. “I’ve been teaching myself to winnow,” she blurted.

I coughed, but squeezed her hand. “Is that how you got that far into the city yesterday when you went after Bryaxis?” I’d been astounded at my sister’s speed, had thought she’d merely sprinted there, assuming the swiftness was due to her Valkyrie training.

Nesta nodded. “And how I got Ataraxia to fly that far into the sky. I winnowed the blade, too. A few days ago, I tried to winnow to the Prison, but I wasn’t strong enough and wound up nearly drowning in the sea instead.”

I let every word sink into me. Nesta. Winnowing. Drowning.

“Rhys found me—saved me,” she went on, the words tumbling out as if she couldn’t contain them. “But right before he did, I sensed something under the water. It wasn’t there anymore, but it was like … a ghost of something that had been there. It told me to find it.”

“What was it?” It couldn’t be good.

“I thought it was something like the Trove,” Nesta said, withdrawing her hand from mine. “But I think … I actually think the feel of it is something closer to those.” She pointed to the swords on the carpet.

I eyed them. “You’d better get rid of them, by the way.”

“Rhys finally let me have them, so no need to worry about him throwing a tantrum.”

I chuckled. “No. I meant before my baby comes back in here and impales himself on them.” Nyx’s stuffed rabbit was plopped right in the middle of the weapons.

Nesta snickered, and the swords vanished. Her face grew serious again. “Do you think I should go after whatever it was that I sensed?”

“I don’t know,” I confessed. “Do we need another magic sword, if that’s what it is? We already have three.” I rubbed the back of my neck.

“But what if you were shown that magical echo for a reason? What if that is the Made object the territories are going after?”

Something tightened in Nesta’s face, as if the words had hit a nerve. But she said, “We should ask Amren when she gets back. Perhaps she knows of other weapons that might be out there.” Nesta scowled, considering. “It could also be a trap—one of the kingdoms deliberately planting a Made object so we’d find it, and then they’d accuse us of continuing to arm ourselves.”

It could also be part of Hybern’s machinations, whatever they might be.

“Does that seem likely to you?”

“No.” Nesta chewed on her bottom lip, then surprised me by saying, “You should come with me—to Valkyrie training.”

“I thought you’d stopped going,” I said warily.

“I did. But I’m going to start again.” I angled my head to one side, curious. Nesta explained, “Yesterday, I was too slow, too frazzled, especially with that stupid dress.” Her lip curled in self-disgust. “I need—I want to be in training again. And I think you should join me.”

I considered. “Are you sure? I always thought your time with the Valkyries was, well . . . yours. Don’t forget that I won’t only be your sister to your friends—I’ll also be their High Lady.”

“Then don’t act like a High Lady. Just come as Feyre. If they can put up with Azriel and Cassian strutting about, they’ll be fine with you.”

“Are they going to be teaching again?”

Nesta leaned back into the cushions. “After yesterday, I’m not sure Azriel should be left to his own devices for too long, anyway. Perhaps the training would be good for him. And as for Cassian . . .” Her mouth twisted in a knowing smirk. “He’ll do what I tell him to.”

If that was all Nesta was willing to divulge about her current situation with her mate, that was fine. It was enough that she felt able to confide any of this in me. And after yesterday, after spending all night with Nyx’s screams still echoing in my ears . . . yes. I would happily join her at Valkyrie training and learn new ways to destroy my enemies and protect those I loved.

Nesta said suddenly, “Bryce Quinlan told me that she thought the eight-pointed star tattooed on my back was there for a reason.”

I blinked. “Really?”

Nesta nodded, relief brightening her features—had she been holding this inside? “Right before she returned to her own world. That’s what she said to me.” Nesta swallowed. “And her mother, while she was here, told me that she thought . . . she thought I’d find my way.”

I kept silent, letting her think it through, get to whatever it was she wanted to say.

Nesta’s eyes met mine. Steel and silver fire. “I want to know if both of those things are true.”

“Then let’s find out. Your destiny is your own, Nesta.”

My sister studied me for a moment before Gwydion appeared in her hands. “Take it,” she said. I blinked again. Nesta went on, “I have more swords than I know what to do with. The other two, I Made, but this one . . .” She shrugged with one shoulder. “Bryce gave it to me, and now I’m giving it to you.”

“This is a sword that once belonged to the High King and Queen of Prythian,” I cautioned. “And wasn’t it used to kill one of them?”

Nesta’s smile was pure darkness. “Then maybe you can find a better use for it.”

I beheld it, for a moment, in her eyes. The vision of the two of us, sisters, back-to-back and fighting our enemies. Protecting our family.

But I gestured to the blade. “Watch over it a little longer.” I frowned toward the window, the world beyond. “Until the blood truly needs to begin spilling.”

Until I did precisely what I needed to do.