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The stones blurred together as Nesta raced down the stairs, her only focus on getting a drink. Anything to escape the nightmares clawing around her head, or the walls of her cage that seemed to shrink until she was suffocating. Around and around the spiral staircase she went, as though she could outrun the darkness closing in on her.
She had to get out. This had to stop.
Her foot slipped and the whole world tilted on its axis.
She tumbled down the steps, the sharp edges digging into her skin as she fell. Each spin seemed faster than the last until she reached out desperately to stop the nauseating spinning. Her fingers caught on something and sparked in the darkness. She clung desperately to it like an anchor, panting and dizzy as she came to a halt. The spinning in her head lingered, darkness swimming in front of her eyes. Nesta swallowed thickly and tried to ignore the coppery taste of her own blood.
She glanced down to her hand, sure that she had seen sparks as she tumbled. Whatever power had erupted out of her was quiet now, the staircase dark once again… although the stone under her hand was warm, sharp claw marks still embedded in the stone from her fingers.
She stumbled back, falling again in her haste to get away and landed hard on her bruised hip. Sharp, agonizing pain ricocheted up her body. Her hip. Her back. Her head. She tenderly touched the back of head where the pain was the worst and hissed when her hand came away wet.
Every part of her hurt.
Nesta groaned and took inventory. Her tumble had broken through her nightmare fueled haze, but now she wasn't sure she could make it back up the steps to her room. She had no way of knowing how far she'd fallen, or how many steps she'd managed before then. The staircase looked the same no matter where she was on it. Unending. A dark abyss going down, or a blank nothingness going up.
Slowly, she tried to stand, but her right leg shook violently when she tried to put her full weight on it. Panting, Nesta lowered herself to her knees. She winced as she crawled up a few steps, the stones biting into her bare knees. Her chest burned, a small point of warmth against the cold stone surrounding her.
She shivered against the wall, alone and pathetic. How very low she'd fallen.
She wasn't even sure she could make it up on her own.
…
She could call for help.
Her pride burned at the idea of crying out, at having someone witness her misery, but she considered it. Cassian would come, she knew. He was always like that, willing to come to the rescue, no matter who it was.
But she wasn't sure she could face him.
Instead she waited for her racing heart to calm and the tremors to fade. Eventually, after an indeterminate time shivering in the dark, Nesta climbed to her feet and made the slow trek back to her bed. Pain followed her every step of the way.
Nesta shivered dispassionately on the rock the next day. She blearily eyed the depressing wilderness, squinting against the freezing wind, and wondered why anyone would willingly do this to themselves. Cassian ran through his exercises without a care, oblivious or immune to the biting wind, but Nesta wished she was back in bed.
At least the other Illyrian warriors had stopped jeering at her. Apparently they'd gotten bored of the witch and moved on to their own training in the ring next to Cassian's.
The two warriors sparring together were identifiable by their green and blue siphons, otherwise they could be brothers. Around the edge of the ring, other illyrians cheered on the fighters, shouting obscene things they should do to the other. Nesta's eyes caught on the flurry of their fists, almost too fast to see. The lack of weapons didn't make their fight any less leathal, blood flying in a macabre dance as they circled one another. It was brutal and violent enough that it turned her stomach.
Was this what Cassian wanted from her?
Cassian continued training by himself, beautiful elegant movements that belied the danger he posed. But he was designed for the same violence.
"So, who won the fight?"
"What fight?" Her attention half on Cassian, and half on the warriors in the other ring. A loud cheer went up from the audience as one illyrian crumpled into the dirt. Apparently the fight had been called, the victor receiving well meaning slaps on the back. No one helped the loser where he was curled on himself, his green siphon casting a sickly glow on his blood slicked skin.
"The one between you and the stairs," he teased. His smirk was garishly lighthearted against the bleak landscape and blood coating the ground next to them.
Nesta bristled against the reminder of her shame. It hadn't been possible to hide the massive bruise on her face this morning, but that didn't mean she wanted to talk about it. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"You know: three in the morning, you leave your room to get shitfaced-drunk in town, and you're in such a rush to conquer the steps that you fall down a good thirty of them before you can stop yourself."
"How do you know that?" she asked, unnerved. Her night alone on the steps had been humiliating, but she'd thought it was a secret.
He shrugged.
"Were you watching me?" Before he could answer, she hissed, "You were watching and didn't come to help?"
If Cassian was bothered by her sharp tone, he didn't show it. He swung his sword effortlessly, the light from his siphons glinting off the metal like blood.
"You stopped falling. If you kept at it, someone would have eventually come to catch you before you hit the bottom."
She frowned, taking in the cocky grin that mocked her. Something ugly whispered through her at his words, a reminder of horrors that usually left her alone until night time.
She wasn't sure how long she'd lain on the stairs, but it had to have been a half hour at least. Surely that was long enough for him to be concerned. If she'd been a human, that fall most likely would have killed her. And yet, Cassian had known the whole time and he'd just… left her.
He grinned, his expression jarring against her inner turmoil, and beckoned with a hand. "Want to join me?"
She didn't know what to say to that, still too dumbfounded from his revelation earlier.
"Well?" he demanded, an edge creeping into his voice. "If you've got those glorious bruises, you might as well claim it came from training and not a pathetic tumble."
From the edge of her eyes she saw a female walk by the Illyrian warriors, her shoulders hunched protectively as she walked in front of the males. As all females do. The victor from earlier cheered loudly and slung a blood-spattered arm around her waist, dragging her back to the tents. The female flinched away from him, and Nesta waited for Cassian to step in. She held his gaze as the couple passed behind her, well within his view, but he didn't waver, hand outstretched.
"Is that all you have to say?" Her mind spiraled. She'd flinched looking at herself in the mirror this morning, and all that he cared about was that she'd earned her pain?
He shrugged. "You know why you're here, Nes."
And she did know. To train. To fall in line. To stop embarrasing to her sister. The training ring was barren of anything inviting, just packed down dirt, as unforgiving as the rock she was sitting on. Mutely, she shook her head.
Cassian gave her a look of disgust and turned back to his exercises. "Pathetic."
The word echoed through her, battering against the icy walls guarding her heart. Around and around.
Clotho had taken one look at Nesta's face and told her not to push herself too hard. If Nesta were a stronger person, she wouldn't have needed the excuse, but she'd only managed to put away a few books the whole afternoon between her frequent rests and avoiding the concerned glances of the priestesses. Her body still ached from her fall, her hip the worst. It was bad enough that even the level floor of the library gave her trouble.
After her mandatory work was completed, she staggered to the door of the private library like a lost wanderer crawling to a desert oasis for a bit of respite. Just a little more, and then she could rest.
The door was locked.
In disbelief, she jiggled the handle, but the door wouldn't budge. She pleaded with the house, but it was no use.
The message was clear, if she wanted to eat she would have to do it with her housemates. The house had been doing this the entire time she'd been here; forcing her to face them, face him. It was an obvious attempt at matchmaking and she was in no mood for it.
She considered skipping dinner entirely, not sure if she could face Cassian today. Not after his behavior in the training ring. Her heart burned with betrayal, one that she shouldn't even feel betrayed by. He was just a male. She was foolish for expecting more than that.
Still, there was a decision solidifying in her head, one that she'd been thinking of all afternoon, and Nesta knew that she would need food. So she allowed herself to be herded up to the dinning room like a wayward child.
Quietly, she picked a seat halfway down the table, ignoring the way Cassian and Azriel both stiffened upon her arrival. They seemed content enough to ignore her, discussing whatever work Azriel was doing, which suited Nesta fine. She wasn't feeling particularly chatty.
She'd finished about half of her meal before Azriel turned to her. "What happened to you?"
Nesta stilled under his attention. The constant soreness of her face made her bruises impossible to ignore, but she was hoping he would have enough tact to spare her the discussion. "Nothing."
Cassian responded to Azriel as though she hadn't spoken, "She fell down the stairs."
Azriel gave her a once over, his eyes pausing on the brutal bruise on her cheek that extended up around her eye. "Did someone… push you?"
She froze. Like with the priestesses, she didn't know what to do in the face of concern.
But even as something in her softened under Azriel's expression, Cassian ruined it by scoffing and responding with a smirk. "Asshole."
Azriel's lips twitched in a tiny smile and Nesta realized abruptly that it was just a joke. Of course it was. Likely her whole existence was a joke to them.
Cassian went on, "I told her earlier today: if she bothered to train, she'd at least have bragging rights for the bruises."
"Is that what happened to the female today?"
"What female?"
"The one that got dragged off with that warrior today."
Cassian's gaze cleared in understanding and he shifted uncomfortably. "No. Naari doesn't train with me, none of the illyrian females do." His voice softened and he continued, "She's his mate, Nesta, there's nothing I can do about it. But that doesn't mean you can't. Join me for training and then no one would be able to hurt you." A sharp point below her heart throbbed in sympathy.
Nesta snapped, "That's all that matters to you, doesn't it?"
Cassian opened his mouth, but it was Azriel that responded, "Why won't you train, Nesta?"
"Don't bother Az—"
"I'm not training in that miserable village." She pushed herself away from the table, staring down at Cassian and continued hotly, "With those horrible males. I'm not training at all." Nesta knew too well what had happened to that Illyrian female, just as Cassian must know, and she didn't ever want to go back. What was even the point? She was never entering a training ring ever again if all they wanted from her were bruises.
Cassian rose from his seat and leaned towards her seriously. "I told you what would happen if you keep refusing. It will be out of my hands."
"Yes, you mentioned. I'll be shipped back to the human lands by your precious High Lord." Dropped in a land with more people who wanted her harmed. She was becoming used to it.
"Watch it," He bit back. "All you have to do is come to training. It's not like it'll kill you."
"I can barely walk, and you want me to train?"
He rolled his eyes. "Didn't realize you were that pampered, sweetheart. It's not that bad. You'll get used to it."
Nesta considered the male in front of her, a vision of power and vitality. Maybe to him it wasn't that bad, he's had 500 years to become accoustomed to it. To be honed into a weapon capable of felling any enemy that crossed his path.
How well did she really know him? Five hundred years seemed so long, their lives too different to reconcile. Slowly, she sat back down and stared at her plate without seeing any of it.
Azriel's eyes darted between them and he offered, "You could train in the house, there's a training ring on the roof."
Cassian shrugged and took his seat. "As if that will make a difference," he mumbled.
Nesta concentrated on Azriel instead of looking at Cassian. She couldn't bear it. What would it matter if they trained here or at Windhaven? She wouldn't be under the sneering gaze of those horrible males that flaunt their battered wives, but she would still be with Cassian, and he could do whatever he wanted. Not even his brother would step in; he thought it was funny that he might have pushed her. How long until that actually happened?
Softly, she said, "No. I'm done." Biting back a whimper, she got to her feet and limped out of the dining room.
Cassian growled, "You don't get to decide when you're done. You haven't even started."
Nesta paused at the doorway, wishing she could make a less pathetic exit. "Then go crawling back to your High Lord and tell him," she bit back. "It's all you're good for."
There wasn't any reason to wait until everyone had gone to bed, but Nesta couldn't shake the feeling that she was doing something forbidden. She reminded herself that they'd said she could leave. Feyre had been adamant about it; that this wasn't a prison sentence.
But the vision of the Illyrian woman plagued her. A whole immortal life stretched out and still she was pulled along behind a male in a too tight grip. A spot beneath her heart pulled, a thread beneath her ribs that tugged, even if she wanted to ignore it. It reminded her that Nesta was not free either.
Would that be Nesta's future? Cassian was a good male, she knew that. But how far did that go? She'd thought she knew him, and now…
It was better to avoid him.
No sooner than she'd thought it, a voice called behind her, as if summoned. "Out for a late night stroll?"
"What do you care?"
"I just thought I'd save you the embarrassment of crawling back up those steps. How many can you do? One hundred? Two hundred?" Every word taunted her, fanning the flames of her anger.
"Then why don't you sit and wait for me to come back so that you can laugh with your friends about it," she spat. "You'll have a front row seat if you sit right there."
She nodded to the table behind him and turned away before he could respond. Her anger warmed her, but it was too dangerous to let herself be drawn back into back into their back and forth, to get distracted by him until she abandoned her convictions. Instead, she remembered his mockery the last time he'd caught her climbing up the stairs and wrapped that memory like an icy wall around her heart as she stepped into the unending dark.
Cassian, of course, followed behind her. She did her best to ignore him. Her body still ached from yesterday's fall, particularly her hip, which twinged with every step she took. It was a far cry from this morning, when she'd barely been able to stand, but still uncomfortable.
It would be a long journey down.
As though he heard her thoughts, Cassian's voice cut through the silence. "You could at least wait until tomorrow, give your body more time to heal."
She scoffed to herself. Now he was concerned? "You took me to training this morning, so what does it matter? No. No waiting."
There was an almost perceptible pause before he defended, "We would've done light training. It's better than this."
Nothing she'd seen him do in Illyria seemed like light training to her. The sweeping sword dance seemed more useful for showing off his physical prowess than building strength, but maybe that wasn't part of her training plan. Not that he'd ever mentioned what the training plan was, or if there even was a plan. Instead, he expected her to trust him fully on nothing more than mockery and her sister's orders. How dare she question their secret plan?
She shook her head. "I highly doubt that. Not when you're going on about how I would be bruised the respectable way."
His steps stuttered beside her. "I— Nesta, I would never hurt you."
She turned to him, already out of breath from the dozen steps they'd taken. With only the moon to illuminate their way, she could only see his outline, menacing and otherworldly in the dark. "I don't believe you."
"Nes—" he moved to grab her and she jerked away, her fear a sharp dangerous thing.
"Don't touch me!"
She banged against the stairway wall in her haste to get away. The darkness surrounding them left wide spaces for uncertainty to linger.
She'd wondered who would care if Cassian had pushed her down the stairs, was this when he finally did? She couldn't stop him down here, it was just her and Cassian… and her fear, urged into something wild in the dark.
Cassian threw up his hands and backed away to the other side of steps, soothing her like a frightened animal. "Alright! Alright. Why don't we just… sit. And have a rest."
With a shaky nod, she levering herself down to sit, her hip protesting the change. Cassian sat as well, holding himself away from her. He could probably smell her fear, she thought bitterly.
After a time, he broke the silence. "So what is this, then?"
She wasn't sure which part he was referring to. Maybe all of it.
"I'm leaving."
"You're already huffing and we're not even one hundred steps in," he mocked. "You won't make it halfway, sweetheart."
"Then I'll die here," she snapped, loudly enough that it echoing off the walls in a foreboding chorus. More quietly, she continued, "I'm not going back." She felt more than saw him turn to her, the darkness hiding the look on his face.
"You don't mean that."
"What will it take for you to actually listen to me? I'm not staying here for one more minute. I can't." The truth clawed it's way out of her, taking parts of her with it until her voice shook.
"Because—why? You miss getting drunk off your ass that much that you're willing to throw this all away? Your sisters deserve better than you running away again," he snapped.
"I'm not staying so that you can make me into a good little soldier." She knew that he wouldn't understand, but she couldn't betray herself by staying here any longer. "My sisters made their choice with this awful idea. It's time I made my own choices."
"The training was supposed to help you," he responded bitterly. "I don't get why you can't see that."
Of course they thought this was helping. The entirety of her misery the past couple of days shrugged off under the guise of 'helping'. Her bitter, lonely year had left her so starved for anything other than condemnation that it was enough to give her hope; too dangerous a thing for a female in her position. Every minute locked away in this glorified prison hurt, whether physically or mentally, but the worst part was choking on the sanctimonious attitude of all of them. They acted as though she were throwing a childish tantrum.
She stared at the outline of his face, shrouded in darkness. It was a blessing in disguise that she couldn't see him, she'd always been weak for his face. "The only thing that training seems to do is remind me that I need to follow a male to be respected. You've mocked me relentlessly for being weak, for being injured. 'But it will be different if you train, Nesta. Then I won't mock you.' Yet I'll be bruised just the same."
He scrubbed a hand down his face. "The point isn't for it to hurt, it's to make you stronger, so that you can defend yourself."
"Defend myself against who? You?"
"No! No, that's not— from people who hurt you. It's… dangerous out there Nesta. More dangerous than you know. You need— you need to be strong." He gained confidence with every word, as though settling into his determination. Without being able to see his face, all she heard was the young boy who'd earned respect the only way he knew how, with his fists.
"You truly believe that, don't you?"
A finality settled in her gut. It repeated in her head like a mantra— she couldn't stay here.
Unsteadily, she rose to her feet. Cassian and Feyre both believed that strength came from fighting, but she couldn't do this. She couldn't do what they wanted. She couldn't stay.
"Nes."
"Feyre said that I was free to go if I could take the stairs. So I am."
"Of course you can, I just…" he trailed off, all his defenses falling uselessly between them.
She couldn't stay.
Cassian hadn't taken the ten thousand steps leading to the House of Winds since he was a boy. With wings, the only reason to take the stairs was as punishment.
As he trailed after Nesta, moving silently behind her slow, faltering progress, it still felt that way. He wasn't used to this side of her, the spite that fueled her to run herself into the ground to abandon her family.
Perhaps, if he was being honest with himself, he wasn't used to any of the sides of her he'd seen after the war.
They continued on in silence for a time, Cassian counting the stairs silently and measuring their distance against the heaviness of Nesta's breath. She wasn't doing well, each footfall landing harder and her breathing more labored as they went, but her determination didn't waver. They were at step 259 when she stumbled. Cassian reached out automatically, catching her from another tumble. She leaned on him only a moment before she jerked back, putting a wide space between them.
He ground his teeth in frustration. "Time for another rest. Did you bring any water?"
She leveled him with a glare that was so reminiscent of their usual teasing, he almost relaxed. But she did unearth a small canteen from her bag and take a sip. He eyed her supplies critically. It wasn't enough water, but she'd bite his head off if he suggested they go back for more.
Nesta eased herself down to the step by sliding against the wall, allowing it to take her weight, likely because her legs wouldn't hold her. It took all of his patience to leave her alone and not to throw her over his shoulder and take her back to the house. She wouldn't let him, of that he was certain, but he wanted to anyway.
Silence settled uncomfortably in the space between them like an unwanted guest.
"What did I do? At least tell me that."
Nesta paused in putting the top back on her canteen. "You left me."
He stared at her, trying to understand what she was talking about, her face barely illuminated by the moonlight.
"You left me on these fucking stairs for— I don't know. Too long."
Last night, when she'd fallen. Understanding sunk into him like a stone, settling into his stomach as an immovable weight. He'd held himself back from going to her last night. This entire plan depended on his ability to be her trainer, to set aside this thing between them, and he hadn't been sure he could do that if he saw her collapsed on the stairs.
The mate bond demanded that he protect her, but she needed to be able to depend on herself. And to deal with the consequences of her foolish actions. He needed to be tough with her so that she learned.
Now, he wondered if he'd gone too far with it.
"You got up on your own," he defended weakly. He didn't think she'd take it personally.
There was a long pause, and Cassian eyed the silver lining her eyes with growing horror before she whispered, "I never knew you could be so cruel."
Shame crept along his collar in a heated flush. "That's rich coming from you."
Nesta, to his surprise, didn't rise to his goading. She simply stared at him with empty moonlit eyes. "Maybe you're right. I'd wondered…" She trailed off, her eyes searching his face, more silver than he'd ever seen them.
Whatever it was she was looking for, Cassian hoped she found it.
Nesta continued, quiet enough that he barely heard her, "I used to wonder why the cauldron paired us together. Why it would match someone so willing to die defending what's right with—" she looked away, the rest left unspoken. "But maybe that's it. We're matched in cruelty." She let out a scoff. "Why would anyone want such a thing? I've had quite enough punishment, I think."
"You think this is punishment?" She said nothing, her silence an arrow straight to his heart. They'd never spoken of the bond before tonight; he was too afraid that Nesta would reject the bond out of spite if he brought it up. To have her so easily acknowledge it, now of all times… "That's not true. It's not. I… I was trying to anger you, to draw you out. The bond is a gift, not a punishment."
"A gift? Maybe to someone else." He wanted her to scream, to burn with her usual anger and rage at him, but there was no heat in her words. Instead they came out as facts, as though she didn't care… or had become resigned to it already. "And don't tell me this isn't to punish me. This whole thing, the training, the house… and you. It all is."
"It's not!" He cut in desperately. "The training was to help you and, yes, make you strong. You should be able to do this— to walk down these stairs with no problem, but you can't, Nes. Training would make you strong enough so that no-one could hold you back."
"Not even you?"
"I wouldn't—" he choked.
"But you are. You and Feyre purposefully put me here so that— what? I could learn to escape you?" She clicked her tongue in distaste. "I got enough of controlling men in the human realms. I've no desire to shackle myself to another."
Shackled. He scrubbed a hand over his face unsteadily. The bond writhed in his chest, as though it knew how close he was to losing her. He couldn't speak of her breaking the bond, it hurt too much to mention. Instead his anger latched onto something else. "Is this about him then?" They'd never talked about that human filth either, not since that day in the human realm. Maybe they were overdue.
"You fae think you're better. But you're the same. Just… males." She let out a resigned sigh at it, but Cassian wouldn't give in this easily.
"Now you're just saying things to hurt me. I would never — never — force you." The very idea that he would force a female repulsed him.
"No, of course not. You're not him. But…" she sighed. "Illyria reminds me of him. Or I suppose, the way the fae treat their mates reminds me of what my life could have been. That warrior and his mate. Naari, you said her name was… That was my future, once. Tomas and I were engaged."
Cassian jerked back. He'd never known that. Feyre had never mentioned that Nesta was previously engaged, and it bothered him, how little he knew about her.
"I knew he was awful, but that's how things were. Women pretended that the excitement of a wedding made up for the misery of their lives and everyone ignored when men got too liberal with their fists. But they all knew. Even my father knew. It's funny, but Feyre was the only one who thought I deserved better than to be the beaten wife of a woodcutter. And she was right. I promised myself never to belong to a man after that."
He'd known when he met her that the world tried to douse Nesta's fire, but the way that Nesta recited her future as blank facts broke his heart. It was somehow worse to hear it. He thought he'd have time to convince her to give him a chance, to give them a chance, but now...
"You don't belong to me, Nes. No one expects anything of you here except to heal."
"You're wrong." There was an icy clarity to her voice that he hated. Cold and final. "It's not a secret what I am to you, yet Feyre still sent me here. The House won't let me avoid you, and Azriel thinks the idea that you might push me down the stairs to be hilarious—"
Cassian winced. "—That was a poor joke."
"It wasn't a joke. As though anyone in your family would intervene to keep me from you."
"That's enough! Don't you dare talk about my family that way. You don't know anything about what Azriel does, what they all do, to help females." Nesta could dig her claws into him all she wanted, but he wouldn't stand by while she slandered his family. Not after everything they'd done for this court, and the females in it. Azriel worked harder than anyone to provide the priestesses safety.
She scoffed. "But not me. Never me. You may pretend like I don't belong to you, but I still have to train with you. My options are do exactly as you say, even if it hurts, or get sent back to the human realms, where they'll kill me."
Cassian clenched his fists, the idea of any human harming her burned his blood. He'd never let them. "They'll never touch you. I swear it, Nesta."
"So you'll stop me from being exiled?" she asked cooly. "Or is that out of your hands, too?"
"I—" Nesta was so clever when she put her mind to it. But she'd caught him in a trap of his own words. He didn't know how to make her understand. How to make this not be goodbye.
"You make such beautiful promises, Cassian, and I think you believe it. I never used to believe what false promises men made, until you."
Cassian swallowed against the lump in his throat. It was one of the nicest things she'd ever said about him, which made it cut even deeper.
Her voice was soft and unyielding when she continued, "The worst part is that I never doubted that you would help me if you knew I was down there. Instead you left me there, and you mocked me."
"I would have come if you asked," he protested, wiping moisture from his eyes. "Never doubt that. I would've…"
He'd named every one of her expressions, but he couldn't name whatever emotion was in her silver eyes. He thought it might be sorrow. "Now we'll never know."
Nesta felt every part the villain as Cassian sniffled next to her.
"Nes, we fucked this up." he choked out, his voice thick with emotion. "I know that now, we shouldn't have kept you up here. We can find something else. Another solution."
She sighed. It was too little, too late. No matter what they came up with now, she would always be looking over her shoulder, waiting for the day Rhysand made another order.
"No. This was your solution. I'm finding my own." Even though she wanted to comfort him, she wouldn't give him false hope that this could be fixed.
"What happens when you get to the bottom?"
"I'll figure it out." She didn't have a firm idea, but males were always willing to pay for certain services. She doubted Cassian would approve, so she kept that to herself.
He scoffed. "You can't even make it down the stairs. You don't have any money. At least let me help you."
She winced. He wasn't wrong about her money, but after that horrible intervention, she didn't trust their help not to come with strings. "So that you can hold this over my head for the rest of our immortal lives? I'd rather not."
"I won't—" Nesta cut him a sharp look, and he seemed to think better of it. "We shouldn't have done that either. But I meant it. I want to make this right."
She shook her head. Nothing would make this right.
It might make her as cruel as he accused, as cruel as her family definitely thought she was, but she couldn't go back to pretending. Even if they turned back time, and she went back to her apartment and didn't humiliate her by locking her away, she would always know. She still remembered how it felt, being alone in a room of people. And how Cassian sat quietly while Rhysand's power pressed down on her, eager to make her submit.
The signs had been there, she'd just ignored them for too long. But no more.
"Let me go."
Cassian sniffed and wiped his eyes. She found no satisfaction in the tears rolling down his face, catching the moonlight.
"Azriel."
Nesta blinked, caught off guard by the abrupt change. Why had he mentioned Azriel?
She got her answer moments later when the darkness behind them parted around the slow steps of the Shadowsinger. Had he been here the whole time? Or had he showed up when Cassian called? She suspected the latter. Even still, the idea that Azriel was so aware of anything that went on in the house that he would come within moments of being called in the middle of the night unsettled her. Had Azriel known about her fall yesterday and left her as well?
The darkness covered Azriel completely, the only part of him visible was the slight shine reflecting off his eyes and siphons. It was an ominous visage looming over her in the dark, and it didn't match the mild tenor of his voice as he prompted, "Something wrong?"
Cassian was sure that Azriel would come to her defense if he went too far. Nesta wasn't so sure. These brothers protected their own above all else, including her. Maybe especially her.
"Nesta no longer wants to stay here," Cassian explained. "Can you take her to the townhouse, and then where ever she wants to go tomorrow?"
Azriel held out a scarred hand, accepting Cassian's explaination with no further questions, and Nesta swallowed back her bitterness. Of course it wasn't enough that she decided she wanted to leave, Cassian had to decide for her. Even now, she was his to release.
She wanted to refuse out of spite, but the soreness in her body reminded her she had bigger concerns.
Nesta bit her tongue and gripped Azriel's hand. Her last thought as Azriel winnowed her away from the unending dark was that she hoped there was another life where she belonged to herself before a male.