A Court of Rage and Fire

Chapter 4

Azriel's stomach was a deep, sucking pit of dread. While his own role in the betrothal situation, past and future, had been eating at him since the vote, that was something he could bury so deep it would not affect his duties. It was also not because, based on his conversation with Emerie as he flew her home, Nesta was clearly up to something, having somehow already thrown a bachelorette party, asked Emerie and Gwyn to be her bridesmaids, and yet seemed fully unfazed by the prospect of a family meeting.

No, he had already pieced together that Nesta must have been in the River House during the vote when his shadows sensed her surge of power even before the family had found her gifts on the porch and the dead patch of lawn, which everyone else had chalked up to delivery and frost. What really worried him was that Rhys and Feyre were so preoccupied between their disunited front at the vote yesterday and the looming need to find a safe way for Feyre to deliver her Illyrian babe, they had not figured out that Nesta already knew about her imminent betrothal.

There was also the small matter that his shadows had not observed Nesta at all while she eavesdropped. It seemed the stress of his High Lord and Lady was affecting all in their orbit.

He had considered flying straight to Rhys to report...what exactly? That Nesta was in agreement with the Inner Circle, and seemed excited about her betrothal? That Cassian's heart was going to be well and truly shattered when he returned from his inspections in Illyria? Either way, his brother was going to be broken for some time.

The spymaster may have done so two years ago. He had always been a bit of a control freak, as Cassian and Mor often put it. Between pulling strings so easily as spymaster, and the trauma of a childhood in which everyone else controlled him, he had always needed to feel like he had total control not only of himself, but those around him. But the time he had spent befriending gentle Elain—and friend was all he could be, after that reprimand from Rhys a few nights before—had taught him that not everything was in his power to manipulate. He had watched Elain retreat into her shell every time she was reminded that she had a mate, Lucien, who she feared might try to possess her in the way that only territorial males do, and he had seen how Elain came alive when the wraith-twins, and later Azriel himself, offered their companionship and support with no strings attached. And the conversation with Rhys the other night had made Azriel realize how dangerously close he had come to trying to possess Elain, too.

With that lesson in mind, he knew that warning Rhys of Nesta's unknown play would lead nowhere but an even bigger blow-up than...whatever Nesta had planned. Nesta was more like him than she realized. She always needed to be in perfect control of herself too—and allowing her whatever dignity she had mustered in this decision would at least prevent them from all being consumed in silver flames by the end of the day.

Hopefully.

✦✦✦

"Anything you want to tell me before we get there? Any dire warnings or particular fights I should be prepared for?" Azriel asked Nesta as they flew over Velaris toward the River House.

Nesta was silent for a moment. "You wanted me to make my own choice. This will ensure I can continue making them."

Azriel's heart ached for his brother. "Don't you think that Cassian could be your—"

"Please don't say that word," Nesta said coldly, but just quietly enough that Azriel could imagine something like grief may be muting the words beneath Nesta's imperious mask. "I fully understand the implications of this decision."

"Then let me say this one thing. Cassian cares for you. If you decide to break things off, if you want to come back...Eris won't stop you. And I know Cassian will wait for you."