A Court of Rage and Fire

Chapter 14

The day before the handfasting dawned bright and foggy, like most Autumn mornings, but Nesta's cold fury after his teasing the night before made Eris feel like he was living through an ice storm.

She burst into the guest room at first light, roughly pulling clothes from the closet and dressing as if he were not even there. Though the room was heated by the enchanted fireplace, he could have sworn the temperature dropped in her presence.

He rose, and found her in the great room, hair braided into a crown—tighter than usual—and wearing her training leathers with a dress tossed over her arm. She chugged a cup of tea in between bites of an apple.

"Do you want to kick my ass?" he asked lightly, eyeing her leathers. "You'll need a heartier breakfast than that."

"I'm going to spar with my friends while they're here, since I have to spend all day tomorrow with you." The way she said you, with such disgust, reopened centuries-old wounds.

His eyes narrowed then, and he felt his features settle into a coldness that matched her tone and masked his weakness. "You have no idea what I—we—nearly lost."

"Because you haven't fucking told me. Instead you tease me—which, you know what, that's fine and maybe even encouraged on occasion—but then you run away with no explanation? Just a vague, dire warning? It's insulting."

Eris kept his face cold and said nothing, unwilling to admit the reason he ran away was that, if he had stayed, it would have undone all his carefully laid plans. Because he would not have been able to control himself in her presence one moment longer.

Nesta set her jaw, her sharp features furious. "That's what I thought."

"Give me a moment and I will explain." He didn't even know where to begin.

"Are you going to explain yourself, really, or do I have to play another game to get any kind of truth from you?"

Eris knew he'd fucked up last night. Terrible things always happened when he lost control. He knew how proud she was—the Mother knew he would have been pissed off in her final position, as much as they had both played at infuriating each other until that point—and there was so much he should have told her before letting things go so far. She still had no idea what the morrow would entail, and that was his own gods-damned fault for letting Beron send him away during the crucial weeks before the ceremony, time he needed to gain Nesta's trust.

"Last night was my mistake," he began. "I shouldn't have—"

Nesta interrupted him with a scoff. "Seducing me was a mistake. Got it."

"That's not what I said. Can you stop interrupting me and let me tell you whole truth this time? The truth that I haven't had a chance to tell you because last night I was thinking with my dick and almost ruined everything."

Nesta closed her eyes for a moment, and Eris was grateful for the reprieve from her glare. When she opened her grey eyes, her breath was even and her fury was faded.

"There's the male behind the mask. Tell me later, after I've stabbed a few dummies." Nesta breezed past him, patting the hounds goodbye on her way out.

Eris remained rooted to the spot, blinking and struggling to process her words. The male behind the mask. That's what she wanted?

Never let them see your cracks.

His mother's affirmation had saved his life a hundred times. But the stone facade and distance that he had etched into his own skin—into his very soul—to protect what shriveled soft parts remained, now threatened to drive away the one person in the world who could, and maybe actually would, help him.