A Song of Faithless Shadows

38. I Want You to Know

Azriel

According to Cassian, Nesta was at the River House, sorting some business out with Feyre and Elain. And according to Cassian, it wasn't his place to tell me. Same with Rhys. I never liked to be in the dark.

"So secrets are no fun unless you're in on them?" Gwyneth raises her brows at me while the four of us warm up- the four of us being me, her, Emerie, and Cassian.

"Precisely."

Emerie laughs. "I'm enjoying this."

"You too?" My brows raise. Gods, did everyone know what was going down between the sisters but me?

Emerie shrugs. "There's nothing you could do if given the information anyway," she says. "Nothing you could do without pissing Nesta off by acting on her behalf."

"And believe me, that is not a hill you want to climb," Cassian stretches his shoulders, brows raised as he sighs.

"Fine," I resolve with a grunt. "You forget my position. I'm well within my means to go find out."

"Not happening," Cassian claps my shoulder. "I have need of you here."

"Why? Training with the rest of the priestesses is postponed until Spring," I point out. The three of them will be fine without me.

"Yes, but we need even numbers," Cassian says.

Gwyneth's brows furrow. "For what?"

Cassian grins, glad to be asked, to be indulged. "For sparring."

I groan. "Cassian, last time we did four way sparring, you, Rhys, and Mor formed an alliance against me," I lean over, whispering to Emerie. "Held me down. Gave me three separate wet willies."

"Two teams of two this time," Cassian says. "So you can stop your complaining."

"I want Emerie," I say instantly, leveling with Gwynneth and Cassian when they inevitably scoff. "She's least likely to turn on me."

Emerie grins, bumping my shoulder. "That's what you think."

"Then, it's me and you, Gwyny," Cassian grins, offering a hand up top for Gwyneth.

"Don't call me that," she meets it with a reluctant smack. I hate this partnership already. I'm not sure I could've paired two more brilliantly cocky, competitive individuals. "Let's kick some ass."

"Hell yeah," Cassian says, grinning broadly. "But not here."

"What the hell Cassian?" The words spill from me. Cassian, since our adolescence, has loved planning overly-complex sparring matches, complete with obstacles, objectives, and oddities.

"Meet you both in the clearing!" He says enthusiastically, offering a hand to Gwyneth. I watch her take it, watch him lift her into his arms, watch him launch into the sky before I look away.

Emerie clears her throat.

I straighten myself. "We have to win this," I grumble.

"No shit," Emerie says. "I can't take the ego of the two of them individually, let alone together." It's true. Cassian was straight up enough about it, but Gwyneth? Nobody would expect it if her, but she's so damn competitive. She loves to gloat, loves to rub salt in the wound. It amuses her to no end.

"With Cassian, you need to play to that ego. But don't underestimate his strategy. He's the general for a reason," I say. "And for Gwyneth... you're stronger than her, but don't let her engage you too long. She'll ware you down slowly. You're not gonna outpace her."

"Did you gather that on those little runs the two of you take together?" Emerie asks, brows raised.

"I wouldn't call the runs little," I mutter. Last night, I had barely been able to keep up. The cardio on that woman was insane. "And that's irrelevant."