Nessian short stories

Short Story 2

Cassian's POV

Feyre clapped me on the back, swaying unsteadily and I laughed. 

Oh boy was she drunk... Rhys would kill me. 

Mor was on the other side of Feyre, one arm flung out while the other hung over our high lady's shoulders, a twin drunken sailor to Feyre.

I heard a howl behind me and I glanced back, watching Rhys."MY STAR IS THE BRIGHTEST MATE IN THE SKY!! AND I LOOOVE HER!!" 

Ahh no. Rhys was as drunk as her... they'll be fine...

My stomach grumbled and I glanced around to see if anyone else had heard it.

Wondering how I'd somehow satisfy my growling stomach, I stalked to the kitchen and prepared to shovel every bit of food I could find down my throat. What else would they expect from me after a day at the training camps with Devlon - he was a dickhead! 

Continuously, Devlon argued with me about how many hours the girls should train for. They must wash the soldiers clothes! They must cook the food!  Was it really that hard for them to wash their own clothes! That sexist pig had cut the girl's hours to two everyday when i had specifically told him every girl was to train for at least six hours each. The girls deserved to learn to fight and protect themselves from dickhead men like Devlon. But the sexist pig was completely against it and also still refused to let them into the training ring.  Of course his main goal was to make me look like a piece of shit in front of my men. The Illyrian bastard was always looked down upon. Rage coursed through my veins as my thoughts wandered to how badly my mother was treated in the war camps where I grew up. 

I grabbed a few bottles of wine from Rhys's special collection and and slammed them onto the table. I needed a shit load of wine after today. 

I found a large, silver serving tray in one of the cupboards and yanked the fridge door so hard it almost came off, piling leftover food from lunch and yesterday evening onto it. If Nuala or Cerridwen found me eating all of the food, I'd be dead meat, literally, but right now I didn't care - I was an Illyrian warrior, and a dangerously HUNGRY one at that...  

... Hopefully Elain would be kinder than the two shadow spies and let me off... just like last time. 

And the time before that. 

And the time before that... 

She would understand.

If only I could say the same for Nesta. If she actually chose not to hate us, she might have been able to help me with Devlon. Between them two, it was easy to tell who would come out of the war camps unscathed. But there was also the possibility Nesta would not know what to do, especially since she refused to take up my offer of training her on how to fight. 

I tore through a piece of chicken and choked. 

Gods! It was fucking horrible! 

The powdered spices attacked the back of my throat, itching and burning and I fumbled around the room for some water. I knew for a fact that Elain had made the food and it was always delicious so why did it taste like shit?! 

I found an empty glass and desperately filled it with water, slightly annoyed that some had spilled onto my arm. Tipping my head back, I gulped down the contents of my glass in mere seconds, savouring the soothing feel of the water as it slid down my parched throat.

A dark laugh sounded from behind me. I spun around and tackled Azriel to the floor. The two tubs of powered spices he held in his hands exploded like fireworks as they slammed into the wall, the lids popping off and contaminating the air with the suffocating smell and taste of turmeric and chilli powder.