Chapter 14 (long time no see)
The sounds of the early risers woke Cassian.
 Nesta was already awake, sat upon the floor, dressed in Illyrian leathers with her arms wrapped around her body.
âMorning sweetheart,â he said. His voice was rough and his throat needed clearing. The wound on his abdomen remained sore. The healerâs magic had been working diligently through the night but Cassian was still at risk of it tearing open once more or bleeding internally. Gingerly, Cassian perched on the edge of the small camp bed, breathing slowly to counteract the pain in his stomach.
Nesta worried her lower lip. âIâm sure there is a fire going outside. I will make a tea for you. Perhaps there is a healer nearby who can check in with you.â
âDonât worry, I need to put my armour on and get moving.â
She stilled by the entrance to the tent, pale face horror-struck. âYou cannot possibly think of fighting today. It will kill you.â
âNes, I am the Lord of Iron Crest. It is my duty to fight and die for Illyria.â
The silence drew out between them, growing so thin that he wanted to reach out for her.
Nesta gazed at him. âAnd what about me?â
âWhat?â
âWhat about the life I deserve with you? You are all that I have in this world, Cassian. Wonât you live for me?â
She departed and he tried to change into his leathers. It was difficult with nothing to cling to in the tent. His vision swam from every movement. He would be fine. He had to be. His camp needed him. Cassian was their leader for a reason.
âSomebody had just boiled water. We have half a cup each,â announced Nesta, when she returned. âItâs not very hot so drink it quickly.â
It was the perfect temperature in his hand so Cassian tipped it back, grateful for the warmth. He sat back on the bed, the frame juddering from the weight. His head was pounding. His hands were heavy. He was seeing double.
âIâm sorry, Cassian,â she whispered. âIt is not your destiny to die today.â
Nesta knelt in front of him then guided him to lay down on the bed. âYou will be a legend in Illyria though not for your death, but for the deeds you do in your camp while you live a long, long life with me. You will change Iron Crest. You will create an Illyria that is beautiful and good. But for that, you need to live.â
***
Cassian groggily woke. His throat was parched. A leg was bent beneath his body painfully. He blinked up at the tent. Snow had landed on top of it, muffling the world. The distant cries and crashes could have been a dream, so faraway they sounded.
The battle.
Cassian gave a cry of pain as he lurched to his feet. His wife had drugged him. He hadnât thought her capable of such a thing, but sheâd stared at him ensuring that he drank every drop and heâd been so racked with pain that he hadnât noticed the bitter aftertaste until it was too late.
The camp had emptied out. Only the elderly who still came to battles to assist with their experience and the young boys who were to carry weapons and fill buckets were present.
He stumbled through the camp uneasily. Every step was lumbering and he struggled to pick up his feet, but that seemed a better alternative to flying.
He had to get there. Had to find his mate.
He would live. They both would live and carve a future together, mates and married.
âLord of Bloodshed,â one elder male said in greeting as Cassian forced his legs up a hill; twice, he slipped on the snow. âWhat a wife you have selected. You havenât missed it all.â
His body turned boneless.
Nesta was there in the thick of it. She held a manâs severed head in her hands. Blood drenched her face and turned her hair into molten copper. That was. Fuck. That was the kingâs head in her hands.
âA fae army came - Miryam and Drakon - and a mortal one. The high ladyâs father,â continued the man, oblivious to the torment Cassian was enduring. âBut the king reached him first.â
Beside Nestaâs feet was another man. Smaller than fae.
With all the energy he could muster, Cassian forced his wings into action. Each pulse pulled his muscles, so he gritted his teeth and forced himself to fly further.
When he landed in front of his mate, she discarded the kingâs head. Heâd never seen such an empty expression on her face before, but as their eyes met, Nesta fractured into a thousand tiny pieces. He rushed to her, embracing her tightly as she fell apart. The wound on his stomach was insignificant compared to this.
âI love you,â he said, kissing her head over and over. âI love you so much.â
There would be a time for him to admonish her for ploughing head-on into danger, but not now. Her power was no easy weight to carry. In this moment, she needed support.
Cassian continued holding his mate as she wept in his arms. He would have given anything to take away her pain.
âWe need to say our goodbyes, Nesta,â urged the high lady who had come to stand at their side. The other sister, Elain, hovered nearby, wringing her hands together. There was a faint splattering of blood upon them. The one-eyed Autumn exile also waited to offer support to the Archeron he was mated to.
Nesta had never really spoken of her father to him. She had only ever offered up discarded and unwanted information which Cassian collected and examined later.
She did not turn her head to look as Feyre Archeron used the power given by the Autumn Court to burn their fatherâs body. Cassian kept his hand stroking against Nesta's blood-soaked hair as she pressed her face into his chest.
Cassian managed to get her back to the camp which was disassembling rapidly in eagerness to go home. There would be celebrations across Prythian though many would mourn too. It was Cassianâs duty to be in Iron Crest and see to his wounded and dead, yet he could not tear himself away from his mate to perform any sort of duty. This was his greatest duty, surely?
âI want to go home,â she whispered, face bent towards the crook of his neck.
He couldnât hide his grunt of a pain as he stood from the log that heâd perched on with Nesta still in his arms.
Rhysand appeared before him, a brow cocked in surprise. âYou two arenât going to Illyria.â
âI have duties.â
âYouâll drop down dead if you even attempt to fly. Velaris. Both of you. One night. Nesta needs her sisters.â
Any sort of order from Rhysand made Cassian want to dig his heels in and be stubborn. This one, he knew was the best course of action. His heart longed for Iron Crest, but he needed to take care of Nesta properly and Iron Crest couldnât provide that. If he landed there, his people would need him and she would be alone in the tent.
âMy second â Balthazar â I need to speak to him before we leave,â he replied.
Rhysand dipped his head in understanding, and Cassian swore he released a sigh of relief. âAzriel will find him. Feyre has already returned to Velaris with Elain. Iâll have Mor winnow you both. And Nesta, I am sorry for your loss.â
Not a single murmur of acknowledgement came from Nesta. Her crying had ceased but the prolonged silence troubled him greatly.
Velaris was⊠shiny and false. Cassian could see the city from below when they winnowed into Velaris. Everything was polished and clean and proper and prim â and everything that Illyria was not. It certainly was a change for Nesta to be with him in Iron Crest. All of the comforts that existed here were absent from his home.
Elain met them on the stairs. âIâve readied Nestaâs old room. Iâm sorry but we donât have any clothes that will fit you.â
He wanted Nesta to make a comment that he could be naked as a punishment, but she remained mute in his arms.
âIâll find something,â Mor murmured, keeping her eyes on Nesta. âMaybe Azriel has an old tent you can use as a dress.â
âVery kind. Thanks,â he gritted out.
The bedroom was furnished with soft blues and whites. A four-poster bed had gauze curtains hanging loosely from the corners. Warm light seeped in from the large windows. The chest of drawers were mostly empty, save for a few gowns, so he settled Nesta in the shell-shaped chair like she was a pearl and rifled through to find her something to rest in. Then, he ran a bath for Nesta. A healer was brought to the room with Morrigan â who had acquired something for him to wear that smelt of disuse. She checked Nesta over then stood in front of him expectantly.
âYou must rest too, Lord of Bloodshed. This wound will not heal if you do not give it time to heal.â
âSheâs my priority,â he grunted.
The healer made a noise of disapproval then retrieved various vials from her bag. âThis is for your pain â orally administered. Donât soldier through it. Take it when needed. This one is a disinfectant. Three times a day. And this one is for her if needed â to bring on a deep sleep.â
Cassian knew how easy it was to wish for a big sleep to hide from the world. There had been times when he was a boy where he wished to fall asleep and never wake up again, not in the world that chewed up and spat out boys like him. Right now, Nesta needed to work through her feelings rather than burying her head in the sand â and heâd be there to help her through it all.
She was a pliant participant who didnât protest when he stripped her from her blood-soaked clothes. He hoped he might have seen a smile on her face as he grappled with pulling her leathers off her legs, so tightly that they clung to her skin, but she remained blank.
Cassian washed his mate reverently, never letting his eyes dip lower than her face. Now was not the time to admire her body despite wanting to desperately. His mate needed him to hold her together.
âI love you,â he murmured. And he repeated those words as he tipped jug after jug of water through her hair to wash away the dead kingâs blood.
âItâs alright if I leave it down? I can ask your sister to come and braid your hair,â he said, towelling the lengths of her long, golden tresses after he'd dressed her in a nightgown.
Nesta simply shook her head then burrowed deeper into the bed. She wanted the world shut out, but Cassian had pulled the curtains back open. It felt wrong that the world could be sunny after losing her father, he supposed, but no matter the tragedy, life continued to move. While this day may have been the worst day of many familiesâ lives, in other parts of Prythian there might have been babies born or mating bonds forming. Life and death always walked hand in hand. The world did not stop for any. They had to continue moving.
The day passed by slowly. Cassian spoon-fed Nesta despite her attempts at turning her face from him. She would eat. Heâd ensure she ate and drank. He would do everything for her while she couldnât. For most of the day, until the sun went down, he lay beside her in the bed, just holding her. Such a moment was a gift.
When darkness settled, the house did not fall silent. A party was occurring within one of the lower levels though Nesta had made no indication that she wanted to be amongst them.
Nestaâs fingers carded through his hair as their noses touched. Cassianâs eyes grew heavier and heavier until it was too much effort to keep them open. Sleep wanted him. Cassian tried to fight it, tried to hold this moment of paradise, but his breathing grew heavy. The hand on Nestaâs waist slipped away limply.
âI love you too,â she whispered.
***
Despite Cassianâs worried looks and his big, pleading eyes, she shooed him off to Iron Crest in the morning with Azriel. She could only imagine the painful conversation they had together. That, at least, brought her a little amusement.
Nesta sat beside her mirror examining her face. There was no evidence there of a battle fought. Sheâd summoned the king, known full well he wanted her power to add to his arsenal, and annihilated him. The thought of Cassian dying had set a fire in her belly that only the kingâs death could extinguish.
Now that it was all done, there was nothing left inside. The total lack of anything scared Nesta. She no longer felt sad that her father was dead. She wasnât angry or moved by it. There was nothing in her heart. He had stopped being a father that she loved long ago. She had done her mourning for him as a child. And that was the wound she struggled with. She ought to have been weeping, ought to have played the bereft daughter as Elain would, but Nesta could not find it within herself to mourn.
She dressed in a simple gown then made her way to the kitchen. There was a mate who loved her, would move the stars for her, and she would ensure that he knew how loved he was in return. Nesta retrieved a bowl from the cupboard then searched in the larder for ingredients to make a meal for her mate.
Most of all, more than anything else, Nesta Archeron wanted to be back in Iron Crest with Cassian. That was where she belonged.




















