As if his silent plea had gone out into the world, a smooth male voice purred into his mind. Why are you up so late?

Cassian scanned the sky beyond the wall of windows, as if he’d see Rhys flying there. I have the same question for you.

Rhys chuckled. I told you: I had some apologizing to do with my mate. A long, wicked pause. We’re taking a break.

Cassian laughed. Let the poor female sleep.

She was the one who initiated this round. Pure male satisfaction edged every word. You still didn’t answer my question.

Why are you snooping on me at this hour?

I wanted to make sure all was well. It’s not my fault you were already up.

Cassian let out a soft groan. It’s fine. Nesta went to sleep right after we got here and stayed in bed. I’m assuming she’s still asleep.

You got there before eleven.

I know.

It’s three fifteen in the morning.

I know.

The silence was pointed enough that Cassian added, Don’t butt in.

I wouldn’t dream of it.

Cassian didn’t particularly want to have this conversation, not at three in the morning and certainly not twice in one day. I’ll check in tomorrow night with an update on the first lesson.

Rhys’s pause was again too pointed to ignore. But his brother said, Mor will bring you up to Windhaven. Good night, Cass.

The dark presence in his mind faded, leaving him hollow and chilled.

Tomorrow would be a battlefield unlike any other he’d walked onto.

Cassian wondered how much of him would be left intact by the end of it.

CHAPTER

5

“If you don’t eat that, you’re going to regret it in about thirty minutes.”

Seated at the long table in the House of Wind’s dining room, Nesta looked up from the plate of scrambled eggs and steaming bowl of porridge. Sleep still weighed her bones, sharpening her temper as she said, “I’m not eating this.”

Cassian dug into his own portion—nearly double what lay before her. “It’s either that or nothing.”

Nesta kept perfectly still in her chair, keenly aware of every movement in the fighting leathers she’d donned. She’d forgotten how it felt to wear pants—the nakedness of having her thighs and ass on display.

Mercifully, Cassian had been too busy reading some report to see her slink in and slide into her seat. She glanced toward the doorway, hoping a servant might appear. “I’ll eat toast.”

“You’ll burn through that in ten minutes and be tired.” Cassian nodded toward the porridge. “Put some milk in it if you need to make it more palatable.” He added before she could demand it, “There’s no sugar.”

She clenched the spoon. “As punishment?”

“Again, it’ll give you energy for a short blast, and then make you crash.” He shoveled eggs into his mouth. “You need to keep your energy level constant throughout the day—foods full of sugar or flimsy bread give you a temporary high. Lean meats, whole grains, and fruits and vegetables keep you relatively steady and full.”

She drummed her nails on the smooth table. She’d sat here several times before with the members of Rhysand’s court. Today, with only the two of them, it felt obscenely large. “Are there any other areas of my daily life that you’re going to be presiding over?”

He shrugged, not pausing his eating. “Don’t give me a reason to add any more to the list.”

Arrogant asshole.

Cassian nodded toward the food again. “Eat.”

She shoved the spoon into the bowl but didn’t lift it.

“Have it your way, then.” He finished his porridge and returned to the eggs.

“How long will today’s session be?” The dawn had revealed clear skies, though she knew the Illyrian Mountains had their own weather. Might already be crusted in the first snows.

“As I said yesterday: the lesson is two hours. Right until lunch.” He set his bowl on his plate, piling the silverware within. They vanished a heartbeat later, taken by the magic of the House. “Which will be the next time we eat.” He glanced pointedly at her food.

Nesta leaned back in her chair. “One: I’m not participating in this lesson. Two: I’m not hungry.”

His hazel eyes guttered. “Not eating won’t bring your father back.”

“That has nothing to do with this,” she hissed. “Nothing.”

He braced his forearms on the table. “We’re going to cut the bullshit. You think I haven’t gone through what you’re dealing with? You think I haven’t seen and done and felt all that before? And seen those I love deal with it, too? You aren’t the first, and you won’t be the last. What happened to your father was terrible, Nesta, but—”

She shot to her feet. “You don’t know anything.” She couldn’t stop the shaking that overtook her. From rage or something else, she didn’t know. She balled her hands into fists. “Keep your fucking opinions to yourself.”

He blinked at the profanity, at what she guessed was the white-hot rage crinkling her face. And then he said, “Who taught you to curse?”

She squeezed her fists harder. “You lot. You have the filthiest mouths I’ve ever heard.”

Cassian’s eyes narrowed with amusement, but his mouth remained a thin line. “I’ll keep my fucking opinions to myself if you eat.”

She threw every bit of venom she could muster into her gaze.

He only waited. Unmovable as the mountain into which the House had been built.

Nesta sat down, grabbed the bowl of porridge, shoved a lumpy spoonful into her mouth, and nearly gagged at the taste. But she forced it down. Then another spoonful. Another. Until the bowl was clean and she started on the eggs.

Cassian monitored each bite.

And when there was nothing left, she scooped up her plate and bowl and held his stare as she dumped her dishes atop each other, the sound of the rattling silverware filling the room.

She again rose, stalking toward him. The doorway beyond him. He stood as well.

Nesta could have sworn he wasn’t breathing as she passed, close enough that a shift of her elbow would have had it brushing his stomach. She said sweetly, “I look forward to your silence.”

Unable to help the smirk blooming on her mouth, she aimed for the door. But a hand on her arm stopped her.

Cassian’s eyes blazed, the red Siphon tethered on the back of the hand that gripped her fluttering with color. A wicked, taunting smile curved his lips.

“Glad to see you woke up ready to play, Nesta.” His voice dropped to a low rumble.

She couldn’t help the thundering of her heart at that voice, the challenge in his eyes, the nearness and size of him. Had never been able to help it. Had once let him nuzzle and lick at her throat because of it.

Had let him kiss her during the final battle because of it. Barely a kiss—about all he could manage in his injured state—and yet it had shattered her entirely.

I have no regrets in my life, but this. That we did not have time. That I did not have time with you, Nesta. I will find you again in the next world—the next life. And we will have that time. I promise.

She relived those moments more often than she cared to admit. The press of his fingers as he’d cupped her face, the way his mouth had felt and tasted, tinged with blood but still tender.