CHAPTER
19
It was a good thing I’d insisted on meeting Cassian at eight, because even though I awoke at dawn, one look at Rhysand’s sleeping face had me deciding to spend the morning slowly, sweetly waking him up.
I was still flushed by the time Rhys dropped me at the sparring ring atop the House of Wind, the space surrounded by a wall of red rock, the top open to the elements. He promised to meet me after lunch to show me the library for my researching, then gave me a roguish wink and kiss on the cheek before he shot back into the sky with a powerful flap of his wings.
Leaning against the wall beside the weapons rack, Cassian only said, “I hope you didn’t exert yourself too much already, because this is really going to hurt.”
I rolled my eyes, even as I tried to shut out the image of Rhysand laying me on my stomach, then kissing his way down my spine. Lower. Tried to shut out the feeling of his strong hands gripping my hips and lifting them up, up, until he lay beneath them and feasted on me, until I was quietly begging him and he rose behind me and I had to bite my pillow to keep from waking the whole house with my moaning.
Rhysand in the morning was … I didn’t have words for what it was when he was unhurried and lazy and wicked, when his hair was still mussed with sleep and his eyes got that glazed, purely male gleam in them. They’d still had that lazy, satisfied glint a moment ago, and his mockingly chaste kiss on my cheek had sent a red-hot line through me.
Later. I’d torture him later.
For now … I strode to where Cassian stood, rotating my shoulders. “Two Illyrian males making me sweat in one morning. What’s a female to do?”
Cassian barked a laugh. “At least you showed up with some spirit.”
I grinned, bracing my hands on my hips as I surveyed the weapons rack. “Which one?”
“None.” He jerked his chin toward the ring etched in white chalk behind us. “It’s been a while since we trained. We’re spending today going over the basics.”
The words were laced with enough tightness that I said, “It hasn’t been that long.”
“It’s been a month and a half.”
I studied him, the wings tucked in tight, the shoulder-length dark hair. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing.” He stalked past me to the ring.
“Is it Nesta?”
“Not everything in my life is about your sister, you know.”
I kept my mouth shut on that front. “Is it something with the Court of Nightmares visit tomorrow?”
Cassian shucked off his shirt, revealing rippling muscles covered in beautiful, intricate tattoos. Illyrian markings for luck and glory. “It’s nothing. Get into position.”
I obeyed, even as I eyed him carefully. “You’re … angry.”
He refused to speak until I started my circuit of warm-ups: various lunges, kicks, and stretches designed to loosen my muscles. And only when we’d begun sparring, his hands wrapped against my onslaught of punching, did he say, “You and Rhys hid the truth from us. And we went into Hybern blind about it.”
“About what?”
“That you’re High Lady.”
I jabbed at his raised hands in a one-two combination, breathing hard. “What difference would it have made?”
“It would have changed everything. None of it would have gone down like that.”
“Perhaps that’s why Rhys decided to keep it a secret.”
“Hybern was a disaster.”
I halted my punching. “You knew I was his mate when we went. I don’t see how being High Lady alters anything.”
“It does.”
I put my hands on my hips, ignoring his motion to continue. “Why?”
Cassian dragged a hand through his hair. “Because … because as his mate, you were still … his to protect. Oh, don’t get that look. He’s yours to protect, too. I would have laid my life down for you as his mate—and as your friend. But you were still … his.”
“And as High Lady?”
Cassian loosed a rough breath. “As High Lady, you are mine. And Azriel’s, and Mor’s and Amren’s. You belong to all of us, and we belong to you. We would not have … put you in so much danger.”
“Maybe that’s why Rhys wanted to keep it a secret. It would have changed your focus.”
“This is between you and me. And trust me, Rhys and I had … words about this.”
I lifted a brow. “You’re mad at me?”
He shook his head, eyes shuttering.
“Cassian.”
He just held up his hands in a silent order to continue.
I sighed and began again. It was only after I’d gotten through fifteen repetitions and was panting heavily that Cassian said, “You didn’t think you were essential. You saved our asses, yes, but … you didn’t think you were essential here.”
One-two, one-two, one-two. “I’m not.” He opened his mouth, but I charged ahead, speaking around my gasps for breath. “You all have a … duty—you’re all vital. Yes, I have my own abilities, but … You and Azriel were hurt, my sisters were … you know what happened to them. I did what I could to get us out. I’d rather it was me than any of you. I couldn’t have lived with the alternative.”
His upraised hands were unfaltering as I pummeled them. “Anything could have happened to you at the Spring Court.”
I stopped again. “If Rhys isn’t grilling me with the overprotective bullshit, then I don’t see why you—”
“Don’t for one moment think that Rhys wasn’t beside himself with worry. Oh, he seems collected enough, Feyre, but I know him. And every moment you were gone, he was in a panic. Yes, he knew—we knew—you could handle yourself. But it doesn’t stop us from worrying.”
I shook out my sore hands, then rubbed my already-aching arms. “You were mad at him, too.”
“If I hadn’t been healing, I would have kicked his ass from one end of Velaris to the other.”
I didn’t reply.
“We were all terrified for you.”
“I managed just fine.”
“Of course you did. We knew you would. But …” Cassian crossed his arms. “Rhys pulled the same shit fifty years ago. When he went to that damned party Amarantha threw.”
Oh. Oh.