Cassian POV
Over the next few weeks, someone from the Inner Circle was always in my room despite my vocal protests. Secretly though, I have to admit I was feeling better. As I regained my will to live, I realized how weak I had become. After bullying Mor, Rhys, Amren and Azriel into letting me train, I slowly walked into the familiar training area. I spent the whole day there, slowly walking through once easy training drills. Then I spent the next day, and then the next. Slowly, my body was getting stronger and with it the hope that my wings would heal.
Nesta POV
When Rhys and Mor had initially approached me about training, I nearly hissed. They had taken that very anger and turned it into a reason for my training. If I honed that anger, I could get revenge on the very people who had turned me into…this. I had quickly embraced the idea. I wanted to be able to stop people from hurting me. I had been weak and defenseless in the past. It was not going to happen again. Now, growling as I tried to put on these fighting leathers, I realized that they had never said who was training me. I stalked through empty halls until I found my way to a training room with empty sparring rings, racks of weapons and punching bags. I froze as I noticed a figure beating up one of the punching dummies. With his back towards me, I couldn't help noticing the bandaged wings, the shirtless torso, and the swirling tattoos inked down his spine. I watched the power that had returned to him, so like the male I had met in the mortal lands, and yet so broken.
Cassian POV
I felt a pair of eyes on my back as I beat the crap out of a punching dummy. Her scent, cinnamon and mint, swept over me, bringing adrenaline rushing through me as it always had. The spicy smell had fit with the anger filled girl who woke me up. Woman, I corrected myself, not girl. Bringing my mind back to the training I was doing, I hit the dummy harder, showing off just a bit. I didn't know why I cared what she thought. I know I shouldn't. After a few minutes when she just watched me, thinking me unaware of her presence, I stopped. Wiping my brow with a towel, I turned toward her, watching as her eyes sneaked down my torso. I tried not to preen, but that proved to be difficult.
"Like what you see?" I shot with a smirk. She snaked a lazy glance around the training room.
"It's not the shabbiest I've seen, but as this is the place that the High Lord trains, I thought it would be fancier." I stepped closer to her, forcing her to look up to see my face. She held her ground.
"Is that really what you wanted to say?" I challenged.
"Isn't that what you were asking?" she shot back with an infuriating smile. No one else, not even Mor got under my skin as easily as she did.
After a pause, she asked "What are you doing here and where is Rhysand?" I stiffened.
"Why wouldn't I be here? And why does it matter where Rhys is?"
"Aren't I supposed to start my training today?"
"Yes. We're going to have lots of fun." I replied with a twinkle in my eye. As horror and understanding rose in her eyes, I leaned closer, casting my eyes up and down her thin figure. "I do like what I see" I whispered to her.
That quickly, rage replaced any other emotions carefully hidden in the depths of her eyes. I almost chuckled. Sometimes, Nesta was so predictable.