A/N: Thank you so much to everyone who has reviewed and followed over the past couple of weeks! xoxo High Ladies of the Wine Court
Chapter 4:
"I said keep your shoulders back," Cassian snapped as I demonstrated my fighting stance for him.
"I am," I said through clenched teeth, "It is not possible to keep them back any farther."
We'd been at this for what felt like hours. I was sweating beneath the cotton tunic and close fitting breeches I'd found lain out for me when I'd returned to my room after breakfast. How those wraiths knew what I had planned for the rest of the afternoon I did not know.
Cassian had lead me through a thoroughly embarrassing warm up round that had me huffing and red in the face: lunges, push ups, a series of jumping exercises that had me all too aware of my breasts. But Cassian had made no comment, hadn't leered at me as I expected him to do. He was everything a general should be, patient but brutal when necessary.
After that it was learning my stance. "I know perfectly well how to stand," I'd said, to which Cassian threw out an arm, pushing me hard in the shoulder and throwing me completely off balance. He smiled as if to say See? I rubbed my shoulder. "Fine, show me then."
He squatted down and moved my left leg, his fingers gracing my thigh, the tender area behind my knee. "Left foot goes here." He did the same with my right leg. He stood and placed one hand on either side of me, squaring my shoulders. When he finally looked at me his face was tight, a faint tinge of pink on his tanned cheeks. He didn't seem to be breathing.
I'd opened my mouth to say something scathing but he'd merely shoved me again. This time, I kept my footing.
"Good," he said, circling around me, checking me for any weaknesses. "Much of the strength it takes to stay grounded comes from your core," he put a hand to the middle of his torso. He was wearing similar garb to my own and through his lightweight shirt I could make just make out the sharp lines of the strong muscles on the plane of his chest. He reached out, hand angling toward my stomach, but I backpedaled from his touch.
"I know where my core is."
I had the feeling that if one of his subordinates had spoken to him like that he would have thrown them off the roof, but he'd merely said, "Fine. Now we work on breathing."
It was slow, maddeningly tedious. I wanted to punch and hit, I wanted to fight. I'd said as much as we worked our way through a seemingly unending breathing exercise.
"You have strength, Nesta, but no control," he said in a low, serious voice, "If you wish to win occasionally, you must have control. Unfiltered rage and strength of will may have been enough to win your battles for you in the human realm but it will only get you so far here."
He paused his speech to study my face, carefully searching for the desire to give up. "The people you are up against have had hundreds and hundreds of year of practice doing what I'm trying to teach you- you must learn control."
"Well I suppose if you can learn all of this it can't be too difficult."
For all his talk of control something in him snapped. His leg swung out and, even though my feet were still placed exactly where he'd put them, I fell backwards onto the stone deck.
"Get up," he said, his voice a low rumble, "You wanted to fight, so get up. Fight me."
I lunged at him.
He danced away easily. "Control," he teased.
I roared. My fingers were curved into claws and I swiped at his face, at his eyes.
"Keep your shoulders back when you attack." He sidestepped me and I whirled. This time I didn't even stop to think as I threw all my weight behind my right fist. He caught it easily, and was ready when I made a desperate attempt with my left.
"See," he said, pulling me close to his face, "I have total control now because you have none." His hands were like shackles around my wrists. He brought his face down to mine. "And next time, keep you damn shoulders back."
He released me and took a step back, readying himself. "Again."
My muscles were screaming as I lowered myself into a hot bath later that night. I hadn't even had to call for the servants to draw up the bath for me, it had been waiting for me in the bathing chamber as soon as I came down, the water still hot.
Cassian had not been how I expected him to be today while training. When Rhysand had said Cassian would be in charge of my training I thought he wouldn't take it, or me, seriously. But he did take me seriously. He had made me run certain drills over and over to get them right not because he was being a prick, but because he truly wanted to help me learn to do these things.
I had never been laid so bare before another, allowing them to not only assess my weaknesses and vulnerabilities, but to also correct them.
Elain had asked me all about my training when I entered our rooms, but I hadn't really told her much besides the fact that I was sore. I trusted her, of course, but I just didn't know how to explain it in a way she could relate to; she only offered to make me a salve with some plants she'd discovered to soothe the ache.
I scrubbed at myself with a bit of hard soap that smelled of honey and lavender. I dunked my head under the water, my hair fanning out around me. I moaned with pleasure at the weightlessness the water gave my body. I thought I might never get out, just stay in here and let the world happen around me.
The soap slipped out of my hand under the water, and I opened my eyes to locate it- but when I opened my eyes I was not in the bathing chamber any longer. I was in a courtyard, walled in by towering ivy-shrouded walls. The sun was blinding and the air was thick with the scent of blossoming flowers; bird calls floated on a mild breeze. I turned on my spot and saw a fountain and, seated on its rim-
"Feyre?" I said.
She was gliding a hand over the water, letting her fingers graze the surface. The water seemed to respond to her touch, and sparkled in her fingers' wake.
"Feyre?" I breathed, but still she did not turn. I was right in front of her now. Feyre's face was tranquil, a placid smile on her face, and yet there was something cunning rippling underneath her features. She was up to something.
There was the sound of a door opening, footsteps down a set of stairs. We both turned and saw a golden haired fae coming towards us. He was dressed for battle, the baldric strapped across his chest lined with blades.
Tamlin.
I bared my teeth at him in a snarl, but he took no notice of me. I reached out to grab Feyre, we had to get out of here. But when my hand connected with Feyre's shoulder it passed through her as if I were made of nothing but smoke.
The nightingale laments in her tower.
I took a step back, the voice ringing in my head. I'd heard that voice before; it was both familiar and strange, a part of me and yet so ancient and untouchable.
Tamlin took a seat beside Feyre on the fountain's edge, nuzzling his head in the space between Feyre's shoulder and neck. I could see how it strained her, but Tamlin took no notice of her rigid back, the clenched knuckles.
"We have to go to the Western border," Tamlin was saying. "The King has need of us."
Spring expands but trails death in its wake.
I saw a shadow on the horizon, a gathering of clouds, a promise of discord. I wanted to cry out, to warn Feyre-
But I suddenly found myself back in the bathing chamber, sitting in a hot, steamy bath. There was water all over the floor as if I'd been splashing; I was panting and clutching my chest. I must have been so tired I'd fallen asleep without even noticing.
But that was unlike any dream I'd ever had before. Everything had been so clear, so tangible. I'd been able to make out the veins on the flowers' petals, to feel the heat of the springtime sun on my flesh, I had been able to read the expression on my sister's face, that face which I knew so well. From the way she'd had that serene smile planted on her lips, to the way her blue-grey eyes were more hooded than I'd ever seen them, to the way her body had gone rigid for the most imperceptible moment when Tamlin came down those stairs. I'd never seen Feyre like that and it made no sense for my mind to conjure up such images in sleep.
What had I been seeing then?
"Nesta, Nesta are you alright? It's only, I heard quite a bit of splashing."
"Yes," I said quickly, "I just slipped, that's all."
The door opened a crack and Elain's pale face poked around the door frame, her eyes glowing and her cheeks pink. She had been in the gardens with Mor all day. "Well can you hurry up then, I'm covered in dirt and need to bathe before supper."
"I'm getting out now," I said. The door clicked shut and I stood from the bath, water dripping off me. I reached for a towel and wrapped myself in the warm cotton. I was overcome with a feeling of unsteadiness and I had to brace myself against the sink. I met my own eyes in the mirror, and I could have sworn I saw wisps of smoke swirling in them like the last tendrils of an extinguished candle. I stepped sharply back from the mirror and shook my head.
"Get it together," I told myself.
I was so tired. So utterly worn out from today's training session I didn't know if I would have the energy to lift a fork to my mouth. But I feared Cassian would see it as a sign of weakness if I didn't show up, so I let Elain have the bath and pulled on the softest clothes I could find to wear to supper.
I hadn't told anyone about my dream. Bringing up Feyre had a sobering effect on all of us, like being doused with a bucket of cold water.
The one person I may have told, Elain, was so busy herself that I barely saw her. She spent most of her day in the gardens or in the kitchen mixing poultices and drying herbs. Even though at the end of the night her fingers were as stained and cracked as a laundress', her cheeks were flush with pride, her eyes bright with excitement for the next day's work.
I, too, had settled into some semblance of a routine. It was the strangest, most exhausting routine I'd ever had, but it gave me the comfort of normalcy. After breakfast Cassian and I would train for an hour in hand to hand combat. Then he'd send me down to the library to read, saying it was just as important to have a sharp mind as a sharp blade. Lunch came next, sometimes it was a sit-down affair with Rhysand and Mor joining us, other times it was a rushed sandwich eaten as Cassian herded me up the stairs for an afternoon of weapons practice.
Today we were working on the bow in cold, drizzly spring weather. The fog sat heavy over the river and the city was covered in a sparkling mist, making the shop windows look warm and inviting.
"I said," Cassian snarled, "Relax your bow ar-." I let the arrow fly before he finished the sentence and he huffed a laugh as I missed my mark by quite a bit.
I hadn't hit a single thing this morning.
Cassian opened his mouth to point out something else I was doing wrong, but before he could speak Rhysand skidded onto the roof a few feet from us.
His voice was strong, commanding, but still wobbled when he said, "I have news from Feyre." He didn't even come to a complete stop before his wings were tucked carefully behind him and he was through the door into the house.
Cassian and I exchanged a look full of questions before we dropped our bows and followed Rhysand into the house. Cassian let me descend the stairs before him, stopping to make sure the door was locked tight against the outside. He seemed to be unable to keep his wings still, as if looking for any sign of failed strength, and reason they couldn't be used.
We rushed into the sitting room where the heat of the fire sank over me like a bath.
Mor was already there, flanked by two figures. I recognized Azriel with his towering build and Illyrian wings, the way the shadows in the room seemed to flock to him like obedient pets. The other I did not know.
She was shorter than Mor, petite, and plain in both her face and dress; her hair was inky and chin length, her eyes a steely grey. And yet the others seemed to lean away from her, and as I entered the room I felt it: her power radiated off her like a blockade, and I knew that any who dared crash against it would be sent into oblivion.
"You're not fae," I said.
"You're observant," she said, eyeing me, her tone sincere. Her words had a sharpness to them, and honesty, but she wasn't making fun of me. The mortals believed that the fae couldn't tell a lie (which, even if Feyre hadn't told us wasn't true I would have garnered on my own after Cassian had claimed that he had once bedded an entire brothel and the whores had offered to pay him), but I had the sense that this female truly couldn't tell a lie, if only because she had no use for anything but honesty.
"What are you then?"
"Something...else."
"Amren, Nesta. Nesta, Amren. There, now that everyone is introduced, can we finish this later?" Rhysand said. His hands were in his pockets but his voice was strained.
As one, Amren and I glowered at Rhysand. I could have sworn he almost staggered a bit.
"The King of Hybern has called them to the western border."
"But we knew that would happen," Mor said.
"He's also convened the other high lords," Rhysand said. He picked at the lapel of his jacket. "My invitation seems to have been lost."
"He's trying to win the other courts over to his side," Cassian said.
"And with the Savior of Prythian behind him," Azriel continued-
"Autumn will serve him," Mor said bitterly, cutting him off.
"And Winter could follow. Autumn borders it to the south, and Hybern to the West."
"If Winter joins him then Summer may submit as well. Their court feels it suffered a great slight at our hands," Azriel said.
It was as if they shared one consciousness. Their thoughts flowing so easily between them. I was reminded that the five of them had been doing this, working together, for a very long time.
"And Feyre will be our confederate," I said.
They all turned me.
"Yes," Rhysand said. "She will attempt to bolster support for us in secret, to draw allies to our cause-the mortal cause." Rhysand paused. "There's more. Tamlin's armies are on the move. They're positioned at the northern and southern borders.
Spring expands but trails death in its wake.
The words echoed through my mind, blaring like a death knell, I had heard them before when I had dreamed of Feyre.
Elain bustled into the room balancing a tray on her hip. "Nesta," she chirped, "I made tea and had the cook fix us some muffins-" she stopped abruptly, as she took all of us in. "Oh, I didn't realize there would be company," she said slowly. When her eyes met Amren's the teacups started to rattle in their saucers.
Mor hurried over and took the tray from her, "We were just discussing news from Feyre," she said gently to Elain.
Elain took a long steadying breath. I could see the panic at getting involved and the loyalty to our family warring in her. She looked around the room as if she would find some guidance from the assembled fae. It was Azriel's face she lingered on the longest. Whatever she found in those dark, intense had her squaring her shoulders. "Tell me."
As Rhysand filled her in I stole a glance at Cassian- his face was tight and focused solely on his High Lord. Elain put her hand over her mouth. I fought the urge to tell Rhysand that he had told her enough, but it was then that Elain said, "What can we do to help?"
"Feyre continues to send me messages through the bond; we will have enough intelligence to prepare for an attack either on the Night Court or on the mortal realm."
"How do we get her back?"
"I"m working on that," Rhysand said grimly.
Elain nodded. "We'll fight this together. We will bring her home, I'll help however I can." She met my eyes and I was amazed at the determination I saw there. What a change this place had wrought on her already. Her sweet disposition was still there, but in these weeks she had been building a trench around the garden of her heart.
Mor laid an arm on Elain's shoulder and squeezed gently. There were tears brimming in her brown eyes. In both their eyes.
Cassian nudged Rhysand as well. "Buck up man, the moon got the nightingale back, you will too."
"What did you say?" I stood.
"Just a bit of old fae lore," Cassian said.
The nightingale laments in her tower.
"Tell me." My hands were shaking.
Nightingale, nightingale, nightingale.
"In the days of creation the nightingale once sang during the day and at night, but as time went on she began to sing only at night," Cassian said. "The sun became jealous and tried to capture the nightingale, to force her to sing only for him. He locked her in a cage in the highest eastern tower so she could never see her love. But the nightingale was cunning, she sang a song only the moon could hear and together they tricked the sun into setting her free. The nightingale went back to the moon and she sang for him ever on."
"Why," Amren said, her eyes narrowed slightly.
"There's something I need to tell you," I said.
