Chapter 7:

Cassian set me down gently on the roof. I staggered back a step as I acclimated to the feeling of walking again. I waited for him to snigger and already had a cutting remark on my lips, but he just reached out and softly braced my elbow.

A voice drawled from the darkness, "Have a nice excursion?" A ball of faelight came to life, illuminating the roof courtyard. Rhysand was sprawled on one of iron chaises, a crystal goblet in hand. There was an iron table next to him with two more goblets and a crystal decanter. He gestured to it. "My mother always said that the best way to apologize was over a shared glass of wine."

"Apologize?" I said.

He sighed through his nose, "An apology, it's when someone has done something wrong and attempts to make peace."

"I know what an apology is you prick."

He rose to his feet in one fluid movement and poured wine into the two goblets on the table.

He looked at Cassian first. "Brother," he said, "forgive me."

Cassian strode forward and clasped his forearm. I saw his fingers digging into the fabric of Rhysand's fitted overcoat as he said something to Rhysand so low I couldn't make it out. They pressed their foreheads together for a long moment. As they broke apart Rhysand turned his gaze to me and extended the last glass.

"I am sorry, Nesta," he began, looking me in my eyes, "We want the same things. It's time I started acting like it."

I considered him; his face was solemn and serious, but not cold. We did want the same things: to build a safe place to live with our families, to keep the Wall in tact, and above all-revenge.

I felt that wall kept myself enshrined in become a little thinner as held his gaze. I had always kept myself so blocked off from others, never letting anyone in. But this battle was bigger than me, and I knew that I could not face it alone.

To both my surprise and Rhysand's I extended a hand and accepted his goblet. "Together then," I said as I raised my glass to the stars.

We clinked glasses and drank to our toast in silence; the only sound was the whistle through the snowy trees.

After what could have been minutes or hours Rhysand said suddenly, "Oh and Nesta, please start calling me Rhys."

Amren didn't even lift her eyes from where she sat, sprawled on the hardwood floor with manuscripts and parchment all around her.

Rhysand had suggested, and I agreed, that it would be more prudent for the strange non-fae to take over with my lessons.

I'd navigated on my own down the streets of Velaris with the hood of my cape pulled low over my face until I'd reached her flat on the top story of a modest looking building. When I knocked on the door Amren hadn't deigned to greet me at the door but had merely grunted an exasperated "Enter."

She pored over the script in her delicate hands, her eyes moving so fast they were nothing more than gray blurs.

"Good afternoon," I said, still trying to take in the disarray of parchment and scattered books. The rest of the flat was in a similar state of chaos: clothes were spilling from an ornate wardrobe, strewn across the gigantic four poster bed or in heaps on the floor; jewelry gleamed in piles on the nightstand, the kitchen table, and beside her, acting as a paperweight, was one of the biggest rubies I had ever seen. My eyes returned to her and I tried to read the titles on the dusty spines of the old books, but they were in languages I didn't understand.

"Sit," Amren said, gesturing vaguely with her slender arm without looking up from what she was reading.

I looked around for a chair. There wasn't one in sight. "Where?"

Amren looked up.

"You haven't any chairs," I said, surprised at the humble tone in my voice.

"What?" Amren said, she looked around and then chuckled darkly. "I got rid of them all last month, I forgot. When people see chairs they seem to think you indulge company. Sit on the floor, girl, it won't hurt you."

I took of my cloak and laid it carefully on a table heaped with books. If Rhysand or Cassian had hurled that order at me I would have remained standing out of spite, or perhaps dragged a chair in from another room. But even though they were both Illyrian trained males there was something more threatening lurking under Amren's skin, something that made me hold my tongue. So I swept my skirts around me and lowered myself cross-legged on the hard, dusty floor.

"What did you ask of the Cauldron?" Amren didn't even look up as she tossed one scroll aside and picked up another.

"I've already told you all about that." I didn't want to continue reliving the memory of the Cauldron for them; it inevitably forced me to revisit the preceding events in the throne room, all of the pain and the loss. Misery and suffering were weaknesses, and I had trained myself not to feel them long ago.

"You've told us what it felt like, yes. But what did you ask of the Cauldron, it doesn't just give out gifts such as the one you received."

"I didn't ask for anything," I said sharply, "You're making it sound like I brought all of this upon myself. I never wanted to be a fae, why would I ask to be even more of a-a freak."

"Like it or not," Amren said, raising an eyebrow as she finally met my gaze, "You are Fae. What did you ask of the Cauldron?"

I could feel the heat rising in my face. She was staring at me with amusement dancing in her eyes, as if she was waiting for me to lunge at her. I hadn't asked the Cauldron for a damn thing; as they'd lowered me down into its depths I'd only thought of Elain and my deep desire for revenge against the King of Hybern for all that he'd done.

"Well," Amren said impatiently.

"I didn't ask for anything," I snapped, "My only thoughts were of Elain and killing the one who gave the order to force me into the Cauldron."

"So you asked for capability to exact revenge," Amren said, sorting through the scrolls in front of her once more.

"I told you," I hissed through my teeth, "I didn't ask-"

Amren cut me off, "Well whether you asked or not, the Cauldron listened. Now we have a starting point- you wanted revenge and the Cauldron has blessed you with the skills it thinks necessary to get it."

I stared at her with my mouth slightly open, "You talk as if the Cauldron has plans of its own, like Hybern isn't in control of it."

"What makes you think it doesn't? The Cauldron's power is unfathomable. Anyone who thinks they can control it is a fool. Even the Book of Breathings and Feyre weren't enough to nullify its powers."

"How will my powers help if even Feyre couldn't stop it?" I asked.

"The legend says that only one who was Made could read the Book of Breathings to strip it of its power. Feyre was Made by the Seven High Lords. Perhaps only one Made from the Cauldron, one with a piece of the Cauldron inside themselves, can gain mastery over it. Of course, the opposite could also be true and the Cauldron could take possession of you." Amren picked up a gigantic tome and began to turn its fragile pages so carefully I thought they were apt to crumble in her hands.

The thought of the Cauldron being able to have access to me made me shudder. If it could make me see whatever it pleased it was possible it could make me do and think as it wished as well. I would not be its pawn. "What are all these books for anyway?"

"Trying to figure out exactly what you've become," she said, not looking up from her delicate task of flipping through old pages. "This one is the account from an alleged Soothsayer, but I think she was nothing more than a charlatan."

"How can you tell the difference between a true Soothsayer and a false one?" Rhys' court had believed me so quickly when I'd told them, yet Amren could tell from ancient words when someone wasn't a true Soothsayer.

She paused flipping through the tome and looked at me, "In this case, the female was simply adept at reading people; she had incredible powers of empathy and deduction. There are fae who can see glimpses of a person's past, or commune with spirits. There's even a breed of fae that live high up in the mountains in caves, drugging themselves with noxious gasses to induce visions. Soothsayers are different. A true Soothsayer can learn to control their sight, and their visions aren't limited to the past or future."

"But what causes these visions?" I thought of Cassian, and how when he had caught me from my free fall his memories blurred my vision and consumed my thoughts. "Cassian and I were touching when I saw his past, but the other time I was completely alone."

"Yes," Amren said, "You saw his past when you touched him, not his future. Regardless of what anyone tells you, the future is never set in stone. A true Soothsayer wouldn't have made such proclamations. Soothsayers have gotten nasty reputations because they see not only people, but what makes these people who they are- and that is powerful knowledge. They were nearly wiped out because of that. No fae wants all of their desires and hopes and weaknesses laid bare before another person."

I thought of what I saw while I was in Cassian's arms; a bastard Illyrian left to fend for himself. He had nothing and he fought for everything, that survivor's will would always be a part of his identity. I considered Amren's words my knowledge of Cassian was so very intimate- and I realized that the power of a Soothsayer didn't come from predicting the future, but rather manipulating it themselves.

"So how do I control it?"

"That is what we have to figure out," Amren said, the slash of her mouth twisting into a smile. And I knew that if her methods were making her smile like that then I was in big trouble.

I jolted as Amren set a heavy book in front of me and pointed to a spot in the middle of the page. The writing was in a language I didn't recognize. There was a crude illustration of the silhouette of two people sitting cross-legged, holding hands.

I looked up at her, "What does it say?"

"It's the journal of one of the better known Soothsayers, taken from the personal library of Helion, the High Lord of the Day Court and the keeper of Prythian's knowledge."

Taken, or stolen I wondered.

Amren continued, "In this entry he writes of the clearing of the minds. The truth seeker sets an intention and empties their minds of all thought save for the answers they seek. The Soothsayer would then enter a state of deep concentration and somehow tap into that individual's consciousness and desires. Physical contact does not seem to be required, but helpful."

"So when Cassian caught me, I saw things because we were touching?"

Amren considered me for a moment, "Actually," she said, "I think you saw Cassian's thoughts because believe it or not your mind was quite open in that moment and his mind was set on one thought, one intention."

I twisted my hands in my lap. My mouth had gone dry. This power was becoming larger every second. Every answer seemed to lead to more questions, like attempting to unravel a knot but creating an even more tangled web every time I managed to pull out a thread.

"For someone with such a shrewd, calculating mind- I think you leave it wide open more than you think," Amren said bluntly, returning to the literature in front of her. "Learning how to block the visions is just as important as learning how to tap into them at will. This journal," Amren chucked a thin, half crumbled book at me, "is unfinished. The Soothsayer went mad from all the knowledge."

I opened the crackling pages warily, letting it fall open to the page where the writing stopped suddenly in mid sentence. The last words on the page I couldn't read, they were in a language I didn't understand; but I could tell they were written in a haphazard rush. I shuddered.

"What does this say?" I asked, pointing to the hastily scrawled words.

Amren's face tightened, "It just says 'I know'."

"I know what?" I asked, immediately regretting the words slip.

Amren shrugged. "I suppose that's for you to find out."

I trudged through the streets of Velaris. The sun was setting over the Sidra, but I didn't pause to take in the view, the way the fading sunlight reflected on the water. After a few more maddening hours reading with Amren she had sent me away, instructing me to practice mentally shielding myself, not from an outside attack but to prevent my mind from infiltrating other's. As I began the walk up the hill to the townhouse I imagined my mind in an iron cage to which only I held the key.

The door to the townhouse was unlocked and I kicked my boots off in the antechamber. "Elain," I called. She'd been tending to her garden in the back yard when I'd left her this morning. The herbs and flowers she'd planted days after our arrival had already flourished under her care.

There was no answer and I felt the familiar pang of fear for Elain that had not diminished in the slightest even in the safety of Velaris and the High Lord's townhouse.

I heard Elain's delicate laugh float in on the breeze from the open door to the back garden. I followed the sound and found her sitting primly in the grass with Azriel posted stoically near her in a stiff iron chair.

Elain's golden brown hair, the hair we all shared, was unbound and as unkempt as I'd ever seen it; even at our most destitute Elain had taken great care in her personal appearance. And yet the wildness of it, her grass stained clothes, and her dirt streaked face only made her glow all the brighter. Even Azriel's shadows seemed to fade in the light of her. He watched her attentively, nodding as she spoke. It made me think of the social season in the mortal realm and the way the human men had behaved toward Elain, prattling on about their own accomplishments and only seeing Elain for her pretty face and ample dowry. Azriel was listening not out of politeness but out of genuine interest.

"Mint," said Elain holding up a small green leaf, "Will calm a sore stomach when chewed." She reached out, handing it to Azriel, their hands touching for the briefest of moments. Azriel put the leaf in his mouth and chewed. Elain beamed. "I plan on drying the leaves so that we can brew tea with it as well."

"There are shops in the markets that might be interested in purchasing such a thing," Azriel said.

Elain didn't meet his gaze, "You think so?"

Azriel nodded, "Yes I do. You've got real skill with plants. And if working with merchants doesn't interest you a great many healers in the city would jump at the bit to take you on as an apprentice."

"I don't know," Elain muttered.

"There you are," I said from the doorway.

Elain turned around quickly, "Nesta!" She jumped up from her spot on the grass and ran to me. She threw her arms around my neck. "When did you get back?" Her hair smelled the like fresh air and a mixture of different herbs.

"Just now," I said. My instincts roared at me to tell Azriel to shut his mouth, to stop filling Elain's head with such ideas, but as I took in the lushness of the garden and the joy in Elain's eyes I knew he was right. I inclined my head to the Illyrian warrior. "I think you should find an apprenticeship. Your talents can help heal many people. And if war is to come we will need healers as well as soldiers."

Azriel nodded in agreement, "I can take you tomorrow, if you'd like."

Elain hesitated but finally said, "Yes, I think that would be lovely."

Days passed. Again, Elain and I settled into a routine in our new life. The mornings belonged to Cassian on the courtyard at the House of Wind where we sparred and worked our way through an arsenal of weapons. I spent the days with Amren decoding ancient texts and learning the Old Language as she called it; in between texts I caged and released my mind but had yet to force another vision. Elain had indeed had an easy time finding a healer to train her; she returned to the townhouse every evening exhausted but fulfilled with her day's work.

On the nights that Rhys was in the city he kept mostly to himself, although he did seem genuinely pleased to learn of Elain's apprenticeship. He sometimes joined me with my lessons with Amren, attempting to crack through my shields and assisting us with our quiet research.

When Rhys was out of the city Cassian or Azriel spent the evenings in the townhouse with us. I had yet to venture out into the city at night, even though the sounds of music and revelry often carried to our residence on the hill.

One such night I was reading in the study and my ears perked up at the noise. Cassian, sitting across from me, noticed the motion. "We could go," he offered, almost noncommittally, but there was a gleam in his eyes that showed his interest. And for a moment I imagined myself dancing among them, with him. Over the past weeks the foreignness of Velaris had faded along with my resentment for my new circumstances. But joining in on the dancing and the music, it didn't seem right to indulge myself when there was so much work to be done. So I said, "Another time," and that was that.

Cassian opened his mouth to say something but I suddenly felt a surge within me. It wasn't the sinking feeling I'd had when I was taken by a vision, rather a flooding of coursed through me until I was prone in its grasp. I gripped the arms of the chair, my knuckles white.

Cassian sank to his knees in front of me, cupping my face in his hands. His voice sounded miles away, but his face was clear.

Just as suddenly as it had come it was gone. I slumped back into the chair. "Cassian," I said, trembling.

"What happened?" Cassian's wings fanned out behind him with a snap, my own personal shield.

"I don't know." My body shook violently after the power's sudden withdrawal. "I felt something, but I didn't see anything."

Cassian stood. "I need to find Rhys."

I grabbed his hand. "Don't go," I said.

But he didn't need to decide, for Rhys suddenly winnowed right into the study. Mor appeared next to him not a second later. He looked at me, white faced and shaking in the chair with Cassian's hands in my own. "You felt it?"

I nodded.

Footsteps thundered down the hall and Azriel rounded the corner, wings tucked tightly, tensely, behind him.

Cassian squeezed my hand even as he stood to attention in front of Rhys, Mor, and the spymaster. A protector and a general.

"Where's Amren," Rhys said.

"Right behind me," Azriel rasped out. His clothes were ripped in places and he smelled of smoke.

Indeed, moments later Amren appeared soundlessly next to Azriel. Her silver eyes gleamed animal bright in the darkness of the hall.

"Mor," Rhy said. "Go fetch Elain, we all need to hear this."

Mor returned with Elain, whose normally pleasant face was irritated. "I need to boil the agrimony for precisely fifteen minutes, Mor, or the entire batch will be ruined. What is all the fuss about?" But Elain stopped immediately when she saw the group of Rhys' inner circle quietly gathered in the study.

"Tell them," Rhys said to Azriel.

He swallowed and said roughly, "A hole has been made in the Wall."