Chapter 2

Eleven days to escape Devlon's camp and everything it represented.

Twenty-four to find her way back.

More than a month after she ran away, a patrolling sentry found Nesta struggling up a steep hill two miles from Devlon's camp. She was half-starved, sick, frozen to the bone, and had systematically stripped herself of her leathers and pack. Anything that weighed her down was abandoned as she grew weaker and weaker. All that was left was a single pair of leather breeches and a dark brown linen shirt that had once been white.

Whenever her frozen muscles forced her to stop, she built a fire out of wet wood that sent billowing plumes of smoke into the sky. As her food ran out, she hunted openly and made bloody displays of her kills. It was worth risking the attention of any monsters in the woods if it meant Cassian would find her even a minute faster.

As the days crawled by though, Nesta had to accept that he'd moved his search to the southern border already.

Not even the winged male who spotted her offered any sort of assistance to reach the camp sooner. He flew by only low enough to identify her before angling back into the sky and continuing his patrol. It was almost comical how effortlessly- and quickly- he faded from view. With those wings her trip would have taken hours, not weeks.

"Oh, are your lady troubles over? Good for you." Devlon was waiting at the edge of camp with a smirk. He sat on a boulder with his wings draped behind him to catch the sun and openly mocked Nesta with his pristine leathers and bleach-white shirt.

Fever made her cheeks red as she swayed in her soaked clothes. Nesta felt her temper trying to rise to meet Devlon's smirk, but she was too tired. All she cared about was getting to Cassian as quickly as possible.

"I need you to fly me to the border."

Devlon crossed his arms, "No."

Nearly a month since she saw the army, and for all Nesta knew it was too late to deliver her warning. She had no patience left for Devlon's bullshit, "I need to see Cassian. If by some miracle this war hasn't started yet, he's going to need all the warning he can get. Take me to him."

"No."

"Please!"

"Ah, learned some manners in your little sojourn? No Miss." He gave a patronizing half-bow.

The dark power that usually roiled in her veins was silent. In Hybern's war, she'd misted an entire swath of the battlefield. Now that she just wanted to rip apart one Illyrian it was nowhere to be seen. The laws of fae-kind said that her power should have been growing day after day, but no matter how hard she tried to summon it, it remained sealed behind a wall.

Nesta had no intention of letting Devlon dismiss her, but she couldn't help but do the math all the same. If she knew the trails to follow, Velaris was at best a month long trek up cliffs and across mountains. Tired, ill, and without any map or guide?

Maybe four months, if she was lucky.

Twenty-four days since Nesta saw that army, she didn't have another minute to spare, "Cassian will be searching for me at the border. I'll do whatever you want, just get me to him today."

Whatever he wanted… it was an offer most males took only one way, and even though it made her soul shudder and her skin crawl, she meant it. She would endure Devlon if it meant finding Cassian.

Devlon sized her up, his lip curling into a cruel sneer, "What could I possibly want from you?"

"What do you think?" she snapped.

He had the audacity to laugh, "Word around camp is that your cunt is worth a mug of ale, but nothing more. It's certainly not worth ferrying you around."

"I said whatever you want," Nesta spat, her cheeks hot with shame. "There must be something, or you wouldn't be here."

He leaned in close, "I want to see your face, you arrogant little whore, when you learn a little secret."

"That you're impotent? I guessed as much already." Maybe it wasn't the best move- to insult the male whose help she needed- but something in those eyes made her heart race and her stomach churn.

His grin was wide enough that Nesta took a half step back. Suddenly she realized she didn't want to be there. She wanted to be anywhere else- if only to avoid hearing what he was about to say. The same words that quiet, aching corner of her mind whispered as she shivered through the blackest hours of the night.

"Cassian watched you walk out of camp. No one is looking for you."

The ground vanished from beneath her feet. She couldn't breathe, couldn't hear Devlon over the silence roaring in her own ears. Nesta's blood froze in her veins and even though she hadn't stopped to eat in two days, she felt like she was going to throw up.

'Cassian… isn't looking for me?'

No- no. Devlon had to be lying. Elain, Amren, Feyre- they all gave up on her, but Cassian wouldn't. He couldn't. No matter what she did or what she said, he would always give her another chance. He would always be there.

Devlon was laughing as she shoved past him and made her way into camp, but couldn't hear him over the pounding of her blood.

"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 in the next world- the next life. And we will have that time. I promise." His voice echoed in her ears from that horrible day so, so long ago. The day her soul shattered, when everything went wrong.

He promised. He wouldn't give up on this life, he-

Bright lights flashed in her vision as she hurried to their cabin, still gasping for air. She didn't lose her last friend in the world. She wasn't all alone now. People- Cassian- still cared about her, he had to. He couldn't give up. He couldn't.

Yes, she'd fled him and done everything she could to mask her tracks, but he was looking for her. He had to look for her.

She needed him to look for her. To at least try to find her. She wasn't alone. She wasn't abandoned or lost-

Nesta ripped open the door of the cabin, wild-eyed.

Dark.

Cold.

Small as it was, Nesta could see most of the first floor without moving an inch. His boots were gone from their spot by the door, the red blanket always thrown over the chair beside the fire was missing, his mug wasn't on the counter and the bowl of fruit on the table was a mass of black mold and mush. She could feel the void inside the cabin, as if Cassian's rage still hung thick in the air.

Panting, her voice thin and her head spinning, Nesta turned and finally saw the Illyrians staring at her, wondering why she was back to burden their camp and their lives with her existence.

"I know Azriel has a spy here," she was breathless, desperate, "tell your master I need him."

She stepped into the house and slammed the door, then sunk to her knees and wept.

-0-

-0-

Darkness had fallen outside.

A fire crackled in the hearth.

A spoon was at her lips, forcing hot broth down her throat.

Nesta's tear-swollen eyes opened slowly. At the sight of the Illyrian kneeling beside her, relief bloomed in her chest-

-until the firelight glittered off of blue siphons, not red.

Azriel's face was blank as he took another spoonful of broth and fed it to her. She shivered in spite of the cabin's heat. Her fever was getting worse.

Good. Maybe the fever would carry her away and spare everyone her presence. Maybe Cassian would stand over her grave and remember the promise he'd made and abandoned.

Azriel said nothing until the bowl of broth was empty, then simply, "What?"

"I need to see Cassian."

"Absolutely not." Azriel's tone left no room for compromise.

She'd come all the way back from the mountains to warn Cassian, to tell Cassian what she saw. Maybe he hated her now too, but if she could warn him then maybe things could be fixed.

"Where is he?"

"That's his business."

"Does he know I'm here?"

He raised an eyebrow, "No. No one does. They don't need the trouble." His words were even and soft, but crueler than even Azriel should be capable of.

The final piece of her heart crumbled, and Nesta felt fresh, hot tears running down her cheeks. Shame and wrath made her cruel, but she'd finally exhausted her bountiful supply of indignation. She spent two years pushing Cassian away and now that he was gone… she finally realized how much she needed him.

Nesta just wanted it to be over. The pain, the numbing silence, the isolation. She had nothing left in all the world. No family who loved her, no friends, no place to call her own… All she had was the knowledge of what lurked in the mountains.

So she gave that knowledge to Azriel, expecting only for him to take the report to his family and let her fade back into the woods. No running away this time, Nesta was just ready to let go.

But Azriel had other plans.

Darkness exploded around them in an instant. When it cleared, they were in the throne room of the Hewn City.

Surprise rippled through the assembled crowd at the shadowsinger's sudden appearance. He waved a hand and a black wall rose, sealing off the front of the room from the rest, where a noble man was debating something trivial with Kier.

"We've got a problem," Azriel left Nesta on the floor and stalked up to Rhys and Feyre on their obsidian thrones.

"Oh?" Rhys raised an eyebrow, but Feyre froze. She was the first to notice Nesta as her eldest sister scrambled to her feet. Her midnight-blue gown was cut in the revealing fashion of the Court of Nightmares and so Nesta could actually see Feyre hold her breath.

"There is an army in the western mountains," Azriel actually sounded frightened as he added, "they have the Cauldron."