Chapter 10

My fingers rapped against the table bench in an impatient manner. It was not that I was impatient. I felt more uncertain than anything else. Cassian still leant across the bench, his arms folded over themselves. I wasn't sure what was supposed to pass between us. Rhysand and Azriel had left him here on purpose, but as far as I knew, there was no particular reason. Unless Rhysand intended to meddle further than I thought he would.

With the already iconic broad grin, Cassian questioned, "So why were you spying?"

I bristled at the insinuation, no matter how accurate it was. "I wasn't."

"Yet you were terrified when I caught you."

"Because you snuck up on me, nothing more."

"I can tell when you are lying."

My eyes drew into slits, my neck tilting forward. Cassian held a stoic expression that slighted on jolly. "No, you can't," I countered. He let out a hiss and thumped the side of his hand against the countertop. The childish movement caused a single chuckle to erupt from my lungs. "I hear truth is the Morrigan's gift."

"So are you telling the truth?"

Had I been spying? In all technicalities, I was. I listened in on a private conversation whilst remaining unnoticed. But I hadn't meant to. Did intention even matter? "I was just wondering where breakfast was," I answered. "Rhysand was supposed to bring it back."

Cassian perked a brow and gazed around, making a slight jolt of accomplishment with his shoulders before dragging a brown paper bag across the counter. "I haven't had anything to eat," he said, digging into the package. I held my tongue, but my nose flared at the strong waft of the baked scones. There were four in the package, deliciously sitting there with blueberries casting spots of dark bluish-purple through the cooked dough. The General took one to his mouth, nearly inhaling it within a single bite. "Cauldron, this is good."

I looked down to the package, but his hand lay over it like a wolf harbouring its meal. Another moan of delight filled the kitchen that tightened something in my stomach. I couldn't find the voice in me to ask for my own share. I was trained to wait. Cassian peeked through his lashes at me.

"You're no fun to tease, you know that?"

He was teasing me?

"Oh," I muttered.

He tossed the bag across the bench. It landed near my hands. "I thought that something worth spying on for would have drawn a good reaction out of you." Cassian leant back across the bench, his lips tugged in a small grin. It shifted in an afterthought, as though he had suddenly remembered something. As I brought one of the scones to my mouth, he said, "You can speak your mind here. I mean—compliments are most welcome if they ever come to mind."

The corners of my lips tugged upwards over the scone as I bit into it. After chewing and swallowing, I said, "I'm not sure any do." I found it a peculiar characteristic that he had, turning even serious things into taunts and teases. I liked it.

Cassian pursed his lips, a slow, resigned nod overcoming his head and neck. "Pity. I usually do an exchange, you see. You compliment me and then I compliment you."

I lifted my chin slowly and nodded as though a memory came to me. "Rhysand did say that you spent a lot of time looking into a mirror. Did you figure out how to make them talk back?" The drop of fear I held that he would not take teasing well evaporated. Cassian took them as well as he dealt them.

Cassian threw his shoulders upwards, his head tipped to his shoulder. "I can't help what the reflection shows," he chortled. There was a short pause where I took another bite. "You can call him by Rhys. He prefers it."

My chewing slowed, but didn't stop. Calling him Rhys? That was far too familiar for my liking. It was a nickname, and nicknames came from people who had a place of importance in your life. Rhysand certainly had one in mine—a leader and symbol of sanctuary—and I would not defy his decision to call me whatever he desired, but calling him Rhys? I don't think that was a position I heard yet to earn. It was just the fact that Cassian labelled it as a preference that bothered me. I didn't wish to provoke Rhysand by calling him an unfavourable name, but Rhys wouldn't feel right on my tongue.

But these thoughts were too mucked in my head to put into words, so I simply told Cassian, "I'll take note of that." I finished the scone, glancing down at the two remaining. They were tempting, but my stomach was full enough from the one. I passed the bag back along to Cassian who took a second. I was happily delaying meeting Amren.

Another small velvet bag lay on the counter that I had not noticed before, though it was immediately recognisable. I swept it close, gently loosening the cords. The ruby earrings sat inside.

"What do you have there?"

I tipped them into my hand, tilting them for the Illyrian warrior to see. I just realised what the colour resembled, and apparently, so did he. "Nice choice of jewel," he complimented. "Most women in the camps don't wear earrings."

"No," I agreed, still eyeing them off. It still did not feel as though they belonged to me. The ownership fell to Rhysand in my head, and I was simply examining and snooping through his belongings as I had an hour ago.

"Are you going to wear them?"

"I don't have the holes to put them through."

Cassian tapped the counter with the width of his palm. "Well," he chuckled haughtily, "filling holes is my expertise. Why don't I take you into the city?"

My fingers clasped around the jewelled earrings. "The innuendo was not appreciated." I couldn't stop imagining scenarios in my head. I thanked the cauldron that Rhysand was not there to hear what I thought and see what I envisioned. But Cassian's offer left me with two choices. I could refuse and it would lead to returning to the House of Wind and meeting with Amren, or I could accept and spend some more time in the city with someone I knew enough to speak with. I would have to return eventually, but perhaps an hour or so with the General would ease those worries. Sheepishly, I twisted my lips. "Does it hurt very much?"

Cassian shrugged. "Wouldn't know. I don't have any."

"I thought holes were your expertise." I could tease back, if that is how he wished to converse. I missed it, honestly. It was something that I refrained from doing, because it led to moments that I grew fond of. And fondness was a weakness that would be used against me in the camps. But this was Cassian, Rhysand's General and one of the most powerful Illyrian warriors to ever exist. Nothing could hurt him. So I could do this, without worry, couldn't I?

"Filling them," he corrected, "I'm not so rough to make them. Unless we're on the battlefield." His wings flexed in a long stretch, spanning a great length of the kitchen in display. Cassian pretended to not even notice that he was doing so but I wasn't as naïve as he might have thought. I knew that he knew my eyes would draw to their length. All men did it. All Illyrian men, that was. It never failed to amuse me.

"I will ask Rhysand to take me later then," I said, collecting the pouch.

It did exactly what I anticipated. Cassian's wings flexed even tenser as he stood straight from the swivel in the direction he thought the conversation was being driven to. I trusted Rhysand—more than I would like to admit—and if he truly placed the faith in Cassian that he declared, then maybe it was up to me to prove my assumptions and fears wrong. And the only way I knew how to do that, was to see what pushed Cassian's emotions. Yes, it was a teasing remark that I would hope would be taken lightly but skirting around the advances of powerful men in the camps could rile their fury enough to strike out. So, while a small smile stayed placidly on my cheeks, my eyes were taking in every twitch of muscle from his face to his hands, waiting to see if there were any signs of the snarling rage.

He pointed a half-hanging finger towards me. "You're really going to choose that pompous High Lord over me? I'm so much better in every way." He stretched his arms out, displaying himself as though to prove his own point.

The movements were open, I noted. Exposing himself in the most placid way. He had no weapons, no armour—just a simple black shirt and pants. It was almost an invitation to search him (which I was doing so thoroughly with my eyes), an invitation to touch and examine him in any way that I pleased. Even I would admit that the reaction imbued me with more ease than I had felt in many years. The same body that frightened me enough to flee down here, called for me to crawl towards it.

"I will not comment on that," I said, swallowing my thoughts so they would not sneak into my voice. "If you have a place in mind, I would like if you could take me. As long as we will not get into any strife for taking too long to return."

Cassian near beamed at the acceptance of his offer. "He won't care. And if he does—then I don't care. Besides, he said to take as long as you need."

He had, I silently agreed. "Then show me the way."

I snatched the velvet bag from the bench, but I knew that I would not be able to wear them for a few days. I knew that there was a healing progress with having holes poked into one's ear and that heavy jewels hanging from your lobes were likely not advised.

Cassian led us out into the streets of Velaris. It was just the same as it was yesterday—the same, sparkling city. I didn't bother to question what direction we were headed, for it would probably make no difference.

"Do you like Rhys' townhouse?"

My brows shot up, snapping from my thoughts. I began to smile at him, glancing over my shoulder at the fading form of the large building. "Yes, I do," I answered truthfully. "It feels more homely. I think it's the fireplace."

Cassian gave a soft chuckle that resonated deep within his chest. "It does." There was a pause. "Uh, look, Rhys is the only one that really lives there. It's a family home, but maybe I could suggest about you staying there for a while if you're not happy up at the House of Wind."

"No." I didn't even think of the answer before it poured from my lips. My hand fled to my stomach, griping at my shirt. "No," I repeated, softer. "I can't ask that of him. The House of Wind is perfectly fine." I couldn't bear to cling to the greed of wanting to be there. With a small bout of laughter, I added, "I'm sure that he needs a sanctuary away from all of you, including me."

"I'd take it while you can," he countered with a crowing smile. He had a slight sway, broad shoulders tipping with each step. "Once you're no longer new and shiny, you'll be scrapings like the rest of us. Dogs, I believe Amren calls us. We can't even enter without permission."

I smiled. I wasn't even sure what caused it, but the smile was there. "Maybe I can remain that by not tarnishing myself by being around him every moment. I'll be a joy to see." I couldn't believe myself. This teasing and light-heartedness—I wasn't used to myself being this way.

Another chuckle came from him. "You already are."

My eyes flashed away from the road ahead to the side profile of his face. I stared at him until his smile grew and I knew that he knew I was watching him. Arrogant bastard. Straightening my neck, I kept my eyes forward until he gesture to a small shop. An assortment of jewels—piercing jewels, I realised—hung from the walls.

"Greta," Cassian greeted a Fae woman with coiled brown hair and dark olive skin.

The woman flashed her teeth. "Here to buy some more apology jewels? I know the Morrigan has been eyeing off a sapphire set."

Cassian choked a laugh, glancing back over his shoulder at me as if to tell me not to listen. "No. I've got someone who is looking for their ears to be done." He gestured for me to come forward. I obeyed, crossing my hands over my lower stomach. "A bit shy."

Greta observed me for a moment. "What did you do to her?"

Cassian threw his hands up fervently. "Why are you assuming I've done something?" he bellowed.

Greta threw him a raised brow. "Because you only come here if you've done something stupid or there is a celebration. According to my calendar, there is none, leaving me with the first reason."

Pouting, Cassian folded his arms. "I haven't. I'm just the company."

Greta tipped her head, striding around him towards me. "What great company it must be." Her hands stretched out towards me. Towards my ears. I should have expected it, but my reflexes spoke for me. I lurched away from the touch, stepping closer to the door behind me. "Well, I cannot do much if you will not allow me to touch you," the woman sighed.

"Sorry," I muttered. Cassian searched for my gaze, his eyes narrowed, asking a silent question. I answered by taking a step forward and lifting my chin. "Is it painful?" I asked as she examined my ears, likely finding the correct placement.

"If you make it so."

The woman left into the back of the shop, muttering about her search. I chewed the inside of my lip. This was such a strange moment. Perhaps the strangest of them all. Piercings were uncommon in the camps for numerous practical reasons, but also because of the affordability. If someone had told me I would be sitting, having my ears pierced with the General of the Night Court at my side… I would have laughed so hard that I vomited.

"All good?"

I unlatched my hands from in front of me, swaying my weight back and forth over my feet. "Yeah," I breathed quietly. "I'm good." Greta returned within the next minute, a needle and two small, studded earrings in her grasp. She sat me on a stool and lined up the needle. It took effort, allowing my walls to decompose enough to allow both her touch and the gleaming needle anywhere near me. But I had Cassian. A very strange thought. But I knew I did at this moment. "Ouch," I muttered when the needle struck my ear.

He had kept back, and I was glad for it in some way. This was a vulnerable spot for me to be in, and though I would never admit so, the space that he kept suggested that he did understand. If he crowded over me… I felt the claustrophobia settling in at the thought.

The second piercing came with less of a sting, and before I knew it, the deed was done. "I shall put it to your account," Greta noted. Cassian, from where he was leant against the counter, nodded.

"I have my own," I said, standing and wiping my hands. Greta gave a gesture of acknowledgement, uncaring where the money arrived from, only that it did. I thanked her, lifting my hand to touch the new things in my ears but thought better of it.

"Back to the House of Wind?" Cassian mused. "Or do you want to delay it more?"

My eyes hazed over white and the world in front of me transformed to the House of Wind's main foyer. Rhysand talked with Mor, his hands delved deep into the pit of his black pants. This new character and Azriel were nowhere to be seen. When my eyes returned to their usual brown, I was met with Cassian's raised brows. He was surprised, it seemed, that I had used my ability directly in front of him. I nodded. As long as Rhysand was about, I was happy to go meet Amren. "Let's go back."