AUTHOR'S NOTE:
Wow, 2020 is turning out to be a super crazy year! Kudos to all of you for getting through everything so far & remember to be kind to yourselves!
Although I am not black, as a PoC living in the US, the Black Lives Matter is one that is close to my heart. I can only do my part to help combat the systemic racism in our country, but I am doing my best to educate myself and those around me as well as to help any way I can. For anyone who is interested, I'll send you the link to resources to get informed/help. I also designed a BLM t-shirt, with all the profit being donated to help end police brutality in America (let me know if you're interested). If there are any suggestions you have for what I should do to help more, or if you have any questions, please comment or PM me & I'll respond to the best of my ability. I'm here for all of you during this difficult time as we fight for change that should have happened long ago.
I'm also aware that some people (including me!) are still in quarantine. I know personally that it has been difficult from a mental health standpoint (and in other ways). HMU if you ever want to talk!
Thank you to my wonderful beta reader kaykay3441!
Also shoutout to everyone who left reviews or followed/favorited this fic! It really encouraged me to write this chapter ASAP.
I know that I originially said that I'd update in a few weeks, and it's been over a month... sorry! I just finished 11th grade and I'm starting 12th soon, so the workload isn't getting any lighter. Hopefully I'll be able to upload another chapter next month!
Thanks to all of you for reading! I appreciate each and every one of you!
Please leave reviews :)
The door swung open and Nesta was greeted by Elain's delighted face.
"Nesta!" she exclaimed, wrapping her arms around her elder sister, a grin blossoming across her mouth. Nesta stiffened instinctively, not used to being touched. However, as Elain pulled back, Nesta gave her a small smile that made Elain positively beam.
Elain handed Nesta's coat to the maid - was her name Nuala? - and linked her arm with Nesta's, guiding her to the dining room where the Inner Circle was gathered. From the hallway, Nesta could hear everyone laughing, smiling and joking playfully with one another. A few moments after her entrance, however, the room fell silent.
Shoving her nerves down, Nesta put on her favorite mask - that of the cold, uncaring, sharp woman with nothing to lose.
Stand up straight, her mother's voice hissed in her memory. Slouching makes you look weak.
Painfully aware that Rhysand and Feyre could tear through her mind and hear all her thoughts on a whim, she pushed the thoughts of her secret - of her child - to the back of head, mixed with painful memories that would surely make them recoil or at least wince, should they attempt to view that most intimate and personal part of her.
After a few moments of awkward silence, Nesta rested her eyes on her youngest sister, who was practically attached to her husband, and announced as a way of greeting, "Feyre."
Feyre smiled slightly. "Nesta. I'm so glad to see you here."
"You invited me," Nesta replied impassively. It was the only way to reply truthfully. Was she glad to be there? No. Nesta would literally rather be anywhere else. Was she glad to see Feyre? No, Nesta wasn't eager to be judged.
The room stood in another uncomfortable silence that made Nesta's new fae skin crawl.
In a last ditch attempt to break it, Nesta searched for something, anything to say.
"You look," Nesta began then paused to look around the room and back at Feyre. The room, which was larger than their whole house back in the Human Lands, was decorated with luxurious materials and ornamental artifacts. The necklace that hung between Feyre's breasts was more valuable than anything her family had owned, including her mother's wedding ring, even when her father's merchant business was booming and the Archerons were one of the richest families in the Human Lands. Feyre's dress, which Feyre had probably had made for her by one of the maids, was 70% see-through; yet Nesta, being the daughter of a merchant, knew that the material of Feyre's dress was worth at least half a year's worth of food for a family of four. Feyre looked like a completely different person. Well, she was, wasn't she? She was no longer even a person. Still, even Nesta knew that telling Feyre that she looked like a spoiled princess who knew nothing of the outside world would, at the very least, cause drama. Particularly since Nesta, who had sat back while Feyre hunted and who had spent all her money on alcohol, really had no right to tell Feyre what to do with her money. Even if it was really Rhysand's money- well, actually, the Night Court's money.
So Nesta ended her sentence with the word "well."
Feyre did look well. Well rested and well fed, well taken care of and well treated. Really, if Feyre and Rhysand felt that the people of the Night Court were all well-educated and well-off enough for the Inner Circle to spend their money on frivolous things, then that was none of Nesta's business.
Feyre looked hurt and disappointed by Nesta's tone of voice.
No shock there, Nesta thought to herself. She was always disappointing Feyre. Couldn't Feyre just get used to it?
Morrigan scoffed and declared with a smirk, "I'll get some more wine", as if Nesta couldn't hear her. Could no one else see that the beautiful, kind and perfect Mor was actually terribly cruel?
Elain, bless her soul, filled the room with some neutral chatter about her garden and soon the awkward tension in the air dissipated.
The members of the Inner Circle began to talk, chatting about everything from Feyre's painting studio to Azriel's shadows. The males jokingly ribbed one another about their wingspans.
They then began to discuss recent events. Nesta inferred from the teasing and jokes that the Inner Circle had been out partying with members of the day court and then both courts had suffered the next morning at a meeting with the 3 solar courts. Apparently, Feyre had had the most trouble the next morning, while Amren had not been affected at all. Nesta, of course, had not attended said event. From context, however, she was glad she had not been invited. Being fakely friendly to other courts in order to establish diplomatic relationships was not something she enjoyed in the slightest.
The Inner Circle then moved on to teasing each other about other topics, most of which passed over Nesta's head. She had no idea what to make of the fact that 'Feyre's shoe-throwing skills' were excellent, Mor and Amren's arguments were 'more frightening than scaling Ramiel' or that Cassian staying away from the Summer Court 'would be better to ensure that both the structural integrity of buildings and the number of rubies in the Night Court's vault remain unchanged'.
So she sat there, clenching her hands together in order to make sure that she did not accidentally touch her stomach and bring attention to it. She was silent, wondering why they'd invited her when they really did not want or need her company. Yet she regretted such thoughts when the words, "I'm sure Nesta would agree" came out of Feyre's mouth.
Nesta suddenly realized that she'd been far too unappreciative of the peace that accompanied them overlooking her presence. Now she would have to actually listen to their conversations and talk without offending any of these easily offended people who hated her.
Nesta tuned in to the conversation Feyre had unfortunately decided to include her in. Apparently, it was about different places in Velaris that the members of the Inner Circle liked. Feyre's comment had been that Nesta would agree that Feyre had been obsessed with stars from a young age, justifying Feyre's love of a certain ballroom which had a glass roof so that dancers could see the stars at night. Nesta had to admit that Feyre's comment had been relatively neutral, although perhaps it had been a gibe at how Feyre had had to work to get money to paint stars on her drawer while Nesta had done nothing.
Nesta sighed internally as the others talked, winking and nudging each other both physically and verbally. They laughed and teased and probed, replying with witty comments and sarcastic smirks like perfectly timed dance that they'd been performing for centuries. Which, Nesta supposed, was accurate, given that they were all over 500 years old and had been together for most of that time. Feyre and Elain were obviously exceptions, but Elain had never had any trouble integrating herself into a group and Feyre was their High Lady / best friend / mate / pseudo-sister. Feyre considered the Inner Circle to be her real family while she considered Nesta to be a burden that she was attached to by the ties of her long-gone human genes. This was obvious by the way Feyre had painted portraits of every single other person in the room and displayed said paintings in the foyer, while Nesta's was noticeably absent. Although maybe, Nesta thought wryly, it was not noticeable to Feyre. Or perhaps Feyre had not had any inspiration; after all, all the paintings highlighted the person's positive attributes, be it Elain's kind face, Rhysand's majestic stature, Morrigan's joyful outspoken confidence, or Azriel's quiet support. Maybe Feyre simply couldn't think of any positive features of Nesta.
The conversation continued as the gang moved to the dining room. Morrigan spoke at length about the fabulousness of Rita's. It seemed to be a dance club / tavern / bar. Nesta had been invited there once (though she had refused) but had heard the others talk about going to Rita's fairly frequently while before she'd moved out. Nesta sat across from Elain and next to Azriel. A wise seating choice, really, considering they were the only two that she could look at for more than a few minutes without wanting to scream.
"Maybe we should diversify our choice of bar," Feyre stated after Morrigan finished recounting yet another misadventure that had occurred at Rita's. She turned to her eldest sister. "Nesta, you have experience in that area, don't you? Where would you recommend?"
Rhysand was smirking openly.
Of course Feyre would ask Nesta where to drink alcohol, because that's all Feyre thought she did. Drink, sleep with male, eat, repeat. Feyre had never seen Nesta as a person with interests and passions and fears, but rather as a cold and cruel minor villain in her story. Now, she was nothing but a drunken slut in her sister's eyes. Nesta already knew Feyre viewed her that way, so she really should not have felt something inside her deflate. Ignoring the slight, Nesta thought for a moment, trying to remember a nice bar she'd been to. It was difficult, since it had been months since she'd been to any but maybe-
"Trust me, none of the places she frequents are worthy of a high lady," Morrigan whispered loudly to Feyre in a joking tone, as if the whole table couldn't hear her. The corners of Feyre's mouth tilted upwards.
Mor added in a slightly lower tone, "I doubt she even remembers the locations the next morning, considering." Rhysand failed miserably at disguising his laughter as a cough.
"Why are you trying to avoid going to a different bar, Mor? Is there something that's captivated your interest at Rita's? Or should I say someone?" Cassian teased.
Rhysand added something in a tone so low even Nesta's fae hearing couldn't pick up.
Morrigan let out a bright, booming laugh at whatever comment Rhysand had made, shooting Nesta a glance. Clearly he'd made a comment about her.
"How are you, girl?" Amren, who was seated next to Elain, asked Nesta, ignoring the others.
"I'm fine," Nesta replied in a curt yet somewhat polite tone.
"Are you sure? Do you need me to send you more money for your rent?" Feyre interjected, concerned. As if Nesta were Feyre's younger sister. Nesta resisted the urge to roll her eyes and tell Feyre that she'd lied about how she'd moved to a cheaper house and that she hadn't touched Feyre's money in months. Nesta wondered absently how to discreetly return the money to Feyre without her noticing.
"I'm fine," Nesta repeated.
"Really?" Feyre pressed. "You're very thin, Nesta. You need to eat properly."
Out of the corner of her eye, Nesta saw Morrigan wrap her arm around Cassian's shoulders.
"I don't want you to worry about not being able to afford enough food," Feyre continued, as if they were alone. Nesta tried to take a deep breath, willing her face not to blush in humiliation. "I have enough money now. Oh, also, I'll give you the rent for next month right after dinner, okay? Please let me add a bit more, just to make sure you're properly fed."
Nesta wanted to hurl that Feyre wasn't her mother and she needed to stop being so condescending, especially in front of all these people. But Nesta also knew that Feyre considered all these people to be her family and saw no difference between advising Nesta in front of Elain and in front of the entire Inner Circle.
"I'm fine," Nesta gritted. "And I don't need any extra money."
"Yeah," Morrigan grinned, "I'm sure she doesn't need to make the bartenders any richer."
Feyre gave her friend a small smile that she probably thought Nesta couldn't see, and turned to talk to Amren.
Nesta clenched her fists. She hadn't come to be insulted by Morrigan. Morrigan had no power or relation to her and Nesta wasn't going to let her berate her without consequence.
"At least I don't pit orphaned brothers against each other by playing with their hearts and still have the audacity to call myself their friend," Nesta hissed at Morrigan before calmly continuing her food.
Morrigan snorted. Eyes flashing, she replied, "No, of course not. You treat your friends with utmost respect. Remind me again, how many friends do you have?"
Nest ignored her, eyes on her plate.
"That's right. None," Mor laughed cruelly.
Nesta's eyes flitted to Cassian, who was engaged in a quiet conversation with Rhysand, seemingly ignoring the dispute between the female who had an arm around him and the female who carried his child.
"Actually," Nesta couldn't stop herself from retorting, "I happen to have friends."
If Brielle was considered a friend and not just a colleague…
Mor rolled her eyes. "Sure. You do realize that one night stands don't count, right?"
Nesta couldn't help but flinch, recalling her one night with Cassian.
"Honestly, Nesta," Mor continued, "Aren't you a little too old for imaginary friends?"
Nesta opened her mouth, a sharp riposte on the tip of her tongue when she was abruptly reminded of how this sort of argument (that could easily escalate, especially now that Feyre seemed to be about to join in and Rhysand was starting to glance at Mor) was exactly what she'd wanted to avoid. So she swallowed her pride and a bite of food, choosing to now remain silent.
One hour later, as the gang moved to the living room once more, Nesta realized with entirely too much satisfaction that she'd managed to keep her newfound vow of silence. The others had switched between a variety of topics, at first making sure to include small 'jokes', more accurately described as insults clearly aimed at Nesta. However, as time progressed, Nesta seemed to turn completely invisible to them. Which had been exactly what she'd wanted, Nesta reminded herself. There was no need to feel any sort of pain when Cassian's eyes swept over her before finding Mor, with whom Cassian wished to speak. There was no need for Nesta to care that Elain was engrossed in a soft conversation with Azriel and had seemingly forgotten about the presence of her older sister. Or that Amren and Feyre were drinking and laughing with Rhysand, not noticing the lack of drink in Nesta's hand. No, really, it couldn't have been more perfect, Nesta told herself. This was what she'd wanted.
Suddenly, an old childhood memory of her mother reading her a bedtime story came to mind.
"Be careful what you wish for," her mother had read out before closing the book. It had been a thick, large green tome but Nesta couldn't remember the title at all. At the time, Nesta had smiled. Wishes were wondrous things and it couldn't hurt to wish, Nesta had thought. A few years later, with her mother buried and her father destroyed, Nesta had scoffed. Who cares what you wish for? It's not as if wishes ever come true. Now, as Nesta sat in her sister's fancy house, surrounded but more alone than in her house, Nesta felt that she was finally beginning to understand her mother's tale.
Finally, when it was a somewhat acceptable time to consider the evening finished, Nesta stood up, muttering something about going to the bathroom despite the fact that no one was listening. Stepping out into the hallway, she released a breath she hadn't realized she was holding.
Ever since she'd become fae, Nesta had been accompanied by the vague yet persistent sensation that she did not belong. In Feyre's house, that feeling was stronger than ever; the walls seemed to be yelling at her that she was unwanted and that she should leave.
There was no real reason for her to stay. It wasn't as if anyone would notice her absence.
If she was going to leave, she should probably do it now, before anyone came out into the hallway. Plus, Nesta told herself, this way she could avoid Feyre paying her. Judging by the number of drinks her sister had had at dinner, and the way she was pouring herself another, Feyre most likely would not remember such a minor detail of the night.
Nesta began heading towards the door, when she suddenly remembered her coat. Normally, Nesta would not have hesitated: a coat was a small price to pay for the relief of leaving early. But now she had another person to think about, and leaving her coat was unwise from both a monetary and health standpoint. She looked around for a closet but couldn't see one.
She was so preoccupied with finding the closet in order to leave that she didn't even realize that anyone else had stepped into the hallway until her shoulder banged into Cassian's hard back.
Cassian turned around to face her just as Nesta whipped her face in his direction to see what she'd stumbled into.
"Hey Nes," he grinned.
She didn't respond. Unfortunately, she had just recalled that she needed to talk to Cassian alone and this was her only chance unless she wanted to actually write him a letter. Honestly, the option was seeming better and better.
Nesta dug her nails into her palm. She couldn't keep avoiding her issues forever - her issue, in this case, being the Illyrian male before her.
"Y'okay?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
She nodded curtly.
"Nice dress," he noted. "Wouldn't 've thought you'd wear green. Although I suppose it makes sense."
Nesta stayed silent, due to both her confusion at his words and her inner struggle to work up the courage to say what she needed to say.
Cassian continued jokingly, "I mean, you obviously wanted to display your love to nature and 'Illyrian brutes'. Don't worry Nes, I-"
"Are you busy next sunday around 3 pm?" Nesta asked, interrupting him.
He blinked. He opened his mouth once and closed it again before opening it once more to reply, "What?"
"Are you busy at that time?" Nesta repeated.
Cassian answered slowly, "I'm not busy."
"Great," she said with much more confidence than she felt. "Meet me at Lucynthia's then."
Cassian looked dumbfounded and stood there in confused silence for a few seconds. He then opened his mouth to say something, but Nesta, fearing an undesired question, interjected, "You do know where Lucynthia's is, right?"
Cassian nodded slowly.
"Okay, great, so we can meet then," she declared.
Cassian furrowed his eyebrows. "We can, but-"
Nesta interrupted him once more. "By the way, where's the coat closet?"
Cassian pointed towards the small hallway next to the door. "First door to the right," he said absently.
Nesta nodded. Then she stated, "Don't tell the others about next weekend."
He looked even more perplexed.
Nesta would not beg. She kept her facade of confidence, but Cassian seemed to understand the plea in her eyes that their meeting be kept secret.
"I- Alright," he said. "But why-"
"Cassian?" Feyre called out from the living room.
"Cass?" Morrigan repeated.
Cassian turned his head towards the living room before glancing back at Nesta, clearly hesitating.
Once more, Nesta recalled that any relationship she could form with Cassian would always come after not only his loyalty to his High Lord and Lady and his pseudo-brother Azriel, but also his bond with Morrigan. Before she moved out, the Inner Circle had pestered her non-stop about what she should say or do with Cassian and what interaction she'd had with him and how she felt and how he felt about everything. Yet, no one had bothered to tell her the story of what exactly had happened between Cassian, Morrigan and Azriel. Still, Nesta had once been a member of high society in the human lands, and knew how to string rumors and references and points of tension together to get an understanding of what had happened.
Nesta knew that Cassian and Morrigan had slept together while Morrigan was engaged. The engagement had been to some High Lord's son and had been entirely against Morrigan's wishes. Morrigan had thus lost her virginity to Cassian, rendering her engagement nul. Apparently her ex and his family had reacted pretty violently when they found out. Rhysand had gotten angry at Cassian as well, apparently causing a fight. Azriel, who pined over Mor, gave up his stake and decided to be content with loving her from afar. There were different rumors about whether Mor and Cassian had ever slept together again and about whether Mor was in love with Cassian or Azriel. While Cassian had been with many others over the years, he had never gotten over his love for Morrigan.
Even if Cassian decided to be there for their child, the Inner Circle's needs would always be his priority.
"Cass!" Morrigan's voice rang out once more.
Cassian's eyes were full of regret as he began, "I need to-"
Nesta nodded quickly, clearing her throat softly.
Cassian turned and walked towards the living room. After taking a few steps, he seemed to realize that Nesta hadn't moved.
"Aren't you coming?" Cassian asked, his voice tinged with slight confusion.
Nesta shook her head. "It's getting late. I need to get back to my house."
Cassian nodded. "Okay."
Nesta turned around and walked towards the coat closet.
"Wait," he called out.
She stopped walking, but didn't turn around.
"It's dark outside. Do you need me to fly you home? Or walk?" he added.
"No," she answered. She resumed walking and murmured a quiet, "Bye."
In the periphery of her vision, she saw Cassian wave.
AUTHOR'S NOTE:
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