"Well, aren't you grumpy this morning?" Mor chirped at Cassian, wrapped in a sweater colored in her signature red as she assessed him with a raised brow. She'd appeared minutes ago outside the Brown Hen, her eyes flicking to the less-than-pristine inn. He'd spent the night tossing and turning as he fumbled with his emotions, reflecting on the foolish hope he'd so desperately acted on.
He'd spent hours staring at the painting, willing the features to memory, trying to figure out how the young painter had managed to capture her likeness when her sister was a blurry duplicate at best.
Unsatisfied, he'd even risen at the crack of dawn and made his way back to the painter's stall, pushing through the waking square, only wanting to talk to her one more time, just to be certain. Much to his dismay, he'd found it empty and boarded up, and had been informed by an elderly baker who had just arrived to set up her own wares for the day that the young woman wouldn't be back for some time.
He'd nearly donned a syphon to demolish the structure in his frustration but decided against it, not wanting to destroy an innocent bystander's livelihood to release his emotional turmoil. Not to mention he didn't want to add Marchedor to the list of cities he was banned from, not that he ever intended to return.
Cassian adjusted his bag on his back, the painting wrapped tightly and strapped across it, before offering a hand out, ready to winnow.
"Take me home."
"That bad?" The blonde huffed a laugh, her red lips upturning at the corners. "Don't tell me, you lost all your money gambling," a nod at his nearly empty satchel, "got into a fist fight with a noble—"
"I said, take me home, Mor, please." Weariness settled over him, leaching to his bones. "I want to leave."
The female stopped, her smile slowly dissipating as she watched him intently, searching his features. He bared his teeth at her.
"Don't start your 'truth' bullshit."
Her eyes narrowed questioningly, soil-toned orbs darkening.
"What happened?"
He tore a hand through his hair, still tangled from the night before, his patience failing. He was unwilling to let Mor see what'd he'd failed to find, to spare her feelings. "Just take me home."
Back to Velaris, to the city he'd called home for hundreds of years that'd he'd bleed himself to protect, back to the city that didn't harbor false promises of something they'd never get back. He planned to head to her valley the second he touched down in the Riverside Estate.
No, he'd find Nesta first, then leave. He craved the touch of his mate, her solid presence. She never spoke of it, but she'd visited the lily-covered valley often, they both had. She would go.
Mor said nothing else as she took his hand and they disappeared into shadows and wind, Marchedor melting into nothingness behind them.
Azriel felt more than saw when Mor and Cassian winnowed into the Riverside Estate, the latter landing so violently the house shook. The sound of stomping feet and grumbling told Azriel his brother was pissed.
Unsurprising.
At least he'd managed to stay the whole time in Marchedor.
He'd half expected Cassian to cave partway through the meeting and insist someone come get him, likely threatening the structural the integrity of the city if his demands weren't met.
It remained to be seen if he'd broken anything or anyone, however, Azriel considered as he sipped from the cup of tea in his hands. It didn't matter, he'd had the pleasant reprieve of spending a few uninterrupted days with Elain because of it.
He'd draft the apology letters and damage estimates later.
"Well, he doesn't sound pleased," Elain noted from behind the pile of fabric swatches scattered across the table. Azriel had been helping her sift through them, watching as she debated between two shades of pinkish-orange that he had trouble distinguishing from each other. Her lovely face crinkled. "I'm guessing things on the continent didn't go well."
We'll know soon enough, Azriel thought wryly, leaning back in his chair as the door to the kitchen blew open, Cassian a storm on the other side. He'd been prepared for an array of complaints and grievances from his brother, knowing that while Cassian had indeed volunteered to go in his stead, he'd never been well suited to such gatherings.
He hadn't been prepared for the silence or the devastation poorly hidden on Cassian features, however. The shadows at his shoulders began to whisper, skittering as his brother closed in.
Azriel straightened in his chair, Elain doing the same beside him.
Something had gone wrong.
Cassian didn't seem to notice as he dug through his pack and procured two wrapped packages, handing one gently to Elain and the other to Azriel, the paint he'd requested from the smell of it, and turned to leave without so much as a word slipping past his lips.
The shadowsinger watched his brother slump as he turned to the door, his pack limp across his back, his arms around a large square mass covered in his cloak. He'd seen something that had upset him, terribly.
Azriel frowned. He should have gone. He stood, making to follow, when an equally startled Elain chimed in.
"How was the meeting?"
Cassian paused and turned, his eyes distant as he addressed her with unusual grumpiness. "Fine." He flicked his attention toward Azriel. "I'll debrief with you later."
There was finality in his voice; he was in no mood to talk. He was nearly through the doorway when Elain continued.
"Where are you going?" She directed a brief, concerned look to Azriel, her hands sitting atop the forgotten scraps of fabric before turning her attention back to Cassian.
No teasing, no obnoxious attempts to get a rise from him. Just quiet rage.
"To find Nesta."
And that was it. He was gone before another word could be said.
Mor materialized in the empty spot where Cassian had disappeared, cringing as the front door slammed behind him.
"Well?" Azriel asked Mor, locking gazes with the soft eyes that had once held sway over the most fundamental parts of him, before they'd been replaced with another, more beautiful caramel pair. He felt Elain's attention on him.
Mor shrugged, shaking her head.
"I think he lost all his money gambling." She ran a hand through her golden curls, indifferent. "You know how he is. He'll be fine."
"Damn it," Nesta hissed as she kicked the hell sprite off her, sloughing the last limp body to the side, the monster's contorted face at an odd angle. Panting, she forced herself upright, her body aching from battle, hundreds of their swelled corpses limp around her from where she'd slaughtered her way through the hive.
She'd infiltrated and killed an entire nest hunting one of their Queens, searching for any information she could gather from the ears of the woods. Unfortunately, when questioned, the grotesque bitch had only smiled and hissed a few obscure words before exploding, her young crawling out of her and swarming Nesta.
It had taken hours, but she'd felled them all. And was no closer to finding Valka.
Even the shadow lurkers had been useless, having no knowledge to offer her of Valka's whereabouts - not a single detail.
She'd interrogated one beast after the other, receiving the same cryptic reply again and again: "The orphan of the beast walks our land hidden. The lady of shadow circles, drawing ever nigh, she who wields the world hunts you, thief. Life and Death, sides of an elegant coin, she seeks."
She'd snapped their necks in her fury, burning them away with the power that crawled beneath her skin.
Their vague, haughty words did little to soothe her icy wrath, only amplifying it. She'd been threatened before, weak little vermin hunting her for the power that lay beneath her skin. It didn't faze her any longer. But to hear the same message repeated . . .
Sheathing her blade down her spine, she gazed across the damp forest around her, the scent of an oncoming storm saturating the air.
The earth recoiled beneath her, like the very fabric of her being chased away life, sending it receding to the darkest depths trying to avoid her touch. She'd stopped registering it years ago when it first began, but now . . . it was different.
Instead of a retraction it was a shattering, like the very ground she walked stilled beneath her, cracking down to its very core.
Her power was still a quiet hum beneath her skin, silent and waiting.
Stepping around the corpses, she made to exit the hive hidden deep in the glen. It was like the world itself was contorting, magic flickering in odd and erratic patterns. It hung heavy like the oncoming clouds, roiling with flashes of lightning.
Like a witch accumulating power in the night.
Nesta kicked one of the sprites' bodies out of her way, its bones crunching nastily as she ducked beneath the silk of the hive and strode out into the forest. She still had a couple more nests should could try, a few more spots in the wilderness that she hadn't searched.
Something inside her knew that Valka was still out there somewhere, and she wouldn't stop her searching until she'd found her.
She was about to make her way up the adjacent hill when the bond she'd hushed to silence flared to life, pulling tight and demanding, an incessant tug. She didn't bother to look up as the air hollowed out above her, the pounding of wings echoing throughout the forest before a shudder reverberated through the earth.
She flicked her gaze to the warrior who walked toward her, Cassian's shoulders back as he folded his wings in, flashing her his signature grin, though its tilt was a little too forced and his shoulders a little too tense to be pleased.
Nesta didn't even wait for him to finish his approach before she raised her voice.
"What happened?" Cassian's eyes flickered in the way they did when he knew he'd been compromised, his lies crumbling to dust beneath her assessment.
"Bullshit, I don't want to talk about it—" his eyes snagged on the nest behind her, the stench of decay leaching out. Her mate blinked, looking only slightly startled.
"Why hell sprites? They're nasty bastards." He sniffed once, confirming his suspicions. "And a Queen?" She saw the protective nonsense begin to unspool, his chest puffing insufferably. "By yourself. I'd ask what you were thinking but I don't think you'd bother with honesty anyway."
Oh, he was certainly in a foul temper, his tone less than sympathetic. A tone that said he was in no mood to argue with her in any capacity. A tiny part of Nesta softened with concern, her pride bending the slightest fraction.
"They gather information like bees gather pollen." She attempted to wipe the gore from her hands off onto her leathers but only succeeded in smearing it more. "I still haven't found her."
Dull relief filled Cassian's eyes as she answered honestly, looking glad that he wouldn't be waging a war on numerous fronts this afternoon. He replied with a halfhearted, "Ah." He rubbed at his jaw. "Where the hell has she gotten off to?"
"I'm trying to figure that out." She flexed her hands, realizing just how disgusting they were, coated in the foul slime of the sprites. Bathing was a top priority now, even if the need to find Valka took precedence. "Why are you here?"
Her mate turned his gaze away from her, avoiding her eye contact. He was very upset then, so much so he'd sought out her company of all things. She pushed her hunt to the back of her mind and stepped forward, resting her hand on Cassian's bicep.
"Where do you want to go?"
He looked at her, emotion filling his gaze. He seemed appreciative of her bluntness as always, that she never pushed him for things he didn't want to give. "The valley."
She didn't even question after it as she squeezed his arm, they'd done this time and time again throughout the years, the other never asking why, only being present. She would hold him through the worst of it if needed.
The words of the shadow creatures faded in her mind as that overwhelming bond overtook her, saturating her in an array of emotions that she still struggled to understand.
"Then let's go." She paused, looking behind her, trying to find the bushes she'd seen before entering the hive—she spied them easily and jogged across the valley, the warrior following behind at a distance.
Slipping a knife free from her belt, she sliced the red Highland roses from the bush, handing the thorny stems and buds to her mate one at a time. He'd never forgotten them on a single visit and she certainly wouldn't let him start now.
"We'll find her." His voice was gravely but resolute. "Valka's still out there, I can feel it."
"Yes." Nesta laid another flower into his palm; she had no doubt about it. She only hoped she'd find her while she was still breathing. It'd be over her dead body that she'd let anything happen to the young female.
"We won't lose another, not again." Nesta's knife paused as she glanced sidelong at her mate, his hands holding the flowers a little too tightly, blood pooling beneath their thorns. "I swear it on my life."
What had happened in Marchedor? She'd only see this type of weakness and uncertainty in his face when he felt he'd failed in a way that was irredeemable. As though he sensed the question forming on her lips, he stiffly shook his head.
"Just don't ask, Nesta, it's not worth getting into."
Nesta dipped her chin once, he would speak when he was ready. But in the meantime . . .
Before he could continue, she rose up on her toes and pressed a chaste kiss to his lips, lingering for a moment. The tension began to melt out of his shoulders instantly as he swept her up, his face buried in her shoulder. She wrapped her arms around him, mindful to keep the worst of the slime off him.
"Together."
Her words were his underdoing, a sigh of reprieve escaping his lips as tugged her closer and nipped at her neck, causing her toes to curl in her boots.
The brutish fool with a heart of gold that she'd hated so adamantly had somehow planted himself in the center of her existence, had become such a vital piece that she didn't know if she could bear to exist without him. He was the piece she'd spent so many years believing that she didn't deserve. And to see him such disarray . . .
His guilt broke the most fundamental parts of her.
He'd started under the collar of her leathers when she stopped him with a grimy hand to his chest.
"Not here, idiot." She pushed him, even as his grumbled his discontent. "I will not touch you or let you touch me covered in this filth." She had some standards.
"I wouldn't mind it." A flicker of his usual fire came to life in his eyes, his lips finally pulling back in a true grin.
She rolled her eyes and pushed herself away from him. Count on the needs of males to take precedence over hygiene-she was certain he wouldn't like whatever nasty little parasites he'd be left to deal with if she granted him his wish.
"Later." Nesta motioned toward the roses he'd dropped when he'd swept her up. He muttered his curses and gently picked up the delicate flowers, straightening their petals. "To the valley first." She looked at the forest around her, the silence poisonous, wondering just where her lieutenant was in the vast wilderness, if she was even there at all. "Then we hunt for Valka."