But then Cassian crossed to Nesta, the guards stiffening as the Illyrian moved through them as if they were stalks of wheat in a field.
He studied Nesta for a long moment. She was still glaring at the queens, her eyes lined with tears—tears of rage and despair, from that fire that burned her so violently from within. When she finally noticed Cassian, she looked up at him.
His voice was rough as he said, “Five hundred years ago, I fought on battlefields not far from this house. I fought beside human and faerie alike, bled beside them. I will stand on that battlefield again, Nesta Archeron, to protect this house—your people. I can think of no better way to end my existence than to defend those who need it most.”
I watched a tear slide down Nesta’s cheek. And I watched as Cassian reached up a hand to wipe it away.
She did not flinch from his touch.
I didn’t know why, but I looked at Mor.
Her eyes were wide. Not with jealousy, or irritation, but … something perhaps like awe.
Nesta swallowed and at last turned away from Cassian. He stared at my sister a moment longer before facing the queens.
Without signal, the two women rose.
Mor demanded, on her feet as well, “Is it a sum you’re after? Name your price, then.”
The golden queen snorted as their guards closed in around them. “We have all the riches we need. We will now return to our palace to deliberate with our sisters.”
“You’re already going to say no,” Mor pushed.
The golden queen smirked. “Perhaps.” She took the crone’s withered hand.
The ancient queen lifted her chin. “We appreciate the gesture of your trust.”
Then they were gone.
Mor swore. And I looked at Rhys, my own heart breaking, about to demand why he hadn’t pushed, why he hadn’t said more—
But his eyes were on the chair where the golden queen had been seated.
Beneath it, somehow hidden by her voluminous skirts while she’d sat, was a box.
A box … that she must have removed from wherever she was hiding it when she’d leaned down to pick up her handkerchief.
Rhys had known it. Had stopped speaking to get them out as fast as possible.
How and where she’d smuggled in that lead box was the least of my concerns.
Not as the voice of the second and final piece of the Book filled the room, sang to me.
Life and death and rebirth
Sun and moon and dark
Rot and bloom and bones
Hello, sweet thing. Hello, lady of night, princess of decay. Hello, fanged beast and trembling fawn. Love me, touch me, sing me.
Madness. Where the first half had been cold cunning, this box … this was chaos, and disorder, and lawlessness, joy and despair.
Rhys smoothly picked it up and set it on the golden queen’s chair. He did not need my power to open it—because no High Lord’s spells had been keyed to it.
Rhys flipped back the lid. A note lay atop the golden metal of the book.
I read your letter. About the woman you love. I believe you. And I believe in peace.
I believe in a better world.
If anyone asks, you stole this during the meeting.
Do not trust the others. The sixth queen was not ill.
That was it.
Rhys picked up the Book of Breathings.
Light and dark and gray and light and dark and gray—
He said to my two sisters, Cassian sticking close to Nesta, “It is your choice, ladies, whether you wish to remain here, or come with us. You have heard the situation at hand. You have done the math about an evacuation.” A nod of approval as he met Nesta’s gray-blue stare. “Should you choose to remain, a unit of my soldiers will be here within the hour to guard this place. Should you wish to come live with us in that city we just showed them, I’d suggest packing now.”
Nesta looked to Elain, still silent and wide-eyed. The tea she’d prepared—the finest, most exotic tea money could buy—sat undisturbed on the table.
Elain thumbed the iron ring on her finger.
“It is your choice,” Nesta said with unusual gentleness. For her, Nesta would go to Prythian.
Elain swallowed, a doe caught in a snare. “I—I can’t. I …”
But my mate nodded—kindly. With understanding. “The sentries will be here, and remain unseen and unfelt. They will look after themselves. Should you change your minds, one will be waiting in this room every day at noon and at midnight for you to speak. My home is your home. Its doors are always open to you.”
Nesta looked between Rhys and Cassian, then to me. Despair still paled her face, but … she bowed her head. And said to me, “That was why you painted stars on your drawer.”
CHAPTER
58
We immediately returned to Velaris, not trusting the queens to go long without noticing the Book’s absence, especially if the vague mention of the sixth alluded to further foul play amongst them.
Amren had the second half within minutes, not even bothering to ask about the meeting before she vanished into the dining room of the town house and shut the doors behind her. So we waited.
And waited.
Two days passed.