A Court of Truth and Deceit

LAST UPDATE

This is lil short story of a scene from chapter four that we've been keeping from you guys (: Enjoy! Also stay tuned for an announcement at the end

Tears and Vapor

Nesta

"I'm sorry." His hand gripped Nesta's tightly—like a lifeline. Nesta wasn't sure what was scarier, him screaming and begging to be killed, or broken like this. "I'm sorry. I failed you, Nesta. I couldn't defend you. I'm sorry." Bullshit. Bullshit all of it. She had seen what happened when the king of Hybern had sent that wave of magic. Cassian had sacrificed those wings, the wings he took so much pride in, for his brother, Azriel.

And yes, he hadn't been able to keep that promise he'd made. But Nesta had seen how he tried to get up and fight, even with those shredded wings. Even when he was bleeding and dying and with each movement he made to get up, to keep his promise, blood spurted from the wounds in his wings.

The fault was not his. And he had tried to keep his promise, to his dying breath and shredded wings. And so she would help him up now.

"I hope you plan on keeping your immortal ass alive," Nesta said, by way of greeting. There were tears and blood stains on the pillow case, and there were tears and blood stains on his face. Gently, she wiped those tears and blood drops away. Half of his face was buried in the sheets and blankets.

"Cassian." She slid her right index finger, now long and pale, courtesy of having been Made, under his chin and tried to make him look up. Her finger poked and prodded his chin, but his head didn't budge. Fae bastards. What were their heads made of? "Cassian. Look. At. Me."

His face shifted slightly, and a single hazel eye pierced the gray-blue eyes of Nesta's. He took in a sharp breath. She wouldn't have heard it if she was still human, but Nesta was Fae now, her hearing impossibly acute. She tilted her head to the side.

"What?"

"You'll hate me," he said quickly. Perhaps this was the most worrying part of all. Cassian's show of arrogance and confidence had quickly deteriorated since the destruction and amputation of his wings.

"For not being able to protect me? Please," Nesa snorted slightly before clasping her other hand onto his single one. By the Cauldron, they were huge. "Plus, in case you haven't noticed, I already hate you. What is it?"

"It's just... it's just that..." He hesitated. Then forged forward, "You're beautiful."

"Every High Fae is beautiful," she replied plainly.

"Perhaps. But you were beautiful before you were High Fae." Nesta furrowed her brows. Compliments from Cassian that weren't backhanded or flirtatious in some way was... incredibly out of character for him.

"Thank you," she said distractedly. A lull in conversation as Nesta searched quickly for a way to change the topic of conversation. "Are you still going to kill yourself?"

Cassian's single visible eye turned sad and mopey nearly immediately, if it was possible to tell emotion just by looking at a single eye. "What else am I supposed to do without wings?"

"You can lead an army without wings. You can fight without wings. You can win a war without wings." And then, before she lost her sudden bout of courage, "You can flirt with someone without wings. Not having wings doesn't detract your irresistible beauty in any way." She swallowed hard on the last sentence. A compliment like that was bound to have repercussions when it was for someone like Cassian. And indeed it did. He quieted, before he seemingly remembered how to smile and flirt and flaunt his arrogance. Cassian's mood was like a switch—constantly flipping between his usual self and a watered-down version with a large splattering of self-pity. Nesta just needed to figure out the trigger.