Chapter Text
Nesta couldn’t marry Tomas. She wouldn’t. She’d rather be dragged over burning cobblestone than to have Tomas lay another finger on her. She’d rather starve. She’d rather die.
So when father came to her that evening, smiling for the first time in ages and telling Nesta that he signed her marriage contract, that he signed her away, Nesta locked herself in the only bedroom in their hovel.
Feyre and Elain were knocking on the other side, asking to be let in, but Nesta ignored them.
She adorned her beloved cloak and grabbed an old leather satchel once forgotten at the bottom of her drawer, strapping it over her shoulder and leaving out the window.
//
The mortal lands were always dreary, today being worse than normal as dark clouds rolled across the skies, a light drizzle casting the earth in gray tones. Raindrops soaked into his cloak, making the thick fabric press into his hair. Cassian readjusted the hood. He leaned against a stone wall in an alleyway biding his time. He wasn’t sure how Azriel regularly did this. Cassian was already bored out of his mind and he’d only been waiting for his target for thirty minutes.
They were trying to track down the mortals producing and selling faebane. There had been several fae bodies found along the wall, each stabbed through the heart with blades imbued with the poison. They were getting close. The man Cassian was sent to find was supposedly the distributor. Meanwhile, Azriel was sent off this morning after discovering the fae who had been supplying the mortals. It was a mess. But here Cassian was, waiting. And waiting.
He grew restless, shifting multiple times on his feet and fidgeting with the hem of his cloak.
“Excuse me,” a cold voice muttered. A female. Cassian glanced up to watch as another cloaked figure stepped around him in the narrow space. He couldn’t see her face, but she was slender and tall. If she were to stand close enough, she would reach his chin.
Cassian caught her scent. Jasmine and something sharp. It was crisp. Fresh. Like the smell of his favorite blade. She glided across the dirty floor with the most perfect posture he’d ever seen, a feat that even some fae couldn’t manage.
Though he’d been glamoured carefully, there was still an innate instinct that made mortals stay far away. All mortals had cringed away from him, whether they knew why or not. But this female was different, fearless the way she completely disregarded him.
Cassian watched her elegant figure down the alley and sharply turned his head as a nearby door opened. A short, square man stepped out. With his rounded belly, thick gray hair, bulbous nose, he matched the image of the target Rhysand had shared with him mind-to-mind. Cassian cracked his knuckles as he pushed himself off the wall.
//
What was a fae doing in a remote, mortal village?
Nesta didn’t know but she did not have a good feeling after seeing that looming, winged beast. It was obviously waiting for something or someone. Nesta was paranoid at first, but the creature hadn’t made a move when she passed. She, however, certainly wasn’t going to stay to find out what its intentions were. Nesta heard stories of fae destroying mortal villages for entertainment, stealing women and torturing them. No fae was good. So, in haste, Nesta quickly paid for bread, cheese, and dried meat at a stall, just enough to last her a week if she rationed properly. She turned to leave but directly ran into another body.
Nesta looked up and immediately recognized the sallow man. She couldn’t recall his name, but he was from her old village. A school friend of Tomas’s. Which meant Tomas was near. His dark eyes scanned her face and his mouth opened, “Aren’t you-“
Nesta didn’t dare to reply. For that had struck more fear into her heart than any fae could. She hastily shoved at the man’s chest and darted back to the trail leading into the forest.
//
The bitter smell of mortal blood lingered in his nose. Cassian rubbed at it with the back of his hand and stepped out in the market square. Now that the job was done, he couldn’t wait to fly back home to Velaris and rest his head on his own pillow. He discreetly maneuvered around the edge so as to not be noticed by the bustling crowds.
As he veered off to the trees surrounding the village, there was a familiar figure walking along a nearby trail. The cloaked female he saw before. She walked quickly, almost running. There was a pinch in her shoulders that Cassian distinctly recognized as fear, which was odd because she’d been completely unphased by him in that alleyway.
Curious, Cassian followed.
He stayed a good distance away as she continued down the trail and eventually off the dirt path, between two trees. Cassian wondered if her home was somewhere nearby. He told himself he was just making sure she got to her destination safely. It made him uneasy to think she was afraid of something and wandering through the woods alone.
Cassian knew enough mortal customs to know that young females were rarely unaccompanied. He kept waiting for this mortal girl to meet up with a parent, a brother, sister perhaps, or maybe even a friend. But for the next hour he discreetly trailed behind her, she was alone. He began to look more closely. With her hurried steps, her cloaked lifted enough to reveal old, tattered boots. The satchel tucked at her side was equally as worn. However, her cloak was made of a rich velvet that must’ve cost several gold coins. Cassian tried placing the pieces together. A poor girl who stole the cloak? Was that why she was running? Perhaps she was nearly caught and that was why she was so frightful.
The gray clouds began to clear, yellow sun turning the forest lush green. Cassian tucked his wings tightly to his sides and concealed himself behind the trunk of an old oak. He watched as the girl paused beside the river. Her shoulders raised with each heaving gulp of air she took. Wary, she glanced behind her. Seeing that she was alone, she knelt down by the water. Pale fingers crept out from the cloak and reached for the hood. She pulled the thick fabric away from her face, and Cassian felt his breath catch.
She was beautiful. Young, early into her adulthood, with eyes the color of his favorite wintry lake in Illyria and an edge to them that made his heart quicken. Her features were exquisitely sharp and so elegant, down to the cut of her cheekbones and the slope of her nose. Her hair was a lightly colored brown with streaks of gold that shone beneath the bright sun and styled into a regal, braided crown. Loose tendrils curled around her jaw, softening her hardened expression. Cassian hands clenched into fists at his sides.
An angel, he thought.
Cassian watched as she lifted the leather flap to her satchel and pulled out a waterskin. She opened the lid and carefully dipped the top into the moving river. Her hands were positioned in such a way that all of her fingers remained dry. Never had Cassian thought such an action could be so beautiful.
The girl brought the filled waterskin to her lips and tipped the long column of her neck back, baring soft, unblemished skin. Cassian had to look away.
She was mortal.
“NESTA!” A nearby male voice shouted angrily. “WHERE ARE YOU?”
Cassian’s eyes snapped back to the girl, who now looked positively filled with terror. Her eyes were wide and her fingers trembled as she clumsily stoppered the waterskin and stuffed it back into her satchel. Her nails scraped against the earth as she stumbled onto her feet. She broke off into a sprint away from the shouting voice.
Cassian felt her panic as keenly as if it were his own. But more than that, he felt the red, hot brand of anger sear through his veins. What had filled this mortal girl with more fright than fae? His question was soon answered by a tall man appearing from the trees. He was lanky with dark hair flat against his brow. He looked all around, but the girl was smart. She’d retreated back into the shadowed safety of the forest.
“NESTA!” The man bellowed once more. His eyes were feral. A violent intent behind them that made Cassian darken, that awakened his craving for blood. “I ALREADY PAID YOUR FATHER,” the mortal continued to yell as he stalked down the river bank. “YOU MADE ME LOOK A FOOL. ONCE I FIND YOU, I’M REALLY GOING TO-“
The mortal male choked on his words as a tight grip encircled his windpipe. He fruitlessly clawed at Cassian’s hand, eyes widening as towering, clawed wings enshrouded them in darkness.
“Scream,” Cassian said.
//
Nesta almost sobbed in relief when Tomas’s shouts turned into screams. She wasn’t sure what could’ve made him scream as such but she wasn’t going to question it. They were close enough to the wall that it could’ve been anything. Perhaps even that winged fae she came across in the alleyway. She couldn’t get a good look at its face, but its wings were terrifyingly large and clawed. She envisioned those claws slicing into Tomas’s flesh. But she couldn’t trust it. Daydreaming would get her nowhere. It never did.
She forced herself to keep running, scurrying between thick trees and beneath sprawling foliage. When her breathing became labored and her legs burned, Nesta thought of Tomas getting his hands on her again, and she ran faster. Never again, she told herself. She would never again let him control her. She’d kill him next time. She’d tear him apart.
//
After killing the mortal man, Cassian wasn’t able to find her. Nesta. She was a tricky thing and kept herself well hidden as he flew over the forest for any glimpse of a dark cloak or gilded hair. He would’ve kept searching all night but Rhysand had called into his mind, asking for his whereabouts and demanding his return to Velaris. Reluctantly, Cassian yielded to his High Lord and flew back North. But he continuously glanced down at the forest, wondering if she was there, if she was safe, if she found somewhere warm to rest her head.
The days continued on. Cassian went about his business as usual, training with his fellow Ilyrians, dinners with his family, war meetings with Rhysand and Azriel. He went out drinking with Mor at a tavern when he saw a female with brown hair braided around her head. Something in his chest stirred, ached. He foolishly thought that Nesta had somehow found her way to Velaris, that she had made it out of that green forest, that she was in this tavern with him. But she wasn’t. The female had turned and she did not have blue-gray eyes he was longing to see.
Being the reckless, idiotic brute that he was, Cassian left that night and found himself flying over Prythian, passing the wall, to the forest where he last saw Nesta. It was getting cooler now, the morning air pleasantly crisp. Cassian followed along the river. If she’d been truly alone, she would’ve stuck close to it, as smart as she was.
Cassian continued his search all day, until the cool air became warmer and the sun shone high in the sky.
He was about to call it quits and fly back to Velaris to make it in time for dinner when he spotted a familiar cloak. Cassian released the breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. He circled down and gently landed far enough away that he wouldn’t be noticed by her mortal eyes.
Nesta was just as stunning as he last remembered. She wore the same cloak, the hood down. Her braided hair was familiarly twisted around her head. Instead of fear, this Nesta had a content expression. The skirts of her blue dress and cloak were bunched together in her hand. In her other hand, she held her old boots by the laces.
A feeling he could not name rose from his chest. He absentmindedly touched it, continuing to watch as Nesta balanced on top of a river stone with bare feet. Gracefully, she hopped onto the next stone, splashing water to her ankles. She went down the river like that, and Cassian, entranced, followed. He dared to get closer, close enough that he could hear the gentle tune she hummed beneath her breath.
Beautiful.
Beautiful Nesta.
//
It’d been at least a month since Nesta left home. She left in August. With the air becoming cooler, it surely must’ve been September by now. She truly chose the most perfect time to leave. As she walked everyday, she admired the changing leaves. That combined with the deliciously crisp air made her glad to be outside.
Nesta didn’t know where she was going, just that she was following the river. Tomas thankfully had not found her again. His screams still rung in her ears. He very well could’ve been dead, but Nesta didn’t want to take her chances.
Besides. Being alone in this forest wasn’t terrible.
The dirt ground she often slept on wasn’t comfortable by any means, but she could make a decent enough mattress with enough grass and leaves and her cloak. She got to sleep in as late as she wanted to. She didn’t have to chop firewood all day.
As she continued with her journey, she would gather herbs and mushrooms and sell them for a small amount of coin at the small villages she would come across. Most of the time, Nesta brought practical things like food, thread to mend her clothing, an old knife. But there were a few times she skipped out on meals just to save for a book.
Nesta was a little ashamed to admit that it was nice to only have to worry about herself and not her sisters or father. Though, she did think of them often. Feyre was probably happy that there was one less mouth to feed, Elain would be sad but continue on with tending to her tiny garden, and her father wouldn’t have cared either way. Nesta wondered if he had already spent the money Tomas paid for her hand, if he bought new shoes for Feyre or flower seeds for Elain, if he had squandered it all on yet another poor investment.
Nesta softly sighed and chose to think of something else instead. She daydreamed about the characters in her book. Alexander was so close to revealing his love for Daphne, but the fear of rejection held him back. Daphne, on the other hand, was glad that Alexander did not speak of the undeniable affection between them. If he were to mention it, it would make it real. And in that fictional society, it would never be allowed. Daphne was the daughter of a duke. Alexander was an orphan with no social standing. Nesta could understand both sides, which made it so frustrating. Honestly, she thought, they should just run away. It had solved most of her problems.
As the sun lowered and blue skies became orange, Nesta left the river and dried off her feet with her cloak. She put her boots back on and went to the trees. She walked around for a bit before finding a spot where two large slabs of stone met, making a corner. It would do for the night. Nesta walked further ahead and collected pieces of stone and wood that she dragged across the forest floor to nearly close off her little corner. When she settled in, laying atop her cloak, the space was just large enough to curl up into a ball. She used the remaining light to read but when she could no longer squint to interpret the words, Nesta closed her book and laid her head down.
//
Cassian couldn’t believe what he was seeing. A mortal girl sleeping alone in the middle of the forest. They weren’t far from the wall. Creatures of any sort could wander by and snatch her. It was a miracle from the Mother that she was still alive. Cassian kept watch all night, ensuring that Nesta remained sound asleep and safe.
He only left when daylight broke and she woke, sleepily rubbing her eyes as she went to relieve herself. Cassian didn’t stray far, however, he returned later that evening to find her sprawled on her back atop granite. For the first time since he saw her, her hair was down. All silky waves of golden brown hair that made his fingers curl. She held up a book and her head was propped up with her satchel. The corners of her lips were just slightly ticked upwards at whatever story she found.
There was something so innocent and wonderfully charming at the sight of her reading. No matter if she was alone in a dangerous forest, she was smiling at her book. Something like that needed to be protected.
She was safe last night, but what about this night? What if Cassian wasn’t there? He sent a pulse of his magic to her, a shield so that nothing could ever harm her.
However, doing so was a mistake, he quickly realized. Nesta sat up in alarm, dropping her book, and made a distressed sound. She licked her lips, expression twisting as if she’d tasted something awfully bitter. Her nails left red streaks as she scratched at the magic coating her skin. Was it possible that she could feel it? Panic stirred in his gut, and Cassian quickly took it back.
Nesta relaxed only a little but her expression remained guarded. Her smile was long gone, now replaced with a scowl as she quickly gathered her belongings and ran.
//
Something was following her. Though she never physically saw anyone or anything of concern whenever she looked over her shoulder, Nesta could feel it. She felt it overwhelmingly for the first time when she was reading on top of her favorite rock - a thin layer of warmth overlaying her skin. It felt like the caress of a warm summer wind, it was even a little pleasant, but something bitter saturated her tongue. Nesta remembered too that summer was over, and suddenly the touch of whatever was ensheathing her felt wrong.
It left as quickly as it came, but Nesta felt it lingering around her. She couldn’t rid of it, no matter if she hid beneath bushes or behind trees. It continued to trail after her, incessantly following, and it filled her with a dreadful fear she was already too familiar with.
As she continued sprinting through the forest, clutching her dull blade to her chest, her boot snagged on a rotten tree root. Nesta cried in frustration, yanking at her shoe but the bloody thing wouldn’t come free. She fell to her knees then, slumping into the mud. It was useless. She was so utterly hopeless. And she deserved it. For running. For forcing Feyre to go hunting all alone, for abandoning her family, for allowing Tomas to touch her.
Nothing was right. Everything was wrong. Nesta didn’t know how to fix this or how she could even begin to try. Heat twisted up from her gut, squeezing her insides and making her burn.
Her entire body shook with the force of her cries, and she couldn’t stop it.
“Nesta,” a deep, unfamiliar voice called. The gentleness of it made her sick.
Her neck snapped up, and Nesta was suddenly face-to-face with a man. If you could even call him that. Through her tears, she did not recognize his rough-hewn features, the scar slashing through his right brow, his dark hair down to his shoulders. But she did recognize the wings. Monstrous, clawed wings.
And that did nothing but enrage her further.
He’d been following her, hadn’t he? The fae from before. Why else would he be here? What did he want from her? What else could he want? All men wanted the same thing. And never again would Nesta allow herself to be placed in such a situation.
“Nesta,” he said again, somehow knowing her name.
And Nesta responded by taking her blade and ramming it into his bicep.
//
Her blade was old, dulled at the edge, barely cutting through his leathers, but he admired her ferocity nonetheless. She was like a wounded animal as she hissed and snapped at him, writhing in mud as she tried to pull her foot free.
“Relax,” Cassian calmly said. “You are pushing your foot in deeper.”
Nesta snarled, pointedly ignoring him as she continued uselessly yanking on her leg.
“Allow me,” he tried, bringing an outstretched hand toward her.
But she slapped his hand away, sneering, “Do not touch me.”
“Alright, fine.” Cassian set his hand back to his side. “But I am only trying to help. Your ankle is tangled in root.”
Nesta huffed, but she finally seemed to listen as she calmed enough to look at what he was referring to. She reached down, lifting one of the heavy roots enough to slip her boot free.
Cassian offered a hand to help her stand. She glanced at his opened palm then up at his face with an unimpressed glare. She was even more beautiful up-close.
Rising elegantly onto steady feet like a queen, Nesta stepped around his large frame. Not saying another word as she continued on with her journey as if he didn’t exist. The corner of his lip pulled.
“Hold on, sweetheart,” he called, turning to jog and catch up with her hurried steps. “Where are you going?”
Nesta settled him with another pink-lipped scowl before turning away. “Away.”
Cassian’s smirk only widened. “Your ankle. It doesn’t hurt?”
Nesta grit her teeth. He had noticed her left leg dragging just a bit more than the right. “Your arm.” She fired back, “It doesn’t hurt?”
Cassian glanced down at the blade still sticking out of his leathers. “Oh,” he said. He grabbed onto the hilt of it before pulling it out. There was only a minuscule amount of blood on its tip. “Barely a scratch. You’ll have to try harder to kill me, Nes.”
“Don’t call me that.”
“Alright, Nesta-“
She suddenly spun around, so quickly that he stumbled not to run into her. “How do you know my name?” Her tone was demanding, her blue-gray eyes even more so. She truly was fearless, this one.
“I heard it being yelled across the river by a man.”
“And you’ve been following me since then?” Nesta’s frown deepened.
Cassian suddenly felt embarrassed. He was following her, yes, but he’d only been interested in her safety. Perhaps he was a little curious about her too, but her safety had always been his priority. However, the more he convinced himself he wasn’t trying to be strange, the more he realized that he was being strange. “I suppose I have,” he said.
“You suppose?” Nesta shot him a glare that would’ve sent most males running. “And I don’t suppose you know what happened to Tomas?”
Tomas? Cassian frowned. Was that the man she’d been running from? He told her bluntly, “He’s dead.”
Nesta paused, nostrils flaring, but her shoulders lowered. “Did you kill him?”
“Yes.” Cassian tilted his head. “Was I not supposed to?”
“I didn’t say that,” Nesta huffed. He caught the breeze from her cloak and her sweet scent as she spun back around to continue forward.
“Then I’m glad I did it.” Cassian declared, only a step behind her.
She scoffed. “Why are you still following me?”
“Why are you walking through the forest alone?”
“Are those wings not functional?” Nesta snapped. “Can you not fly away?”
Surprised, Cassian’s brow raised. “You can see them? My wings?”
“Of course, I can. They’re bigger than your head.”
//
The fae was strange. He appeared as deadly as how her childhood stories portrayed him out to be, what with his leather clothing that made him look as if he were covered in scales, his terrifying wings, his rough features, the devilish glint in his eyes. And yet, he was much different than she could have ever imagined as he threw his head back laughing at her off handed remark.
Nesta hugged her dirty cloak tighter over her shoulders. She didn’t know what else to say, so she kept walking, the fae close behind her. Her ankle throbbed with searing pain, begging her to stop, but Nesta didn’t want him to see that she was weak. That’s how he would take advantage of her.
She didn’t know why he was still here. What would a fae want with a mortal? It didn’t seem right.
“Nesta,” he said, and she flinched at both the sound and his gentle touch on her wrist. Noticing her expression, the fae pulled his hand back. “Your ankle. You’re hurt-”
“No, I’m not.”
“Yes, you-“
“I’m not.”
“I only want to help-“
“But why?” Nesta turned to face him once more. She was surprised to see how close he was standing, how vibrant his hazel eyes were.
“I don’t know,” he exasperated truthfully, air rushing from his broad chest as he peered down at her. “I don’t know, but I want to help you.”
Nesta scowled, heat rattling up her spine. “No, you don’t.”
“How do you know what I don’t or do want?” He shot back, now frowning as well.
“Because.” Nesta wanted to scream. “You men always want the same thing-“
“I am not a pathetic mortal man.” The fae glowered, and Nesta pursed her lips, effectively silenced. Her entire being seemed to still as she looked up into his darkening eyes. “I am male. We do not harm or lay unwanting hands on our females.”
“I don’t trust you.” Nesta retorted, steeling her voice. “I’m not one of your females.”
The fae exhaled, the nostrils of his prominent nose flaring. “Fair.” He lifted his cloak, and Nesta saw that he had a belt with a collection of various wicked knives. He chose a smaller one at the end. “Here.” He held it out to her. “Take this and know that it’s sharp enough to kill me.” As Nesta wrapped her fingers around the hilt, the fae pointed to a spot on his neck. “Drive the blade here to make me bleed out.” He lifted his arm and moved his finger to the side of his chest. “And here is where the stitching to my leathers is the weakest. You’d kill me quickly.”
Nesta took in the information with a silent nod, her brow still furrowed.
“Now, will you let me see your ankle?”
Reluctantly, Nesta agreed to sit down on a nearby log. She stretched her leg out and lifted the hem of her dress. Her ankle continued to throb, more so when they got her boot off and examined the damage. It didn’t appear broken, but her skin was swollen an angry shade of red.
“Can I use my magic to heal this?” The fae carefully asked, surprisingly gentle as he cradled her leg in his hands as if it were made of glass.
Nesta shifted awkwardly on her wooden seat. “Magic?”
“Yes, magic. It’ll be quick, and you’ll be good as new to continue your walk.”
Nesta bit down on her lower lip, giving another small nod.
She winced as his large hands completely wrapped around her ankle. Nesta realized then that he had large stones stitched onto the leather at the back of his hands. As they began to pulse a bright shade of red, a gust of warmth flitted over her skin. A bitter taste, like tea that’d been left to steep overnight, coated her tongue. The fae opened his hands, revealing an unswollen, normal looking ankle. Nesta tested the joint, rotating her foot a few times, pleased to find that there was no pain whatsoever.
But then she paused. “Earlier, when I was reading, that was you, wasn’t it? You put your magic on me then too.”
The fae scratched the back of his head. And if her eyes were deceiving her, his cheeks darkened. “I tried casting a shield over you so that nothing could physically harm you, but I guess you can feel that too. I took it back.” Oh. “I apologize. I didn’t realize then that it was wrong.”
“I would like to know if magic is being done to me, yes.”
“Of course.” His fingers brushed over her ankle. And now that she was no longer in pain, the simple touch made her shiver. “It won’t happen again.”
Accepting his answer, Nesta nodded.
The corners of his mouth lifted as he watched her, still knelt by her side with her ankle in his hands. He wasn’t unpleasant like this.
“Where will you go next?” The fae asked. Nesta found her eyes being drawn to his wings. They moved whenever he spoke.
“Home, I think.” Tomas was dead if the fae could be trusted. Nesta absentmindedly held the gifted blade to her chest. She supposed he could.
“Where is home?”
“I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?”
Nesta scowled as he questioningly appraised her with a curtain of black hair falling over one shoulder. “I ran away, now I don’t know how to get back.”
“You were running because of that man?”
“He paid my father for my hand in marriage.”
The words had slipped out before Nesta could stop them. She didn’t know this fae. Had no reason to be sharing any details of her life with him. And yet, she felt validated when his expression darkened. “Your father sold you to be married?”
“It matters no longer.” Nesta shook her head. “You killed Tomas, didn’t you? I can go home now.”
“You’re not going home to that.” The fae huffed.
“Where am I supposed to go?” She couldn’t help rolling her eyes. “Winter is coming. I can’t continue wandering through these trees like a madwoman.”
“What if-” He started before cutting himself off, as if he realized whatever he was going to say was lunacy. But it didn’t seem to matter anyways as his brow furrowed and he continued, “What if you came with me?”
Her lips parted. “What?”
“Come with me to my home in Velaris.” He quickly said, knowing what he was suggesting was ridiculous. “You’d have your own accommodations, of course. And you’d like it there. The night sky is ten times more beautiful, and there is a bookstore that stays open until midnight serving hot chocolates. I live right next to it-”
“I don’t even know your name.”
“You don’t? It’s Cassian.”
“Cassian,” Nesta tested his name on her tongue. It was fitting.
“Yes.” She hated the catch in his breath, how his hazel eyes brightened with hope. “You know my name. Come to Velaris with me.”
She shook her head, looking away. “I don’t even know you.”
“You could.”
Nesta frowned. “Take me home. Please.” She tugged her ankle out of his grasp.
“Alright.” He quietly sighed, and she was grateful that he didn’t push the issue further. Cassian stood before her. She had to crane her head up to meet his gaze. Holding a hand out to her, he motioned with his chin, “Come. If I fly you, do you think you could recognize your way home?”
Nesta swallowed the knot in her throat, carefully sliding her palm against his. His skin was rough, calloused, and incredibly warm. Heat exuded from him. And as his fingers curled around her, helping her rise, she could not find the words to answer him.
“I’ll have to hold you when we fly. Is that alright?”
Nesta nodded, her mouth dry. She stepped into his waiting arms, tensing as they curled around her. Cassian kept his touch light, just barely cradling her waist and back enough to feel secure. Just to be safe, however, as Nesta rested a hand onto his broad chest, she used the other to press the blunt edge of her knife to the spot on his neck he’d shown her earlier.
She felt the rumble of his chuckle beneath her fingers. He didn’t say anything else, like he knew that she needed it to feel safe.
Her eyes then flitted to his wings as they began to beat harder and harder, booming and stirring the wind around them until they generated enough force for them to shoot into the sky. Nesta yelped in surprise, her eyes squeezing shut and the hand on his chest moving to cling around his neck.
“It’s alright,” Cassian said, the breath of his voice against her neck making her shiver. She held tighter onto his warmth. The wind felt much cooler this high up, and her stomach felt like it was twisting within her. “Do you see anything you recognize that may be close to your home?”
Nesta blinked her eyes open but quickly regretted it. Her stomach made another swooping sensation when she realized just how high they were. The forest was all nondescript green. She could no longer delineate the individual trees.
Her nails dug into his neck as she trembled, “I don’t know.”
“It’s okay,” Cassian gently told her. He lowered them closer to the trees. “Do you see the river?” He asked. “I’m following it in the opposite direction you were walking.”
Nesta tried to relax as she released a shaky breath. “Yes, I see the river.” As she blinked and tried to pay attention to the moving water, she began to recognize where they were. She looked further south, to the right, and saw the small village she stopped at two days ago. It was a busy market day. She could hear the bustle of merchants from even in the sky. That made her glance at large, clawed wings. “Can they not see us flying?”
“No, we are glamoured.”
“We are?” Nesta blinked again, now focusing within herself. His magic previously felt like warmth encasing her, but now, she had thought she felt warm because he was holding her. His magic had also left a bitter taste on her tongue. But as Nesta licked her lips, she didn’t notice anything different. “Why is it that your magic affects me differently?”
“I do not know.” Nesta felt his grip tighten, just barely, around her, and it didn’t feel wrong.
Though she began to relax, Nesta still kept her blade pressed to his neck. Cassian was undeterred. He flew without fault, carrying her as if she were a mere feather. Her eyes were drawn to his wings then. They were extended, fluttering gently with the wind. The membranes between the ridges weren’t completely opaque. A bit of sunshine leaked through, making the dark color of them appear more orange. There was also the size of them too. The ridges lining the top must’ve been as thick as her forearm. Nesta wondered what they were made of. A small amount of light reflecting from the surface let her know that it was at least hardened, but she wondered exactly how firm.
The hand on his chest trailed up to his shoulder. Cassian continued to remain unfazed as he scanned the earth below. Curious, Nesta reached her fingers out and gently grazed her touch against the ridge of his wing.
A startled sound tumbled from his lips and suddenly, they were falling.
Nesta yelped her surprise, flinging her arms around his neck as they rapidly descended. She buried her face into his shoulder. Cold wind rushed all around them. Her stomach twisted in knots.
“I’m sorry,” Cassian rasped. Nesta could hear the beating of his wings as he righted them in the air. The winds around them eventually settled, but her heart would not. It felt as if it would leap out of her chest with how hard it was beating, especially as his hand curled into the back of her cloak. “Are you alright, sweetheart?”
Nesta was still clinging to him, her eyes squeezed shut, yet she managed to hiss, “What is wrong with you?”
“My wings are very sensitive.”
“Sensitive?” Nesta blinked her eyes open to glare, pressing her knife back to his neck.
Cassian breathlessly laughed. He shook his head, long strands of black hair tickling her cheek. “In my culture, it’s considered rude to touch another’s wings without consent. Your touch startled me.”
That made Nesta pause. “I didn’t know.”
“And that’s alright.” He glanced at her, throwing a wink. “Next time, all you need to do is ask. I’d never deny you.”
Nesta exasperatingly rolled her eyes. “And what makes you think there will be a next time?”
She watched the muscles along his jaw tighten. “I just know.”
Nesta huffed. She craned her neck around and looked towards the ground. Her stomach gave yet another swoop, but before she looked away, she spotted the blue topped roof of her favorite bookstore in the village not too far from the hovel she called home.
She patted Cassian’s chest. “There,” she said, pointing with her knife. “That’s the village closest to my home.”
Cassian tipped his head in understanding then began his descent. He went slowly, Nesta noticed, which her stomach was grateful for. She disentangled herself from his arms, sighing in relief once her feet touched earth.
She dusted off her cloak then frowned when she realized how muddy it was. It’d take days to clean.
Cassian cleared his throat, making her gaze snap back to him. “I…” He trailed off. His lips were held in a thin line, different from the teasing smirks he’d thrown her earlier.
“You what?” Nesta frowned. “Actually, I do not want to know.” She turned to leave, but his voice made her hesitate.
“So that’s it?” His tone was harsh, borderline desperate, and that made her twinge with alarm. “You’d just walk away?”
Her scowl deepened and she spun back around to face him. “I don’t owe you anything,” Nesta snapped. “You were the one who was following me. You offered to fly me home.” With each step she took closer to him, heat raged beneath her skin. “If you think I owe you anything or if you deserve to be rewarded, then fuck you. You are just like every man-“
“No,” Cassian all but shouted. His expression was darkened, hazel eyes burning. “You misunderstand me. I don’t want anything from you.”
“What-“
“You don’t have to give me anything, and I will not take what is not offered. The only thing I want is to see you again.”
Nesta shook her head. She couldn’t believe what she was hearing, yet her traitorous heart ached at his words. “That could never happen.”
“Did our people not once live in harmony?” Cassian instantly countered, fierce.
Her hands clenched into fists at her side. “I told you. I don’t even know you.”
“And I told you, you could know me.”
“You’re impossible,” she scoffed.
And that somehow made him smile. That maddening curve of his lips. “I could say the same about you.”
“Go home,” Nesta said. But as she moved to turn again, he caught her by the wrist.
She threw him a scathing glare, but he weathered it with a bittersweet expression. “I will go home as you wish, Nes, but if you ever require my assistance for any reason at all or if you’d just like to have a friend, you only need call.”
“How am I supposed to do that?”
With his chin, he motioned to the knife still clutched in her hand. “The blade is imbued with my magic. Stab something with it and I’ll know its exact location.”
Nesta frowned at the weapon in her hand. “That’s barbaric.”
“It lets me know when my brothers have stolen from me.” Before she could ponder if his brothers were as equally infuriating, Cassian released her wrist, leaving her skin cold. He threw her one last wink as he took a step back. “See you soon, Nes.”
And with a wave of his hand, the booming of his wings, Cassian shot into the sky and he was gone.
Nesta stood alone in the forest, staring at the imprint his boots left into the dirt. The surrounding trees were suddenly too quiet. The air around her empty. She couldn’t understand that feeling in her chest, that ache. But it didn’t matter, she told herself. He would live his immortal life, forgetting the strange mortal girl he met in a forest. She would mean nothing to him.
Nesta steeled herself and drained any emotion she might have. She’d forget about him too.
So with her nose turned upward, she walked home.