Daisy Blooms - Azriel

Chapter 18

Nesta sat at the table where the Mask rested, a book open before her. From the speed with which she shut the volume, she'd been reading one of the romances she, Emerie, and Gwyn traded amongst them.

Helion stepped into the room, and Nesta rose. She'd worn a dark blue dress today. No longer did it hang off her.

Helion offered a bow of his head, the epitome of courtly grace. "Lady Nesta."

Nesta bobbed a curtsy, but her eyes cut to Feyre. "Lady?"

Feyre shrugged. "He's being polite."

Nesta slid her eyes to Cassian's. "Now I understand why you find the title grating."

He smiled, and Helion blinked-as if shocked she'd forgotten a High Lord stood before her.

But Nesta had blown past Helion the first time they'd met, too, utterly unimpressed.

Cassian said to her, "It never gets easier."

Nesta faced Helion again, taking in that spiked golden crown and the draped white robe. "Was that your winged horse that flew over earlier?"

Helion's smile was a thing of cultivated beauty. "He is my finest stallion."

"He's lovely."

"As are you."

"Don't even try that buddy, we all know you'll fail." I say.

Nesta angled her head. Feyre and Rhys seemed to be trying not to laugh, and Azriel was the portrait of cool boredom.

Nesta surveyed Helion for long enough that he shifted on his feet. She said at last, "I appreciate the compliment," and that was that.

Helion frowned slightly.

Rhys cleared his throat, "Well, there it is." He pointed to the black velvet mound on the table. "Nesta?"

She pulled away the cloth. Ancient, beaten gold gleamed and Helion hissed as a cold, strange power filled the room, whispering like a chill breeze.

Helion whirled to Nesta, all sensuality vanished. "You truly wore this and lived?" It wasn't a question meant to be answered. "Cover it again, please. I can't stand it."

Rhys tucked in his wings. "It affects you that much?"

"Doesn't it rake its cold claws down your senses?" Helion asked.

"Not as much as all that," Feyre said. "We can sense its power, but it didn't bother any of us so seriously."

Helion shuddered, and Nesta threw the cloth over the Mask. As if the cloth somehow blinded it to their presence. "Perhaps an ancestor of mine once used it, and the warning of its cost is imprinted upon my blood." Helion shook out a breath. "All right, not-Lady Nesta. Allow me to show you some warding tricks even clever Rhysand doesn't know. "

In the end, Helion created the wards and keyed them to Nesta's blood. A pinprick of it, courtesy of Truth-Teller, had done the job.

Cassian was grinding his teeth loudly enough that Feyre whispered to him beneath Nesta and Helion's conversation, "What's wrong with you?"

Cassian muttered hack, "Nothing. Stop being such a busybody, Cursebreaker."

Feyre shot him a sidelong glance. "You're acting like a caged animal." Her lips curved upward. "Are you jealous?"

Cassian kept his voice neutral. "Of Helion?"

"Of course he's jealous. You don't see all of the lingering glances between him and your sister." I say. And Feyre looks confused.