A Court of Magnolias and Ash

Eleven

Nesta:

I can do this. Dinner. I've done it many times before. Pushing boundaries, pushing my nerves until I have none. Easy.

I let my hair down, free of braids and decorations. Golden-brown waves flowed to the middle of my back, brushing itself against the dusty purple gown. Plain except for a silver-embroidered star on my left shoulder. Oblong silver beads, trailed down the metallic thread creating the illusion of a shooting star.

The silky dress hugged every curve--from the sleeves down to my knees before flaring out into a semi long train. A fairly high, sheer neckline that revealed my collarbone and a decent amount of cleavage.

Each step felt like its own battle, but I made it to just outside the dining room. Their voices danced out into the hallway, laughter and unsettling joy. I didn't understand how they could be so unchanged, untainted by our father's death. By the war. How could they not feel what I felt? The ever-growing sorrow not just for our father, but the fallen too. Instead of trying to understand, I walked into the dining room.

Voices died down, an exchange of odd looks around the table but one.

Cassian dropped his fork, his jaw soon following before Azriel lifted it back up. His eyes bored into mine, after ravaging me from head to toe.

"I'm sorry to intrude..." I started, feeling uneasy by their stares—maybe I shouldn't have come.

"You're not." Cassian spoke before anyone could, unable to peel his eyes off of me.

I felt my heart skip, no, stop. It literally sunk into my stomach as I took in his staggering appearance. Cassian's massive wings looked freshly clean, his wavy obsidian hair combed and released to his shoulders. He was a sea of fire, of untouchable beauty that I wished to see more of.

But something was off, I held his attention, noticing the damage—the pain in his eyes I hadn't seen before. I looked away from the startling hazel glow, my eyes drifting downwards, scanning over the growing circles beneath his beautiful eyes. Then descending towards his wings, retracing the countless scars...

"Sit by me," Amren interrupted.

My focus shifted from Cassian to the petite devil then back at the haunted warrior. I didn't reply, instead I clenched my jaw—fighting the onslaught of words that wanted to race out of me.

"We have much to catch up on," Amren purred, patting her seat. Her silver eyes flickering with delight as she looked between me and Cassian.

It took every bit of energy to look away from his copper shields. I sat in between Amren and Rhysand. Conversations continued while I loaded my porcelain plate with mixed vegetables and a mini loaf of bread. I didn't dare glance up at him, I knew he still hadn't looked away.

I examined the spread on the table, a pile of mixed bloody meat was pushed down by Mor. The contents of my stomach spun as the images flooded my view. I took a deep breath, pushing the flashes of the broken and buried out of sight, out of mind.

"Locking yourself in a tower is no way to win a fight," Amren spoke to me dryly, her petite fingers gliding over her ruby necklace.

I swallowed a bite of steamed carrot, "neither is escaping to the Summer Court for romantic affairs."

Amren's hollow snicker silenced the room. They stared between me and her, probably wondering who would strike the other first.

"Fearless," Rhysand joined in, taking a sip of his wine as he looked between me and Amren.

"Not in the least bit," I replied with an edge so sharp, I was sure to draw blood. My eyes narrowed at Rhysand only to quickly soften at his blank expression.