A Court of Dark and Decay

Chapter 35- The Birth Of A God

 Cassian watched Nesta leave Jaida's cabin. 

It was clear from the moment the hood of her cloak was blown back by the wind that something was seriously amiss. 

She was pale, her face too sharp, her gait too static. Nesta walked quickly toward the tents, noting no one's presence. 

Cassian now had a choice. 

Go after Nesta, or burn Jaida alive. 

Jaida had been screwing with Nesta for longer then Cassian knew, that much was apparent. But this was Jaida. He knew her, trusted her. 

Trusted. 

She had lied to him about Nesta before. Whatever had happened, Cassian would find out from Nesta. 

It was obvious he couldn't trust Jaida when it came to Nesta. He would come back for her later. 

Cassian tucked his wings in tight, ducked his head down, pulling his hair out of the bun so it fell around his face, and began to follow Nesta. 

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Nesta's mind was clear and quiet as she made her way through the tents. Illyrians nodded to her, many of them faces she recognized, but she only pulled her hood up and kept her eyes down. 

Luckily for her, people had come to expect cruel weird behavior from her, so no one would notice a difference. 

But Nesta did. 

The blade swinging at her side, the stone in her satchel- the echoed drum of silence through her ears. 

She had worked tirelessly, all day to create this masterpeice of power she carried with her.

This one stone would have taken thousands of deaths, so much destruction to create. 

And Nesta had forged it with her bare hands. 

Power, Nesta was realizing, was not a curse. This power was a living being, walking with her, speaking to her, and breathing it in was a gift.

Nesta was a wraith, the dark cloak and creaking leathers gliding her through the people and tents and happiness that she didn't belong to. 

It was slow motion, Illyrians laughed around her, the embers of fire drifting through the air. She dared to look, to watch this life around her. 

She was greeted with a sea of crinkled eyes, orange flame, kind words. She lifted her gaze, stopping for only a moment to drink it in. 

Life moved around her, as if she were a ghost. Barking laughter, crackling fires, the soup for dinner, the rushing wind. 

It ripped her hood down and whipped her hair. It whispered to her, cooed and charmed her. 

Turn around. 

Nesta obeyed. 

The tents shook with that wind as Nesta slowly turned, eyes glazing across the colors of the life before her. The wind now blew at her back, throwing her hair into her face. 

The eyes of chocolate and honey watched her from afar. 

He wasn't close, wasn't imposing on her, but he was here. 

Her mate stood still amung the tents, the people- just as she did. Cassian wasn't hiding, wasn't trying to hide. He would never hide from her.

Cassian was a hero. A decorated General, lap dog to the mightiest High Fae in history, oft compared to the Illyrian Warrior God Enalius. Nesta knew how all of them saw Cassian.