A Court of Silver Flames (A Court of Thorns and Roses, #4)

by Sarah J. Maas

Keep reaching out your hand.

Nesta allowed every bit of unpleasantness to show in her face. She’d already conversed with one stranger today, fulfilling her quota of basic decency. Being kind to a second one was beyond her.

“The first time I saw that look on your face, you were still human. Still human, and I nearly went to my knees before you.”

“Your power is a song, and one I’ve waited a very, very long time to hear, Nesta.”

“I’m going to think of that look on your face.” He took another step down the hall. “I’m always thinking of that look on your face.”

Though she had fought back against Tomas, against the Cauldron, against the King of Hybern, they had all happened to her. She had survived, but she had been helpless and afraid. Not today. Today, she would happen to him.

Every hated enemy, every moment she’d been powerless against them simmered to the surface. And with each movement of the sword, each breath, a thought formed. It echoed with every inhale, every thrust and block. Never again. Never again would she be weak. Never again would she be at someone’s mercy. Never again would she fail. Never again, never again, never again.

Rhys lifted his head. “This is a bad idea.” Cassian winked. “That should be written on the Night Court crest.”

“I am going to tell you that you will get through it. That you will face all of this, and you will get through it. That these tears are good, Nesta. These tears mean you care. I am going to tell you that it is not too late, not for any of it. And I can’t tell you when, or how, but it will get better. What you feel, this guilt and pain and self-loathing—you will get through it. But only if you are willing to fight. Only if you are willing to face it, and embrace it, and walk through it, to emerge on the other side of it. And maybe you will still feel that tinge of pain, but there is another side. A better side.” She pulled back from his chest then. Found his gaze lined with silver. “I don’t know how to get there. I don’t think I’m capable of it.” His eyes glimmered with pain for her. “You are. I’ve seen it—I’ve seen what you can do when you are willing to fight for the people you love. Why not apply that same bravery and loyalty to yourself? Don’t say you don’t deserve it.” He gripped her chin. “Everyone deserves happiness. The road there isn’t easy. It is long, and hard, and often traveled utterly blind. But you keep going.” He nodded to the mountains, the lake. “Because you know the destination will be worthwhile.”

“Forgiveness is not that easy.” “Forgiveness is something we also grant ourselves. And I can talk to you until these mountains crumble around us, but if you don’t wish to be forgiven, if you don’t want to stop feeling this way … it won’t happen.”

“But I still don’t know how to fix myself.” “There’s nothing broken to be fixed,” he said fiercely. “You are helping yourself. Healing the parts of you that hurt too much—and perhaps hurt others, too.”

That was all she supposed she could do: just keep going. One day, one breath at a time.

Nesta said hoarsely, “You are good, Cassian. And you are brave, and brilliant, and kind. I could kill anyone who has ever made you feel less than that—less than what you are. And I know I’m a part of that group, and I hate it.” Her eyes burned, but she fought past it. “You are everything I have never been, and will never be good enough for. Your friends know it, and I have carried it around with me all this time—that I do not deserve you.” The fury slid from his face. Nesta didn’t stop the tears that flowed, or the words that tumbled out. “I didn’t deserve you before the war, or afterward, and I certainly don’t now.” She let out a low, broken laugh. “Why do you think I shoved you away? Why do you think I wouldn’t speak to you?” She put a hand on her aching chest. “After my father died, after I failed in so many ways—denying myself of you …” She sobbed. “It was my punishment. Don’t you understand that?” She could barely see him through her tears. “From the moment I met you, I wanted you more than reason. From the moment I saw you in my house, you were all I could think about. And it terrified me. No one had ever held such power over me. And I am still terrified that if I let myself have you … it will be taken away. Someone will take it away, and if you’re dead …” She buried her face in her hands. “It doesn’t matter,” she whispered. “I do not deserve you, and I never, ever will.”

Cassian pulled back, and remained that way long enough that she opened her eyes again to find his face inches from her own. “You’re not going to marry Eris,” he said roughly. “No,” she breathed. His eyes blazed. “There will be no one else. For either of us.” “Yes,” she whispered. “Ever,” he promised. Nesta laid a hand on his muscled chest, letting the thunderous beating of the heart beneath echo into her palm. Let it travel down her arm, into her own chest, her own heart. “Ever,” she swore. It was all he needed. All she needed.

“I wish for us to have the courage to go out into the world when we are ready, but to always be able to find our way back to each other. No matter what.”

Gwyn whispered, “I am the rock against which the surf crashes.” Nesta straightened at the words, as if they were a prayer and a summons. Gwyn lifted the blade. “Nothing can break me.”

Gwyn threw Azriel a withering stare as she strode past him. “See you tomorrow, Shadowsinger,” she tossed over a shoulder. Az stared after her, brows high with amusement. When he turned back, Nesta grinned. “You have no idea what you just started,” she said. Az angled his head, hazel eyes narrowing as Gwyn reached the archway. “Remember how Gwyn was with the ribbon?” Nesta winked and clapped the shadowsinger on the shoulder. “You’re the new ribbon, Az.”

She would not be mastered by anything again. She was the master of herself.

Amren put a hand above Nesta’s heart. “That’s the key, isn’t it? To know the darkness will always remain, but how you choose to face it, handle it … that’s the important part. To not let it consume. To focus upon the good, the things that fill you with wonder.” She gestured to the stars zooming past. “The struggle with that darkness is worth it, just to see such things.”

Emerie was the one to say to Gwyn, “I can’t believe you left the library.” Gwyn stroked Nesta’s head. “Some things are more important than fear.”

He didn’t stand a chance. Nesta lowered the knife. And flicked her wrist, fingers splaying as she let it soar toward the male. Right into his groin.

OMFGGGG

“You two came looking for me.” “Of course we did,” Emerie said, interlacing her hand with Gwyn’s, then Nesta’s, and squeezing tightly. “It’s what sisters do.”

Stroking Feyre’s cold hand, Nesta spoke into the timeless, frozen room, “You loved me when no one else would. You never stopped. Even when I didn’t deserve it, you loved me, and fought for me, and …” Nesta looked at Feyre’s face, Death a breath away from claiming it. She didn’t stop the tears that ran down her cheeks as she squeezed Feyre’s slender hand tighter. “I love you, Feyre.” She had never said the words aloud. To anyone. “I love you,” Nesta whispered again. “I love you.”

“I give it back. I give it back. I give it back.”

Nesta considered. Then pulled something out of her pocket. A small biscuit, swiped from a tray in the birthing room. “Then here. Food. From me to you, my mate. That’s the official ritual, isn’t it? The sharing of food from one mate to the other?” He choked. “These are my two options? A frilly mating ceremony or a stale biscuit?” Her face filled with such true light, it nearly stole the breath from him. “Yes.”

Her father had died for her, with love in his heart, and though she might not have deserved it then … She would do all she could now to earn it. To deserve not just his love, but that of those around her. Of Cassian. Some days might indeed be difficult, but she’d do it. Fight for it.