Her fae & His fairy

Chapter 27

Cassian:

My plea lingered in the air, heavy with unspoken warnings, as Nesta moved forward with determined strides, her flowing grey dress trailing behind her like an ethereal cape. I followed, my brows furrowed, the tension in my frame betraying my reluctance. The river house, bathed in the gentle murmur of the nearby river, seemed unaware of the storm brewing within the two Illyrians.

Nesta's casual inquiry reached back to where I stood, matching her pace just as we approached the entrance. "Why so reluctant to let me meet her? Should I be concerned?" Her words, delivered with casual curiosity, only heightened my unease. The river's serene hum created a deceptive calm, masking the potential chaos that awaited us inside.

"You know that is not the issue," I replied, my voice a low murmur filled with the weight of unspoken concerns. The river house, once a sanctuary of peace, now stood on the brink of becoming the backdrop for a confrontation that could send ripples across Rhysand's Court.

"I simply wish to say hello," Nesta retorted, her tone deceptively casual as she reached for the doorknob. A simple greeting, but in the hands of Nesta Archeron, it held the potential to unleash chaos. The air crackled with the impending collision of personalities, the resurgence of long-held tensions, and the burden of unspoken histories. It threatened to unravel the delicate balance we had managed to maintain in Rhysand's meticulously crafted court.

As Nesta swung the door open, revealing the interior of the river house, I braced myself for the tumult that might follow. The river's calm outside was a stark contrast to the charged atmosphere enveloping us. The river house, once a sanctuary, now stood as a silent witness to the convergence of past and present, a delicate dance waiting to unfold in ways neither of us could predict.

Taking her coat silently, I begged the Mother that this meeting would not leave me with any wounds.

"Nesta," I begin, reaching out to take her hand into mine. She turns around, her gaze meeting mine, and raises one of her sculpted eyebrows in silent inquiry. "He likes her," I say, the words carrying a subtle warning. I lock eyes with her, hoping she grasps the hidden message within. It's a plea, not just for her to tread carefully but also a silent request not to disrupt the budding connection between Azriel and Euodia.

As I convey the unspoken message, I see understanding flicker in Nesta's eyes. She knows the stakes, not just for my brother but for herself. Azriel holds a unique place in her life, standing as a pillar of support during her darkest times. Even when I couldn't be there to shield her from Rhysand's words, Azriel stood as an unwavering wall between her and the storms that sought to break her.

"He cares for her more than you might think," I add, emphasising the significance of Azriel's feelings. The last two days have seen a lightness in his eyes, something I hadn't witnessed in a long time. It's a delicate moment, and any misstep could shatter the fragile connection between Azriel and Euodia.

The warning in my eyes extends beyond just my brother; it's a plea for Nesta to consider the consequences of her actions. Should she interfere and jeopardise whatever is blossoming between Azriel and Euodia, I know Nesta would carry the weight of that decision forever. It's a plea for caution, a hope that she will navigate this situation with the care it deserves.

She lifts my hand and kisses the back, a subtle gesture of affection that she reserves for public settings. Her actions are a rare display of tenderness, a whisper of intimacy that holds significance in its simplicity. As she turns away, heading toward where the voices have ceased, I take a moment to absorb the weight of that fleeting kiss.

Entering the living room, the atmosphere crackles with a mix of tension and expectation. Before me, I stand both of my brothers, Feyre, Elain, and Euodia. Nesta strides forward, her regal posture commanding attention. She begins with a kiss on the cheek for her youngest sister, Feyre, a greeting laced with familial warmth. Her steps then lead her to the middle sister, Elain, where another display of familial affection is exchanged.