A Court of Silver Flames (A Court of Thorns and Roses #4) by Sarah J. Maas

Each one of their requests had gotten more and more absurd, and Nesta might have felt like they were exploiting the House had it not been so … exuberant in answering their commands. Adding creative flourishes.

Like the fact that each bubble held a tiny bird fluttering about inside.

Silent fireworks still exploded in the far corner of the room, and a miniature pegasus—Nesta’s request, made only when her friends goaded her into submitting one—fed on a small patch of grass by the shelf, content to ignore them. A cake taller than Cassian stood in the center of the room, lit with a thousand candles. Six frogs danced circles around a red-and-white-spotted toadstool, the waltzes provided by Nesta’s Symphonia.

Emerie wore a diamond crown and six strings of pearls. Gwyn sported a broad-brimmed hat fit for any fine lady, perched at a rakish angle on her head. A lace parasol leaned against her other shoulder, and she twirled it idly as she surveyed the windows, the world beyond, and said in a hushed voice, “I sometimes wonder if I shall ever have the courage to go out there again. I fear every day that I won’t.”

Nesta’s smile slid away. She considered her words before she said, “I feel the same.”

Because this existence, living in the House, training, working in the library … It wasn’t real life. Not entirely. When she was allowed to return to the city proper, then she’d face life again. See if she was worthy of it. The thought made her stomach twist.

Dispelling the gloom, Gwyn leaped out of her tub, bubbles spraying, and padded for her bag. “Now, don’t you two dare laugh at me, but I brought something for us to do. I didn’t realize we’d have a magic house to keep us occupied.” She pulled out a bundle of various colored threads. “My sister and I used to braid bracelets and put these little charms on them full of wishes for each other.” She lifted a sack, dumping a few silver coins into her palm. They were no larger than her pinkie nail, and as thin as a wafer. Her voice grew soft. “We believed that the wish would come true once the bracelet fell off.”

Emerie asked gently, “What was her name?”

“Catrin.” Gwyn’s voice held so much pain and longing. “We were fraternal twins. Her hair was dark as onyx, her skin pale as the moon. And she was as moody as the sea.” She laughed quietly. “Despite her faults—and mine—we loved each other dearly. We were all each other had while growing up. She was the only one I could truly rely on. I miss her every day.”

Nesta couldn’t stop herself from thinking of Feyre.

Gwyn said, “I wish I could just have one more moment with her. Just one, to tell her that I love her and say good-bye.” She wiped at her eyes, lifting her head. Looked right at Nesta. “It’s what really mattered in the end, you know. Not our petty fights or differences. I forgot all of that the moment she …” Gwyn shook her head. “It’s all that matters.”

Nesta nodded slowly. Perhaps it wasn’t just her and Feyre, then. Perhaps all sisters had difficulties, fights, chasms between them. She wasn’t perfect, but … neither was Feyre. They had both made mistakes. And both had long, long lives ahead of them. What had occurred in the past did not have to dictate the future.

So Nesta nodded again, letting Gwyn see her understanding. “It’s all that matters,” Nesta agreed.

Gwyn smiled, and then straightened, clearing her throat. “I managed to track the thread and charms down before Solstice, thinking I’d make them for you as little presents, but they took longer to arrive than I thought they would. So I figured we could make the bracelets tonight.” She carefully set the materials upon the nearest table.

Nesta and Emerie rose to survey the variety of threads: all colors and hues, all carefully bundled. “Show me how to do it,” Emerie said softly. Nesta wondered if Gwyn’s words had resonated with her, too—what pain and hope Emerie might be holding within her.

But Gwyn grinned, beginning her demonstration by selecting three colors that she thought matched Emerie’s spirit, she claimed. Green, purple, and gold. Nesta refrained from snickering and selected colors for Gwyn: blue, white, and teal. Emerie, in turn, selected Nesta’s colors: navy blue, crimson, and silver. Nesta and Emerie dutifully tried to copy Gwyn’s “easy” steps: doubling up the thread, knotting it, cutting the looped bits, then pinning the top of the bracelet beneath a heavy book as they separated each length by color. And then began a process of looping and pulling, back and forth. Emerie’s knots were flawless. Nesta’s …

“Your bracelet is going to be an eyesore, Gwyn.” Nesta scowled at the wobbly, bunched-up mess that was her first ten rows.

“Keep going,” Gwyn said, leagues ahead on her own bracelet and beginning to add pretty patterns within the rows. “The knots will get better-looking with practice. Just tell me when you’ve gotten to the halfway point and then we’ll add the charm.”

They worked in music-filled companionship, idle chatter bouncing between them, Emerie and Gwyn occasionally laughing at Nesta’s awful workmanship. “Now,” Gwyn said when they were halfway through, “we make wishes for each other.” She reached for one of the tiny coins. “I’ll just hold this in my hand, think of something for Emerie, and—”

“Wait,” Nesta said, catching Gwyn’s hand before it could touch the charm. “Let me.”