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

“With that pretty face?” she crooned. “I have a hard time believing that.”

Azriel ducked his head, focusing on his food.

“You want to train with Az,” Cassian said tightly, “then go ahead.” He appeared thoughtful for a moment, his eyes lighting before he added, “Though I doubt that you’ll survive a lesson with him, when you can’t manage to walk down a hundred stairs without being so sore the next morning that you’re unable to get out of your chair.”

She braced her feet on the floor. He’d read every tinge of pain on her face if she stood, but letting him see he was right—

Azriel studied the two of them as she planted her hands on the table, bit down on her yelp, and stood in a great rush.

Cassian shoveled more eggs into his mouth and said around them, “Doesn’t count when you use your hands to do most of the work.”

Nesta schooled her face into utter disdain, even as a hiss rose inside her. “I bet that isn’t what you’ve been telling yourself at night.”

Azriel’s shoulders shook with silent laughter as Cassian set down his fork, his eyes gleaming with challenge.

Cassian’s voice dropped an octave. “Is that what those smutty books teach you? That it’s only at night?”

It took a heartbeat for the words to settle. And she couldn’t stop it, the heat that sprang to her face, her glance at his powerful hands. Even with Azriel now biting his lip to keep from laughing, she couldn’t stop herself.

Cassian said with a wicked smile, “It could be anytime—dawn’s first light, or when I’m bathing, or even after a long, hard day of practice.”

She didn’t miss the slight emphasis he put on long, hard.

Nesta couldn’t stop her toes from curling in her boots. But she said with a slight smile, striding for the doorway, refusing to let one bit of the discomfort in her sore legs show, “Sounds like you have a lot of time on your hands, Cassian.”



“You’re in deep shit,” Azriel said mildly to him on the chilly veranda as Nesta donned her cloak inside.

“I know,” Cassian muttered. He had no idea how it had happened: how he’d gone from mocking Nesta to taunting her with his own bedroom habits. Then imagining her hand wrapped around him, pumping him, until he was a heartbeat away from exploding out of his chair and leaping into the skies.

He knew Az had been well aware of the shift in his scent. How his skin had become too tight at the way she said his name, his cock an insistent ache rubbing against the buttons of his pants.

He could count on one hand the number of times she’d addressed him by name.

The thought of that one hand led him back to her hand, squeezing him rough and hard, just the way he liked it—

Cassian gritted his teeth and breathed in the crisp morning air. Willed it to settle him. Made himself focus on the morning wind’s sweet song. The wind around Velaris had always been lovely, gentle. Not like the vicious, unforgiving mistress that ruled the peaks of Illyria.

Az chuckled, the wind shifting the strands of his dark hair. “You two need a chaperone up here?”

Yes. No. Yes. “I thought you were the chaperone.”

Az threw him a wicked smile. “I’m not entirely sure I’m enough.”

Cassian flipped him off. “Good luck today.”

Az would leave soon to begin his spying on Briallyn—Feyre had decided it last night. Though Rhys had asked Cassian to look into the human queens, the subterfuge would fall to Az.

Azriel’s hazel eyes glimmered. He squeezed Cassian’s shoulder, his hand a warm weight against the chill. “Good luck to you, too.”



Cassian didn’t know why he’d thought Nesta would enter the sparring ring with him today. She sat her ass right on the same rock as the day before and did not move.

By the time Mor had appeared to winnow them to the camp, he’d managed to get enough control over himself that he’d stopped thinking about what Nesta’s hands would feel like and started considering what they’d cover today. He’d planned to keep the lesson to an hour, then leave her at Rhys’s mother’s old house while he did a standard check of the Illyrian war-bands’ state of rebuilding their ranks.

He wouldn’t mention that they might be flying into battle soon, depending on what Az learned.

He didn’t tell Nesta any of this information, either. Especially about Eris. She’d made her contempt of the Fae realms perfectly clear. And he’d be damned if he gave her one more verbal weapon to wield against him, since she’d likely see right through him and realize he knew all of this political scheming and planning was far beyond his abilities.

He also didn’t let himself consider whether it was wise to leave her alone up here even for an hour.

“So we’re back to this?” Cassian asked, ignoring how every single asshole in the camp watched him. Them. Her.

Nesta picked at her nails, wisps of her braided hair drifting free in the wind. She’d hunched over her knees, keeping her body as compact as possible.

He said, “You’d stop being so cold if you got up and moved.”

She only folded one ankle over another.

“If you want to sit on that rock and freeze for the next two hours, go ahead.”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”