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

Nesta set the manuscript on her nightstand and lay back against her pillows.

She pictured Cassian on a battlefield, as he’d been that day he’d gone up against a Hybern commander and thrown a spear so hard the male had been hurled from his horse upon impact.

He departed from the manuscript’s advice in only one way: he fought on the front lines with his soldiers, rather than commanding from the rear.

She let her thoughts drift for a time, until they snared upon another tangle of thorns.

Did it matter if the priestesses didn’t show up for training? Beyond her own reluctance to concede failure, did it matter?

It did. Somehow, it did.

She had failed in every aspect of her life. Utterly and spectacularly failed, and keeping others from realizing it had been her main purpose. She had shut them out, had shut herself out, because the weight of all those failures threatened to shatter her into a thousand pieces.

Nesta rubbed her face with her hands.

Sleep was a long time coming.



Sweat was still running down her body when Nesta entered the library the next afternoon, aiming for the ramp to take her down to where she’d left her cart.

She didn’t have the courage to look at the empty sign-up sheet. To rip it down.

She didn’t have the courage to look at Clotho and admit her defeat. She kept walking.

But Clotho halted her with an upraised hand. Nesta swallowed. “What?”

Clotho pointed behind Nesta, her gnarled finger indicating the doorway. No, the pillar.

And it was not sorrow leaking from the priestess, but something like buzzing excitement. Something that made Nesta whirl on her heel and stride for the pillar.

A name had been scrawled on the sheet.

One name, in bold letters. One name, ready for tomorrow’s lesson.

GWYN





PART TWO

BLADE





CHAPTER

25

“Stop looking so nervous,” Cassian muttered out of the corner of his mouth.

“I’m not nervous,” Nesta muttered back, even as she bounced on her feet, trying not to stare toward the open archway as the clock ticked toward nine.

“Just relax.” He straightened his jacket.

“You’re the one fidgeting,” she hissed.

“Because you’re making me fidget.”

Steps scuffed on the stone beyond the archway, and Nesta’s breath rushed from her in a wave she didn’t realize she was holding back as Gwyn’s coppery-brown hair appeared. In the sunlight, the color of her hair was extraordinary, strands of gold glinting, and her teal eyes were a near-perfect match to the stones the other priestesses wore.

Gwyn beheld them standing in the center of the ring and stopped short.

The tang of her fear set Nesta approaching. “Hello.”

Gwyn’s hands were shaking as she took another step into the ring and peered into the open bowl of the sky.

The first time she’d been outside—truly outside—in years.

Cassian, to his credit, moved to the rack of wooden practice weapons that he’d claimed they wouldn’t be using for months, and pretended to adjust them.

Gwyn swallowed. “I, um—I realized on the way up here that I don’t have proper clothes.” She gestured to her pale robes. “I suspect these will not be ideal.”

Cassian said without looking over, “I can teach you in the robes, if you wish. Whatever’s most comfortable.”

Gwyn offered him a tight smile. “I’ll see how today’s lesson goes and then decide. We wear the robes mostly from tradition, not strict rules.” She met Nesta’s gaze again as she smiled. “I forgot how it feels to have the full sun upon my head.” She peered up again. “Forgive me if I spend some time gawking at the sky.”

“Of course,” Nesta said. She hadn’t encountered Gwyn yesterday after seeing that she’d signed up for this morning’s lesson, but she’d been almost afraid to—worried that one accidentally uttered sour remark would make Gwyn reconsider.

Words stalled in Nesta’s throat, but Cassian seemed to anticipate that. “All right. No more chitchat. Nes, show our new friend—Gwyn, is it? I’m Cassian. Nes, show her your feet.”

“Feet?” Gwyn’s copper brows rose.

Nesta rolled her eyes. “You’ll see.”



Gwyn grasped the concept of grounding through her feet better than Nesta had, and certainly had no issues with dropping her weight into her right hip and other things Nesta had worked to correct for three weeks. Even with the robes, it was clear that Gwyn was built lithe and lean, accustomed to the casual grace of the Fae that Nesta was only learning.

She’d expected to have to coax her friend, but once Gwyn overcame her initial trepidation, she was a willing participant, and a merry companion. The priestess laughed at her own mistakes, and did not bristle at corrections from Cassian.

By the end of the lesson, though, Gwyn’s robe was damp with sweat, tendrils of hair curling around her flushed face. Cassian ordered them to drink some water before their cooldown.

As Gwyn poured herself a glass, she said, “At the temple in Sangravah, we had a set of ancient movements that we would go through every sunrise. Not for battle training, but for calming the mind. We did cooldowns after those, too, though we called them groundings. The movements took us out of our bodies, in a way. Let us commune with the Mother. The groundings settled us back into the present world.”