For Cassian, the brash, handsome Illyrian general of Rhysand’s armies, dealing with the opposite sex has always been easy—and enjoyable. But when he’s dispatched to the human realm to send a message for his High Lord, Cassian finds himself again pitted against Feyre’s sharp- tongued, steel- willed older sister Nesta. Honestly, Cassian has been aching for another round against the beautiful Nesta since their first, tense meeting weeks ago, though he certainly hasn’t admitted that to anyone—least of all himself.
And Cassian certainly hasn’t admitted that he may have finally met someone not so easily seduced by his quick grin and unfaltering arrogance.
Read on for an exclusive look at what happened at that second, private meeting—and why the High Lord’s general refused to divulge any of the details of it when he later returned to the Night Court.
Nesta: “You’re ten minutes late,”
she only said, moving toward the far end of the room, where a fire crackled against early spring’s chill. Where the sound of the flames might cover their voices. Clever girl.
Cassian: “I do have other duties, you know,”
he said with equal quiet, flashing a grin. Like circling the house because he was compiling a list of choice insults to throw her way, responses to an invented argument. Like a complete fool.
Nesta: “Here I was,”
Nesta said, a pillar of ice and steel beside the hearth,
Nesta: “thinking I heard you flapping around for ten minutes. It must have been a pigeon stuck in one of the chimneys.”
He smiled, slow and vicious, precisely in the way he’d learned made her see red. A smile that he knew instantly unsheathed those lovely claws of hers.
Cassian: “Hello, Nesta. Nice to see you.”
No reaction, no shift in her scent at the smile that usually made his enemies start running. Nothing, save for the delicate flare of her nostrils.
Then he was stalking toward her, his long stride eating up the ornate carpet between them. She did not recoil, did not yield one step back. Only lifted her chin to meet his stare as he towered over her, spreading his wings slightly, and said through his teeth,
Cassian: “Do you have news from the queens?”
Her brows flattened.
Nesta: “Leader of the High Lord’s armies, and yet the brute remains. You cannot cow me with words, so you seek to intimidate me through your hulking size.”
Cassian: “Hulking—”
Nesta: “You need me far more than I need you. So I’d suggest you merely agree, tuck in those bat wings, and ask nicely.”
Cassian: “There are other ways I could play nice, Nesta Archeron.”
Cassian gripped her raised knee, a mere inch from his balls, and squeezed tight enough to make her hiss.
Cassian: “Cheap shot,”
he said with a half smile.
Cassian: “Come play with me, Nesta, and I’ll teach you far more interesting ways to bring a male to his knees.”
This is the best copy of the Barnes & Noble Exclusive chapter that I have come across. Thanks to booksnwritingofficial.wordpress.com for typing this out!
Rhysand: “Not you alone.”
He surveyed the study as he thought.
Rhysand: “But I wonder if everyone has spent so long assuming Elain is sweet and innocent that she felt she had to be that way or else she’d disappoint you all.”
He sighed toward the ceiling.
Rhysand: “With time and safety, perhaps we’ll see a different side of her emerge.”
Feyre: “That sounds dangerously close to what Nesta said about Elain finally becoming interesting.”
Rhysand: “Sometimes, Nesta isn’t wrong.”
Rhysand: “I’d never do such a thing. You must be thinking of your other mate.”
Feyre: “Yes, the cruel, overprotective, half-insane one.”
I smiled as he kissed my jaw, then my neck. My toes curled.
Rhysand: “Cruel?”
Rhys purred the word against my skin.
Rhysand: “You wound me.”
Here is the Azriel POV chapter that was in the Books a Million exclusive edition of A Court of Silver Flames.
Two small, bean-shaped fabric blobs lay within. Elain murmured,
Elain: "You put them in your ears, and they block any sound. With Nesta and Cassian living there with you..."
He chuckled, unable to suppress the impulse.
Azriel: "No wonder you didn't want me to open it in front of everyone."
Elain’s mouth twitched into a smile.
Elain: "Nesta wouldn't appreciate the joke.”
Gwyn: "Happy Solstice,"
she said, as much a dismissal as it was a holiday blessing.
He snorted.
Azriel: "Are you kicking me out?"
Gwyn's teal eyes flashed with alarm.
Gwyn: "No! I mean, I don't mind sharing the ring. I just...I know you like to be alone."
Her mouth quirked to the side, crinkling the freckles on her nose.
Gwyn: "Is that why you came up here?"
Sort of.
Azriel: "I forgot something,"
he reminded her.
Gwyn: "At two in the morning?"
Pure amusement glittered in her stare. Better than the pain and grief he'd spied a moment before. So he offered her a crooked smile.
Azriel: "I can't sleep without my favorite dagger."
Gwyn: "A comfort to every growing child."
Gwyn tried the movement as slowly as he had, and he watched her self-correct, fighting against the urge to open up her wrist and rotate the blade. She did it three times before she stopped falling into the bad habit.
Gwyn: "I blame Cassian for this. He's too busy making eyes at Nesta to notice such mistakes these days."
Azriel laughed.
Azriel: "I’ll give you that."
Gwyn smiled broadly.
Gwyn: "Thank you."
He waited for Clotho's pen to finish writing. Your eyes are sad, Shadowsinger.
He offered her a grim smile.
Azriel: "I lost the snowball fight today."
Clotho was smart enough to see through his deflection. She wrote, I’ll give it to Gwyneth, Tell her a friend left it for her.
He wouldn't go so far as to call Gwyn a friend, but...
Azriel: "Fine. Thank you."
Clotho's pen moved once more. She deserves something as beautiful as this. I thank you for the joy it shall bring to her.
Comments