My sister didnât have drinking companions. As far as I knew, she went out alone, and made them as the night progressed. And every now and then, one of them went home with her.
I hadnât asked. Wasnât even sure when the first time had been.
I also didnât dare ask Cassian if he knew. They had barely exchanged more than a few words since the war.
And as I entered the light and rolling music of the Wolfâs Den and immediately spotted my sister seated with three males at a round table in the shadowed back, I could almost see the specter of that day against Hybern looming behind her.
Every ounce of weight that Elain had gained it seemed Nesta had lost. Her already proud, angular face had turned more so, her cheekbones sharp enough to slice. Her hair remained up in her usual braided coronet, she wore her preferred gray gown, and she was, as ever, immaculately clean despite the hovel she chose to occupy. Despite the reeking, hot tavern that had seen better years. Centuries.
A queen without a throne. That was what Iâd call the painting that swept into my mind.
Nestaâs eyes, the same blue-gray as my own, lifted the moment I shut the wooden door behind me. Nothing flickered across her face beyond vague disdain. The three High Fae males at her table were all fairly well dressed considering the place they patronized.
Likely wealthy young bucks out for the night.
I reined in my scowl as Rhysâs voice filled my head. Mind your own business.
Your sister is handily beating them at cards, by the way.
Snoop.
You love it.
I pressed my lips together, sending a vulgar gesture down the bond as I approached my sisterâs table. Rhysâs laughter rumbled against my shields in answer, like star-flecked thunder.
Nesta simply went back to staring at the fan of cards she held, her posture the epitome of glorious boredom. But her companions peered up at me when I stopped at the edge of their stained and scarred wooden table. Half-consumed glasses of amber liquid sweated with moisture, kept chilled through some magic of the tavernâs.
The male across the tableâa handsome, rakish-looking High Fae, with hair like spun goldâmet my eyes.
His hand of cards slumped to the table as he bowed his head. The others followed suit.
Only my sister, still studying her cards, remained uninterested.
âMy lady,â said a thin, dark-haired male, throwing a wary glance toward my sister. âHow may we be of assistance?â
Nesta didnât so much as look up as she adjusted one of her cards.
Fine.
I smiled sweetly at her companions. âI hate to interrupt your night out, gentlemen.â Gentlemales, I supposed. A holdover from my human lifeâone that the third male noted with a hint of a raised, thick brow. âBut I would like a word with my sister.â
The dismissal was clear enough.
As one, they rose, cards abandoned, and swiped up their drinks. âWeâll get a refill,â the golden-haired one declared.
I waited until they were at the bar, pointedly not gazing over their shoulders, before I slid into the rickety seat the dark-haired one had vacated.
Slowly, Nestaâs eyes lifted toward mine.
I leaned back in the chair, wood groaning. âSo which one was going home with you tonight?â
Nesta snapped her cards together, setting the stack facedown on the table. âI hadnât decided.â
Icy, flat words. The perfect accompaniment to the expression on her face.
I simply waited.
Nesta waited, too.
Still as an animal. Still as death.
Iâd once wondered if that was her power. Her curse, granted by the Cauldron.
Nothing Iâd seen of it, glimpsed in those moments against Hybern, had seemed like death. Just brute power. But the Bone Carver had whispered of it. And Iâd seen it, shining cold and bright in her eyes.
But not for months now.
Not that Iâd seen much of her.
A minute passed. Then another.
Utter silence, save for the merry music from the four-piece band on the other side of the room.
I could wait. Iâd wait here all damn night.
Nesta settled back in her chair, inclined to do the same.
My moneyâs on your sister.
Quiet.
Iâm getting cold out here.
Illyrian baby.
A dark chuckle, then the bond went silent again.
âIs that mate of yours going to stand in the cold all night?â
I blinked, wondering if sheâd somehow sensed the thoughts between us. âWho says heâs here?â
Nesta snorted. âWhere one goes, the other follows.â
I refrained from voicing all of the potential retorts that leaped onto my tongue.
Instead, I asked, âElain invited you to dinner tonight. Why didnât you come?â
Nestaâs smile was slow, sharp as a blade. âI wanted to hear the musicians play.â
I cast a pointed look to the band. More skilled than the usual tavern set, but not a real excuse. âShe wanted you there.â I wanted you there.
Nesta shrugged. âShe could have eaten with me here.â
âYou know Elain wouldnât feel comfortable in a place like this.â
She arched a well-groomed brow. âA place like this? What sort of place is that?â
Indeed, some people were turning our way. High LadyâI was High Lady. Insulting this place and the people in it wouldnât win me any supporters. âElain is overwhelmed by crowds.â
âShe didnât used to be that way.â Nesta swirled her glass of amber liquid. âShe loved balls and parties.â
The words hung unspoken. But you and your court dragged us into this world. Took that joy away from her.
âIf you bothered to come by the house, youâd see that sheâs readjusting. But balls and parties are one thing. Elain never patronized taverns before this.â
Nesta opened her mouth, no doubt to lead me down a path away from the reason Iâd come here. So I cut in before she could. âThatâs beside the point.â
Steel-cold eyes held mine. âCan you get to it, then? Iâd like to return to my game.â
I debated scattering the cards to the ale-slick ground. âSolstice is the day after tomorrow.â
Nothing. Not a blink.
I interlaced my fingers and set them on the table between us. âWhat will it take to get you to come?â
âFor Elainâs sake or yours?â
âBoth.â
Another snort. Nesta surveyed the room, everyone carefully not watching us now. I knew without asking that Rhys had slid a sound barrier around us.
Finally, my sister looked back at me. âSo youâre bribing me, then?â
I didnât flinch. âIâm seeing if youâre willing to be reasoned with. If thereâs a way to make it worth your while.â
Nesta planted the tip of her pointer finger atop her stack of cards and fanned them out across the table. âItâs not even our holiday. We donât have holidays.â
âPerhaps you should try it. You might enjoy yourself.â
âAs I told Elain: you have your lives, and I have mine.â
Again, I cast a pointed glance to the tavern. âWhy? Why this insistence on distancing yourself?â
She settled back in her seat, crossing her arms. âWhy do I have to be a part of your merry little band?â
âYouâre my sister.â
Again, that empty, cold look.
I waited.
âIâm not going to your party,â she said.
If Elain hadnât been able to convince her, I certainly wouldnât succeed. I didnât know why I hadnât realized it before. Before wasting my time. But I triedâone last time. For Elainâs sake. âFather would want you toââ
âDonât you finish that sentence.â
Despite the sound shield around us, there was nothing to block the view of my sister baring her teeth. The view of her fingers curling into invisible claws.
Nestaâs nose crinkled with undiluted rage as she snarled, âLeave.â
A scene. This was about to become a scene in the worst way.
So I rose, hiding my trembling hands by balling them into tight fists at my sides. âPlease come,â was all I said before turning back toward the door, the walk between her table and the exit feeling so much longer. All the staring faces Iâd have to pass looming.
âMy rent,â Nesta said when Iâd walked two steps.
I paused. âWhat about your rent?â
She swigged from her glass. âItâs due next week. In case you forgot.â
She was completely serious.
I said flatly, âCome to Solstice and Iâll make sure itâs delivered.â
Nesta opened her mouth, but I turned again, staring down every gaping face that peered up at me as I passed.
I felt my sisterâs gaze piercing the space between my shoulder blades the entire walk to that front door. And the entire flight home.