2_-_court_of_mist_and_fury_a_-_sarah_j._maas

Nesta just rose to her feet, a slim pillar of steel, and said to no one in particular, “If
we’re done eating, then this meal is over.”
And that was that.
Rhys wrote the letter for me, Cassian and Azriel chiming in with corrections, and it took
us until midnight before we had a draft we all thought sounded impressive, welcoming,
and threatening enough.
My sisters cleaned the dishes while we worked, and had excused themselves to bed
hours before, mentioning where to find our rooms.
Cassian and Azriel were to share one, Rhys and I the other.
I frowned at the large guest bedroom as Rhys shut the door behind us. The bed was
large enough for two, but I wasn’t sharing it. I whirled to him, “I’m not—”
Wood thumped on carpet, and a small bed appeared by the door. Rhys plopped onto it,
tugging off his boots. “Nesta is a delight, by the way.”
“She’s … her own creature,” I said. It was perhaps the kindest thing I could say about
her.
“It’s been a few centuries since someone got under Cassian’s skin that easily. Too bad
they’re both inclined to kill the other.”
Part of me shuddered at the havoc the two would wreak if they decided to stop fighting.
“And Elain,” Rhys said, sighing as he removed his other boot, “should not be marrying
that lord’s son, not for about a dozen reasons, the least of which being the fact that you
won’t be invited to the wedding. Though maybe that’s a good thing.”
I hissed. “That’s not funny.”
“At least you won’t have to send a gift, either. I doubt her father-in-law would deign to
accept it.”
“You have a lot of nerve mocking my sisters when your own friends have equally as
much melodrama.” His brows lifted in silent question. I snorted. “Oh, so you haven’t
noticed the way Azriel looks at Mor? Or how she sometimes watches him, defends him?
And how both of them do such a good job letting Cassian be a buffer between them most
of the time?”
Rhys leveled a look at me. “I’d suggest keeping those observations to yourself.”
“You think I’m some busybody gossip? My life is miserable enough as it is—why
would I want to spread that misery to those around me as well?”
“Is it miserable? Your life, I mean.” A careful question.
“I don’t know. Everything is happening so quickly that I don’t know what to feel.” It
was more honest than I’d been in a while.
“Hmmm. Perhaps once we return home, I should give you the day off.”