2_-_court_of_mist_and_fury_a_-_sarah_j._maas

“Get back in the ring,” Cassian said, setting down his empty glass. “No core exercises.
Just fists. You want to mouth off, then back it up.”
But the question he’d asked swarmed in my skull. You’ve left for good; you’ve left for
good; you’ve left for good.
I had—I’d meant it. But without knowing what he thought, if he’d even care that much
… No, I knew he’d care. He’d probably trashed the manor in his rage.
If my mere mention of him suffocating me had caused him to destroy his study, then
this … I had been frightened by those fits of pure rage, cowed by them. And it had been
love—I had loved him so deeply, so greatly, but …
“Rhys told you?” I said.
Cassian had the wisdom to look a bit nervous at the expression on my face. “He
informed Azriel, who is … monitoring things and needs to know. Az told me.”
“I assume it was while you were out drinking and dancing.” I drained the last of my
water and walked back into the ring.
“Hey,” Cassian said, catching my arm. His hazel eyes were more green than brown
today. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hit a nerve. Az only told me because I told him I
needed to know for my own forces; to know what to expect. None of us … we don’t think
it’s a joke. What you did was a hard call. A really damn hard call. It was just my shitty
way of trying to see if you needed to talk about it. I’m sorry,” he repeated, letting go.
The stumbling words, the earnestness in his eyes … I nodded as I resumed my place.
“All right.”
Though Rhysand kept at it with Azriel, I could have sworn his eyes were on me—had
been on me from the moment Cassian had asked me that question.
Cassian shoved his hands into the sparring pads and held them up. “Thirty one-two
punches; then forty; then fifty.” I winced at him over his gloves as I wrapped my hands.
“You didn’t answer my question,” he said with a tentative smile—one I doubted his
soldiers or Illyrian brethren ever saw.
It had been love, and I’d meant it—the happiness, the lust, the peace … I’d felt all of
those things. Once.
I positioned my legs at twelve and five and lifted my hands up toward my face.
But maybe those things had blinded me, too.
Maybe they’d been a blanket over my eyes about the temper. The need for control, the
need to protect that ran so deep he’d locked me up. Like a prisoner.
“I’m fine,” I said, stepping and jabbing with my left side. Fluid—smooth like silk, as if
my immortal body at last aligned.
My fist slammed into Cassian’s sparring pad, snatching back as fast as a snake’s bite as
I struck with my right, shoulder and foot twisting.