2_-_court_of_mist_and_fury_a_-_sarah_j._maas

matter how they smiled and laughed. And his refusals were polite—firm, but polite.
Had he been with anyone since Amarantha? Did he want another person in his bed after
Amarantha? Even the wine hadn’t given me the nerve to ask Azriel about it.
Mor, it seemed, went to Rita’s more than anyone else—practically lived there, actually.
She shrugged at Cassian’s demand and another chaise like Amren’s appeared. “I just went
… out,” she said, plopping down.
“With whom?” Cassian pushed.
“Last I was aware,” Mor said, leaning back in the chair, “I didn’t take orders from you,
Cassian. Or report to you. So where I was, and who I was with, is none of your damn
concern.”
“You didn’t tell Azriel, either.”
I paused, weighing those words, Cassian’s stiff shoulders. Yes, there was some tension
between him and Mor that resulted in that bickering, but … perhaps … perhaps Cassian
accepted the role of buffer not to keep them apart, but to keep the shadowsinger from hurt.
From being old news, as I’d called him.
Cassian finally remembered I’d been standing in front of him, noted the look of
understanding on my face, and gave me a warning one in return. Fair enough.
I shrugged and took a moment to set down the daggers and catch my breath. For a
heartbeat, I wished Nesta were there, if only to see them go head to head. We hadn’t heard
from my sisters—or the mortal queens. I wondered when we’d send another letter or try
another route.
“Why, exactly,” Cassian said to Amren and Mor, not even bothering to try to sound
pleasant, “are you two ladies here?”
Mor closed her eyes as she tipped back her head, sunning her golden face with the same
irreverence that Cassian perhaps sought to shield Azriel from—and Mor herself perhaps
tried to shield Azriel from as well. “Rhys is coming in a few moments to give us some
news, apparently. Didn’t Amren tell you?”
“I forgot,” Amren said, still picking at her nails. “I was having too much fun watching
Feyre evade Cassian’s tried-and-true techniques to get people to do what he wants.”
Cassian’s brows rose. “You’ve been here for an hour.”
“Oops,” Amren said.
Cassian threw up his hands. “Get off your ass and give me twenty lunges—”
A vicious, unearthly snarl cut him off.
But Rhys strolled out of the stairwell, and I couldn’t decide if I should be relieved or
disappointed that Cassian versus Amren was put to a sudden stop.
He was in his fine clothes, not fighting leathers, his wings nowhere in sight. Rhys
looked at them, at me, the daggers I’d left in the dirt, and then said, “Sorry to interrupt