2_-_court_of_mist_and_fury_a_-_sarah_j._maas

CHAPTER
44
But despite the letter, despite the mess between us, as I gaped at the mirror an hour later, I
couldn’t quite believe what stared back.
I had been so relieved these past few weeks to be sleeping at all that I’d forgotten to be
grateful that I was keeping down my food.
The fullness had come back to my face, my body. What should have taken weeks longer
as a human had been hurried along by the miracle of my immortal blood. And the dress …
I’d never worn anything like it, and doubted I’d ever wear anything like it again.
Crafted of tiny blue gems so pale they were almost white, it clung to every curve and
hollow before draping to the floor and pooling like liquid starlight. The long sleeves were
tight, capped at the wrists with cuffs of pure diamond. The neckline grazed my
collarbones, the modesty of it undone by how the gown hugged areas I supposed a female
might enjoy showing off. My hair had been swept off my face with two combs of silver
and diamond, then left to drape down my back. And I thought, as I stood alone in my
bedroom, that I might have looked like a fallen star.
Rhysand was nowhere to be found when I worked up the courage to go to the rooftop
garden. The beading on the dress clinked and hissed against the floors as I walked through
the nearly dark house, all the lights softened or extinguished.
In fact, the whole city had blown out its lights.
A winged, muscled figure stood atop the roof, and my heart stumbled.
But then he turned, just as the scent hit me. And something in my chest sank a bit as
Cassian let out a low whistle. “I should have let Nuala and Cerridwen dress me.”
I didn’t know whether to smile or wince. “You look rather good despite it.” He did. He
was out of his fighting clothes and armor, sporting a black tunic cut to show off that
warrior’s body. His black hair had been brushed and smoothed, and even his wings looked
cleaner.
Cassian held his arms out. His Siphons remained—a metal, fingerless gauntlet that
stretched beneath the tailored sleeves of his jacket. “Ready?”
He’d kept me company the past two days, training me each morning. While he’d shown
me more particulars on how to use an Illyrian blade—mostly how to disembowel someone
with it—we’d chatted about everything: our equally miserable lives as children, hunting,
food … Everything, that is, except for the subject of Rhysand.
Cassian had mentioned only once that Rhys was up at the House, and I supposed my
expression had told him enough about not wanting to hear anything else. He grinned at me