2_-_court_of_mist_and_fury_a_-_sarah_j._maas

The crone sighed sharply through her nose. “An evacuation may be possible—”
“You would need ten thousand ships,” Nesta said, her voice breaking. “You would need
an armada. I have calculated the numbers. And if you are readying for war, you will not
send your ships to us. We are stranded here.”
The crone gripped the polished arms of her chair as she leaned forward a bit. “Then I
suggest asking one of your winged males to carry you across the sea, girl.”
Nesta’s throat bobbed. “Please.” I didn’t think I’d ever heard that word from her mouth.
“Please—do not leave us to face this alone.”
The eldest queen remained unmoved. I had no words in my head.
We had shown them … we had … we had done everything. Even Rhys was silent, his
face unreadable.
But then Cassian crossed to Nesta, the guards stiffening as the Illyrian moved through
them as if they were stalks of wheat in a field.
He studied Nesta for a long moment. She was still glaring at the queens, her eyes lined
with tears—tears of rage and despair, from that fire that burned her so violently from
within. When she finally noticed Cassian, she looked up at him.
His voice was rough as he said, “Five hundred years ago, I fought on battlefields not far
from this house. I fought beside human and faerie alike, bled beside them. I will stand on
that battlefield again, Nesta Archeron, to protect this house—your people. I can think of
no better way to end my existence than to defend those who need it most.”
I watched a tear slide down Nesta’s cheek. And I watched as Cassian reached up a hand
to wipe it away.
She did not flinch from his touch.
I didn’t know why, but I looked at Mor.
Her eyes were wide. Not with jealousy, or irritation, but … something perhaps like awe.
Nesta swallowed and at last turned away from Cassian. He stared at my sister a moment
longer before facing the queens.
Without signal, the two women rose.
Mor demanded, on her feet as well, “Is it a sum you’re after? Name your price, then.”
The golden queen snorted as their guards closed in around them. “We have all the riches
we need. We will now return to our palace to deliberate with our sisters.”
“You’re already going to say no,” Mor pushed.
The golden queen smirked. “Perhaps.” She took the crone’s withered hand.
The ancient queen lifted her chin. “We appreciate the gesture of your trust.”
Then they were gone.