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Amren hadn’t been there, though. She’d gone to Varian to piece herself back together. Something Nesta had wished she could do with Cassian, but she hadn’t been able to even find him until dinner. Or talk to him until now.

Cassian cleared his throat. She felt him searching for something to say. When he spoke at last, his voice was low. “What were you about to gift Nyx earlier?”

She met her own stare again. Noted every angle of her miserable face and empty eyes before she said, “Ataraxia.”

Sheets rustled as he started. “Your sword?”

“No.” She grazed a finger over the fine bristles of her brush. “I was going to wish for him to find ataraxia—inner peace.”

Cassian fell silent as Nesta resumed brushing. Then he asked, “Are you . . . are you doing all right? After what happened today?”

She set down her brush. “Nothing happened.” Her throat ached with the effort of keeping her words emotionless. “I tried to kill Bryaxis, I failed, the end.”

He sat up in bed, swinging his legs around to the floor. But he stayed seated as he said, “No one expected you to kill her—”

“I expected myself to kill her.”

Cassian ran his hands through his hair, almost to his shoulders now. “It’s not a burden you need to bear.”

She faced him fully. “So this failure is fine with you, but the success of saving Bryce Quinlan’s world isn’t?”

She couldn’t help it. There it was.

His wings snapped shut, but he remained silent.

Nesta shoved out of her chair. Stalked to the bed. Came to a stop a foot away from him.

He tracked her every movement, eyes glittering with hot anger. “Let’s have it out, then, Nes. Don’t hold back now.”

Her fingers curled at her sides, an involuntary twitch. He marked that, too.

“Go ahead,” he goaded. “Put them around my throat and squeeze.” He bared his neck.

Nesta lunged for him. Not to throttle, but to grab his face in her hands and haul his mouth to hers.

Cassian stiffened. She pulled back, fingers clutching his jaw as she demanded, “You really thought I’d strangle you?”

His eyes were so wide—stunned. Fury burned through her like a wildfire, and she made to leap off his lap.

His hands clamped onto her hips, holding her firm. “You want to have it out like this?” His voice was guttural in a way that had her core going molten. Her chest heaved, like it was struggling to contain all the words, everything she felt, and his eyes dipped to watch.

“How do you want it, Nes?” His thumbs traced idle circles on her hips, her waist.

Her throat closed up. She hadn’t thought that far. Just seeing him there, the way he looked at her . . . she couldn’t stand it anymore.

Cassian brushed his mouth against her neck. Her eyes nearly rolled back in her head at the gentle caress. “Do you want us to make love and cry about how much we’ve missed each other and how we’ll never fight again?”

His teeth grazed the same spot he’d kissed, biting down slightly. “Or,” he said against her skin, “do you want to fuck until we’re both screaming, and whichever one of us comes first has to be the one to get on their knees and grovel about these past weeks?”

Her hands again rose to his face. Her nails dug into his cheeks, mirror to the bite he’d given her neck. She made him meet her stare. Saw all the desire and anger and longing in it. Knew the same lay within her own.

A year ago, she might have told him that she wanted neither and left—denying them both. Assuring herself that she was punishing him and had the high ground and that she’d won this particular fight.

But she didn’t want to win fights against him. Didn’t want to have fights with him—not like this. Teasing and minor ones, fine, but this . . . He hadn’t been there today. When the pain in her arm and nose had sunk in. When she’d been reeling from Bryaxis. Even during Bryaxis’s attack, he hadn’t been there, and she hadn’t been there for him.

To her mortification, her eyes burned with tears.

“Hey,” he said, instantly gentling. “Nes—Nes.”