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Nesta Archeron had not slept in three days. Cassian knew because he counted. Counted the restless turns of her body beside him each night. Counted the quiet hours she spent standing on the balcony overlooking Velaris with her arms wrapped tightly around herself. Counted every cup of untouched tea left cooling around the House of Wind. Three days, and she was getting worse.
“You’re staring again,” Nesta muttered from the couch without looking up from her book. Cassian immediately looked away, then looked back.
Because she was not actually reading. Nesta hadn’t turned a page in nearly twenty minutes.
“You haven’t slept.”
“You haven’t stopped hovering.”
“I’m not hovering.” She finally lifted her eyes then. One silver brow rose. Cassian sighed and crossed the room anyway.
The House was quiet tonight, firelight flickering warm against the dark wood walls while rain battered softly against the windows. Velaris glowed below like scattered stars. Normally Nesta loved storms. Tonight she looked exhausted by them. Cassian crouched in front of the couch carefully, broad hands resting on his knees.
“What’s going on?”
“Nothing.”
“Nesta.”
“I’m tired.”
“You’re terrified.” The words slipped out before he could soften them. Her expression closed instantly. Too late. Cassian cursed himself internally. But he had spent three days watching the female he loved slowly unravel while pretending she wasn’t, and patience had started fraying dangerously thin. Nesta looked away first. That alone frightened him- his Nesta was always ready for a fight. Always had a quick retort on her tongue. Never backed down first.
“Talk to me,” he said quietly.
Silence. Then finally, “I’m afraid to sleep.” The admission barely sounded like her. Cassian’s heart twisted sharply. He softened immediately, moving carefully closer.
“Nightmares?” A slight nod. “Nesta, you’ve had nightmares before.”
“These are different.” Something cold moved through his chest. Cassian reached for her slowly, giving her time to pull away if she wanted. She didn’t.
His hand settled gently over hers where it gripped the edge of the blanket too tightly. “You want to tell me about them?”
“No.” Honest, at least. Cassian brushed his thumb lightly across her knuckles. Rain cracked harder against the windows.
Nesta stared toward the fire instead of him when she whispered, “I keep dreaming you die.”
Every thought in Cassian’s head stopped. The room suddenly felt very still. “Nes.”
“You’re always bleeding,” she continued softly, voice distant in that awful way people sounded when reliving something instead of remembering it. “And I can never get to you in time.” Cassian’s chest physically hurt.
Because she looked terrified. Not angry. Not sharp-edged and defensive. Terrified.
“You should’ve told me.” Her laugh was brittle.
“So you could do what? Stop fighting wars?”
“If it’s hurting you this badly then-”
“It’s not your fault.” But she still hadn’t slept. Three days. Cassian looked at the shadows beneath her eyes, at the tension wound visibly through her body, and realized with sudden clarity that Nesta was running herself into exhaustion because staying awake felt safer than losing him again, even in dreams. Cauldron. He moved before thinking. Nesta blinked in surprise as Cassian slid onto the couch beside her and pulled her firmly into his chest.
“What are you doing?”
“Being useful.”
“You’re crushing me.”
“You like it.”
“I tolerate it.” Cassian smiled faintly against her hair. Liar. Nesta melted against him a heartbeat later anyway, exhaustion making her less capable of pretending she didn’t want comfort. His arms tightened carefully around her.
“You know what the worst part is?” she whispered after a long silence.
Cassian brushed his mouth softly against her temple. “What?”
“In the dreams…” Her breathing hitched slightly. “I always know before it happens.”
His chest constricted. “Nesta—”
“I can feel it.” Her fingers twisted weakly into his shirt. “Like something inside me already knows I’m about to lose you.” Cassian had survived battlefields, monsters, kings, gods. Nothing prepared him for the sound of fear in her voice. He tipped her chin upward gently until silver-blue eyes finally met his.
“I need you to listen to me.” Nesta tried looking away again. Cassian held her gaze anyway. “I am right here.”
Emotion flickered dangerously across her face. “You can’t promise that.”
“No,” he admitted quietly. “I can’t.” Truth. Always, truth with her. “But I can promise that every single time I walk onto a battlefield, I fight to come home to you.” Nesta’s throat worked slightly. Cassian brushed his knuckles against her cheek. “You are the first thing I think about when I wake up,” he murmured. “And the last thing I think about before sleep.”
The fire crackled softly behind them. Rain whispered against the windows. “You are home to me, Nesta.” Her eyes closed briefly. Like the words physically hurt to hear. Cassian knew that look now. It was the expression she wore when she was trying not to need him too much. As if loving someone this deeply was dangerous. And maybe it was. He loved her enough to destroy himself gladly.
Nesta whispered without opening her eyes, “I don’t know how to survive losing you.” Cassian’s heart cracked clean open.
“Oh, sweetheart.” The endearment slipped out rough and helpless. He gathered her closer instantly, one large hand cradling the back of her head while she buried her face against his neck. And there it was, the truth beneath all of it. Not nightmares. Grief. Old grief. Ancient fear. The unbearable memory of almost losing him already carved too deeply into her heart. Cassian held her through every shaking breath.
“You know what I think?” he murmured eventually. Nesta made a soft questioning sound against his throat. “I think you’ve spent so much time surviving pain that now you’re waiting for happiness to punish you for existing.” Silence. Then her arms tightened around him suddenly. Too tightly. Cassian closed his eyes. Because that was answer enough.
“Oh, Nes.” His wings shifted around them instinctively, cocooning her against his body and shutting out the storm entirely. “I am not going anywhere tonight.”
Nesta laughed weakly. “That’s not exactly difficult. You live here.”
“I’ll pin myself to this couch if necessary.”
“You’re ridiculous.”
“But you’re smiling.” Barely. Tiny and fleeting against his skin, but he could feel it. Cassian would’ve started wars for less. He pressed another kiss into her hair. “Sleep,” he whispered gently.
“I can’t.”
“You can.”
“What if I dream again?” Cassian leaned back just enough to look at her. Then he took her hand carefully and pressed it flat against the center of his chest. His heartbeat thudded steady and strong beneath her palm.
Alive. Warm. Real.
“If you wake up scared,” he murmured, “I’ll still be here.” Nesta stared at him with an expression so raw it nearly stole the air from his lungs.
"You promise?” Cassian touched his forehead to hers.
“With everything I am.” The storm raged on outside. But eventually, slowly, Nesta’s breathing softened. Her body relaxed inch by inch against him. And long after sleep finally claimed her, Cassian remained awake on the couch beneath the dim firelight, one arm wrapped tightly around his mate while he kept watch over the female who still feared love could be taken from her at any moment. As if he wouldn’t spend the rest of his immortal life proving otherwise.