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Summary
"I've turned it over in my mind again and again," Nesta said, and looking at her now he saw the glassiness of her eyes. The faraway look that indicated some sort of shock. "It must have been about equality, right? I'm your mate, I'm expected to be equal to you."
Cassian's mouth fell open, and he looked helplessly at Azriel who, despite all his efforts at constant stoicism, appeared nothing short of stricken.
"I know it must be a disappointment that I did not make Carynthian."
"Nesta," His brother began, his voice strained. "Do you think we put you in that Rite?"
His mate finally lifted her gaze, settling her unfocused eyes on the shadowsinger without any real heat in them.
"Didn't you?"
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In which, in the aftermath of the Blood Rite, Nesta's mind suffers more than Cassian realizes, resulting in a horrific misunderstanding.
