Just a small box.

She supposed she was lucky Emerie had gotten a box for it at all, seeing as she wasn't really keen on just unceremoniously plunking it down and being done with it. Though it wasn't supposed to be some big display of emotion at all, either, so she'd make sure he didn't take it to be.

It was remarkable, really, Nesta thought. How similar they were when they were obviously complete opposites in every other way.

But they had both grown up in poverty, even if Cassian had begun there and Nesta had... been thrust into it. Neither of them had been able to do anything against it (though Cassian hadn't let anyone down in that regard). And then, rescued by someone who was, and always would be, better than they were. Even more ironic that those two people to save them also wound up as mates.

Nesta adjusted her coat as Illyrian wind whipped past, but didn't scowl and shudder in its presence this time. Just braved it, braved the walk home and the intrusion of thoughts that were far too much about him for her liking.

Not that any of those thoughts mattered, of course, when she arrived back at the hut to see Cassian standing outside the door with a grim expression on his face, back from his rounds to the poor. And changed into his nicest pair of flying leathers, scuffed and torn though they still were.

Nesta stopped dead in her tracks. "What."

He attempted a lopsided smile, though even that seemed terse. "Out of the house for a bit?"

Nesta didn't reply. Stayed very, very still as she waited for the answer he would inevitably break down and give her.

He sighed, turning his head away to rub the back of his neck. "We're going to Velaris," he said, looking back to her.

Nesta's heart paused. "We-" She cut off, glanced around. Refused to let here eyes fall on the leathers- the flying leathers. "Where's Mor?"

Cassian grimaced. "She's not here, nor is she coming. She'll be at dinner, but she's been working with Az's spies, as far as I know, so she's already been winnowing all over the court today."

Nesta yielded a step, shaking her head. "I'm not flying." Not with you. Getting him that little box from Emerie, that was one thing. Even the waiting until now, until sundown, just to retrieve it and take it home. But to fly with him... to be in his arms, with his wings...

Something like pain flickered in Cassian's eyes as he took a step towards her, reached out a hand. "Nesta, please."

She straightened, unwilling to let him see her fear. "You can just leave me here. I'm sure I'll make out fine on my own for a night." The box- it was concealed in her sleeve for now, but it wouldn't stay that way. Could she slip it into her pocket, do up the button? Without him noticing it?

Cassian tried another one of those halfhearted grins. "You've flown before, with the others and with me. So what's different about it now?"

"The fact that I don't have to fly," she retorted. "You can leave me here and flap off on your own." Leave her here to have her own dinner, sitting in her corner away from the fire- or without the fire entirely. A settling silence without the crackling of the flames.

Cassian's face grew serious once more, as if that was his current default. "There's an important meeting tonight," he said. "We decided at the meeting with Rhys and Az today we wanted to put the vote to the whole court. You're a part of that court," he added quietly.

Nesta stilled once more. "I'm a member of the court."

"Last I recall, Rhysand had you appointed as emissary of this court."

Nesta recoiled for only a moment before settling a scowl into place. She inched her hand for her pocket, and shame hit her like a cresting wave at Cassian's flinch. As if he expected her to be going for a weapon. "I haven't done a thing as emissary, nor has he asked me to. And you're not goading me into going to this, either way."

"They want you there," Cassian pleaded. They- Feyre and Elain. Fickle things, booting her from the city and begging her to return for dinner. "Come for them."

Nesta wanted to rage at those three words. Come for them. The only reason any of the members of that court had ever bothered with her- for them, the sisters she had failed and would always fail. Even Feyre really only cared for her for Elain, had never listened to hear Nesta's reasons for it all, for any of it. She had thought they grown closer after Feyre had first returned from Prythian, but...

But Feyre only needed someone strong enough to lean on, someone who understood enough to let her back to do what she needed, wanted, to do. And Nesta, she had thought...

She straightened, eyes back on Cassian. She slid both hands into her pockets and, as discreetly as possible, let the box slip out from her sleeve. "Fine," she bit out. "Drop me, or even pretend to drop me, and you're a dead male."

Cassian's smile was smaller this time, but more genuine, somehow. "I wouldn't dream of it, Nesta."

.oOo.

Gods, she was tense.

It was all Cassian could think about, the tautness of her body. He'd carried plenty of people- female and male, fae and human and lesser faerie- in his time. And he was okay with it, the awkwardness long since ebbed away. But this...

He had a feeling, from her numerous arguments to coming along at all, that she was not fond of flying. But he knew it was because of him, in part, too. So this flight, it was awkward.

She hissed at a patch of bumpy air, causing them both to wobble, and Cassian forced himself not to focus on the way her nails dug into his leathers at his shoulders, trying to hold on.

"I told you I wouldn't drop you," he reminded her. Was he even holding her right? Was this how she felt safe?

"You told me you wouldn't do it on purpose," Nesta said, her voice raspy.

Cassian chuckled at that. "Is five hundred years of experience not enough of a credential for you, sweetheart?"

Nesta scoffed, muttering something that appeared to curse the nickname, and Cassian grinned.

He hadn't planned to use her position in the court against her like that. Regretted it, for the emotions that had flashed in her eyes after he'd said it. But he never knew what to say with Nesta- he hadn't been born like that, like Rhys had, knowing what to say and still coming off suave. Sure, he could play to being smooth all he liked, but it didn't mean he was. And especially not with Nesta.

Rhys hadn't said Nesta was going to vote, but he doubted any of them would object to her sharing her opinion. Well... that wasn't entirely true, but Cassian could at least say he'd wallop anyone who tried to shut her down.

It was an important meeting, an important vote. He knew Nesta would see that as well as the others. But he also knew she'd be able to calculate, be able to work out the risks and the benefits and the loopholes. She would fit in so well with their court, if it weren't for her... people skills.

He swerved slightly again with the current, and Nesta loosed a yelp as she threw her arms back around his neck. He couldn't stop his chuckle, a guise to the warmth that spread through him at her vicinity.

"Mor better winnow us back," Nesta hissed into the side of his neck, and he tried not to let his breathing catch as her own breath warmed the sensitive skin there. "If we're sparing her the effort of winnowing us there."

"So unlike you to make compromises," Cassian quipped. "Though I suppose you did try to bypass this option originally." Nesta only growled into his leathers. Clearing his throat- and his mind- he went on, "I guess the main point is that you have to rely on yourself, sometimes, hmm?"

Something sparked in Nesta's stormy eyes as she lifted her head, glaring as viciously as ever. "Last I checked, I was still relying on you."

"Same difference," Cassian said, waiting to see that objection and fiery temper he loved so. Instead, Nesta only deepened her glare and moved her face out of his view. He frowned after her, but said nothing. He'd expected her to take the bait on that one.

She remained silent throughout most of the flight, and Cassian took the time to think again.

What Nesta had been through was different to what Feyre had been through. Plus they were different people- so bound to react differently. Yet even after everything Feyre had been through, Under the Mountain all that time ago, Rhys had healed her. Within months of her joining him in Velaris, she had been healed. Nesta had only been in the Steppes for a few weeks, but still... still...

Cassian forced his mind away, forced himself to stop making those comparisons. It was never a good thing when he started to compare himself to his brother, he'd learned. It never seemed to end well for his mind.

They finally arrived in Velaris, and he could have sworn he heard Nesta sigh in relief at the sight. Even so, her body grew tenser as they drew closer to the House of Wind.

He came down hard on the balcony, and Nesta scrambled out of his arms as if she couldn't distance herself fast enough. Again, that barely-there sigh when he tucked his wings away behind his back.

"It looks like we're the first ones here," Cassian said, peering through the window on the doors to see Amren seated on the back of the couch with a bottle and a death glare. Mor sat behind her with an even nicer bottle, waving a finger in front of her as if to say shh. He cleared his throat, turning back to Nesta. "You can warm up in the sun for a minute if you want. I'm sorry if the wind affected you."

For a minute, Nesta didn't say anything, likely thinking of the heat of summer here in Velaris compared to the bite of the Illyrian Steppes. Then she asked, "How come you can't winnow?"

The question took Cassian aback for a moment. "It's not one of my abilities" was all he could think to say, heat rising to his cheeks.

"The Siphons can't grant you that power?" she asked, throwing a pointed glance to the Siphons on the backs of his hands. One of her own hands slipped back into her pocket again.

He held them up to examine them, putting them on ample display for the both of them. "They filter the power I do have, and yes, they do make me able to do a lot of things I couldn't do otherwise," he confessed. Like... like anything that he did in comparison to the cloud of death he would summon without their help. "But winnowing... winnowing was never in my repertoire."

Nesta nodded, seemingly sated with his answer, then turned to look out over Velaris. With hollow, empty eyes, as if she saw none of it for what it was.

"I can go out," she said, and Cassian noted the bob of her throat as she said the words. "To the city. While you have your meeting."

"I told you," he said softly- softer than usual, even for her. "You get to be a part of this decision, too."

Her eyes dropped down, to the streets directly below. "Get to be. So I wasn't invited- for that purpose."

Cassian winced slightly. "It... wasn't specified."

Nesta said nothing more. No show of emotion to the words.

Cassian would have said something more to her, but three winged figures appeared in the skies over where the Estate was, one of them carrying a fourth figure in their arms. Rhys, Feyre, Azriel and Elain.

"You sure you still want me here?" Nesta said, turning to him with a raised eyebrow. He didn't think he was imagining the strain in her voice as she said the words.

"Of course," Cassian said, far more lightly than he longed to. Always.