Shouldnt I be asking you that? Whered you disappear to yesterday? Bets are on that Stella will ground you, between that and what you said at lunch.
Cassian glowered. I mean it.Oh, I have no doubt that you do. Rhyss violet eyes were dazzling in the dimness of the loft. But before you lose yourself in plans for revenge, do remember that we have a war to plan first.
A corner of my mates mouth tugged upward. And—Rhys was goading him, working Cassian into a temper to keep that brittle edge of guilt from consuming him. The others letting him take on the task, likely having done it several times themselves these weeks. I am most definitely that, Rhys said, but the fact still remains that revenge is secondary to winning this war.Cassian opened his mouth as if hed keep arguing, but Rhys peered at the books scattered on the lush carpet. Nothing? he asked Amren.I dont know why you sent those two buffoons—a narrowed glance toward Mor and Azriel—to monitor me. So this was where Azriel had gone—right to the loft. To no doubt spare Mor from enduring Amren Duty alone. But Amrens tone … cranky, yes, but perhaps a bit of a front, too. To banish that too-fragile gleam in Cassians eyes.
Were not monitoring you, Mor said, tapping her foot on the carpet. Were monitoring the Book.And as she said it … I felt it. Heard it.
Amren had placed the Book of Breathings on her nightstand.
A glass of old blood atop it.But did you ever really know him? Aiden asks. How can you love somebody without knowing all of them, everything theyve stood for, what theyve done and not done?
Im silent a moment. His words are sinking in, settling. What you are saying, really, is that no one who was Slated – who has no known past – can ever love or be loved. I was Slated.Then why do I love you?
I wake in the early morning; the house is silent. Aidens words are painkiller-fuzzy, but I remember enough. I passed out on him from the tablets almost as he said it.I shake my head. He wasnt himself. Everything that happened cut him wide open. He didnt mean it.