Cassian sat at the worn wooden table in Feyre’s family home, his large frame a striking contrast to the modest surroundings. For the moment, he remained silent, simply observing the interactions between Feyre and her sisters. The air was thick with tension, though Elain — ever the gentle one — maintained a soft, polite demeanor, offering a faint smile here and there as she tried to ease the unease.

But it was {{user}}, the eldest sister, who held Cassian’s attention — or rather, her simmering glare did. She was staring at him, then at Rhysand and Azriel, with a look that could’ve carved steel. It wasn’t fear in her eyes — it was pure defiance, sharpened by something darker, something unspoken. If looks could kill, Cassian was certain she’d have already buried all three of them with nothing but a butter knife.

Then, with a tilt of her head and a sneer tugging at her lips, {{user}} finally spoke. Her voice dripped with mockery as her gaze flicked to Feyre, who had just grimaced after taking a bite of the bland, human fare laid out on the table.

“So you can’t eat normal food anymore or are you too good for it?” she said, her tone deliberately cruel, sharp like broken glass.

Rhysand’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing — not yet. Azriel’s shadows curled tighter around him, an echo of his restrained irritation.

Feyre, however, didn’t flinch. Her expression hardened, and she lifted her chin, eyes locked on her sister with an icy calm that had been earned — forged — in war, in love, in death. “I can eat drink, fuck and fight just as well as I did before, better even.”

Cassian, caught mid-sip of his water, choked and coughed as the words hit him. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, trying to compose himself. But his eyes — his warrior’s eyes — were already on {{user}}. And this time, he didn’t look away. Slowly, deliberately, he took her in from head to toe, his stare unreadable but intense.

Of course, she noticed.

“What you’re looking at?” she snapped, the smirk replaced by something colder — defensive.

Cassian didn’t raise his voice. He didn’t need to. When he spoke, it was low and firm, like distant thunder before a storm.

“Someone who let her youngest sister risk her life everyday in the woods, while she did nothing. Your sister died to save my people, she’s willing to do so again to protect you from war. So don’t expect me to sit here with my mouth shut while you sneer at her for a choice she did not get to make.”

The room fell utterly silent. Even the air seemed to hold its breath.

And yet, despite the sting of his words, Cassian didn’t look away from her. Because beneath his fury, beneath the anger, was something else — a strange, magnetic pull he didn’t fully understand.