“Herondales.“ Zachariah’s voice was a breath, half laughter, half pain. "I had almost forgotten. No other family does so much for love, or feels so much guilt for it. Don’t carry the weight of the world on you, Jace. It’s too heavy for even a Herondale to bear.”
Cassian had been born for this.
These fields, this chaos and brutality and calculation.
Three soldiers were brave or stupid enough to try to charge him. Cassian had them down and dying with four maneuvers.
“Holy Mother,” I breathed.
That was who had been training me. Why Fae trembled at his name.
Why the high-born Illyrian warriors had been jealous enough to want him dead.