Chapter Text
“Tinctures…salves…ah, there. Analgesics,” I mutter to myself, looking through my cabinet of medicines. I pull out a mild painkiller and hand the bottle to the pale green wraith sitting on my examination table.
“And these won’t make me tired?” She asks, wincing in pain as she clutches her sprained wrist.
“It shouldn’t. If you don’t want me to heal you with magic, this is your best alternative,” I frown at the swollen limb turning purple by the second.
“I…I can’t afford it right now, Healer Lilith,” She cringes, looking away in embarrassment. I nod, biting my lip as I look around the empty healers room assigned to me before meeting her gaze again.
“Come back around 3 pm if you can. I’ll heal it for no charge. Until then, the medicine should help dull the pain,” I whisper, patting her shoulder.
A hopeful smile warms her face as she nods emphatically, heading for the door.
“Thank you, master healer, you have no idea how much this means to me,” She emphasizes with a bow, turning to the doorway. But before she can leave, all I hear is a loud gasp as bodies collide.
“Sorry,” A male mumbles, sidestepping her while the wraith freezes in place.
“Lo-Lord Azriel. It’s my fault completely. I apologize,” She lowers her head, walking out without meeting his returning gaze.
I hear the shadowsinger’s loud sigh as he enters my healer room, running his hands through his hair in exasperation.
He doesn’t like to be treated by his rank and the interaction clearly rattled him.
“Shadowsinger…I don’t see you on my patient list today,” I say to him in confusion as I survey my list of upcoming appointments. “I can go check with Madja-” I start, heading for the door.
“No! I mean, please. Don’t,” He says urgently, pulling my wrist so I can’t leave. My brows furrow as I stare down at where we touch and back to his familiar face. “We…we’ve known each other a long time right, Lilith?”
I consider his question, studying his worn flight leathers and tense wings. Something is…off.
“I suppose so,” I shrug. "Since Madja started working for Rhys's father."
From the time Azriel relocated to Velaris to help the previous High Lord, we’d been around each other. I'd healed numerous wounds, repaired bones, and treated sickness for him and his friends, especially when I was trained as Madja’s protege.
“I wouldn’t ask you for this unless it was important but I…I need a favor, Lily,” He admits, a blush delicately on his cheeks.
“A…favor?” I question skeptically, considering that he called me by my nickname. Of all the Inner Court members, only Rhysand and Mor had the privilege of using that name, as they knew me better.
Azriel and I had always been acquaintances.
“Yes,” He reddens further, letting my wrist go as he stares down at his hands. “I…Rhys requires a clean bill of health for me to travel with him to the Spring Court for post-Hybern negotiations,” He explains.
“Ok…so why do you require my help? Are you sick?” I ask with concern, placing the back of my hand on his forehead while I survey his body.
“No, no,” He hesitates, gently pulling my hand down. “It’s just…”
“Azriel, I have more patients to see so I don’t think-” I sigh, looking at the clock impatiently.
“Madja won’t clear my wing injury to travel. I need you to speak to Rhys and convince him to let me fly again,” He rambles, looking away in embarrassment.
My eyes go wide as my hands touch my hips.
“I cannot-” I begin.
“Please, Lily. I am begging. I wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t essential that I go to this meeting,” He adds, his hazel eyes suddenly boring into me.
"Why can't you just winnow?" I ask.
"There may be...conflict that will require my ability to fly. I can fly but Madja is being difficult," He gripes.
I hesitate, studying the urgency in his voice before I exhale, throwing my deep, brown hair over my shoulder and adjusting my apron of tools.
“Why won’t Madja clear you?” I question softly, trying not to be frustrated.
“She says my mobility is only at 90% of what it used to be in my left wing. That is negligible in my opinion,” He grumbles. “Rhys wants to ground me if I’m not fully recovered from my Hybern injuries,” He laments.
“And so you want me to lie to my High Lord about your true condition?” I ask with an eyebrow raised in defiance, crossing my arms.
“Oh please, Lily. Like you haven’t lied to Rhys once in the past 500 years?” He mocks, standing a bit straighter himself.
I feel my cheeks heat as I consider the accusation.
Had I lied to Rhys before? I scowl, walking back to my desk to drop my patient notes and flop in my chair.
“Fine, then find another healer to give you clearance,” I respond matter-of-factly while I browse through my next patient’s record.
“Fuck,” He mutters, approaching me. “I’m sorry, that was out of line. I just really, really need your help,” He pleads.
I sigh once more, looking back at him.
“What is so important about this meeting that you can’t miss? It’s not like you’re a master peacekeeper,” I smirk, my eyes edging over the multiple blades strapped to his body.
He hedges, flexing his wings instinctively while studying my face.
“It’s…complicated,” He evades, fidgeting.
The shadowsinger is fidgeting.
“Please, Lily?” He asks, hope radiating in his expression. “Pretty please?” He tips up his lips to one side.
“Are you smiling? I don’t think I’ve seen you smile…well…ever,” I mock as he jabs me with his elbow.
“So will you speak to Rhys?” He prods.
I bite my lip as I meet his encouraging hazel eyes.
“Fine,” I give in with a deep exhale. “But first, I must give you a physical exam to determine the extent of damage and if I can repair it further. A full workup to compare to Madja's assessment,” I resolve.
Azriel groans like he may protest, studying me for a moment before nodding ever so slightly.
“Ok, I have some time between 2:30 and 2:45 pm-” I start as I hear the sounds of weapons unsheathing and buckles releasing.
I look up to find Azriel undressing, his jacket thrown on the examining table and his shirt unbuttoning.
“What are you doing!?” I shriek just as a peek of Illyrian tattoos shows through the slim opening of tanned skin.
He stops mid-action, a perplexed expression on his face.
“You've seen naked males before, right?" He teases.
I roll my eyes, crossing my arms.
"Yes. But I don't have time for you today. I've got a packed schedule," I explain, turning away from him so he can redress.
"Can’t you just examine me now? The Inner Circle leaves tonight,” He justifies, the sound of clothes shifting behind me.
“No!” I say, turning back to him and instantly blushing when I notice trimmed hair on the sliver of his chest in view. “I…I have other patients, Azriel. And just because you’re in the Night Court's leadership, doesn’t mean you can skip the line. You’ll just have to wait,” I say with determination, turning back to my desk to try to clear my mind.
For a split second, I felt something while he undressed. A flash of...desire?
Completely and utterly unprofessional and simply not how I’ve ever viewed the shadowsinger in the past 500 years.
“Lily, please-”
“I am healer Lilith and the answer is no. I’ll see you at 2:30,” I say firmly, not meeting his gaze. I don’t watch his reaction or view his departure but I can hear in the cadence of his steps that he’s frustrated.
With a final aggravated sigh, Azriel withdraws from my healer room, leaving me in a puddle of my own bewildered thoughts.
What’s so important about this meeting that he would risk his health to travel to the Spring Court?
Why would Rhysand restrict his travel, even winnowing, because of a healing wing injury?
And why do I feel so flustered after our interaction?