Chapter 1: Prologue
Chapter Text
Prologue
Azriel thought that after everything, after all that death and rebirth, nothing could shake him anymore, his emotions were drained. But he had never been so wrong. As his feet took him outside to the gardens of the river house, he felt the earth shift under him, and the world that had seemed muted for days suddenly began to hum the softest melody. All because, in front of him, with her back turned to the door he stood at, stood Gwyneth Berdara.
She was humming, not the world. And as it had been for the last months, his shadows left their hiding spot behind his back to dance to her song. There was a gasp, and she turned to face him. Her big teal eyes, the biggest he had ever seen in his long life, stared at him, and he watched as her shoulders relaxed and her fists unclenched on her sides.
She looked exhausted but healthy. Filth and blood clung to the leathers that were too big for her, and a sense of pride overtook him when he thought about how she’d managed to steal clothes from bigger and stronger opponents. Gwyn seemed fine, but he knew the Blood Rite charged its cost.
“Carynthian,” he whispered in greeting, feeling a lump in his throat.
He wished to run to her, grab her and never let go. But they were friends, new friends, ones that talked all night, trained together in silence, shared fantasies, and even flirted in the dead of night. But never held each other the way he wished to do now.
Gwyn, however, didn’t seem to have the same restraint, as she sprinted to him and launched herself against his body, wrapping her arms so tight around his neck it was hard to breathe. Surprised but relieved, Azriel enlaced her waist and straightened his back, which took her out of the ground. They held each other like that for what seemed an eternity, but for him, it was too soon when she released her hold on him, and he let her slide back on her feet.
“Carynthian,” she said, greeting him back or confirming his statement. Nevertheless, he smiled, big and proud, which caused her to smile back. His shadows felt happy around them, twirling and playing with the tips of her loose braid. “And alive.”
“Thank the Cauldron,” he let out a breath. “Well done, Valkyrie.” His voice came out hoarse but soft.
“Thank you, Shadowsinger,” Gwyn spoke proud but tired.
She seemed happy, but there was a shadow in her eyes, a darkness he recognized as being the horrors of the Blood Rite passing through her mind. He carried that heaviness for months after he became a Carythian, and even after so many years, he felt a sour taste in his mouth thinking of the Illyrians and their savage ways of granting someone the respect of a warrior.
"Will you meet me tonight?" She asked casually as if she was just confirming if the sun rises every morning.
“I’m afraid I’ll have to skip a few meetings of our club.”
“Oh, it’s all right.” She tried to sound supportive, but Azriel knew she was disappointed. To be fair, he was too.
“I’ve been dealing with a crisis in the Continent, and there was no time to figure out how the three of you ended up dragged to the Blood Rite. Now it’s time to do that. I’m sorry.”
Her eyes widened and she shook her head. Azriel wondered if she was excusing his absence or the things he would have to do to get the information he needed. Gwyn knew what he did, she heard him explain what kind of monster he was, still she wanted to be his friend, and for that, he would be forever grateful.
“I’ll see you when you come back, then,” she said in a small voice.
He nodded and did something he wished he had done before already. Azriel bent his head toward her and tilted his head, aiming to kiss her cheek. He paused just an inch away from her face and waited. Gwyn closed her eyes and sighed. It was confirmation enough for him, so he closed the distance and felt the softest skin against his lips, even under the sweat and dirt that covered it. Being so close to her, he could count the freckles on her nose if he wanted. And he wanted.
He knew then, the sweetest truth that sang in his heart. Azriel wanted Gwyn like he had never wanted anybody else in his life. It truly was a new thing of lovely beauty between them.
Chapter 2: The Start of Something New
Chapter Text
The Start of Something New
Six months after the Blood Rite
If Gwyneth Berdara were to be completely honest with herself, she would say that being right there, right at that moment, would be impossible for her. But there she was, standing in the training ring of the new Valkyries Camp for the first time. On the inside, her mind ran at full speed, going through all the memories of the last years living in fear in the Library of the House of Wind. On the outside, however, she looked fierce, courageous, side by side with her sisters, Nesta and Emerie, witnessing the start of something new.
Feyre, the High Lady, paced around the ring, looking at the space with a proud smile. It was a clearing on the plains of the Night Court, right between Velaris and The Court of Nightmares, surrounded by thick green forest. The clearing was big enough to accommodate five rings of dirt, a bigger one in the center, and the rest, smaller ones around it. An extensive weapons rack was placed to the side, by the stone path that led to the dormitories, a three-story house, facing south, made of stone and wood. It was rustic and ancient, but it was the home the Valkyries needed.
There were also three tents by the side of the training rings, a bigger one for supplies, and two smaller ones with cots, desks, and chairs for rest between training sessions. There, in the heart of the Night Court, the trainees would find their homes, a place of communion, of refuge.
Feyre stood in front of Cassian and hugged him fondly. Then she moved toward Azriel and whispered thanks for finding the site and overseeing the construction as she hugged him too. Lastly, she turned to the trio of females and beamed.
“This is it, Valkyries. This is the beginning we’ve all been waiting for. All thanks to you. Congratulations, and thank you on behalf of the Night Court and the whole Prythian.”
Gwyn felt tears well up in her eyes, and when she looked at the other two, she saw they were touched by that moment as well. Unexpectantly, Nesta stepped forward and hugged her younger sister tightly. A look of surprise flashed through Feyre’s face for a second, before she returned the gesture with the same intensity.
“We are the ones to thank you and the High Lord,” Emerie said with a slight bow to the High Lady. “It's an honor to finally put our training to use and help other females here and in Illyria.”
“Thank you, High Lady.” Gwyn also bowed.
The youngest Archeron stepped back from her sister’s hug and wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, smiling at the three warriors.
“Please, call me Feyre. We’ve been sharing the ring for four months now, I consider you my sisters-in-arms. All the Valkyries."
The High Lady had started attending the training in the House of Wing as soon as Cassian and Nesta came back from their mating leave, just two months after she gave birth to baby Nyx. Mor also took part in training, and Gwyn thought it was a lot of fun to have a more diverse group of participants. Nesta was a little reluctant in the beginning, afraid of mixing her old life with the new one, but she realized that there was enough space in her heart and mind to accommodate all parts of her new world.
For Gwyn, it was amazing to watch Feyre’s wild and unpredictable fighting style, contrasting with the orderly way the Valkyries worked through their movements. Mor also had her own style, minimalistic, elegant but deadly. Cassian and Azriel would give them a suggestion here and there, but mostly they instructed them silently through sparring, guiding their movements just enough for them to know what to do.
Gwyn’s favorite moment of every training session was when she’d have already exhausted all her forces and would sit on the side to watch Feyre face Azriel in the ring. She fought tooth and nail, like a lioness, as the Shadowsinger moved with precise strikes. Gwyn learned immensely from both and wondered what would be going on when suddenly Feyre would nod in acknowledgment of something Azriel hadn't said.
“She’s a daemati, like Rhys,” Nesta explained as they watched from the side, sitting against the wall with Emerie.
It made sense why Azriel wouldn’t correct Feyre when she made clear mistakes one second and acted perfectly the next. They talked in their heads, which made it all even more interesting to watch. It seemed he didn’t want to embarrass his High Lady in front of the others.
Gwyn day by day had grown fond of Feyre, who exuded power with every breath she took. But she was kind and fierce, and talked a lot without saying a single word, just with her beaming winter blue eyes.
“And you, Azriel,” the High Lady turned to address him, gesturing to the camp around her, “We will be forever grateful for providing the lands for this camp. Rosehall is the perfect place, secluded, safe and beautiful. Right here in the heart of Velaris. I hope your mother doesn’t mind the mess.”
He simply tipped his head and gave her a subtle smile, then answered in a low voice, “She’s glad to be of service.”
The three Valkyries traded looks. They had no idea they were standing on the grounds of Azriel's family estate. The house that served as a dormitory for the trainees was newly constructed, so his mother’s home must be somewhere else around there.
If Gwyn was fond of Feyre, she couldn’t even start to think of how she felt about the shadowsinger. A lot had changed between them since she had started training under his command. After cutting the ribbon and conquering the obstacle course, Azriel had become a constant company for her, not anymore the mystic figure who’d saved her from Hybern males years before. She had fantasized about meeting the shadowsinger again, to thank him for helping her, but when he’d first appeared in the training area, ready to teach the new trainees, she’d lost her courage. Suddenly, he wasn’t a product of her imagination anymore. He was a male who smiled at her when he came in and kept a polite and distant demeanor during lessons. After meeting him on Solstice night as she attempted to cut the ribbon, things changed.
They would meet at night when they both had trouble sleeping. It started with extra training, but ultimately, they simply kept each other company. Most times they would sit together in the House’s private library and talk for hours. Sometimes though, they sat in silence. Those nights, Gwyn knew not to pry, the shadowsinger fought demons inside his head that she wouldn’t dare ask about.
They were friends. The best of friends. Although, sometimes, Gwyn wondered if they could be more than just that.
It all started a week after the last winter Solstice.
“What are you writing about?” Gwyn jumped at the sound of his voice. So entranced by her writings, that she didn't even notice his shadows playing with the tips of her hair before he announced himself.
She hastily closed the black notebook she furiously had been writing on. It’d been a private project of hers. Ever since Nesta and Emerie had introduced her to the world of romance novels, Gwyn had started to feel the urge to put on the paper the stories she kept in her head.
“Nothing important. What are you doing here at this hour, Shadowsinger?
It wasn’t common for the library to receive guests, especially males and that late at night, since it was known as a refuge for those females in need of healing. She was alone there after all the other priestesses had retired for the night. Around her, there were other tables, cluttered with books to be shelved the next day, but not a single soul awake after midnight.
He cleared his throat. Paused for a second, sighed then said, “My shadows warned me of your restlessness. I wanted to check to see if you’re all right.” Azriel stood by the table in front of her.
Gwyn squinted her eyes, finding it odd that she would raise that kind of interest coming from the shadowsinger and his shadows. Was it because of the obstacle course? How she taunted him, asserting that she would conquer it no matter what? Was he that competitive that he would send his shadows to warn him of her mood and disposition so he could better prepare the obstacles the next day? It was absurd to think that, but it also amused her.
“I’m fine. Just lost sleep.” She shrugged.
“Does it happen a lot?” Azriel’s voice came as a whisper, probably not to sound imposing, even when his two siphons gleamed under the faelights on the back of his scarred hands that he placed on his crossed arms. Her eyes flicked at them, and he quickly hid his hands behind his back. It was a shame. She liked how unique his hands were.
Gwyn thought that she had never seen him dress so casually, in linen black pants and a loose cotton shirt, also black, and a pair of slippers on his feet. It looked like he was preparing for bed when he decided to check on her.
She played with the margins of her notebook, flipping them all quickly in her fingers. Gwyn hummed an affirmative without looking at him. Yes, it happened all the time.
“Me too,” he whispered and sat down on the chair opposite her.
The defeated tone of his comment drew her attention. It appeared he also tossed and turned in bed before deciding to make better use of his time.
She saw him staring intently at her. It failed to make her blush or uncomfortable. In fact, sharing that similarity with him only made her more grounded.
“We can start a club,” she said casually to break the ice.
His lips quirked in a contained smile. Ice broken.
Those were rare, his smiles. It made her heart flutter a little every time she saw it on his stupidly handsome face. Gwyn knew all the traces of it, she had memorized them even before he had first appeared in training. The worst night of her life had also ingrained in her mind the vivid memory of his face, his enraged hazel eyes, and his scarred hands, dripping with the blood of her attackers. He had never seemed more beautiful to her after that.
“What do we do in this club?”
“Anything we want. Or nothing at all. What do you usually do when you lose sleep?”
He stopped to think about it and listed, raising his right hand to count on his fingers, “When I don’t have work to do, I train, read, drink, or go out to town.”
“To do what?”
His eyes flicked away from her, and he stirred in his seat, his cheeks turning slightly red under the faint faelight of the library.
“Listen to music. Look for company.” It was just a whisper, but she heard him well, the words he said and the ones he didn’t.
Solitude was a heavy burden to carry. She felt it too. Ever since she had lost Catrin, the world had been emptier, quieter. It helped to have Nesta and Emerie around, as well as the other priestesses, Cassian, and Azriel, but it wasn’t the same. Her twin sister had been a constant in her life, the voice inside her head. Gwyn often sang to herself to try to fill the void inside of her, the place where Catrin resided and left empty after her death. She imagined it was Catrin’s voice, and it would lull her to calm momentarily.
Gwyn had expected him to lie, to say that he liked to take a walk to clear his thoughts and spend some pent-up energy. She was positively surprised when he told the truth, the truth of his solitude and the search for something more, hidden between the lines. A pang of jealousy soared in her heart. Of his freedom outside the library and the House of Wind.
“Pleasure houses, you mean?” She tried to keep the judgment out of her question and had the impression that it worked since his stance relaxed.
“It’s been a while since I don’t go to one. I prefer to meet the people I already know and not pay for it. But that became rare these days as well.”
“Females only?”
He smiled in full this time. Her heart did that strange thing again. She sighed, trying not to stare too hard at the hazel of his gleaming eyes, that wrinkled a little in the corners when he smiled.
“Curious, aren’t you, Berdara?” She shrugged and waited for his answer. “Yes, females only. Although I experimented in my youth.”
“Many, many decades ago then.”
Azriel laughed. He laughed. Impossible not to smile at that full and rich sound, that started in his chest and reverberated on the stone wall and shelves around them.
“So, those companions of yours. Do you consider them your friends? Something more?”
A shrug and a shake of his head. “Not exactly. They are acquaintances that happen to provide the kind of companionship that I look for in—” Azriel stopped and squinted his eyes at her. “Wait a second! Why am I telling you all this if you couldn't even answer what you've been writing so furiously in that notebook?” He pointed at the object she had been fiddling with the entire time.
“That’s because I’m a better interrogator than you are.”
His expression became impassive in opposition to hers, amused and defiant.
“I didn’t know I was under interrogation, Valkyrie.”
“I’m just curious about you, Shadowsinger. I’m curious by nature,” she faked innocence in a playful voice.
The shadows that decided to bounce between them during their conversation went back to his shoulders and approached his ear.
The shadowsinger batted a hand in annoyance at them as he had disagreed with something they said.
“What did they say?”
Azriel narrowed his eyes. “How do you know they speak to me?”
“I didn’t. You just confirmed it.”
A smug smile surged on her face which made him breathe deeply and roll his eyes at his shadows.
“They’re saying I’m a better interrogator than you, aren’t they?” Gwyn mocked.
Azriel silenced for an instant, holding her stare until he relented, and a hint of amusement glinted in his eyes.
“They like that you make a fool out of me.”
She laughed, extending her hand to touch the smoky entities. They curled around her fingers, and she felt the immaterial sensation of a cool breeze bathing her skin.
The interaction left her with a silly smile on her face, so after they said their goodbyes, it was easy to fall asleep and have a restful night. She hoped it would work for him too.
Two nights after that, she climbed the stairs to the training ring to find him already there, beating one of the dummies senseless. It was almost midnight, the sky was bright under the moonlight that spread on his wings, hair, and leathers, all dark as the feathers of a raven. Azriel’s siphons gleamed in a sapphire hue, competing with the faelights to see which one would make his shadows more menacing looking with its ethereal reflection. For Gwyn though, they were harmless, dancing around him as she approached.
When she was about ten feet away, Azriel stiffed and turned to her.
“You seem startled, Shadowsinger. I thought your shadows tell you everything,” she said with mirth.
“Apparently, not everything,” he countered more to the shadows than to her.
Gwyn smiled when they reached for her, dancing in front of her face and then around her fingers as she tried to touch them.
“They’re nice.”
Azriel’s brows shot up.
“Nice? That’s something no one had ever said about my shadows before.”
She went to the weapons rack to fetch a short sword as the shadows and their master watched.
“No one must’ve seen them like I do then.”
At her comment, he just silenced, lost in thought. Gwyn adjusted her gloves and pulled the sleeves of her training leathers to cover the skin of her wrists to protect it against the winter cold. She started the movements of the eight-pointed star with precision and focus.
Very aware of his eyes on her, Gwyn managed to finish the sequence of strikes without a single mistake. So she repeated it, and again. And once more. Until her mind no longer roamed the realms of her nightmares. Until all she could see was the night being cut by her blade. Until her arms could not carry the weight of the steel anymore. Her pants were the only sound in the night.
“Well done, Valkyrie,” Azriel praised as she put the sword back on the rack.
Gwyn smiled to herself as she turned to leave.
“Welcome to the Midnight Club of Insomniacs, Shadowsinger. Don’t go looking for trouble after I’m gone.”
His guttural laughter carried her down the stairs and rocked her to sleep that night, peacefully.
It had become a ritual for them to meet in the training ring at night when insomnia disturbed their peace. They decided to officially call it the Midnight Club for Insomniacs as an inside joke. They would spar with each other, silently most times. Gwyn would practice stilling her mind to the point of only perceiving their movements, never her thoughts. She wanted her fighting to be instinctive. She wanted to never feel afraid again. It was hard, very hard. Still, she tried her best. And Azriel fought his own internal battles, she could tell.
One night, after about a month of silent training sessions, Gwyn emerged from the stairs to find him looking down at the city lights leaning against the railing. She approached him on quiet steps hoping to startle him as commonly happened, when a breeze ran from her back and engulfed him in her scent.
He stiffed slightly and said without turning, “I should call you the shadowsinger since they don’t seem to work for me when you’re around.”
Gwyn giggled, making the shadows dance in front of her face as if chasing the sound.
“They’re my buddies, all right?” She twirled her index finger around them to the delight of the smoky creatures.
“Unbelievable,” Azriel complained without any poison in his tone, instead he sounded amused as he turned his face to watch her join him by the railing.
“So, no training tonight?” She asked.
“I must go somewhere tonight. I just came here to tell you.”
Gwyn felt warm inside suddenly, glad he was committed to their club meetings. They hadn’t agreed on meeting every night, and some nights Gwyn fell asleep before she could even think of changing into her fighting leathers. Or she would climb the stairs and train alone for a while until he appeared just when she decided to retire for the night.
"Where you're going? To find company?"
Gwyn never wanted to pry about Azriel’s personal life, but she found herself losing control of her tongue whenever they talked. Sometimes, she felt he had the same issue, for he would share information that she knew was private even to his closest friends.
He frowned in confusion for a moment then remembered their conversation in the library a month before. Azriel smiled and shook his head.
“No. I’m going on a mission for Rhys. And if it’s not too much to share, I haven’t been looking for company since we started our Midnight Club.”
“Oh, I’m sorry for getting in the way of your sex life, Shadowsinger. Maybe you get lucky on your mission,” she said playfully with a smirk.
Azriel gave her a courtesy smile because Gwyn saw he didn’t find it funny. In fact, neither did she, since she carried a hint of heartache to think of him being so unrestrained when it came to the possibility of coming and going, when she was bound to stay inside the mountain forever, encased in fear. Or the discomfort came from thinking of him seeking the company of another, and that was a new feeling that she tried to push aside for the moment.
Gwyn tentatively reached for his forearm that rested on the railing. The touch of her hand caused him to relax, as it was with them, and his eyes found hers.
“What is it, Azriel?” She asked in a whisper.
He took a deep breath and shook his head.
“I wish I could stay here and spar with you or talk to you.” There was more he wasn’t saying, but she guessed it was the nature of his job. Being secretive and alone. “But I really need to go now. Don’t stay out too late, Berdara. You’ll freeze.” He gave her a crooked smile and stepped away, extending his wings.
Gwyn watched him take flight, taking the reluctant shadows with him. She wondered what would flying feel like if it felt like the freedom she imagined it to be. One day, Gwyn decided, she’d ask him to take her along. One day, she’d be free.
After the High Lady had winnowed away back to Velaris, the five remaining friends looked at each other grinning, with pride stamped on their faces.
“All right, General. What now?” Emerie asked Cassian, who grinned even broader and turned to his left, to Nesta.
“What now, General?” He asked his mate.
Gwyn beamed at the title and traded looks with Emerie who nodded at her, just as happy.
“What?” Nesta’s voice cracked.
“The Valkyries are ruled by themselves only,” Azriel explained. “So, if you’re to be the new Valkyries, you’ll need new leadership.”
Nesta looked at the others with a question in her eyes. The response was a tight hug from Emerie and Gwyn.
“What about the others? They agree?” Nesta asked through the lump in her throat, being squished between her friends.
Gwyn stepped away from the hug to grab her sisters’ hands in hers.
“I’ve talked to the other priestesses. They all agree. You’re our elected leader,” she declared.
Nesta traded looks with the two, and Gwyn thought she saw resolution passing through her eyes.
“All right. I accept the role of leader of the Valkyries. But only if you two serve as my immediate officers.”
Cassian stepped closer to the trio and clasped Gwyn and Emerie by their shoulders.
“That’s a full-time job, ladies. You’ll need to make a decision. Leave the library and the shop in Windhaven to serve the Valkyries as officers, or keep training as private soldiers.”
Gwyn’s heart sped up. When the High Lord and Lady had approached her, Nesta, and Emerie with the idea of creating a war camp for the Valkyries and the Illyrian females she thought it was the greatest idea someone had ever had. Then she contemplated her role in it, and it was clear that she would have to leave the protection of the library to venture outside, in the real world. She sought comfort knowing that she would be back every day after training in the confines of the House of Wind. But now, what Cassian had said made it clear that a full-time job meant she would have to move away from the library, she would have to be brave and face a new reality, one in which she wasn’t afraid anymore.
Of course she was afraid. She shook with uncertainty and anxiety. Still, she clenched her jaw and nodded.
“I accept the job. I’ll be by your side, General.”
Nesta smiled broadly after Emerie also claimed her new position as her immediate.
“Then it’s decided, although I wish we could find another title for me. I’m not sure I’m comfortable with being called General without ever being on a battlefield leading the Valkyries." Gwyn realized that a dark cloud passed through Nesta's eyes since she had been in a battle before and came out of it victorious over the dead body of the King of Hybern.
“How about Commander for now?” Azriel pitched in. “You’re still learning after all and will need to follow Cassian’s instructions until you can find your own way to lead.”
“I like it,” she nodded and straightened her posture, facing her mate. “Commander Archeron reporting for duty, General.”
There was a glint of amusement in her eyes, especially after she saw when Cassian's jar slacked a little at her words. Everyone knew that he was seconds away from flying her back to Velaris, although Gwyn suspected they wouldn’t make it all the way there before getting into each other’s pants.
After Morrigan appeared to winnow Emerie back to Windhaven, Azriel offered to take Gwyn back to Velaris. He extended his arm to her so he would take her into the void of the shadows and reappear just above the House of Wind.
“Can we fly instead?”
His brows shot up in surprise. Gwyn knew that it was because she had told him once that the idea of flying was so daunting to her that she thought it would never happen. But in the name of their friendship, she wished to spend more time with him, ask him about his mother and see more of the land that would serve as the new home of the Valkyries. And she wished to feel free.
He asked if she was sure, to which she simply nodded once and threw her arms around his neck. Azriel took her in his arms and shot into the sky. Just like the first time, she felt her stomach shift to her back and her heart skipped a beat in her chest. She hid her face on his shoulder and waited for him to stop ascending and start gliding forward. Attempting to look over his shoulder, she saw his wings flap lazily, taking advantage of the drift that took them ahead.
"Where's your mother?" She asked in his ear and felt when he shivered.
Azriel banked right as he was turning back to the camp and pointed with his chin.
“She lives there.”
Looking from above, Gwyn had the perfect view of the entire property. It was a woodland area, sized about a mile squared, delimited by a creek running half a mile south of the training ring and stone walls on the other sides of it. The northern part of the land faced the road between Velaris and the Hewn City, where merchants and messengers traveled by foot or horseback. By either side of the property, there were houses and cottages, too sparce to call it a village. Neither the neighbors nor the travelers could see through the thick forest surrounding the camp, and Gwyn knew Feyre and Rhysand had worked on the wards to protect the area from invaders or other prying eyes.
It was beautiful under the sunset light of the end of summer.
Azriel’s mother’s house was almost entirely hidden by vegetation, flowers, and fruit trees, by the side of the creek. It was made of stone, big enough for a family, cozy and out of a fantasy tale.
“It’s beautiful,” she said softly, afraid he wouldn’t listen under the rustling of the wind. But he did.
“It is. I’ll take you there someday.”
Someday wouldn’t be today, but Gwyn wasn’t in any kind of rush to get to know all Azriel’s secrets. She knew plenty already.
“Who else knows this place?”
“Only my brothers. Not even Feyre has seen it or met my mother yet.”
“What’s wrong?”
She felt his chest rise and fall against her body.
“I’m worried about her.”
“About exposing her, you mean?”
Azriel nodded, avoiding her eyes.
“Then why did offer to have the camp there?”
“I didn’t, she did. She wants to serve, do something useful. Besides, all those houses around Rosehall? They belong to operatives. They’re my eyes. Still, I’m afraid to go blind someday.”
Gwyn looked at him and felt when he started to fly them to Velaris again. His eyes were undisturbed, looking ahead. His shadows settled in the space between his shoulders and his wings, some even resting in her lap. The moment felt important somehow, so filled with emotion that she didn’t fear the sky anymore. Instead, she felt a pull inside her, making her raise her hand and caress his face, the one she had memorized already. Dark and full eyebrows. High cheekbones. Strong jaw. Round ears. Her index finger traced the lines of his face. Still, he didn’t shift his expression.
It was only when her hand drifted to the back of his head and into his short raven hair that she saw his eyes flutter, threatening to shut completely. Azriel let out a breath and mumbled her name. Gwyn scratched his head idly for a while, very aware of the effect it had on him.
“Gwyn,” he let out again.
“Hm?”
“You need to stop that or we’re going to crash,” Azriel said in a throaty voice, a rumble in his chest that Gwyn could feel through their leathers.
Gwyn stilled her hand but didn’t pull it back. The rest of the way to Velaris, they spent in silence, enjoying the view. When the city was in sight, she marveled at the lights, starting to shine under the setting night sky.
Azriel glided toward the House of Wind and landed softly on the veranda. Before putting her down, he brought her body a little closer to his chest for a few seconds, staring into her eyes, then let go. She let go of his hair as well as she stepped back.
“I’ll see you in the private library later?” She asked.
Azriel smiled kindly and nodded.
“See you at the club meeting, Valkyrie.”
Chapter 3: Crooked Lines
Summary:
Elain navigates the feeling of rejection and decides to make some changes to her life.
Notes:
Thank you so much for the response to this fic so far! I hope you continue to read and enjoy the story, because it's going to be a long ride.
I'd like to explain that for the first part of the story, we'll be going back and forth on the time line. Up until the Valkyries start training in their new place, we'll be revisting what happened between Solstice and Nesta and Cassian's mating ceremony. If it gets too confusing, let me know.
Chapter Text
Crooked Lines
A mistake? Is that what he thought that was?
Elain paced around her bedroom, toying with the stained glass rose pendant. It hung nicely from her neck but weighted a thousand pounds with the feeling of rejection. For the second time in her life, she wanted someone who changed his mind about her.
“A mistake?” She whispered furiously to herself.
Then she paused her pacing and looked out the window into the night sky of Winter Solstice.
“A mistake!”
She reached back to the necklace's clasp and removed it from around her neck.
“Of course it was a mistake! What was I thinking?”
Relief washed over her as she held the jewelry in front of her face, thinking that she would never be so attached to something, someone, like that again. The last time she had held on to an object, she had forfeited her right to live, to experience life. Instead, she’d become a shell, an empty crate. Azriel was a good male, or she thought he was, but she would not run away from a problem just to fall into the arms of another.
Getting over Graysen was the hardest thing she had ever done. The amount of time it took her to get rid of the iron ring he gave her for their engagement was proof of that. An iron ring, for the gods! What bigger proof she needed that he’d never accept her as herself?
But who was she? Who was this person with pointed ears she saw in the mirror every morning? She was supposed to be beautiful, delicate with her symmetrical features and dove brown eyes, smooth golden-brown hair that fell to her waist. But none of it was worth anything if she didn’t recognize herself in those eyes.
She would not hold on to a necklace this time, on a promise of something she didn’t even know she wanted. She would not attach herself to a promise of something in the form of pretty jewelry. It was pretty, she had to admit, and it suited her perfectly, unlike the engagement ring Graysen had given her. But it had to go before it got too complicated.
It was time to take her life in her own hands.
This wasn’t about Azriel. It was about her!
Tossing the necklace on the bedside table, she went to stand by the window. There wasn’t much that she liked about the city, but she loved to stare at the night sky in Velaris. That was something she would never take for granted about being Made into high fae and moving to the Night Court. She felt incredibly out of place there, in that body, but still, nothing could beat the beauty of that sky.
Movement caught her eye, and she recognized Azriel’s silhouette leaving the estate grounds, taking flight and vanishing in the night. She sighed. It hurt to think of him. Elain figured that it would hurt for a while if her experience was an indicator. What she had with Azriel was barely there, and sometimes she wondered if she had imagined it. She’d even apologized earlier for misreading the situation. But no, the kindness and attention he’d given her were real. The silent companionship was real. She cared about him, that was certain. His care and desire might not be real, but hers were very much palpable.
She desired Azriel. It was raw and unfiltered. A heat that would make her touch herself under the skirt of her nightgown in the dead of night. She imagined his lips on her skin, all over her body. She imagined how hard his muscles were underneath his Illyrian leathers when he pressed his body against hers. She’d never imagined Graysen like that. And although she could not deny the appeal of Lucien’s appearance, Elain had never let her thoughts wander toward her mate like that either.
If she had one night with Azriel, only one and nothing more, that would be fine. More than fine. It would be ideal. One night to quench her thirst and they could go back to their easy friendship. But it was Azriel. Member of her sister’s inner circle and family. One night was a guarantee of unnecessary drama. Unless no one knew… No, it was too risky. She couldn’t.
Elain shook her head from the fantasy of falling in bed with Azriel, feeling her cheeks warming up in shame, and walked to the bedside table. She grabbed the necklace and went downstairs to deposit it with his pile of gifts that she knew he hadn’t taken with him when he flew away.
Desire wasn’t enough to make her risk the integrity of her family. It wasn’t enough to make her hold on to an object that promised to wreck her world.
It was a mistake after all. Almost irresistible. But wrong. Right?
Two days after Solstice, the twins appeared and disappeared through the walls of the house constantly as Elain prepared dinner for the family. She had spent the day before reflecting on how she wished to lead her life from that moment forward. It was daunting to take that step, but she squared her shoulders, took a deep breath, and let out what she had to say when the part-wraiths gathered in the kitchen.
"Wherever you go at night, I would like to come with you."
Nuala and Cerridwen stopped their chores and stared at her. Then traded looks between themselves. The twins didn’t live in the house exactly, leaving after dinner and only reappearing the next day. Sometimes they were gone for days, and the family was used to having other employees prepare the meal and clean the rooms. They had lives outside their duty to the Court, lives that Elain knew nothing about.
“Why?” Nuala asked.
Elain shrugged. An unladylike gesture, that her mother would chastise her for doing.
“I want to see more than this. I want to live, before…”
Before what? She died? Elain knew that she would only die if she was killed by someone, or because of a curse, or if she let herself perish in the arms of regret, old and scared.
Cerridwen stood before her, and Elain turned from the roast she plated to face her.
“We have many assignments as employees of the High Lord and Lady. Most nights we work. But some nights we go out to have fun. We cannot take you to work with us, but we can show you good fun.”
Elain smiled and let out a breath. The twins didn’t ask what Feyre would say about them taking Elain into the night of Velaris or question her if she knew what kind of fun they had. They trusted Elain’s motives and her right to live.
Elain served dinner with a lingering smile on her face, that quickly faded away as she saw the person who accompanied her sister Feyre and Rhysand into the dining room. It was a small gathering that night, only the three of them and Lucien.
“Good evening, Elain,” he said sitting to Feyre’s left, who sat at the head of the table. Rhys took her right and Elain chose the foot of the table, to be far away from him and his misery. She had enough of that already. There was no need for him to send more through the bond, which Elain hadn’t quite figured out how to ignore yet.
She politely nodded to him and stayed silent all through the meal, as the others discussed the human lands and Lucien’s work as emissary. Elain let her mind follow their words at the same time it painted in her head the scenarios they’d mentioned. The Continent, the Day Court, the Autumn Court, Spring. She envisioned herself traveling there, wearing different attire, eating exotic fruit, meeting new people.
Her hand dropped the fork with a clang on her plate as her eyes no longer saw the table in front of her but somewhere else. She saw light, so much light! It made her want to put her hands up to protect her eyes, but she knew it wouldn’t work. Then, through the light, she saw the most beautiful city, crafted in white and gray marble, with flowers and plants adorning the houses and plazas. A hand grabbed hers, and when she looked down, she saw smooth and tanned skin contrasting with her alabaster. Elain tried to focus on the owner of that hand, but her eyes snapped back to reality and the dimmed light of the river house.
“Are you all right?” Her sister asked with concern.
Elain nodded, and surprisingly, it was true. She felt weightless, like floating on air. Suddenly, her resolve of getting to live to the fullest made even more sense. She needed to see more, to travel. That beautiful city she saw in her mind would be the first destination.
Rhysand cleared his throat to get her attention, and when she looked at him, she saw his expectant violet eyes asking a silent question, Was that another vision? Is it important?
Elain hated that her power as a seer was something so important to the politics of the Court, she hated her power, period. It made her even stranger than she thought she was. It was like crawling into somebody else’s skin and trying to live a different life. Elain had no idea how to be fae, let alone a seer. After the war, her visions had been scarce, but always about herself. There was no need for her to divulge them.
Once she woke up in the middle of the night with an image of her hands arranging a vase with flowers she didn’t recognize. The vase sat atop a table she didn’t know. And again, so much light! It was like the sun had stationed itself in front of the window and decided to stay there forever.
Another time, when she was tending to the garden weeks before, she saw herself dancing in a ballroom. She waltzed in the middle of the room, with pillars of white marble, that were decorated with all the flowers she loved the most, especially the roses to which she dedicated herself daily. The male hands that led her through the dance made her spin, forcing her eyes to scan the crowd around her. Her sisters were there. Rhysand, Mor, Amren. Cassian stood behind Nesta, with a hand on her waist, which had brought a smile to her face. There were also some people she didn’t know, a lot of people she didn’t know, but side by side with Cassin and Nesta, stood Azriel. He also had his hand around somebody else’s waist, a female Elain didn’t recognize. He looked content, happy even. When she was brought back from her spin, she also came back to herself, to her garden at the river house.
Elain smiled softly to Rhys and stood. She excused herself, claiming she needed some air. When she reached for her coat in the closet by the stairs, she heard steps approaching her.
“Do you mind if I accompany you? I wish to say my farewell.”
Lucien waited patiently by the foyer door until she responded with a curt nod. He smiled softly and grabbed his coat as well.
He followed her through the garden, as she raised her chin, trying to absorb the smell of winter. Their feet crunched the snow under them, and it was all she could hear for at least five minutes until she decided to break the silence, since she could feel anxiety leaking from his end of the bond.
“You’re leaving already?”
Lucien smiled sadly. She knew that he knew she was only trying to make conversation, that she didn’t mind he was leaving so soon after Solstice.
“I have work to do in the human lands.”
Elain nodded. They walked in silence a little longer, until they were almost by the riverside.
“Thank you for the gift. The pearl earrings are beautiful.”
“Oh. You’re welcome. They caught my attention during my brief visit to the Day Court a while ago. I thought they’d suit you,” he said and looked at her, seeming to search for the jewelry, but finding only her gold drops, instead of the pearls he’d gifted her.
“Day Court? How’s it like there?”
At the same time, Elain thought that spending time with Lucien would only serve as breadcrumbs to his longing heart, she was immensely curious about his travels. She had never dared to ask him about it since it would make him think that she was interested in accepting the mating bond. But she imagined that if their situation was different if they were allowed to just be friends, he would make a delightful partner for conversation.
He let out a breath and said, “Bright!”
Elain laughed a little, and he relaxed, letting his shoulders drop and his eyes meet hers. Then he stared ahead at the gleaming waters of the Sidra, as they started to follow its course.
“There’s so much light. You know how the night here seems darker but at the same time more resplendent, with the stars and the moon shining in a way that they don’t shine anywhere else?” She nodded, reflexively looking up to find the moon. “It’s like that, but with sunlight. And the palace is beautiful, grand, majestic. Made of marble. All the important and noble constructions there are made of white and gray marble. The residences vary in color and material. But they all tend to be light colored.”
Elain’s mind drifted to the vision she’d just had at dinner. So she had seen the Day Court. Interesting.
“I’d love to visit it someday.”
“You’d love it there, I’m sure.”
“When is your next visit there?”
“In two or three months. That’s the time Helion’s scholars hope it will take them to find an answer to Vassa’s problem. You know, about her turning into a firebird every day because of Koschei's curse."
Elain knew about the human queen and her predicament. It was horrible to think that someone could live like that.
“It’s good that she has you as her friend.”
Lucien sighed, and Elain couldn’t decipher the meaning of his serious expression.
“We are good to each other, I guess. The three of us.”
Right. Vassa, Lucien, and Jurian. The Band of Exiles, Feyre had told her.
Elain smiled politely and let herself really look at him for the first time as they reached the property limit and stopped walking.
Lucien was a very handsome male. Again, if the situation was different, Elain knew that he was the kind of male who would make her thoughts wander to the realms of sin. As he stood facing the river, with his hand in the pockets of his coat, he looked like a painting. His colors were harmonious like the Mother had graced him with the same beauty of a day of sunshine. His tanned skin and his vibrant red hair, his russet eye, all gave him a look of sophistication, like he was carved in gold and bronze. He was light in the dark.
When her eyes made their way to the forest green of his elegant coat that hugged his slim torso, Elain realized he was looking back at her with an amused smile.
She cleared her throat to rid herself of the embarrassment of getting caught and started the walk back to the house. Feeling her face heat up, Elain tried to find a subject to fill the silence, anything that could distract him. Lucien must’ve caught her discomfort through the bond, for he was the one to restart the conversation.
“I heard you’ve been helping the people of Velaris with their gardens.”
Elain sighed in relief. That was a subject she loved talking about.
“Yes. After the battle and the war, I figured people needed to have something beautiful in their lives again. And it keeps me busy.”
“It’s a wonderful deed, Elain.”
“Thank you, Lucien.” She smiled kindly at him.
That was the longest conversation they’d had. And so far, it had been pleasant enough. So she started to tell him about the gardens she’d helped bring to life around the city. His courteous smile and attentive eyes made her excited to tell him about the minutia of her project and the people that she’d helped. She talked until they were seated on a marble bench in front of the winter roses that had been waiting to bloom.
When she paused the explanation she was giving about a disease that their neighbors had on their fern, thinking that he hadn’t absorbed a word she had said, he surprised her and offered, “I can ask Helion's scholars about it. You know there are a thousand libraries in Day? Some of them specialize in botany.”
Elain’s face lit up and her chest filled with purpose.
“I’d like that very much! How soon can you get a response from them?”
“They’re quick to respond.”
Feeling like an opportunity too good to pass, Elain listed all the other issues she faced when working with plants and flowers, hoping he would get an answer for them as well.
“You’ll have to write it all down to me, so I can find the solutions for you.”
“All right. I’ll get to it right now!” She said and rose to her feet. “When exactly do you leave?”
Lucien stood up and faced her. Standing so close to her like that, he towered over her, several inches taller. His woody scent, which Elain thought of as being the smell of chopped maple tree wood – softly sweet but fresh –, filled her nostrils.
“I leave Velaris at first light tomorrow. But I suppose I can wait until you finish writing your list before I head back to my apartment.”
“It’ll be quick, I promise.”
Lucien bowed his head to her before she sprinted inside, looking for paper and ink. Elain supposed that there was the good side of being forcefully mated to someone, after all. As long as that mate was an emissary with an infinitude of contacts all over the land.
The first night Nuala and Cerridwen took Elain out, they guided her to the inner circle’s favorite bar, Rita’s.
It was nice enough. She tried all the different flavors of drinks, danced between the twins but far from the crowd, and didn’t engage in conversation with anyone new. Elain was more observant that night, hoping to get bolder as she got used to the outings with her friends. The twins were discreet. They talked in low voices to each other and to Elain, their dance moves were small and elegant, but their eyes scanned the whole place at all times. Maybe it was a habit they’d picked up living Under the Mountain, to be aware and cautious, but Elain didn’t ask. She never asked about Under the Mountain.
At least three times a week the three females would get dressed and ready for a night out, that was their secret, kept almost as a bargain among them. She even started to feel good in her new body. It was common for her to attract the attention of males and females in the bars and taverns they went to. Some of them were more forward, inviting her to accompany them out of there, but some would carelessly flirt and leave it at that.
Elain had only said yes to an invitation two weeks into her new routine, on the night she met Azriel for the first time since Solstice.
It was the chance to have her one night. Even if it cost her peace of mind. Even if it caused drama in the family. At that moment, she didn’t care. Elain wanted to know, more than anything, how it’d feel to lose herself in Azriel.
She fixed her hair in the mirror, adjusted the shoulders of her dark green gown, then took a deep breath and left the restroom.
It was a tavern on the wrong side of the Rainbow, as Nuala had pointed out. Cerridwen had rolled her eyes at that comment, saying that the Rainbow had no wrong sides, only alternative ones, ones that were a little darker and maybe strange sometimes. Elain could feel the apprehension taking her entire body as they described the place but was assured that nothing would happen to her there. It was perfectly safe and clean. That was important to Elain.
Azriel was sitting alone in the darkest corner of the tavern, drinking a glass of whisky. His eyes scanned the crowd that danced to a loud and heavy tune as if he were looking for someone until they found her. She saw as his posture straightened and his hands hid under the table.
Elain felt sorry for him. Feyre had told her what had happened to his hands in his childhood, and she was very, very sorry. Sometimes she couldn’t even mask it when her eyes would glance at his hands, and he would make sure he’d hide them from her look.
When Elain approached his table in the corner, she tried to give him a warm smile, but the jitters she felt forced a tight-lipped one.
“Hello,” she greeted under the loud music.
Azriel tipped his head. He took a sip of his whisky with his eyes alternating between her and the crowd behind her.
“May I sit?”
He nodded, so she took the chair opposite him.
“What are you doing here, Elain?” His voice was low, but she could hear him just fine.
“The same as you, I suppose. Enjoying the night out.”
She tried to put lightness in her tone, but to be fair, he didn’t seem to be enjoying anything.
“I’m working,” he said. Then his eyes found something behind her, and he tipped his chin slightly in greeting. When she turned to see who that was, there was nobody in the sea of dancing bodies who seemed to be communicating with him.
Elain turned again to face him and saw his shadows quickly moving from behind his back to his ears and gone again. It was always strange to see them. There was a chill that ran through her spine whenever she laid her eyes on the dark tendrils of smoke. It was like all the stories she had heard as a child about fae magic and how twisted they could be came to life. Fortunately, they seemed to be kind to her and hid whenever she was around their master if they were capable of kindness or any emotion.
“Sorry to interrupt, then. I just thought we could talk. We haven’t had the chance since Solstice.”
Azriel gulped and stared at her.
“All right. We can talk.”
Elain could laugh at his stoic demeanor, always poised, always on guard, secluded. It was exactly what she expected from a conversation with him, that he’d say little.
She smiled warmly this time, trying to lure him into more pleasant waters.
“I’ve thinking a lot about what happened between us then, or what didn’t happen.” He nodded, signaling that she should continue, or that he also thought about that night two weeks before. “What I want to say is— actually, I’d like to ask. What happened exactly?”
Azriel let out a sigh.
“Nothing happened, you just said so.”
“Yes, but why not, I mean. It seemed that we were on the same page, we were in the moment together, and then you just called it a mistake and left.”
Elain felt bold. She was out, drinking and dancing on the night of Velaris, on the wrong side of the Rainbow, if there was a wrong side of it. Demanding answers was only the next step.
“It was a mistake. We could’ve been seen.”
“What if we weren’t? What if we knew for certain that no one could see us, would you go through with it?”
Azriel licked his lips looking at the glass. He picked his hand up from under the table and held it, tracing the side of the glass idly. It was the most expressive she had ever seen him.
“I think so, yes.”
His confirmation made her heart rate rise, making it pound inside her chest. Then there was a tug, faint and distant, but she knew what that meant. He was worried about her jolt of excitement and searched for any sign of distress. Elain tried to block the bond as much as she could, but without proper training, she had no idea if that worked.
"Right. So, if we were to go somewhere no one can see us tonight, would you want to continue what we started?"
The words flew out of her mouth without any filter, the wine she’d drunk earlier still running through her veins. She was on a quest to free herself from the convention she had been put into since she was a young girl. Not anymore. If she wanted to bed the ridiculously handsome Spymaster of the Night Court, she would.
Azriel clenched his jaw and with his eyes closed, he shook his head, saying her name as to rid himself of a temptation.
“One night, Azriel. What harm can that cause? One night of stringless pleasure,” she spoke as she was telling a secret, bending her body forward to closer to him, even from the other side of the table.
His eyes snapped open, and the most alluring hazel met her eyes.
"What do you mean, one night?"
"That we don't need to pursue anything serious between us, it’s even better if we don’t.”
“Because of Lucien?” He asked in anger.
“No, because of me. I don’t need the commitment right now.”
"You don't need commitment with me, is that what you’re saying?”
Elain was confused. The whole time they had spent together in her garden, in quiet companionship, she’d felt the electricity between them. She knew it to be desire, attraction. Was she wrong to think that he wanted her too? Maybe she'd read it all wrong, and in fact, he wished to have something else.
“Well, no. With anyone, really,” she said matter-of-factly.
His shadows appeared again behind his ear, and she noticed his eyes narrowing away from her, then again focused on her face.
The tendrils of darkness went back to hiding, for her relief.
“Not even your mate?”
Elain scoffed.
“Especially my mate. I have nothing against Lucien, but I’m not eager to be shackled to someone I don’t even know.”
“So you think the Cauldron made a mistake?”
“I don’t know how this works, but if there’s a possibility that It made a mistake, I’m sure that was what happened.”
A glint of what seemed like hope flared in his expression.
“You wish the Cauldron had chosen someone else for you?” His words came out in haste, as he was trying to confirm a piece of information that was crucial to him. But Elain wasn’t sure what he was looking for with that conversation.
If there was one thing that Elain didn’t want in the world was for some deity she didn’t believe in to choose who she was supposed to marry, or love.
She had voluntarily linked herself to Graysen, promising to be his future wife, to continue his bloodline. She chose that. Alone. It went terribly in the end, but she was proud of herself for choosing her own path. Elain knew that most human marriages were designed to serve the interests of both families, and fathers usually intervened to the point of the bride having little to no say in the matter. But not the Archerons. At least after her mother had passed away. No. Elain chose for herself, but she knew that if her mother was still alive, she’d have to accept whatever fate was chosen for her.
Gladly, she had been free to do so, even if it meant that she no longer had a mother. No parent or Cauldron would say who she should give her life to.
“Oh no, I think the mistake was to give me a mate at all. I wish I had never been bonded to anyone like this.”
“The mating bond is a blessing from the Mother. There’s nothing more fulfilling than finding your mate,” Azriel said through gritted teeth, his eyes narrowed and angry. Angry? Things were not going according to plan, and Elain wondered when it all went so wrong.
Elain didn’t quite understand his words. For her, they didn’t have any weight whatsoever. The blessing from the Mother meant very little to someone who’d been cursed by the Cauldron.
“I didn’t take you for religious,” she said lightly, trying to tease him back to safe waters.
Instead of amused, Azriel looked disappointed, like he was going to retort but gave up. So he stood up and bent his head slightly to her.
“I must go now. It was good talking to you, Elain. Good night.”
“Wait!” She called as he hurried to the exit, following him.
They were smooshed by the people dancing around them, so Elain grabbed the sleeve of his leather jacket to make him stop. The Siphon atop his hand flashed blue at her touch, and his wings closed tightly behind his back.
When he looked back at her, she said, “You didn’t answer me. Would you have one night alone with me?”
Azriel’s eyes became dark, and she saw his throat bob.
“I’m sorry, Elain. I must go.”
As he left, her hand was there trying to catch the air where he had been.
“I think that is a maybe, maybe?” She whispered to herself, as she made her way back to the twins.
When she found them, she also found four new people at their table. They were all dressed in black leather, three males and one female. Elain recognized that the female formed a couple with one of the others, by the way they sat almost on top of each other. They were lesser fae, but the other males appeared to be high fae. As she approached the table, Nuala introduced her to her friends and one of the high fae male stood up to offer her his chair, as he pulled another one from the table beside theirs.
Elain still felt the frustration of arguing with Azriel. She still felt the pang of rejection. Again. But it felt nice when the male brushed her loose hair over her shoulder after talking for more than one hour. It felt amazing when his lips touched her earlobe as he whispered his invitation to her. It felt daunting when she said yes and followed him to his apartment right there in the Rainbow. When he made her feel her toes curling, the memory of meeting Azriel at that tavern was buried deep in her mind, forgotten for the moment. After that, all she could feel was the first taste of freedom in her mouth and an anguished tug in her chest.
Elain sighed as she left the male’s apartment with the sky still dark. She pressed her hand against her sternum and tried to send some affection through it. The affection she reserved for her friends. She hoped he would feel it and wish her the best on her journey for self-discovery.
Chapter 4: Loose Tongue
Summary:
Direct continuation of the previous chapter with Az and Gwyn.
Chapter Text
Loose Tongue
Three months before the Blood Rite.
Azriel was furious.
Furious with himself for allowing the fantasy of being mated to the middle Archeron sister. He’d even accused the Cauldron of making a mistake. The Cauldron! Going against all reason, he had believed that Elain was meant for him. But how could someone be meant for another when they wanted different things? He’d even questioned Rhys about that, mentioning the differences between Elain and her mate. But now he knew better. Now that Elain had suggested that they’d have a night of uncommitted sex just for the sake of pleasure, he saw what was once hidden, the difference between Elain and himself.
Yes, he would go somewhere nobody could see them and fuck her just the way he’d been dreaming about for ages. But he wanted more. He’d always wanted more, not only with Elain but with Mor as well. With anyone that could give him their all, if he was going to be completely honest with himself.
His wings carried him home without much thought from him. Azriel only realized he was gliding to the training ring when his shadows finally came out from their hiding place to dance before him. As he landed, he understood why. The lovely smell of white lilies filled his nostrils and the muscles of his back relaxed as he closed his wings.
It was dark outside, the only light being the covered moon and the blue of his two Siphons.
Gwyn practiced with the wood dagger in front of a dummy. She worked through the drill exercises, hitting her opponent with ferocity.
“Well done, Valkyrie.” His voice was low enough not to startle her.
She didn’t stop her movements right away but decreased the speed until she finished with a slice to the throat.
“Thank you, Shadowsinger.” Her voice was weak and there were dark circles under her eyes.
“Rough night?” He asked and watched his shadows encircle her once, then allowing her passage. She came close to him by the railing overlooking Velaris.
Gwyn nodded and looked in the distance.
Azriel knew what that meant. It was a bad dream. He had them too sometimes.
They stood silently until she pulled herself out of whatever hole she had buried herself in and turned to him.
“How about you? Night of trouble or fun?”
Azriel could describe his night in many ways, fun was not one of them.
“I was working.”
She nodded and looked away again.
Gwyn was wearing her training leathers, that hugged her tall and lean build and showed how much of a warrior she was on the road to being. There was still much to learn, but it was there. The obstinacy. The strength. For Azriel, it was a relief to see that Gwyn would never need him to wrap her battered and raped body in his cloak again. No, the Valkyrie would save herself now. The thought made his chest warm with pride. Gwyn was beautiful in all her strength.
“What do you think of mating bonds?” He asked on a whim. If he had to share his hardship with someone, why not a priestess? At least this priestess seemed inclined to be his friend, and friends excuse the lack of preamble before any serious matter.
Her teal eyes which seemed navy blue in the night sky stared at him without any judgment. She pondered the subject for a few seconds before passing her opinion.
“A mating bond is a blessing from the Mother. To be cherished and nurtured.”
Exactly! He wished Gwyn would shout her statement down to Velaris all the way to the Rainbow, so Elain could hear it as well.
Azriel watched a tendril of his shadows extend to her middle and poke her under the sternum. She laughed at their tickling, and he felt his lips tugging upward at the sound. Her words sounded like music to his ears, but her laughter sounded like the Mother herself calling for him.
“Is that your opinion as a priestess? That it’s a blessing?” He asked when the shadows left her alone.
“Yes, I know as a Mother’s priestess that it’s a blessing. But it’s my personal belief as well.”
“Is it always a blessing? What if the Cauldron makes a mistake?”
“The Cauldron never makes mistakes." Her tone was soft and sure, but her eyes scanned his face. Gwyn seemed to watch him just as his shadows watched her as if looking for clues. He hoped she wouldn’t find any, although it would be good to have someone figuring him out for the first time.
“There are mated couples who are just not right for each other. See Rhys’s parents, for example,” he retorted.
Azriel turned away from her gaze, leaning on his elbows against the railing. He looked to the city below as if to search for all the ill-mated couples just to prove a point.
“I don’t know their story, but if a couple has issues in their relationship, it’s not the Cauldron’s fault. A mating bond does not assure a smooth sailing, only compatibility.”
Gwyn’s words didn’t sound fanatical as a religious person might be. Instead, they sounded convicted, recited by the lips of a scholar.
“Do you want a bond for yourself?” He asked, glancing at her. She raised her chin to the sky, appearing to be lost in thought.
“It would feel incredibly humbling to have one, but I’d have to be very fortunate to be mated. It’s rare, you know that.”
“With all the mated pairs around, I tend to think otherwise.”
They stared at each other. He held a brooding expression to reflect the bitterness in his mouth, but she looked peaceful, not content. Not tonight after having to exert herself in the training ring just to calm her thoughts.
“Well, you tend to be around some very powerful people, Shadowsinger. The Cauldron is often ambitious, gracing the bond upon those with potential to great deeds.”
“You don’t think of yourself capable of that?”
“Not from inside the library.” She smiled sadly.
Then move! He thought to himself but refrained from saying it aloud. Azriel had recently started to think that from all the priestesses that came to training, Gwyn was the one most likely to follow a successful career as a warrior. She was a fast learner and had that look in her eyes that meant she was never going to give up a fight. It’d be a shame to see all that potential wasted in the dim corners of a library, for as noble as her profession was.
“How about me?” Azriel asked, hoping to make her talk to forget the bad thoughts.
Gwyn smiled fondly and raised her hand, aiming for his face. Her fingers brushed a strand of his hair away from his forehead. It was the first time she had touched him outside of training, and for as tame as it was, it made his core clench.
“I think you already make great deeds, Shadowsinger. You saved my life once,” she said in a declaration of gratitude.
He knew she meant Sangravah, although they’d never talked about it. Would they ever talk about it? He still had nightmares about that day. The image of her limp body, clad in a ragged nightgown that didn’t cover nearly enough of her pale freckled skin, still haunted his mind. And if Azriel wasn’t careful, he’d let his eyes see and his nose smell again the blood mixed with male fluid running down her legs.
Azriel felt his eyes burn but swallowed his emotions along with the nausea.
“So, my mate is around the corner somewhere?” He tried to sound cheerful to shoo away any possibility of discomfort between them. It worked since a spark started in her eyes and a lovely smile graced her face.
“I’m sure she is. Your equal in every way.”
Her smile comforted him like nothing before. He felt assured for the first time in his life. Gwyn was on her way to becoming a fierce warrior, but the priestess in her would never stop healing souls, of that, he was sure. The Mother spoke through Gwyn, Azriel would have a mate one day, his equal.
“Do you wish to tell me where all these questions come from?”
Her words sounded inviting rather than prying. Yet he felt the resistance to share the situation involving Elain with anyone, even Gwyn.
Say it, his shadows urged him, which was a rare occurrence. Usually, he’d receive images and smells instead of words, but they’d been more and more talkative, especially when interacting with Gwyn.
“Not exactly.”
She smiled softly at his refusal.
“It’s all right.”
They silently stood by the railing, watching the city lights. It was cold enough for him to want to go inside and crawl under the blankets. But he knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight, anxiety and anger still chewing his insides. Maybe sensing his bad mood, Gwyn started to hum a hymn to the Mother that he hadn’t heard in ages. It was a clear and beautiful sound. Then, with her hair faintly glowing, Gwyn gave voice to the words of the song, that spoke of a life of devotion. Azriel felt a warmth starting in the pit of his stomach and it slowly spread to his chest, neck, and face. The winter cold had no power against the heat of her light.
When the last note of her singing stopped, they held each other’s gaze for longer than was usual between them.
“I don’t want to tell you about it, but I think I might need it,” he whispered.
“I’m listening,” she murmured back.
After a very deep breath, Azriel started to speak.
“There’s someone that I thought would be my mate, but the bond never snapped. I waited centuries for it to happen. Until I started to see someone else in that special way. But the bond didn’t snap either.”
He paused to gauge her reaction, but her eyes were patiently waiting for the rest of it. When the pause became too long, she said, “And? Just because you’re not mates you don’t like her anymore? You do like her, right?”
“That’s not the point.” Azriel let the thoughts of his bad luck with relationships raise his voice in the quiet of the night. “The point is that she should be my mate!”
“Says who?” Gwyn didn’t seem scared or startled by his sudden change in tone.
“Logic!”
Gwyn looked confused, with a deep frown on her face.
“I think I’m missing some information. Why would it be logical for this specific female to be your mate?”
Azriel felt shame, remembering the discussion he had with Rhysand. Explaining the situation to him was somehow easier under the anger of being stopped from kissing Elain. But now, when he claimed his wishes were logical to a priestess devoted to research and knowledge, he felt like a fool.
“We all know that Cassian and Nesta will end up mated in the end, it’s right there for everyone to see. Rhysand and Feyre are also mated. I just figured that as the third brother, the mating bond was just around the corner for me,” he said under his breath, too embarrassed to own his words.
“But why this female specifically?”
“She’s…” Azriel tried to find a way to explain it without mentioning Elain’s name. He didn’t know why, but the feeling of self-preservation told him to keep it hidden for now. “She’s close to our family and seems compatible enough with me.”
When he finished explaining, he looked at Gwyn and saw the last thing he expected her to express on her face. She was holding a laugh. Eyes gleaming with humor.
“What’s funny?” His blood started to boil again, hopefully he’d mask better this time.
Gwyn shook her head trying to school her expression.
“Oh, no. Forgive me. I was just… Forget it. So,” she signaled for him to continue his story, “the bond hasn’t snapped yet, but there’s a chance it still happens in the future.”
Azriel felt miserable at that comment. No, it was hopeless.
“She’s mated to someone else.”
Her eyes widened. Then confusion came again to her face.
“So why did you think she could be your mate?”
“I thought the Cauldron had made a mistake.”
Gwyn’s chin fell. “I don’t know what to say.”
He sighed, realizing that he probably sounded ridiculous to her. “Say what’s on your mind.”
“Oh, you wouldn’t want that,” she laughed nervously, shaking her head. The movement made her coppery strands spread the scent of white lilies, and chopped wood? Azriel tried to figure out the scent, but freshly chopped wood was the closest he got.
“Please, tell me. As I said, I think I need to hear it.”
“Well, you’ve been warned.” Gwyn breathed in deeply as if she was preparing to do laps around the training ring. “Shadowsinger, this is the most immature and simplistic thing I’ve ever heard.”
Azriel chuckled. She had no poison in her whatsoever. Even when she intended to criticize him for his childish and entitled behavior, her words came out tame and precise, instead of feral and offensive.
“You’re adorable,” he blurted out. Heat surged in his cheeks, and he felt his eyes going wide.
Gwyn blushed a little but motioned her hand to dismiss his compliment.
“I was just being polite. I can use the words I’ve originally thought if you want.”
Azriel was glad he didn’t make things awkward between them. Gwyn was a good sport, after all.
“There’s no need, I can imagine it all by myself, thank you very much.” He smirked at her, and she laughed, certainly picturing herself calling him idiotic, stupid, blockhead, or something like it. “Explain it to me, priestess, please?”
Gwyn turned her body to face him fully and he mimicked her, with his left elbow leaning on the railing.
“You feel entitled to her like she’s some kind of prize. Like you’ve earned her. That's the problem number one because I think there's much more."
Elain was not a prize, he knew that. Especially because he hadn’t done anything to deserve her. Nothing besides the fact that he was the brother missing a mate. In fact, when he’d claimed to Rhys that Lucien didn’t deserve her, that was all he had in mind, that it was only right that he would be the one to have her. That to be part of the family, he had to have her, as if the last five hundred years didn’t mean he was enough to be a cherished member of the High Lord’s inner circle.
“Continue.”
“If you had true feelings for her, you wouldn’t care about the bond, that’s problem number two.” Azriel cared about Elain, but did he care about her? Maybe Gwyn had a good point in questioning that. “Problem number three, and most important of them all, is that you should be asking yourself this question: why do you always want what you can’t have? First the lady that ignored you for your entire life, then a mated female.”
Azriel did pine for Mor for his entire life. He’d always knew she didn’t want him back. His shadows would warn him of signs of anxiety coming from her whenever they were alone together. And they’d pick up the various scents of different people clung to her skin, sometimes too faint for the fae nose to smell. There was one in particular, many years before, the pungent scent of a mortal woman, that would linger for longer than any other. No one knew but him and his shadows.
Elain was a breath of fresh air. When they’d started their friendship, he still had those unmovable feelings for Mor, and Elain lived in the illusion of coming back to her betrothed. They were each other’s distraction. When Elain had started to show signs that she liked his company more than a friend would, that distraction had begun to turn into want. He’d wanted Elain, and he’d wanted the possibility of being chosen for the first time in his life. What could send a more powerful message to the Cauldron than a female rejecting her mating bond just to be with a bastard shadowsinger? Elain would show the world that Azriel was worthy of being chosen.
Gwyn was right. He couldn’t have Elain, because his reasons weren’t truthful, they weren’t pure. Azriel wanted her because if there wasn’t anything attaching him to Rhysand and the others, he would always be the outcast, relegated to the dark corners where he belonged. Used like a weapon. Necessary like a tool.
He cared about Elain, but he didn’t love her. He desired her, but he desired more to be included.
Azriel’s head hung from his shoulders. He felt ashamed for being schooled by someone so much younger than him. His shadows surrounded him then scrapped his chin making him look at her. She had a sympathetic look, and her hand came to rest on his forearm. Their second touch. This time, instead of sending a jolt to his underbelly, it caressed his heart.
“Do I have to answer it now?” He asked in a faint voice.
“Of course not.”
“I do have a guess though.”
Her eyes shined with curiosity. “All right.”
“I desire to belong.”
Gwyn smiled, gave a tight squeeze on his arm, and retreated her hand.
“Excellent guess. Well done, Shadowsinger.” The imitation of his way of speaking made him laugh, feeling a little lighter.
A priestess healing souls, indeed. Azriel felt so open like he'd never experienced before, that he had trouble keeping his tongue inside his mouth. The shadows urging him to share more didn’t help his discretion.
“She asked me to… be with her tonight.”
Gwyn’s eyes went wide again.
“Did you say yes?”
“I wouldn’t be having the most revealing conversation a spy had ever had in the entire history of the world if I’d said yes.”
Gwyn laughed, throwing her head back. The melodious sound didn’t fail to make him smile.
After laughing, she asked. “Do you regret it?”
Did Azriel regret refusing Elain’s invitation to spend the night with her? He had a lot of regrets in his life, but that would never be one.
“Not at all,” he charged the words with meaning.
A faint blush appeared on Gwyn’s cheeks at the tone of his assurance. The words sounded grateful, even reverent.
“I’m glad to help.”
Sensing that the moment would be over without them ever addressing what had brought her up there so distressed and exhausted, Azriel motioned with his head signaling that they should sit on the floor against the wall. After Gwyn had pulled her knees to her chest beside him, he casually breached the subject of her insomnia.
Gwyn simply shrugged and looked up to the moon that was still partially covered by the clouds.
“Are you afraid of falling asleep and having nightmares?” He tried in a low voice.
Gwyn shook her head.
“I rarely have nightmares.”
Azriel gave her time to choose if she wished to share, just like she did to him before. Finally, she met his eyes, then let her look roam toward the talons of his wings protruding behind his head. Her stare became dazed, like she was remembering something.
“It’s a feeling I get when I’m getting ready for bed. I can only describe it as emptiness.”
“And what causes it? The darkness?”
She focused her eyes on his again and shook her head firmly.
“Not at all. I think it’s the silence. The solitude.”
It made sense to Azriel. Being the shadowsinger, he was familiar with the dread of hearing only silence when there should be noise.
“Your sister?” He guessed in a whisper, hoping the memory wouldn’t hurt her. Instead, Gwyn smiled widely, even if her eyes filled with tears. Her smile was a balsam for flayed souls. It made her usual stunning beauty shine with a thousand suns. She was dazzling when she smiled.
“Yes. Catrin was a presence like no other. She was always talking and singing, from sunrise to sundown. I was the quiet one, believe it or not.” They laughed together a quiet laugh. “That’s why I tend to sing when there’s silence. Just to fill the void she left.”
Azriel remembered the Solstice night when she'd asked if he could sing.
The shadows started an upbeat tune in his ears that he’d listened to in the taverns of his youth. He loved that one, and whenever he had the chance to request a song from the musicians, he’d ask for it, even to this day. It’d never failed to bring him back from a bottomless pit.
He raised his hand to brush a knuckle under her eye and collect a tear that rolled down her cheek. Too late he remembered that maybe she didn’t want his marred hands on her skin, but the way she leaned against the back of his hand made him think otherwise.
Feeling the need to fill the void, Azriel started with the first words of the tavern song. He saw her eyes light up and took his hand away. Following with the first verses, then the bridge, Azriel’s voice became more confident, as her bright smile came back to her face. Then he saw full contentment as she closed her eyes, leaning her head back on the wall. The chorus made her laugh, eyes still closed. It spoke of a drunk Illyrian, trying to carry ten mugs of ale through the crowded tavern, his wings shoveling all the other patrons away.
The song ended, but her smile didn’t. She clapped for him, as he stood up and bowed to her. Then he helped her up to her feet and they walked inside in quiet companionship until their ways parted. He turned to the hallway leading to the bedrooms and Gwyn to the stairs to the library. When he was about to enter the hallway, she called to him.
“Oh, Shadowsinger! Make sure she treats them well,” she said pointing at the shadows.
“Who?”
“Your mate. When you find her, make sure she treats them well, or I’ll have to steal them away from you.” Her lips quirked in a playful smile.
His shadows swam to her, tickling her neck before getting back to Azriel. That lovely beauty in front of him never ceased to amaze him.
The sweetest smell of white lilies and freshly chopped wood put him to sleep that night.
Chapter 5: The Midnight Club for Insomniacs
Summary:
Az helps Gwyn with her novel. Set before and after the Blood Rite.
Chapter Text
The Midnight Club for Insomniacs
Two weeks before the Blood Rite.
"So, what do you write so much in that notebook?"
Gwyn had her notebook on her lap while waiting for morning training to start. She had been sitting outside for half an hour, waiting to see how the shadowsinger would rearrange the obstacle course for the day. They'd been trying to beat it for almost two months now, and despite all the training she, Emerie, and Nesta did, it still felt like Azriel and Cassian were playing with them. But Gwyn loved a good challenge. She would beat it and then rub it on their faces. Their beautiful faces, just like Nesta had said.
It was so, so early, that the first rays of sun were still to come out, and Velaris was bathed in a thick mist. Of course, she might say she was there to watch the arrangement of the obstacles, but the truth was that she had only a couple of hours of sleep that night, unable to fight the restlessness, no matter how much she practiced stilling her mind. Azriel seemed to know since he didn't ask what she was doing outside so early.
“None of your business, Shadowsinger.” Despite the raspy words, her tone was light, teasing, as she closed the notebook and put it in her bag, along with the pen.
“You know the shadows talk, right? Chances are I already know.”
“Then there’s no need to ask.” She smirked, raising her chin to stare at him who stood before her with his arms crossed, shadows dancing around his shoulders as usual.
No way he knew about her writing. It was private, he wouldn’t dare ask his shadows to go snooping through her things just to quench his curiosity. Azriel kept an amused expression as he sat down by her side, leaning against the wall.
“You should let someone proofread it. Maybe give you ideas about the story,” he said lightly.
Gwyn gasped and her head snapped around to face him, just to see his triumphant expression.
“You busybody!”
“Well, I am a spy. The Spymaster, more precisely.”
Then Gwyn pointed at the swirling shadows that danced in front of her, one of them playing with the misty breath that came out of her mouth.
“You bunch of traitors! Don’t come playing with my hair ever again!”
Azriel laughed at the reaction her comment pulled from the creatures that seemed to enlace her in an embrace as if to say they were sorry.
“They’re vowing to never betray your trust again, as long as you let them play with your hair anytime they want.”
Gwyn giggled as they passed around her, caressing her neck and twining with the tips of her braid.
“I don’t think that’s how loyalty works, but fine. I can’t be mad at you!” She talked to the shadows, who seemed content when they settled on his shoulders but always wavering toward her. When she looked at Azriel he seemed amazed.
“What is it, Shadowsinger?”
"The way they respond to you…"
It made her heart warm. He spoke about the shadows like they were his friends who lived on the wrong side of the city, made bad decisions, and were judged by everyone for it, but were so dear to him that he would kneel to anyone who saw the same as he did. To Gwyn, they were some mysterious but enchanting creatures.
She didn’t comment on his amazement but got back to his treason. She wasn’t mad, just a little uncomfortable. Writing was a new hobby, one she’d started in hopes it would sate the desire for more in life. Gwyn was still far from venturing outside the House, so writing about characters that could travel freely was an activity she’d discovered to be the perfect outlet for her frustration.
“You shouldn’t snoop around your friends’ business, Shadowsinger. What if that was my diary?” Gwyn said, firmly but without anger.
His brows furrowed in contrition.
“I’m sorry, you’re right. But if it makes it any better, I seem to have little control over the things these guys do or say about you. Besides, they only revealed that you’re writing a story, but not the actual contents of it.”
She sighed and smiled.
“It does make it better.”
“So, am I forgiven as well? Can I also play with your hair?”
Gwyn laughed loudly at that. Apparently, she couldn’t be mad at him either. It was strange that feeling she had for him. Sometimes she reflected about Azriel and it confused more than it enlightened her.
They’d met during the worst day of her existence, the day she had lost half of herself, her Catrin. The day she’d been so broken that her mind cracked inside her head, making her foggy and absent for months. She remembered seeing him, the way he’d massacred those soldiers, the way he’d collected her from her prone position on that table, and all the features of his beautiful face as he talked to her, trying to calm her. She didn’t remember what he’d said, she was too far gone in her shock by then. But his face and his scent she could never forget.
That and the pressure she'd started to feel against her ribcage. She felt it constantly. It drove her mad, making her try everything she could think of to find relief. The priestess who worked as a counselor in the library suggested she drink a calming tea to soothe the feeling. It was probably nerves caused by the traumatic incident, she claimed. It didn’t work. Gwyn had tried praying, reading, singing, exercising. All those activities helped her feel better about herself and even helped her sleep better, but the pressure wouldn’t go away. In Azriel’s presence, however, it felt less angry, as if he had put a warm blanket against the sore muscle of her chest.
Gwyn had first noticed that soothing effect when he joined them for morning training. He had arrived when the trainees were already warming up, smiled at her, and joined the novices on the other side of the ring. The entire time Cassian spoke to Gwyn, Emerie, and Nesta, she'd tried to peek at Azriel, looking for the source of that sudden relief for her discomfort. There was an unexpected lightness in her chest that made her enclose herself inside her head, trying to figure out what that could mean. She’d hoped then that Cassian didn’t find it rude to be so quiet and redrawn during training.
She still didn’t know for sure why he made her feel better. Maybe it was her mind telling her that every time he came near her, he was saving her all over again. The counselor had even suggested that that was the case when Gwyn had voiced it to her. It made sense after all.
Writing was a good distraction from that feeling, even if it wasn’t the same as having him near, and after finding out about her endeavor in the literary world, Azriel would often ask her about the progress she was making with her story. She would reply that it was going slowly but steadily, until one day he’d offered to help her.
Two days before the Blood Rite.
It was two nights before the Blood Rite Gwyn had attended against her will. She was purposefully keeping herself awake in her dorm just so she could climb up the stairs to the House proper and lounge on a couch in the private library as she worked on her novel and Azriel went through his reports, just like they had been doing for the past few days.
When she arrived, he was already there. He wore all his seven Siphons and his fighting leathers and seemed exhausted from an assignment. Still, Azriel met Gwyn for their club meeting.
“Long day?” She asked softly as she made herself comfortable on the couch he sat on. He had his elbows on his thighs and his head sagged from his shoulders.
Azriel nodded but turned his head to give her a tired smile, just to show her he was all right. The light of the fireplace illuminated the side of his face, giving her a clear view of the dark circles under his eyes.
“Were you on a mission?”
He shook his head and sat back on the couch, sprawling his legs in front of him, his feet warming up before the fire. Gwyn had become used to seeing him like this, so unguarded. Typically, Azriel maintained a stern and poised façade in public, that Gwyn knew was what the world expected from the shadowsinger, but not her.
“I spent the day meeting with my spies in various locations. Things have been more complicated lately.”
Gwyn questioned herself if it had anything to do with the Death Trove that Nesta had asked her to research for her, but she’d also asked Gwyn to keep it a secret, so she kept it to herself.
“Is there anything I can do to help?”
He thought for a second then smirked at her.
“If you’re by chance a professional spy willing to risk yourself in a hostile environment, then yes, you can help me.”
She shrugged, pretending to think about it.
“Maybe one day, who knows.”
“Then I’m afraid I’ll have to decline your offer.”
He gave her a tiny smile. His hazel eyes shimmered under the faint light of the private library, and Gwyn could see the lines of exhaustion on his face. She guessed that the complications of his work were the true villain, not the long hours he would spend on an assignment. Once, Azriel had told her what he did on the field. The long nights of stake out that he said didn’t bother him, or the endless hours reading reports on the vast network of information and lies he had to go through every day were also fine by him. But when he’d talked about the times he’d take a suspect to the Hewn City, his face hardened. Gwyn could feel the energy emanating from him, dark and thick. Azriel hadn't gone into details, but he'd stated that his work was the epitome of violence sometimes.
Gwyn knew that. She’d seen firsthand what his violence could do to trained soldiers. She wondered what he would look like when dealing with bound subjects who refused to spill their secrets.
Gwyn opened her notebook on the first page of the fifth chapter of her story.
"How about you help me instead? If you're not too tired, of course." She extended the notebook to him. "I'm stuck on a scene. I tried to write around it, but I need the insight of someone who has been to the Continent."
His brows shot up.
“You’re sure?”
She nodded, scooting close to him, careful not to lean on his wing, and pointed at the page.
“I tried to describe the region, but I couldn't. There are records about it and about all over the world in the library, but somehow it turns out sounding too technical when I put it on the page. I need a description that the character would give, that would sound natural. You know what I mean?”
“I do. But I’d understand better if I knew the character. Do you mind if I read the whole thing?”
Gwyn felt a pang of anxiety to think about him going through her words, the untitled story about an investigator, hired by a Night Court Lord to find his missing daughter. He ended up on the Continent after a false lead. Gwyn had already written the two characters meeting for the first time and deciding to fight together the people who took her. They were starting to fall in love with each other in the latest chapter she wrote, but there were parts that Gwyn felt needed more work.
What if he found it silly? What if he said it was inaccurate? What if he laughed at her?
It was Azriel she had by her side, not a brute, a mean male. He was her friend. Her protector. She still cladded herself in his cloak when a storm would hit the side of the mountain at night or she had trouble sleeping, feeling the emptiness surrounding her, feeling her heart in her throat, the pressure on her chest even more constricting. The cloak he had shielded her with against her own fear when he found her disgraced in Sangravah served as a cocoon, an armor.
He’d never mock her. He’d protect her.
“Be gentle but truthful,” she asked in a whisper.
“I will.”
She beamed at the gentleness of his voice. “Then yes, you can read it all.”
Azril had kept the notebook so he could read everything she had written so far. He’d said that he would make notes, give his honest opinion to help her finish the story.
He still had her notebook when Mor winnowed her to Windhaven to meet Nesta and Emerie. He had her notebook when she’d been taken to the Illyrian Mountains to compete in the Blood Rite. Sometimes, while she was perched on a branch high up a tree, she would pass the time thinking about what kind of notations he would leave for her in the margins of her notebook. It would bring a smile to her face to think that she would have his slanted and small handwriting marked in ink on the pages of her manuscript for her to read whenever she needed to hear him speak to her. For whenever she needed to pacify the raging push and pull inside her ribcage.
Five days after the Blood Rite.
She knew he was back from investigating her abduction when Clotho had handed her the notebook after she came back to the library from dusk service a few nights after the Blood Rite. Gwyn rushed to her bedroom, eager to see what he’d written to her. When she was alone and comfortable on her bed, she sat against the headboard and opened the notebook. A note fell from inside.
Dear Valkyrie Gwyneth Berdara, fellow member and co-founder of the Midnight Club for Insomniacs,
I am pleased to inform you that we may, on this date, resume our club meetings since I am back from my assignment as Spymaster of the Night Court. I know these past few days have been unbearable for you, not having me around (and my shadows as well, they made me remind you of them). But we can make up for all the lost time tonight, in the private library. Bring your notebook. I’d like to discuss what’s shaping up to be the greatest mystery/romance novel of our time.
Sincerely,
Azriel Shadowsinger, Spymaster, member and co-founder of the Midnight Club for Insomniacs (and his shadows)
She seemed incapable of containing her wide grin as she read the note. It was humorous and teasing, just the way they usually spoke to one another. It made her want to fast-forward time just so it was midnight already and she could run to the House proper to talk to him about her book, about the Blood Rite, or anything else, she didn't care.
Gwyn opened the notebook again and looked through the pages. They all had marks in crimson ink in his slanted handwriting. Reading through it, she noticed that most of them were snarky remarks or jokes. A lot of the others were compliments, or ideas about what he thought should happen next. A few observations questioned the little choices she had made but offered good suggestions to improve the narrative. There was even an entire page with character study, detailing what kind of male the investigator was and what should motivate him to take a decision or another. She loved it. Every single one of his notations was gentle but truthful, just as he’d promised.
Who knew that Azriel was such a literary male.
When she finished rereading everything, it was already time to meet him upstairs, so she packed a small bag with the old notebook, a brand new one, pen and ink, and the thesaurus she was already acquainted with. It was with her heart pounding and her mouth dry that she opened the door to the private library at midnight. He was already in there on the couch by the fireplace. Azriel rose to his feet and smiled at her.
The pressure in her chest reached its peak and then calmed into a faint tug. She breathed in relief.
Gwyn stepped close to him and let her bag fall on the couch. Looking at him from wing to toe, she inspected his form for injuries and found none. He was relaxed in his black pants, cotton shirt and boots, two Siphons gleaming faintly on the backs of his hands and his shadows dancing around his shoulders. She felt that same urge she had when she’d seen him outside the river house after surviving the Blood Rite. The uncontrollable urge to run to him and hold his body against hers. The memory of that hug still lingered in her mind in her day-to-day activities while he was gone, but the highlight of that moment was without a doubt the light kiss he’d pressed on her cheek. Gwyn could still feel the touch of his lips on her skin.
Without giving it a second thought, Gwyn pushed herself toward him, enlacing his neck firmly with her arms. For her great satisfaction, his arms encircled her waist with the same vigor, as his face buried in her neck. His nose and lips touching the sensitive spot below her ear. They’d never touched each other like that before. It took her breath away how his breathing warmed her neck, sending a jolt to her lower belly. The cedar and night mist that was so characteristic of him engulfed her, penetrating her nostrils, skin, and soul. There was a pull she felt sometimes when near him, to touch him, to make contact. It forced her hand to move.
Her hand glided through his hair, caressing the back of his head with her nails. It made him moan against her neck, which caused her core to vibrate with the low sound and a shiver to run through her entire body.
After a long moment of indulging themselves in the contact, Azriel backed away and sat on the couch. Then he pulled her by the arm to do the same, his shadows following them. They sat facing each other, and when her eyes found his, she saw wonderment.
“What?” She asked vaguely in a weak voice.
“You.” His voice also came out breathless. He cleared his throat before completing. “The way you hold me. I mean. I really like that.”
She smiled and pulled her legs against her chest as she leaned back on the couch, adjusting her robes around her.
“I like that too. Maybe we can do that more often.”
He laughed quietly and leaned back as well, turning his head to the side to look at her.
“We most certainly can.”
Their conversation started light but deepened quickly when she asked about the assignment he had gone on. Without disclosing the details, he simply confirmed what she’d suspected, that he had found and dealt with the culprits of the Valkyries' abduction. Then he asked about her time in the Blood Rite, so she took a deep breath and told him everything. Every thought, every action, every word, all that she remembered she told him. Azriel drank her words like they were water in the desert.
He didn't comment on her actions, to compliment or criticize them. He simply listened. And Gwyn realized how much she needed that, someone who'd listen to her story, who'd understand exactly what she'd been through. The whole time that she spoke, her fingers played with the bracelet that guided her to her friends, her sisters. It weighed around her wrist as she described the moment they had found each other. The relief she'd felt. And then when she'd told them about Sangravah, about her guilt for not being able to avoid Catrin's death. At that, she watched as Azriel clenched his jaw and his shadows stilled around his wings for two heartbeats.
She saw his eyes fill with rage when she told him about the arrow she'd taken on her leg and the males stalking after them on the Ramiel. Relief washed his face when she said with hurt in her voice how Nesta had spared her from the fight for the passing, making her be carried the rest of the way and advance to be the first female Carynthian in history alongside Emerie.
By the end, Gwyn at the same time had tears welling up in her eyes and a lightness in her chest.
“Carynthian,” he whispered, with a proud but sad smile on his face.
“Carynthian,” she answered in the same manner.
Azriel sighed and reached for her hand that rested on her raised knee.
“I’m sorry you had to go through all that.”
Gwyn rubbed circles on the back of his hand, feeling each bump and twirl of his marred skin.
“Thank you, Az. But you know what?” She turned her body to sit facing him, still holding his hand. “I’m glad I’ve been through the Blood Rite. Am I angry and scared to leave the House again? Absolutely. But also glad I've done it. Because now I know I can make it out there because I'm strong enough to survive."
Azriel’s eyes held something Gwyn couldn’t quite understand. She hoped it would be pride. He raised her hand to his lips and placed a soft kiss on her knuckles, just as he would do to a queen.
“You’re strong, Gwyn. Don’t ever doubt that.”
She nodded, feeling a lump in her throat.
After several seconds of contented silence between them, Azriel cleared his throat, letting go of her hand.
“So, did you read the notes I left for you?”
Gwyn hurried to fetch the notebook from her bag.
“Yes, I did. I had a very hard time trying to read your handwriting, but gladly I’m used to deciphering old and decaying manuscripts,” she teased, and he squinted his eyes at her.
“Funny you say that. I got stuck on every other sentence of your story just because there are parts that seem just like a big blob of ink.”
“Nice try. My handwriting is the best in the library. That’s one of the reasons Merrill keeps me as her assistant despite all the venom she spits at me.”
Azriel growled a little at her comment.
“Why do you put up with this abuse?”
Gwyn batted her hand at him.
“I can manage. She’s brilliant after all, so I see it as an opportunity to learn from the best.”
“Do you always see the silver lining in every situation?”
A knot tightened in her stomach. No, not in every situation. He must've seen the discomfort in her eyes for he went back to working on the story. He reached for the new notebook she had used to write the latest chapter and opened it to read the part where the main character had realized he had feelings for the Lord’s daughter. Gwyn sat cross-legged on the couch beside him, with the old notebook resting on a pillow on her lap. She went through his notes again, marking the changes she would make in the story and the ones she still had to think more about, or the ones that were completely out of the question.
“If you read what I wrote for you,” he started after a few minutes in silence, “then you know I really liked what you did so far. But I have one question.”
“All right.” Gwyn raised her eyes to look at him, who still scanned through the pages.
“Why don’t you make them kiss? They’re practically begging for it.” Azriel said as his eyes rose from the page and stared at her.
Having him read her work and helping with her novel was the best and the most nerve-wracking moment for her. It was like she was baring her soul to him, just waiting for his raw criticism. But at the same time, it was the moment they could spend in sweet companionship, reading and writing, talking of unreal worlds and hidden love affairs. It was secretly beautiful.
Gwyn scooted over close to him, the cloth of her robes falling partially on his thigh. She stretched her neck to see which part of the chapter he was reading. The main character, called Justus, had taken Emilia, the Lord’s daughter, to his hideout, to hide her from her father’s enemies. They were sharing memories of their childhood, and right then he realized he was starting to feel something more for Emilia.
“Because,” she started as her cheeks warmed, still she held his gaze with confidence, “I don’t know how.”
“How can you not know how to write a kiss? You’ve read far steamier scenes in those romance books you girls like so much.”
Gwyn turned her look toward her notebook and shrugged.
“I know how it reads on the page, but I wouldn’t know how to convey the emotion. I don’t have the experience.”
“Experience in writing or kissing?”
“Both,” she said in a faint voice.
Azriel turned his body to fully face her, and against her instincts, she held his stare. They were sitting very close to each other, so having him inspecting her so intensely made her want to face away and hide, yet she held herself strong.
“Gwyneth Berdara,” he spoke in amusement, “if I didn’t know you better, I’d say you’re embarrassed.”
Heat spread on her cheeks, but she felt challenged, so she raised her chin and narrowed her eyes.
“Why? Don’t I have the right to show emotions, Shadowsinger?”
His lips quirked and his eyes glinted.
“Of course you do. Actually, it makes the rest of us feel better about ourselves knowing that the great Gwyneth Berdara feels insecure sometimes.”
“What are you talking about? I feel insecure all the time!”
“It doesn’t look like it.”
“Really?”
He smiled kindly, the smile that made her heart dance.
“Really.”
“I must be a very good actress then.”
“You are an artist, Gwyn. A singer and a writer. Acting is just another of your many talents.”
She laughed at that, forgetting her embarrassment. Talking to him was easy, light.
“Well, an artist that can’t write a kissing scene for the life of her.”
“I can help you.” He shrugged casually like he was passing the salt at the dinner table.
Her heart rate sped up at his suggestion. If he helped her with that, then things might get either awkward or deliciously complicated.
“You want to help me write a kissing scene?”
“More than one, I hope.” Azriel smirked. “These poor folks deserve a chance at love, don’t they?”
Gwyn laughed. She already had a fan. Her future as a writer seemed promising.
“Aren’t you a romantic?”
“I’m not, actually,” he said without losing the smirk. “You just bring out the best of me, Berdara.”
“One of my attributions as a priestess.”
Azriel smiled in full, nodding at that.
“How about my offer? Do you want me to help you with the things you don’t know how to describe or not?”
Gwyn needed his help if she wanted to finish the story, even if it challenged her modesty.
“I do. Thank you. I hope the Shadowsinger knows how to write some steamy sex scenes to rival the great Sellyn Drake.”
“I haven’t read any of her books yet, but I’m sure I can do better.”
Her eyebrows shot up and an amused little smile graced her face.
“Cocky, aren’t we?”
Azriel simply tipped his head like he was accepting a compliment with a smug crooked smile and went back to reading. Eventually, he asked for a pen, and Gwyn watched as his slanted handwriting was imprinted on the paper. He wrote, and wrote, she didn’t know for how long. The letters began to appear more slanted than usual until she felt her eyelids heavy and decided to put her head on his shoulder, just to rest as he finished writing the so-awaited kissing scene. Gwyn didn’t have the chance to see when he finally rested the pen, several pages later, but could feel when he turned his face to press his lips against her hair on a soft kiss and whisper, Good night, Valkyrie.
Chapter 6: To The Stars That Listen
Summary:
Elain and Lucien become pen pals and Velaris celebrate Starfall.
Notes:
A smaller chapter to get things moving with Elucien.
I hope you like it!
And thank you so much for the kudos and the comments, they make my day!
See you soon!
Chapter Text
To The Stars That Listen
Elain created the habit of drinking her morning tea by the window of the sitting room that faced the front gate of the river house. Usually, Feyre would join her at some point and leave when her duties as High Lady called to her.
“Beautiful morning,” Feyre said as she took the armchair opposite Elain. The middle Archeron sister had her teacup suspended near her lips, where she blew on the steaming liquid slowly and steadily, never taking her eyes away from the gate.
Elain hummed in agreement and stayed silent. She took a sip of her tea and placed the cup and saucer on the small table between them. That was when their eyes met.
“Are you all right, Elain?”
Feyre was gentle with her words, and Elain felt bad. If anyone should ask that question, it was Elain, who regarded her pregnant sister for the first time that day. Feyre was living under the shadow of death, the looming presence of tragedy. They all knew that, yet Elain had the impression that her sister was ensuring that nothing changed in their daily lives.
“I’m fine. Why wouldn’t I be?”
Feyre shrugged as she poured tea into her own cup. One shoulder of her too-loose sweater fell slightly as she moved, and her light brown hair cascaded to cover it. Elain was very often considered the beauty among the three sisters, but watching her youngest under that morning light, belly swollen with life, Elain had never seen anyone more beautiful. Fae life suited Feyre in a way Elain feared it would never suit herself.
“You’ve been spending a lot of time staring at the gate lately. Waiting for someone?” Feyre’s voice was at the same time mischievous and concerned.
“No one, I just…” Movement in front of the property made her stop her words and stand up at once. Just in time, she thought.
Elain excused herself and strode to the gates, where a messenger pushed envelope after envelope inside the mailbox. When he saw her, a knowing smile graced his features, and he bent his head to her. Elain nodded her greetings and rescued the letters as he continued on his delivery route.
The mail in Velaris was explained to her by Nuala one day. She said that there was a mail house, where the most dedicated spellcasters that were specialized in winnowing objects worked to maintain the spells that would allow common citizens to send their letters to all corners of Prythian. It was much easier to correspond to other mail houses, but when there weren’t any available, the mail workers could send the letters directly to the recipient.
Elain knew that the one that had made it a habit to correspond with her had power enough to send his letters directly to her, without the need for a messenger, but he also made it clear that he wouldn’t want to intrude, forcing her to have the correspondence appear by her bed without her consent. Little did he know that Elain sat by the window every day expecting to read his words. She rejoiced when they came and felt an aching emptiness when they didn’t.
It had been two months since Elain had last seen Lucien, but they spoke through letters almost every day. The first time, he sent the results of Helion’s botanist’s research along with a polite message, wishing that she would find the answer to the problems she had been facing when tending to the gardens of Velaris. Elain was so enthralled by all that information and the possibilities it created that she’d taken several days to respond. When she did, her message was filled with gratitude and even more questions. Lucien had taken a few days to get the answers back to her, but it did not disappoint. He’d found everything she needed and more. But at the end of the letter, a question made her heart thump inside her chest.
Have you been enjoying yourself lately?
Elain didn’t owe him anything, but it still felt bad to have him experience her moments of self-discovery and enjoyment through the bond. She was sure that the question didn't carry any bite to it, for Lucien was a very courteous male, so she guessed that he'd asked that intending to know more about her, about the female that was tethered to him so intimately that he could feel what she felt.
So Elain decided to be open to Lucien and told him about her outings with the twins and how she had been enjoying meeting new people and having new experiences. She kept it brief and polite. Again, she thanked him for the information he’d shared with her and did something new. Elain asked him about his life in the human lands.
She didn’t expect him to be so enthusiastic in his response that came two days later. Lucien had detailed his daily life, filling it with little stories about the things he’d seen and done alongside his companion. He made her suspect that Jurian and Vassa had become closer with time, and now he had fun teasing the pair. There was sorrow when he talked about Vassa’s curse and how long Helion’s scholars were taking to find a solution. The way he described everything made Elain want to witness it with her own eyes. On the information about her new habit of going out to enjoy the night of Velaris, Lucien had only commented, I’m glad you’re finding happiness at last.
Those words weighed on the page and in her heart. Was she finding happiness? Elain doubted. She was finding joy and pleasure, but happiness was something she considered still too far away. Maybe even lost forever along with her humanity.
After that, their correspondence became more personal, with him telling her about his life before they’d met, how was his childhood, his service under Tamlin in the Spring Court, but mostly about his travels. Elain loved reading his telling about the many places he’d visited over the centuries. She smiled every time he added to the narrative a comment on how she would love to see a beautiful place or meet an exotic person. On her part, Elain mostly talked about her life as a human girl, reminiscent of a short but so distant life. Lucien was always gracious when reacting to her words, making witty and funny remarks about it.
Elain carried the letters inside and placed all of them on the entryway table. She shuffled through the envelopes until she found his. It was smaller this time, thinner than usual. She grabbed the letter opener inside the drawer and opened the envelope. There was a small note with only one sentence.
May I accompany you to Starfall?
A smile graced her face, timid at first, but it grew to a full grin when Elain let herself imagine Lucien holding his arm up to her as they walked to the edge of the terrace in the House of Wind, their eyes lit with the colors of the falling stars. Starfall was going to be in five days, and already she couldn't wait for it.
“Elain?” Feyre’s voice came from the sitting room where she had left her.
She cleared her throat and schooled her expression before rejoining her sister. Still holding the note in her hand, Elain sat down in her chair by the window and decided. Yes, Lucien would accompany her to Starfall, and then, when the time came, she would accompany him to the human lands or wherever he wished to take her.
But before that happened, she had to protect him and their newfound friendship.
“Feyre, I know you’ve been avoiding using magic because of the pregnancy, but I’m wondering if you can help me with something. I believe it won’t strain you.”
The High Lady leaned forward in her chair, interest gleaming in her blue-gray eyes.
“Of course, Elain. What is it?”
“I need to learn how to block the connection of the mating bond.”
Elain watched as Feyre’s eyes narrowed slightly in concern. She knew about the friendship shared by her sister and Lucien, forged in hardship and rekindled by the heroic acts of both sides. Surely, Feyre feared that Elain wished to put more distance between herself and her mate, but the truth couldn’t be farther from that notion. Wishing to appease her sister’s heart, Elain reached for her hand squeezing it lightly.
“It’s all right, sister. It’s for his own good. I don’t want him to worry when he’s away.”
Comprehension and a little bit of surprise dawned on Feyre’s expression when she let go of Elain’s hand.
“Right,” she started with a sigh of relief. “It should be easy enough to teach you how to do it. But remember, you will never be able to block him completely.”
Elain nodded, eager to start right away.
“I don’t think I would want that if it were possible,” she said with her cheeks warming from the veiled revelation.
Feyre simply smiled at her, seeming genuinely happy. “Trust me, you would not.”
Ten days before the Blood Rite.
Rhysand winnowed Elain to the veranda then went back for the rest of the family. It was still early, and the other guests hadn’t arrived yet. Some of them would winnow themselves to the House and then use a spell to break the fall, just like Mor did. Some others would fly however they could, on wings or magical creatures, and Elain hoped to finally see Helion’s pegasus tonight. The rest would have to wait to be winnowed up or face the endless stairwell to the top, which Elain knew that no one dared to do.
Elain went inside the House to look for her sister but found Cassian instead. He was standing by the door to the stairwell that led down to the library and farther to the street, ten thousand steps away, seeming lost in thought.
“Hello, Cassian,” she greeted politely.
The Illyrian turned to face her, perceiving her presence for the first time.
“Elain, good to see you.” His lips displayed a warm smile, but his eyes showed something different.
“You too.” Elain came to stand by his side as he went back to staring at the door. “Where’s Nesta?”
Cassian pointed to the door with his chin, arms crossing against his chest. He was elegantly dressed for the party, but his crimson Syphons didn’t leave any room for doubt. Cassian was a true warrior. Elain didn’t know exactly what that meant, but she suspected that whatever Nesta was doing down there was private, so she excused herself and walked back to the veranda. Feyre was already there, along with Amren. Soon the open spaces of the House started to fill with guests, from friends and family to diplomatic contacts. Feyre and Rhys had introduced her to several people that she was sure she would forget, especially after a few glasses of wine and under the lively sound of the band.
The first star had just appeared in the sky when she felt the thread in her chest blooming with warmth. Elain looked behind her from where she stood by the railing and found him greeting Feyre and Rhys. Lucien traded a few more words with her family before turning to her. His russet eye reflected the light of the spirits as he approached her, and his hair, unbound, looked like a beacon of sunshine in the middle of the night.
“Elain,” he greeted extending his hand to her. Always the courteous male, he pressed a light kiss on her knuckles and then let go of her hand.
Something was different between them. Lighter. The golden thread that had always felt and looked frail now pulled with vigor at her chest. Elain felt unable to break the eye contact.
“Happy Starfall, Lucien,” she said softly with a timid smile.
“Happy Starfall, Elain.” Lucien let his eyes travel quickly through her figure before adding, “You look lovely, as always.”
Elain looked down at herself, regarding the dress she’d chosen for the occasion. It was a light green gown, with sheer long sleeves. It had a sweetheart neckline and a fitted bodice that accentuated the delicate curve of her waist. It was lovely indeed.
When she looked up again, she had the chance to find him dressed in green as well, but a deeper tone of green. The velvet jacket over a white shirt suited him very well, outlining his slim and toned form. That ensemble, along with the brown breeches, instead of the Night Court dress pants, made it clear that he didn’t belong there. For the first time, Elain thought it was a good thing.
“Thank you. You look elegant as well.”
His lips formed a contented smile, making his real eye sparkle.
They didn’t have the chance to start a conversation, because the guests moved around them to crowd along the railing and get a good view of the sky. Elain felt his hand tug on her elbow leading her away from the commotion. With curiosity, she followed him inside the House where the music didn’t sound as loud. They walked until he stopped by the farthest window in the sitting room. It was big enough to have a perfect view.
They stood there in silence, feeling the thread settling inside, alive and filled with light. A silence that spoke a thousand words, loud enough for the stars to listen.
Azriel really liked Starfall. It was beautiful and so full of meaning, full of memories, good and bad. He couldn’t even bring himself to remember the years they’d spent without Rhys, for it was torture to live that date without his brother, the one who embodied the Night Court and all its wonders. But he couldn’t stop the feeling that Starfall worked miracles on those who believed. And Azriel was starting to truly believe for the first time in his life.
Looking at the pair talking side by side by the window of the sitting room, suddenly it all made sense to Azriel. He looked around and watched Rhys and Feyre swaying in a contained dance of small steps to the side, both dressed in the most exquisite Night Court attire, as they held each other tightly. They also held each other’s stare, with a content expression on their faces. Not far from them, Nesta dominated the dance floor, leading Cassian in a mesmerizing display of elegance and poise, even when clad in her fighting leathers. Sensuality exuded from every pore of their bodies.
But Elain was different. Different from her sisters, who were the epitome of ferocity and power. Different from their males, who combined duty and a casual demeanor. And different from himself, the shadowsinger. He was dark, midnight dark. She was bright, just like Lucien. He turned to watch them again, catching the moment when Lucien said something that made her laugh and put her hand on his forearm. It seemed easy now. Or easier, between them. They were both solar, it was clear to see. Azriel sighed in relief. He was free because she was free.
As if sensing his train of thought, her eyes found his for the first and only time that night, for the first time after their conversation at the bar weeks before. Elain smiled softly and nodded his way. He did the same. She went back to talking to her mate, and Azriel turned on his heels toward the stairwell. It was past midnight. He was going to miss the club meeting if he didn’t hurry.
The library was empty so late at night. Azriel walked past the stacks with caution, not wanting to intrude on the safe space of the priestesses. His shadows led the way, prepared to hide him at the sight of any of the females. The shadows didn’t speak with words but kept infusing images of Gwyn standing on her toes to look out the window in her bedchamber. Along with the image, he could hear a soft melody, hummed in her perfect voice and transmitted by his dark little friends. The shadows kept tugging him toward her.
Not long after, he stood in front of her door, with his palms sweating. Clotho would be furious if she saw him there, in the dormitories’ hallway. So, he knocked on her door and waited for her to respond quickly. Which she didn’t, the door simply opened inward by her magic.
“Come, Shadowsinger. Your little shadow arrived way before you. You’re missing the stars!” As to illustrate her words, the lone shadow that kept her company that night and had showed him the image of her staring out the window undulated as to call him near.
He stepped inside her simple and small room but didn’t have the motivation to take his eyes off her to inspect the place. She had a faint glow emanating from her skin as she resumed humming and her coppery hair shone under the light of the passing stars, looking more like molten metal than ever. He felt his chest tighten most pleasantly as if he had been given life after being half-dead for a long time.
Azriel came to stand behind her, careful not to knock anything out with his wings in that tiny space. Gwyn stopped her humming and turned her head to look at him. She had the brightest smile, and her teal eyes were lined with a sheer of unshed tears.
“Isn’t it beautiful, Shadowsinger?”
Azriel raised his hand and tangled his fingers through her hair, running them from the nape of her neck to the tips of the strands. It looked like liquid bronze against his burned skin and its scent of white lilies and chopped wood was pure bliss.
He could swear that there was a glow inside of him, fighting to come out, to expand and engulf his entire being. Looking at her, under the blessing of the spirits, Azriel could only whisper the most fervent truth, “It is, Valkyrie. Lovely and beautiful.”
Chapter 7: Words Alive
Summary:
Gwyn reads the scene Azril wrote in her notebook and the Valkyries start working on their mistakes made in the Blood Rite.
Notes:
Sorry for taking so long to update. The ideas kept flowing but I didn't find the time to write.
The next chapter will be where the plot really starts, we will see the mating ceremony and all the conflict it can cause for several of the characters.
I hope to be back soon, but until then, Happy New Year!
Chapter Text
Words Alive
Six days after the Blood Rite.
Azriel wasn’t kidding. The male knew how to write a good kissing scene. More than good. Steaming hot.
Gwyn had awakened alone before sunrise in the private library of the House of Wind. She was lying on her side on the couch, with a black wool blanket over her body. There was a strong smell of cedar and night mist in the air and on the blanket, which told Gwyn that Azriel hadn’t been gone for too long. He must’ve covered her with his blanket before he left.
She sat up, and immediately her eyes fell on the notebook on the side table by the couch. Sighing to herself, remembering the night before, she grabbed it and shoved it in her bag. Gwyn wanted to savor his words, save it for later, despite the blooming curiosity to see if Azriel had made justice to her characters.
So she headed to the dormitories in the library. At that early in the morning, she only passed by two priestesses who hurried their way to their kitchen duties. Gwyn knew now that the House was sentient, that it could provide for its inhabitants, but the fact that the priestesses did their own chores spoke a lot about that place and why they were there. Every time they worked for themselves was an opportunity to work on themselves. It was a hidden blessing.
Gwyn stopped by the communal bathing chambers, where she went on with her morning hygiene. At each step – washing her face, using the toilet, brushing her teeth –, she would glance at the bag, imagining the words Azriel had written for her. Would he keep it innocent and light or fiery and intense? Would he keep the characters wanting for more or would he give it all to them?
When she finished, Gwyn headed to her room, the bag weighing a little more now. She entered the little room that could only accommodate a small bed and an armoire and dropped the bag on the floor. She refused to open it. Instead, she fetched a set of fresh training leathers and undressed her robes. Then she put on the leathers and stood in front of the mirror that hung on the wall next to the door and could only capture her bust. Her hair was loose and a little tangled at the tips. As soon as she passed the brush through the strands of her brown coppery hair, she inhaled the scent of cedar, stronger in her hair as it was on the air of the House. It was understandable since she fell asleep on his shoulder, body pressed completely against his side.
“Fuck,” she cursed in a whisper. “I should’ve taken a bath.”
Putting that thought aside, she braided her hair and exited the room, glancing one last time at her bag. Then she stopped outside and turned back, deciding to do a little reading at the breakfast table.
It was a mistake.
The other priestesses were already giving her a puzzled look as they joined her in the dining hall, especially Ilana, who smelled the shadowsinger on her from a mile away, flaring her nostrils and giving her a cold look. Gwyn knew that the female had a crush on Azriel, in fact, half of the trainees did. But Ilana had been more open about it during mealtime than anyone else. One time, she picked a fight with Roslin who had commented on how attentive Azriel had been with her that morning. Ilana claimed that he was always attentive to anyone and Roslin shouldn’t gloat about that. Gwyn knew that gloating was not the reason Roslin had to compliment the shadowsinger, she was merely stating a fact. But Ilana didn’t see it that way, and they started arguing until Merrill arrived and told everyone to get to work. For the first time, Merrill’s presence had brought relief instead of dread.
And now, Gwyn found herself bracing for another confrontation. But Ilana surprisingly kept her mouth shut, at least toward Gwyn, since she delivered comments left and right around her in a hushed voice. It was not that Ilana was mean, only that Gwyn hadn’t had the opportunity to know her well in her time in the library. She supposed the priestess was agreeable enough since she seemed to have several friends, but she had the feeling that Ilana didn’t feel the same about her.
Gwyn was the one who was usually alone, working hard for Merrill, so busy that friendships were rare, so when Nesta started working there, it was a breath of fresh air. Nesta was the light that was missing in Gwyn’s life. And now, not only she had found her and Emerie, but also the other trainees, who supported each other. Or maybe not when males were involved.
Gwyn decided to turn a blind eye and focused on the porridge in front of her and the notebook, opened on the words in small, slanted handwriting. It was a mistake.
If they all could smell the cedar emanating from her hair, what would they say when they smelled her scent changing, because she knew at first glance that it would. All because the way Azriel described Justus moving his chair close to Emilia’s and leaning over her shoulder to whisper in her ear made the butterflies in Gwyn’s stomach start to stir. Then, he brushed his nose against the side of her neck, catching the sweet scent of vanilla that emanated from her dark hair. Gwyn’s hand dropped her spoon so suddenly when Emilia turned her head to face Justus and take the lead in their interaction by biting his bottom lip that the whole table stopped their hushed conversation and stared at her.
Ilana arched an eyebrow in question, nostrils flaring once again, catching the subtle change in Gwyn’s scent. The others varied between quiet amusement and total disinterest. Gwyn cleared her throat and closed the notebook. She shoved the rest of the porridge in her mouth, the notebook in her leather jacket, and took her utensils to the kitchen to be washed. When she stopped by the kitchen door, Roslin, who was on kitchen duty that day, smiled kindly to her.
“Good morning, Gwyn. Heading to training already?”
Gwyn nodded, smiling back at her.
“I guess so. Or I can help you with the dishes and we can head upstairs together.”
Roslin shook her head emphatically.
“Nonsense. You have your duties and I have mine. Go ahead, I’ll be there soon.”
When Gwyn moved closer to give Roslin her bowl and spoon, she saw the other stiffen for a second and then search Gwyn’s eyes for information. Now Gwyn was severely regretting not taking a bath earlier.
"Late-night sparring session again?"
Some of the trainees suspected that Gwyn had been taking extra training sessions since her improvement in handling the dagger was astounding, but only Roslin knew that it was the shadowsinger the one helping her with that. Gwyn told her when she asked about it and even suggested that Roslin asked for private lessons with him as well.
“Something like that,” Gwyn lied. She didn’t know why, but the notion of telling her about their meetings in the private library didn’t feel right. Roslin nodded and started to work on the dishes in the sink. “Have you had the chance to ask him for extra lessons?”
The other priestess lowered her head, and Gwyn saw a tinge of red paint her cheeks.
“He said he’s busy right now. Which must be true since he missed so many training sessions lately.”
Gwyn nodded and tried to sound cheerful in hopes of encouraging her fellow Valkyrie.
“I’m sure he and Cassian will find a way. Or we can practice together after training.” She smiled and Roslin looked at her with hopeful eyes. “Let me know, all right?”
Roslin smiled back, and Gwyn let out a breath. Good, at least one admirer of the shadowsinger that didn’t hate her.
After a quick stop at her room to leave the notebook, Gwyn headed to the exit of the library. As she walked closer, she heard hushed voices coming from Clotho’s desk. They became clearer as she approached, and soon she could discern Nesta’s distinct timbre. It brought a smile to her lips to see her, but also it seemed odd to have her there at that time accompanied by the High Lord himself. He read the note Clotho had written and responded in a kind voice.
When she was close enough to the group, Nesta was the first one to notice her approach and greet her. Rhysand smiled that charming smile of his and bent his head slightly greeting her as well. Gwyn felt her face warming and she hurried to bend her head too.
“Good morning, High Lord,” she said in a shaky voice.
“Please, Gwyn. You’ve been to my home already. And in the most important moment of our family’s history. I think we can consider ourselves friends by now. Call me Rhys.”
He was crazy if he thought that she was calling him that, but she humored him by showing a polite closed-lip smile and a nod.
“What brings you two here, if you don’t mind me asking?”
Nesta walked close to her and twined her arm with Gwyn’s. She looked at Gwyn with kindness, as she was making her friend a favor.
“We’ll try to alter the wards on the House, to create a way for the residents to come and go as they please. With Clotho’s permission, of course.”
Gwyn’s eyebrow shot up in surprise. It wasn’t every day that a priestess decided to leave the library, and when it happened, it was always permanent. Mor or Rhysand himself would come and winnow them out to wherever they wished to live from that moment on. Having an easier way out of the mountain meant that they wouldn’t find resistance if they decided to leave, for a day or forever.
And for Nesta, it meant freedom in her own home. Gwyn felt happy for her.
“How is that possible? I mean, without the dreading leap from the terrace toward death before winnowing.” She commented in an attempt of humor, remembering how Mor had taken her out to meet Nesta and Emerie in Windhaven.
The blonde had spent much more time convincing her to trust she wouldn’t be crushed against the side of the mountain than Gwyn had spent considering if she should leave the library in the first place. Going to Nesta in a moment of need was no choice at all, she would make that decision in a heartbeat, but leaping out of the veranda…
Rhysand laughed with his head thrown back and a hand over his heart.
“Mor is a bit of daredevil. I apologize for the gruesome experience. I assure you that the descent on wings is far smoother.”
Gwyn grinned. “I’m sure it is.”
“We’ll try to find a solution,” Nesta answered her question. “But it depends on the House. We’ll see.”
Gwyn wondered if they were going to talk to the House about it or just cast a spell and hope it would stick.
“Good luck, then.”
The pair walked away, down the ramp that led to the bottom of the library. To the darkness within the House, where Gwyn would often find peace as strange as it seemed. The dark wasn’t scary to her, the silence was. On the lowest levels, near the bottom, she could seat in the dark and sing to herself without the fear of bothering anyone, pretending it was Catrin’s voice, higher than Gwyn’s, but clear and soft.
She headed upstairs to the training ring, where Emerie waited alone, having winnowed with the High Lord. She’d started the warmups already and was glad to see Gwyn joining her on the mat.
“I think Nesta will miss training today,” Emerie said.
Gwyn nodded and told her she’d met with the pair downstairs.
“Why are you up so early? Trouble sleeping again?” The Illyrian asked with furrowed brows.
Emerie knew that Gwyn sometimes lost sleep, it was often a topic of conversation during training. She’d even confided in Gwyn that after the Blood Rite, she’d been afraid of closing her eyes and finding herself surrounded by males again, trying to harm her. She knew that if Nesta heard any of that, she would insist that Emerie leave Windhaven and move to the House of Wind, but Emerie wasn’t sure she wished to leave her shop, her home. So it was their secret, at least for now.
“I slept fine. Just woke up early.” Gwyn shrugged and bent to her waist to reach her feet. The movement made her braid fall over her shoulder and the scent of cedar spread around her.
Fuck, thought the priestess.
“Gwyn!” Emerie called in an amused voice. “Woke up early on who’s bed?”
Gwyn groaned and straightened her back to stand tall. Emerie had a playful smile gracing her features.
“It was not his bed. It was the private library’s couch, and nothing happened! So stop being weird about it.”
Emerie covered her mouth with her hands in a contained exclamation. Footsteps sounded from the staircase and Gwyn hurried to grab her friend’s arm and speak in her ear.
“Emerie, for the Gods, nothing happened, I’ll tell you about it later. But right now, I need you to shut up and have my back.”
Emerie was almost skipping on the spot as the trainees started to pour from the door.
Gwyn sighed and groaned once more. That was about to be a long morning.
Cassian had insisted that they corrected the mistakes made by the three Valkyries during the Blood Rite. Azriel had pointed out that they were only mistakes because they acted like common warriors, not like the Valkyries they were.
“Running toward safety leaving a fellow soldier behind is good enough for Illyrians who wish to become warriors,” Azriel started, standing beside Cassian as they addressed all the trainees, novices and veterans alike. “But would you like to be Carynthian or Valkyrie?”
Emerie and Gwyn didn’t even blink before stating, “Valkyrie.”
Cassian smiled proudly.
“We’ll work on that then. I want you to run laps, as fast as you can and for as long as possible,” he commanded. A few groans of protest resounded through the training ring, but he didn’t even acknowledge it. “When it’s time to stop I’ll say it.”
Gwyn and Emerie stayed silent, feeling the importance of that moment. They knew what mistake he was trying to correct. It was when they had made a run for the bridge, but Gwyn was too slow and ended up with an arrow through her leg. That mistake could’ve cost her life and her sisters’ too. She would never be slow again.
Cassian counted and they started running. With her mind sat on that resolution, Gwyn easily overran all the others and kept a strong rhythm. Five minutes passed and some of the priestesses started to fall behind, she overlapped them all again. Ten minutes, fifteen, she never lost her breath. Until Cassian clapped his hand once and called them all to a stop. She slowed down and gathered with the others.
“You were flying, Gwyn,” Emerie’s breathless voice came behind her as Gwyn bent down to lean her hands on her knees.
The praise made Gwyn beam with pride.
“Good job, you are ready to be Carynthians, but I thought you wished to be Valkyries.” Cassian’s voice was serious and full of meaning. It made Gwyn stand up straight and frown at him.
“We do.”
“Then show me. Show me you are a unit, not a bunch of self-absorbed warriors who would leave one of their own behind just to save their asses.”
His harsh words cut deep through her and Emerie, who looked at each other with quiet indignation. So that was what he thought of them? That Nesta and Emerie had left Gwyn there to die?
“It’s not fair! Nesta and Emerie saved me!” Gwyn said failing to keep her anger hidden.
“You were lucky. Nesta managed to shoot that rope to you on time, but what if she missed the shot?” Azriel said with a bored expression. Gwyn knew that he was anything but bored, his agitated eyes told her that. They kept scanning her face as he was looking for evidence that she was really there, that she was really alive.
“It wasn’t luck. She knew how to use a bow,” Emerie said.
“Barely,” Cassian replied. “Still, even if she was a master archer, that was not the right approach to the situation. To become a mighty warrior, luck is appreciated, but quick thinking and ability are a necessity. You have that, you proved you do. But to be Valkyries, you need more than that. You must be a unit. You need the understanding that you are never alone. Never leave a fellow Valkyrie behind. Never.”
“They didn’t,” Gwyn retorted with gritted teeth.
“Not intentionally,” Azriel said, softly.
Gwyn couldn’t shake the feeling that he was using what she’d told him the night before to put her sisters on trial.
Emerie put a hand on her arm to appease her fighting disposition and asked, “How do we correct it then?”
“You run as fast as you can, as a unit. Find a way to push each other and never leave anyone behind. If one of you separates from the rest by sprinting ahead or falling behind, you fail,” Cassian explained. “You either make it to the end as a unit or you all die.”
So they ran. No surprise, Gwyn was in front of the group, setting their pace. Emerie ran beside her. She wasn’t going as fast as she could go, but a glance back showed her that if she increased the speed, some of the others would certainly fall behind. Gwyn thought of Nesta and how much they needed a leader at that moment, someone who would tell them what to do.
What would Nesta do? The question in her mind had such an obvious answer that it rang loudly in her mind. Nesta would do anything to make them succeed. Gwyn still held a grudge against Nesta for rendering her unconscious to defend the passing alone.
“Keep the pace, when you feel a hand on your back, speed it up,” she instructed Emerie, who looked in confusion at her but didn’t say a word, she simply nodded in acknowledgment.
Gwyn stepped aside, letting the group pass her. When she was the last one, she placed her hand on the back of the priestess in front of her and pushed lightly, making her move faster. That priestess pushed the one in front of her, that pushed the next one, and then it went until they were all running faster. Emerie in the front increased the speed, and they all followed. As one of them started to fall behind, the one that came after would push her, until she found her rhythm again. More than once, Gwyn had lent her strength to someone on the verge of giving up. She held the rear guard with the stamina of a thousand Illyrians.
After what seemed like an hour of that punishing rhythm, Cassian ended the drill. The trainees all but crawled to the water station, without a word. They were all spent.
As Gwyn passed by Cassian and Azriel, she received a proud smile from Cassian and a quiet, “Well done, Valkyrie,” from Azriel. Somehow, that was enough to forgive him for doubting their methods in the Blood Rite.
Sweat poured from her and the others, having exhausted themselves to the limit. Some of them had lay on the ground, and others chugged their water with ferocity.
“At least, you smell like yourself again,” Emerie said with a smirk as she sat against the wall far from the water station. There was a spot where the peak of the mountain cast a refreshing shade.
“Thank the Cauldron,” Gwyn whispered crouching before her friend. “I was afraid that Cassian would say something.”
“Say something about what?” Cassian asked with a curious grin. He came to stand beside her, looking down at Gwyn. “Would it be the distinct smell of shadowsinger coming out of you?”
Apparently, she wasn’t smelling entirely like herself again.
She let out a defeated breath and refused to answer, but Emerie started a heated debate with Cassian about what could possibly have happened between the pair. Azriel seemed amused, as he said goodbye to the priestesses that left the training ring and joined them under the shade.
“Nothing happened,” he stated.
“Hardly,” Cassian protested.
“Not that it’s any of your business, brother, but Gwyn simply fell asleep on the couch in the private library and I lent her my blanket. That’s all.”
“Right…”
Well, if Cassian was going to be such a busybody, then Gwyn decided to have fun with it.
“Azriel, I think we should tell them.” Gwyn stood up and faced Cassian. “It’s time you know about us.”
Cassian’s eyes widened, expectant of good gossip.
“Are you sure, Gywn?” Azriel embarked on the joke as he came to stand behind her. He placed a hand on her waist, and Gwyn held herself not to burst out laughing at Cassian’s and Emerie’s expression.
“I am. Tell them, Az.” Her voice was low in an attempt to sound seductive.
“Well, if you must know, yesterday Gwyn and I started rehearsing to perform at your mating ceremony, Cassian. It’s an impersonation of you and Nesta.”
It was not where Gwyn was going with the joke but somehow it sounded better than what she had imagined.
“That’s right. It was supposed to be a surprise, but with all the noise we’ll be making during the rehearsals, you were going to find out eventually,” she added, faking innocence.
“There’s a part at the dining table.”
“Oh, and there’s lots of pressing against walls and seductive glares. I’m trying to perfect it still, I’m not sure I can master it until then.”
Cassian shook his head as Emerie laughed.
“You’re pricks, both of you.” His words had no bite, and Azriel let go of her waist to pat Cassian’s shoulder with a laugh.
Gwyn was about to keep going with the teasing when they all felt the mountain shake and a wave of energy wash the entire House from bottom to top. Gwyn’s first instinct was alarm, but then she remembered what Nesta and the High Lord were attempting to do in the library.
“The wards,” she said.
In silent agreement, they all headed down to the library, where they found Nesta and Rhysand staring at the stairs that led to the bottom of the mountain. Ten thousand steps separated them from the rest of the Night Court.
“Did it work?” Emerie asked as they joined the pair.
“We were waiting for you to join us to see.” Nesta looked from Emerie to Gwyn with expectant eyes.
“What do you mean?” Gwyn questioned.
Nesta stood between them, grabbing their hands in hers.
“I thought that the first time someone tried to use it, it should be us. Together. What do you say?”
Gwyn hesitated, feeling her heart speed up inside her chest. She squeezed Nesta’s hand but stayed silent.
“We don’t have to leave, just go down the stairs. Do you trust me, Gwyn?” Nesta returned the squeeze.
Of course she trusted Nesta. She trusted her like she didn’t trust anyone else apart from Emerie.
“I do.”
“Then, all we have to do is stand on the second step and wait. The House will do the rest.”
Gwyn nodded, feeling the eyes of Rhysand, Azriel, and Cassian on her back. Then they stepped down. On the second step, she looked back and saw the shadowsinger’s soft smile. It was the last thing she saw before she felt a pull into the void and her feet touching the ground again. She looked ahead and stared at the door to Velaris. They had traveled ten thousand steps in a second, transported by the magic of the House.
“What now?” Emerie asked from the other side of Nesta.
Nesta looked at Gwyn.
“What now, Gwyn?”
Gwyn stared at the door at an arm’s length. It was simple, she just had to reach for the doorknob and Velaris would be at her feet. But somehow, that simple act felt so impossible that it made her stomach cramp with anxiety.
“Maybe, someday I can cross to the outside. But not now. I can’t yet.” She hated how her voice came out weak and shaky. She wanted to feel strong, to be strong.
“We can try again for Nesta’s mating ceremony. What do you say, Gwyn?”
Gwyn looked at Emerie and saw a sweet expression of encouragement.
“That sounds good. I might want to try that.”
Nesta passed an arm over her shoulders and steered them back up the stairs.
“We’ll have time for what’s next. We don’t have to worry about it now.”
Gwyn nodded and stood on the second step along with her sisters in arms, waiting to be pulled back up. For now, she would be back to the safety of the library, under Merrill’s orders and the careful watch of Clotho’s. Now she would return to the waiting smile of the shadowsinger and the warm presence of Cassian. But one day, not too far in the future, she would open that door and step into the world.
Azriel stood at the top of the stairwell between Rhys and Cassian, as the three Valkyries traveled down in the blink of an eye.
“How does it work exactly?” Cassian asked.
“The House agreed to winnow the priestesses and the residents up and down the stairs. All they have to do is to stand on the second step and wait.”
“Only the residents?” Azriel’s question was just a whisper in the quiet of the hallway.
“Yes. We tried to add the other members of our court, such as Elain and Amren, but It didn’t allow it. I guess you two can do it with no problem.”
Rhys and Azriel never talked about what happened on Solstice, but they were little by little slipping into their usual dynamics. Still, Azriel wished they could sit and have an honest conversation about all that was said that night. It wasn’t easy for him to admit it, but he craved his brother’s guidance, if not his approval. That night, they both said unspeakable things, words that were unplanned and misguided. Now, after months and after so many changes in him, Azriel thought they could redo that conversation, so he could tell Rhys that his feelings had changed.
He no longer thought of himself entitled to a mate, especially a mate that was meant for another. Instead, there was another person on his mind, and only her.
But what if Rhys was against it? What if he deemed Azriel unworthy of Gwyn as well? Did Azriel think himself worthy of Gwyn in the first place?
He took a deep breath and watched as the three females reappeared on the second step. Maybe that feeling should be kept hidden inside where it could glow without doubt or reservation. Azriel raised his hand to place it against his chest where he imagined he could fit her and keep her safe from his darkness and the judgment of others.
As she passed by him on the way back to the library after bidding them goodbye, his shadows followed, catching the tip of her braid for a second, before she vanished inside. He felt a hand squeeze his shoulder and turned to see Rhys smiling at him. A lump formed in his throat. Somehow, Rhys knew and approved. Words weren’t needed after all.
Chapter 8: No time for fear now - part 1
Summary:
Gwyn gets ready for Nessian’s mating ceremony.
Notes:
It feels like I birthed this chapter after so much time. But it’s an important one along with the next, so I decided to only post it when it felt right. I hope you enjoy!
Chapter Text
Two months after the Blood Rite.
It was the day of Nesta and Cassian’s mating ceremony. For Gwyn, it meant that she would face the stairwell down from the Library to the city of Velaris. Today, she would change into a gown chosen by Nesta, allow Elain to fix her hair, and Mor to put makeup on her face. She would talk to different people, dance with her friends... It was daunting but also liberating, for a small step as it was. Gwyn would not be afraid.
Azriel would congratulate her if he weren’t so caught up in calming Cassian throughout the day. He had become her biggest supporter ever since they’d grown closer after the Winter Solstice three months before, and Gwyn was sure she wouldn’t have made it out of the House of Wind if it weren’t for him. All the late nights in the training ring or working on her novel made her more eager to experience more of the world. He had written in her notebook how the continent looked like and how it felt to travel to other lands. He’d described the feeling of an ardent kiss, and made her wonder when the time would come for her to do that with someone.
Did Gwyn want to do that with someone? When she imagined her first kiss, she would always picture him. Ever since he wrote about it, she imagined herself as being Emilia and Azriel as Justus. It was inevitable, and completely maddening! All the hours she spent with him took so much of her energy trying to avoid the wild thoughts of the two together that she caught herself making up excuses to miss their club meetings.
She wondered if he missed her…
Gwyn shook herself out of her reverie and stepped down to the second step of the stairwell that would take her right to the door to Velaris. She still had five hours until the ceremony. It was plenty of time for Gwyn to worry about being surrounded by different people.
The trek to the River House was uneventful, still her heart pounded out of her chest. As she clutched her satchel against her side, her mind counted the breaths she took, trying to stay at ease, and suddenly, the smells and the noises came into focus. She knew the way, Nesta had drawn her a map that she memorized from reading it countless times. So Gwyn simply watched Velaris passing by her as she walked the steps she had in her mind. It was a beautiful city! Resplendent, even in the full light of day.
A small smile graced her face as she saw the vendors and the costumers trading words on the sidewalk, or the horses pulling on wagons full of produce. The murmur of the streets alive made her want to participate. Gwyn tucked that feeling inside, where the ache she usually felt in her chest was dulled somehow. It was indeed a sign of the Mother’s grace.
When she arrived at the River House, she saw Emerie sitting on the steps leading to the front door. She was waiting for her, Gwyn was sure. It made her heart warm.
“Did you think I was going to get lost?” Gwyn asked in an attempt at humor.
Emerie didn’t think it was funny, with her brow furrowed.
“Maybe. Why didn’t you let me accompany you? Or Cassian? Or Mor? Or Azriel?”
They all offered to either winnow, fly or walk her to the River House, and Gwyn declined every single offer. She wanted to do this for herself, to prove she could. Emerie had argued that going from “I might attend the ceremony” to “I’ll walk by myself through a city I don’t know, on a path I never walked” was a bit extreme on her part. Nesta agreed but kept a supportive stance. Cassian threatened to patrol the city streets from above, from the moment she left the House until she arrived at her destination, but Gwyn begged that he wouldn’t, so he didn’t. And Azriel, well, Azriel shrugged and said that his offer was still standing, she’d just had to say the word.
Although, that bird that flew very high in the sky right now looked incredibly like an Illyrian Warrior. And since she could hear Cassian barking orders inside the High Lord’s mansion, that bird could only be one person.
Gwyn smiled and pointed up.
“Again. I needed to do this by myself. Besides, am I really by myself in Velaris?”
Emerie followed her line of sight and shook her head, laughing to herself. She raised to her feet and welcomed Gwyn inside, heading for the stairs to the suite where Nesta was. On the way, they spotted Cassian on the atrium, complaining about the flowers for the ceremony to Elain. It was something about allergies and sneezing on his mate. Gwyn laughed and gave him a nod when she caught his attention. He seemed to breathe a little easier when he saw her.
“Glad you made it, Gwyn. It would not be the same without you.”
“I’m glad too. I thought I was going to throw up at some point, but luckily I got distracted on the way here.”
Cassian laughed with her, then motioned at Elain.
“Have you two officially met yet? This is Elain, Nesta and Feyre’s sister.”
“We’ve seen each other briefly when Nyx was born,” Gwyn said.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you finally, Gwyn. Nesta talks a lot about you. And Emerie, of course.”
“Pleasure is mine, Elain.”
Cassian watched them with a silly grin, until he clapped his hands and exclaimed, “So! The flowers, Elain. What should we do about that?”
Elain sighed.
“For the hundredth time, Cassian,” she said with a humored exasperation. “They will be by the doors of the temple, and around it, not near your problematic nose. Now, if this matter is settled, I’ll lead the ladies to Nesta’s suite, where we can start preparing for the ceremony. I suggest you do the same.”
Cassian still grumbled about the flowers as they ascended the stairs, following Elain. When they entered the room, she saw Nesta sitting on the settee placed by the balcony, wearing a white robe of satin with her hair entirely arranged in tight rolls. She drank tea with Feyre and Amren. When she saw Gwyn and Emerie, her eyes lit up and she smiled like Gwyn had never seen before. It was that smile that made Gwyn decide that she’d done right by coming today. And she would definitely sing at the ceremony, just like Nesta had asked her to, knowing that the priestess would certainly refuse.
Not today. Today Gwyn was not afraid.
After what Gwyn thought was an endless parade of dresses and jewelry, they all came to a consensus on what she should wear. Mor had come into the room with a diverse selection of gowns, one more stunning than the other, and all Gwyn could do was look and be completely lost on what she wanted to wear. But Nesta and Emerie were sure.
“That’s perfect, Nesta,” Elain commented when her sister insisted that Gwyn wore the forest green dress. “Every redhead looks great in green. It’s the rule.”
Sitting at the vanity while Mor fixed her hair, Feyre suppressed a smile while giving Nesta a pointed look that Elain missed completely. The sisters had gossip, and Gwyn wondered what that was about.
“Go change, Gwyn. Let’s see if Elain’s theory is true,” Nesta said, not without humor.
So Gwyn took the dress to the bathroom that they used as dressing room. When she was done changing out of her robes and into her gown, Gwyn looked at herself in the tall mirror that went from floor to ceiling. She looked fantastic! A giddy feeling took over her, like she never felt regarding her looks. It was like she was a young girl again, trying on clothes in the town’s boutique with Catrin. Clothes that they would never buy, but it felt good to pretend.
When she came back to the room, they all agreed that yes, Nesta was right. That was the perfect dress for her. And Elain had a good point about the green favoring the redheads. Gwyn laughed and bowed at the compliments, missing Catrin even more.
Trying to dismiss the nostalgic thoughts, Gwyn went to her satchel and fished the final touch to her look. She put it on around her neck and when to sit at the vanity, replacing Feyre. Elain took Mor’s place behind Gwyn and started experimenting with her hair. She pulled it up, then pushed it all to the side, until she came to the conclusion that with that backless dress, a loose hairdo would be best.
And then, when they all listened to her speak, Elain went silent in the middle of explaining what she would do in Gwyn’s hair.
Through the mirror, her eyes fell to the necklace that Gwyn chose to wear for the ceremony, the only piece of jewelry that she owned. It went well with the dress that Nesta had picked for her, fitted to her body, but not too tight, open in the back, but not too revealing in the front. It was modest enough to not expose her figure but flattering in the right amount to grace her curves.
Gwyn stood in front of Elain waiting for her to complete the sentence, but when it was clear that she was bothered by something she called for the other.
“Elain? Is everything all right?”
Gwyn was afraid that Elain was having one of her visions. Nesta once told her about her sister’s seer powers, and how she looked far away when a vision came to her.
The beautiful female shook herself out of the trance and looked up to meet Gwyn’s eyes, inches above hers.
“Yes. I mean, I don’t know. I might need a minute to catch some fresh air.”
Gwyn nodded and watched as the middle Archeron left the room.
Feyre and Nesta frowned and made to follow, but Amren, sitting on the settee, advised them to stay. Whatever it was, they would hear about it after the ceremony.
“Come on, I’ll do your hair instead.” Mor grabbed her hand and pulled her back toward the vanity.
Cassian seemed like a man on the verge of a breakdown. Rhys thought it was the funniest thing, and although Azriel agreed, he felt bad for his brother.
They had been lounging in a spacious sitting room on the west side of the house. Its windows were large, allowing the afternoon light to bathe the space and make Azriel’s shadow recoil behind his back. Rhys provided the good liquor for the special day, but careful not to get the future mated male too drunk. They were only an hour away from the start of the ceremony now.
“Why are you so nervous, by the way? How are things supposed to be different after you’re officially mated?” Azriel asked.
“Everything,” Rhys answered before Cassian could think of a response. His brothers looked at him with attention, and he continued. “Everything changes. You might know that she’s your mate, and you might feel her love for you. But the moment you accept the bond, there’s a sense of finality that comes over you, like you’ve finally made something that’s worth living for.”
His words didn’t appease Cassian’s nervousness but made Azriel’s chest tighten. After relinquishing all the thoughts of having any sort of claim over Elain, he had found himself empty of the craving for a mate. He wondered if it was because of what he felt for Gwyn, but if that was the case, then wouldn’t he crave her to be his mate? The thought would come into his mind now and then, and he would always let it go just as easily. He didn’t know why yet, but the notion that he was falling in love with Gwyneth Berdara without her being his mate didn’t cause him harm at all.
“No pressure,” murmured Cassian to his brothers’ amusement.
“It’s a good thing, Cass,” Azriel said.
Rhys met his stare, probably assessing if the ideal of having a mate plagued his mind. Azriel gave him a small smile to reassure him, to say that he was fine, in control.
His shadows agitated around his ear, bringing the image of Elain walking down the hall toward their door.
She’s angry, the words rang in his head.
A few seconds later, three firm knocks on wood sounded from the door.
“I’ll get it.” Azriel went to answer the door, wondering what had led her there in a fit of anger.
Her eyes stared daggers at the sight of him.
“Elain. Can I help you?”
“May we talk in private for a minute?”
Azriel threw a glance back toward Rhys, who nodded slightly with squinted eyes. A tap on his mental wall made him open way for him.
Be careful, brother.
You don’t have to worry about Elain anymore. I think you know that.
I’m not worried about Elain.
Gwyn. Rhys worried about Gwyn. Azriel felt anger at his brother for thinking so negatively of him.
Rhys breathed heavily and nodded again. Azriel excused himself and followed Elain to a different room. It was one of many guestrooms Feyre had designed for the river house. It was simple but elegant, with fresh flowers in a vase by the bed, which made him think that she expected it to be occupied by someone that night.
As soon as he closed the door behind him, Elain turned to face him.
“You gave her my necklace? First you reject me, then humiliate me by giving my necklace to someone else?”
Heat rose from his neck to his face. It felt like embarrassment, but he knew he didn’t have anything to be embarrassed about. He took a rejected object and made it a source of joy to someone else. If she’d seen it around Gwyn’s neck, it meant that the priestess cherished it, and he had done something good.
“Your necklace? It was my necklace, you gave it back to me, remember?”
“Only because you rejected me!”
Azriel scoffed. Elain’s cheeks seemed on fire as she crossed her arms and leaned forward, like she was trying not to jump and claw at his face.
“You’re the one who rejected me,” he stated with coldness, though he could feel his face twisting in an expression of pure anger.
“What? You said it was a mistake!”
“Yes, a mistake, kissing you under the same roof as your mate! But you closed the door on us when you gave back the gift I gave you. It was a gift, Elain! Who does that?”
They were fuming, so close to each other that Azriel barely registered his shadows frantically waving behind his ears, chanting, mate, mate, behind you.
When he turned, he saw Lucien standing at the door, a bag hanging from his shoulder. The male’s eyes were focused on Elain, who peered around Azriel’s massive figure. Her eyes widened when they found Lucien staring at her with hurt in his handsome features. Azriel had to admit, Lucien was a good-looking male by any standards. That knowledge had caused him envy and jealousy once and still did at a certain degree.
“Lucien,” Elain started in a shaky voice.
He raised a hand to his chest as if to excuse himself at the same time he placed the bag on the chair by the vanity.
“I didn’t mean to interrupt. Feyre said I could use this room for the night.” Lucien explained, trying to avoid eye contact. “I’ll leave you to it. Excuse me.” His voice was small and trembling but polite as he walked out of the room.
Lucien had vanished through the door when Azriel looked at Elain and saw her expression of utter horror. She grabbed at her chest, with a tear threatening to fall from her eye.
“Elain? You all right?” Even if they were in the middle of an argument, his concern was genuine.
She shook her head still staring at the place where Lucien had been.
“I can’t block him.” Her hand tightened against the silk of her pink dress over her heart.
Without another word, Elain bolted toward the door, leaving Azriel and his shadows frozen in place.
Everything all right? Rhys asked inside his head.
No. Azriel sighed and slowly walked out of the room. Lucien might become a problem for you after all.
What did you do?
I didn’t kiss her, that’s for sure.
Mor was quick and did exactly what Elain had intended to do, tying half of Gwyn’s hair to let the rest cascade down her bare back. When she was finished, Gwyn thanked her profusely then raced to the door, still thinking about Elain and how she looked like before. Something inside her made her think that the sight of the rose pendant against the freckled skin of Gwyn’s cleavage was what had set Elain off, not a vision.
After excusing herself, she followed her feet through the hallways of the house. Several steps had taken her to the stairwell then down to the main hall. Hushed voices sounded in the sitting room and Gwyn could smell Elain’s scent coming from there mixed with another, a male one.
She approached the half-closed door and pushed it in. Like a punch in her gut, that smell hit her all at once. That male’s scent, so familiar, threatened to bring her to her knees.
Elain and the redheaded male, who held an ardent conversation on the couch, stopped and looked at her, frozen at the door.
“Gwyn? Did something happen?” Elain’s concerned voice entered her ears but her heart beat so loudly that she couldn’t really listen. All she could do was inhale that fresh scent of maple wood in the dead of autumn.
“Catrin,” she whispered.
“What?” Elain asked, rising from her spot on the couch and joining her at the door. “Gwyn, are you feeling ill?”
Elain hid the male from her eyesight just by standing in front of her. She grabbed Gwyn’s hands in hers and squeezed to provoke some kind of reaction from the priestess. But she froze.
First she heard his almost inaudible steps, then she felt a tendril of shadow slither around her ankles to anchor her. It was then that she let out the air she had trapped in her lungs, filled with the memories of her sister.
She also let go of Elain’s hands and grabbed Azriel’s hand instead, finally turning to look at his hazel eyes, that were clouded with concern.
“Get me out of here, please. Take me outside,” she begged in a faint voice.
Azriel didn’t wait another second, leading her toward the riverside past the gardens and away from the temple where the servants made the final adjustments.
“What happened?” Azriel’s words were clipped, like he was suppressing his emotions for her sake.
They were sitting on a large boulder by the river. Behind them, several yards away, the temple was busy with the come and go of last-minute preparation. They couldn’t hear anyone, and no one could hear them. The late afternoon sun gleamed on the surface of the Sidra.
Gwyn took a deep breath, trying to piece together everything that had happened.
“It was that male… Who is he?”
Azriel clenched his jaw even more.
“What did he do?”
“Nothing! It was strange, his scent brought me back some memories.”
He adjusted his position to turn to his right on the boulder, to face her. He seemed angry and so confused, Gwyn started to be concerned.
“Why would Lucien’s scent affect you like this?” He asked.
“Lucien? Elain’s mate?”
Azriel confirmed with a nod.
Gwyn had never met Lucien before, had only heard about him through Nesta. Apparently, his connection to Elain was a sensitive topic in the High Lord’s inner circle.
“I have no idea why, but somehow, he smells like… Catrin.” The last word came out as a whisper that made Azriel’s anger vanish and make way to sad sympathy.
“Maybe it’s the autumn blood that you share. And now, thinking about it, you both have that woody scent. Not at all the same, but close enough to see some similarity.”
Gwyn nodded. That must be it, their shared ancestry. Before her mind started to wonder toward the memories of her past and family, Azriel brought her back to the present.
“What were you doing downstairs anyway? Weren’t you supposed to be with Nesta and the others?” He said lightly in a non-accusing tone.
Gwyn traced the contour of her necklace idly, shrugging.
“I don’t know, but I had a feeling that Elain got disturbed by something she saw when she was talking to me earlier.”
Azriel’s eyes clocked the motion of her fingers around the pendant and a deep crease formed on his brows.
“Something she saw? Like a vision?” He asked, sounding the words slowly.
“Maybe. I think the sight of my necklace might’ve triggered one. I went to find her to make sure she was all right.”
Azriel nodded, then looked away. His stiff posture on the boulder made Gwyn sense that he knew more than he was willing to share.
“Azriel. What is it?”
“It wasn’t a vision.” He let out a deep breath at the same time his head cocked in the way he did when conferring with his shadows. Then he lowered his voice and said so low she found it hard to understand, “I gave your necklace to Elain first. When she rejected it, I left it for you in the Library.”
Gwyn didn’t know what to say, what to think. She didn’t even know what to feel.
On one hand, receiving a gift meant for another, the result of rejection, was demeaning somehow. But on the other side, she had never possessed something so beautiful, so precious. When Clotho said it was left for her by a friend, Gwyn didn’t care to know who, just the knowledge that she was thought of as being someone’s friend was enough to warm her heart. And to be his friend was a joy she would never take for granted.
She couldn’t keep the necklace though. He had bought it to someone who he wanted not in friendship, but in something else. And if friendship was what he wanted from Gwyn, even when she ached to be more than that to him, she would respect his wishes.
“Here, take this.”
Her fingers made haste on unclasping the necklace on the back, and she held it in front of him, the pendant dangling from side to side. His eyes finally met hers after being away in contrition.
“No, Gwyn, not you too.” His pained plea made her eyes widened. “If you don’t wish to keep it then give it to someone else, throw it in the river, I don’t care. Just don’t make me carry the rejection in my pocket again.”
“No, it’s not rejection, Az. Not from me.” Gwyn grabbed his hand and put the jewelry in it. “It’s a token of friendship and belonging. When you look at it, you’ll see that, not the rejection. But I can’t keep it when you meant to be something else for Elain.”
Azriel didn’t take the offering well, shaking his head.
“It’s not like that anymore. I don’t feel that way about her now.”
Gwyn’s heart sped up. The flame of hope rekindled inside her chest.
“Still. It was meant as a gift of love, not friendship. It would be improper for me to wear it and it was not the meaning you wished to convey.”
She saw his throat bobbing in a hard swallow.
Oh, Mother, is it possible…
“How about you wear it today, then you give me back when the ceremony is over.” He suggested in a grave voice, eyes shining in a firm stare. There was no denying it now. Gwyn wasn’t experienced when it came to relationships, but that look she could very well recognize. “After the ceremony, I’ll keep it with me, until I find you something that suits you better. Something just for you. To apologize for the mess. Something with meaning.”
Gwyn smiled through the blush forming on her cheeks and nodded, taking the damn thing back for his hand.
Azriel watched as she unclasped the close of the golden chain and put it on around her neck. He stared at the motion as if he was seeing her undress before him. The gesture of putting her hair to the side and hooking her hands behind her neck looked so sensual that he felt his insides churning.
The shadows started to encircle him to hide any trace of his quick arousal. He gulped as he diverted his gaze toward the river. Her soft voice shook him more than he expected it to.
“Azriel.” It was a plead for him to look at her. Instead, he simply hummed in acknowledgment. “There’s something I need to tell you.”
“Yes?”
“Look at me, please?”
Her soft voice, melodic and breathy, caressed something inside his chest. That same thing he had been keeping hidden, secret.
Azriel looked at her and saw a timid expression looking back at him. She was breathtaking under the twilight colors, her hair more bronze than brown under the golden light.
She smiled gently and reached for his hand that rested between them.
“It’s been a while, and I don’t even know why I decided to say it right now, but I feel like I should. I must.”
Somehow he already knew what she was about to say because his shadows for the first time started to flood his mind with information about her. The speed of her breathing, the sound of her thumping heartbeat and the sweet, sweet scent of lilies, heavy with anxiety, and something more. Desire. He tightened the grip on her hand to let her know that it was all right, that he felt it too. He hoped she got the message.
“Do you want me to say it first just so you can feel less nervous about it?” His voice came out hoarse and deep. His gaze alternating between her bright eyes and crimson lips. It was almost like a moth to a flame the way he felt himself being pulled to her.
Her eyes widened in surprise then her shoulders squared as she was preparing for a fight. Still, her lips quirked in a grin so full of certainty he felt his legs turn to jelly.
“No, let me say it. Some things are more important than fear, Shadowsinger.”
Azriel understood that the moment was hers, a pivotal moment in her way to recovery. In her way to discovery.
“Go ahead then.”
His thumb caressed the back of her hand as she took a breath and came closer, their bodies almost touching.
“I… I like you more than just as a friend. I’ve never felt this way before, but I’m sure that this feeling,” she placed her free hand over her chest, the fingertips grazing the rose pendant, “means that I want you. It means that I’m falling in love with you.”
Azriel knew she would say something like that, still, hearing that kind of declaration for the first time in his life left him breathless.
He tried to suck in a breath but all that came in was a shaky inhale. His eyes were glued to hers. Azriel could feel the expression of astonishment on his face. Not warm or welcoming. Just stunned.
Gwyn shook her head trying to pull her hand away, probably mistaking his reaction for rejection, but he held it tight in his marred palm.
“Don’t you dare pull away from me, Gwyn. Now that I found you, I’m never letting you go again.”
He barely registered her sigh of relief before he drove himself to place a tight kiss on her lips. It lasted two seconds, before he drew back, appalled at his boldness.
“I’m sorry, I should’ve asked.”
Her laugh sounded just like the song the Mother singed when they were together.
“You asked once what I thought of the scene you wrote in my notebook.” She started coming even closer, allowing his arm to slid over her shoulders. It gave him permission to run his fingers through her hair the way he knew she liked. “How about I show how much I like it?”
He could only nod slightly before she stretched her neck to brush her lips on the shell of his ear, then drag them over his jaw until they met his mouth. Her eyes were open, half lidded, when he closed his. The feeling of her teeth grazing his bottom lip made his gut churn and his underbelly heat up again. A silent command ordered his shadows, that were still blocking his scent, to retreat, they weren’t necessary anymore. She was allowed to scent him and to feel him as much as she wanted.
Gwyn moaned against his mouth as she scented him. Her teeth bit his lower lip just like Azriel had made Emilia do to Justus in her book.
A groan reverberated from his throat, and he had to fist a clump of her hair in order to keep himself from moving over her.
Her breathless giggle was her devious response to his attempt at restraint.
“Gwyn,” he begged.
It was enough for her to catch his lips in hers just the away he wanted. His hand nestled on the back of her head to make her slant her mouth on his, and his tongue came in between her lips, tasting her slowly. She tasted like something made of sugary butter, and Azriel knew that he would never want to kiss anyone else for the rest of his life. In fact, he wondered if he had ever kissed anyone before, for the way he was feeling could only mean that he hadn’t had anything even close to a real kiss in all his life.
He was pleased to feel her taste him too, clawing the front of his jacket with both hands, allowing him to hold her waist. To touch her like that was all he wanted for months now.
Azriel let her explore his mouth with her tongue, slowly, lazily, and did the same to her. And when it seemed like her patience was running dry and she would finally drive them to frenzy…
A cough behind them made them separate at once, filling him with sudden anger.
“Feyre sent me to get you. It’s time.”
Fucking Lucien.
Gwyn bit her lip to hide a smile as she freed herself from his clasp.
“Cassian is waiting for you in the temple, Azriel.”
Azriel mustered all his self-control not to push Lucien into the Sidra. Reluctantly, he got up and started walking toward the temple. In his mind, Azriel ordered his shadows to keep watch of her, in case she had another episode around the autumn male.
A glance back at Gwyn told him she was happy. Almost glowing under the dying light of day. It made him want to stay with her, forget about the world and just stay. But the world would not forget about him, even if he ran from his past and fought against his nature, he would always be remembered of the truth. He could only hope that a priestess could forgive him for his sins.
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