Azriel's muscles ached in protest. He'd been soaring over Velaris for at least half an hour, trying to avoid a certain someone. Mor had been trying to talk with him in private for days now, and he had a pretty good idea of why.
Of course he knew Mor preferred females. Of course he knew that she hadn't told anyone because she was afraid. He was the spymaster of the Night Court, had been around her for most of his life.
He knew it all, but wouldn't - couldn't - stop loving her.
If he let her go, he didn't know what would happen. Loving Mor like this... it was an old habit, old enough that his heart didn't slowly bleed out when she flirted with everyone, old enough that it had faded from that fiery passion into something soft and sweet and melancholy.
Loving Mor was safe. Safe because both knew that the other would not make a move. Safe because Azriel knew that nothing would ever come of it. And safe because... if Azriel took his heart back from her after so many years... someone would hurt him - hurt him like his siblings and stepmother did. Like the people who sneered at him and inched away, knowing he would take note.
Because if Mor had his heart, he knew it was safe. Maybe he was a coward for it. The word rang in his ears - coward, coward, coward. A coward, to have faced down so many dangers, only to shy away from something like love. But if he tried again, someone would hurt him, leaving scars on his heart to match his hands.
It was easier - so much easier - to wrap himself in shadows and darkness and disappear silently, without a word.