Amael could not focus. He could not concentrate on anything but the ache inside his chest, his heart cleaved in two by the distance that Celeste had put between him. They had barely spoken in days, and despite her tentative smiles whenever he caught her eye, Amael was painfully aware she was avoiding him. She found an excuse to leave the room when he entered, she did not sit next to him at the dining table, and she had stopped going to the roof to train with him.

He could not fathom why. Amael had spent the last two weeks wracking his brain for anything he might have done wrong, but there was nothing. They had not argued in years beyond playful, half-hearted bickering, and Amael did not recall having said something that could have upset her. Whatever had happened between them, Amael did not understand why Celeste had chosen not to talk about it—why she had chosen not to speak to him at all.

The fist that connected with Amael's jaw sent him spiraling to the ground, knocking him back into his senses. He coughed and spat blood into the grass, refusing to meet Cassian's gaze as the Illyrian stood over him and snarled, his arms crossed over his chest. "What's the matter with you?" he demanded, shoving Amael over with a swift kick to his shoulder. "You haven't landed a single hit all morning, and you haven't even put up a fight."

Cradling his jaw, Amael prodded at his teeth with his tongue, checking to see if Cassian had knocked any loose. He was surprised to find them intact. "I'm sorry," he said, climbing to his feet and stumbling. The hit had rattled him, enough so that Amael felt dizzy. "I'll do better."

"Cassian," Azriel called, rising from the chaise he was lounging in. "Take a break. I need to speak with you," he circled the pool, his wings tucked in tight behind him. "Amael, go find Feyre. See if she'll help clean you up," Azriel glanced pointedly at his jaw, noting the bruise that was forming there. "A hit that hard, and Cassian damn well could have broken it."

Amael sighed, wincing at the ache in his jaw. "Are we finished training for the day?" he asked, looking to Cassian for an answer. The Illyrian only huffed and waved the younger male away, a look of disgust etched into the crevices of his face. Amael ducked his head. "I'll take that as a yes."

His father watched him as he left, his wings dragging against the ground as Amael lumbered towards the staircase. Azriel waited until he was safely inside, then turned to Cassian and sighed. "I need you to do something for me," he said, rubbing at his temple with calloused fingers. Cassian quirked an eyebrow. "Take Amael to the Steppes, and keep him there."

"Why?" Cassian asked. "Not that he doesn't need the extra training, but Amael passed his Blood Rite. I have no excuse to keep him there."

The Shadowsinger pushed out a breath. "Please, Cassian," Azriel said, meeting his brother's gaze. Desperation shone in his eyes. "I want him away from Velaris. Make him do grunt work, train novices, I don't care. Give him something to do to keep him busy, but make sure he stays in the Steppes."

Cassian raked a hand through his hair. "Why?" he asked again, his tone bordering on frustrated. "Because if I have to put up with him and find shit for him to do, I'd better have a damn good reason for it. Devlon hates having another half-breed in the camp, and he makes my life Hell over a kid that's not even mine."

"I want him away from Celeste."

The taller male bristled. "Away from her?" Cassian sneered. "She's hardly spoken to him in weeks, and Amael can barely function. You think he'll fare any better by permanently sending him to the Steppes? He'll lose his shit if he can't see her."

"That's the point," Azriel told him. "Amael is too distracted here. He let you pummel him into the dirt today because he wasn't focused on his training," he crossed his arms over his chest, shadows curling against his temples. "He's Illyrian, Cassian. He might be able to prove himself if the occasion ever genuinely called for it, but he's forgotten what it means to be a warrior. He's so caught up in trying to figure out why Celeste isn't speaking to him that he doesn't give a damn about anything else. She's a distraction."

He shook his head. Cassian could not believe what he was hearing. "Celeste is a seventeen-year-old child, Azriel. Our High Lord's child, may I remind you, who Amael swore an oath to protect. You can't just take him away from her, especially with the Mortal Queens hunting her," Cassian's wings flared behind him, the membrane sparkling in the sunlight. "She's not a threat to Amael, Az, and if you think that I believe this, 'she's a distraction,' bullshit for even a minute, then you clearly don't know me very well," Cassian pinned him with a glare, his temper slipping its leash. "Just because you're afraid of Celeste's magic—"

"I'm not afraid of her magic," Azriel spat, his dark eyes burning with an icy rage that Cassian knew well enough to fear. "I'm afraid of what she could do to my son."

Cassian pinched the bridge of his nose, his siphons glinting at his wrists. "I hate arguing with you," he said. "Especially over shit this stupid. If you want me to take him to Steppes, fine. Like I said, he could use the extra training," Cassian rolled his shoulders, working loose the tension that had begun to stiffen his muscles. "But Amael is not a child, Azriel. You aren't doing him any favors by sending him away. It's only going to piss him off."

"I'd rather him be pissed off and safe than happy and consumed by darkness," Azriel's voice dropped to a whisper. "I don't expect you to understand, Cassian, but I will do anything for my son. So long as he's here in Velaris, and so long as he's close to Celeste, he's at risk of being slaughtered by her magic. I don't need to remind you why you balk and run whenever she loses control."

He blanched. "She didn't know what she was doing," Cassian countered. "Celeste didn't choose to shove shadows down my throat and smother me. I don't hold her accountable for what her magic does when she's lost in it. It isn't her fault that Rhys won't teach her how to master it."

"I understand that," Azriel insisted. "But what she's done to you and to others… I do not want that for my son."

"I get it," Cassian sighed. "And I guess it's not my call. If you want Amael gone, I'll take him with me when Nesta and I leave tomorrow. Just know that I don't condone this, and I think that you're making a mistake. Amael has no place in the Steppes."

"I know," Azriel said. "And that's my fault."


Author's Note: Short chapter, but here's a scene featuring two of our favorite Illyrians! I know, I know...Azriel is a tad bit overbearing. Asking Cassian to take Amael away is severely overstepping, especially because Amael is an adult, but I swear he has his reasons. Those reasons will be explained in the next two chapters (I don't remember which one exactly...I don't have my notes or chapter outline in front of me), and hopefully it'll all make sense. Celeste's behavior will eventually be explained, too, but that's not for a while. It's coming, though!