Chapter Eight
She was engulfed in night, the chilling air splattering her cheeks with splotches of red that didn't faze her. Azriel's warm hands held her tightly, securing her under her knees and behind her shoulders. She leaned back into the embrace so that she could face the stars, the tears that were ripped from her eyes not entirely caused by the harsh wind.
She remembered back in the camp and her own adventures of launching into the sky to soar on her rare breaks over white-peaked tree-tops, the peace she felt, the release, and couldn't help but compare.
Azriel was like a dart in the night, swift and steady, a talent she would have never dreamed of possessing when she had wings. The span of his stretched wide, the muscles that clenched tightly in his abdomen and back made of tight cords that allowed for the grace in which he carried them.
He was beautiful, a mounting statue of stone and shadow. In her euphoria, she longed to reach up and stroke his skin, to feel, again, that he truly was made of flesh and blood.
"Beautiful." She whispered and his eyes swept to her face, soaking her in.
Neither of them knew if she was referring to the flight or to him.
He could only hold the intensity of her gaze for a few moments before it fleeted away, back to the stars, back to the safety of the night.
In a harsh dive, his wings closed around them, engulfing them in a tight cocoon that offered momentary warmth as they spiraled. Spinning together she watched, watched him in his element, in his gift, felt the rush of their descent and met it with a bubbling laughter that filled their shared space.
"I'm flying!" she cried out, and he flung his wings open.
They caught the wind and again they lifted, carried by the current towards the city. What was only lights to her before, slowly became cityscape, buildings and streets she could almost fully make out.
People walked those streets, some hand in hand on the snowy night. Shops and restaurants lined the brick pathways, open windows bellowing heat that melted the snow on the ground nearest.
She could hear chatter from up there, voices that didn't sound afraid or sad, people who had a life to look forward to, who didn't have to worry about their next meal or if they'd survive the night.
She expected to feel jealousy, but up there, in the arms of an Illyrian male giving her the one thing she never thought she would have again, she was bursting with happiness.
The smile that was plastered to her face hurt the corners of her mouth, but still it grew wider as they circled and glided over them again.
The river reflected the many lights, tiny orbs that floated on the surface and greeted her with their beauty.
She couldn't explain it. She'd never had one before, not truly, but this place could feel like a home.
It struck her harshly and she gasped, allowing herself, just for the moment, to imagine.
Azriel was watching her, his hazel gaze eating up her arms spread wide, her head thrown back, auburn hair to the wind, her smile as she imagined.
She could find work when she was healed, whether in the camps where they wanted her to help liberate the females, or maybe even in Velaris. She could rent an apartment, decorate it with things she had never owned before.
A couch, she thought wildly, green with yellow pillows and a rug! She could afford food to eat and paper to write on. She could walk the streets with these people, make friends, real ones who wouldn't use her, ones who wouldn't hurt her.
"I'll help." She blurted it out before she could stop herself, and was surprised to hear her own voice sounding so elated. Had it ever carried that tone before?
"I'll help." She said again, more to herself this time, an assurance and a promise.
Azriel's fingers found her chin and he slowly, so slowly, shifted her face to meet his gaze. He was smiling too, a rare kind of smile that matched her pure joy.
"Are you sure?"
She paused, long enough to really think about what she was offering, to think about all they had given her, more than just a bed and time to heal, but friendship and a kindness she had never experienced. All she had ever known was survival and pain and rejection. Until them.
She nodded. "I'm sure."
His thumb darted out and traced her jaw, harsh, scarred skin against smooth. She leaned into the caress, marveling in the feeling, lost in whatever was stirring in her belly.
"Let's forget the others for now." His breath washed over her in their proximity, warm and minty. "I want to show you how I spend my time in the City of Dreams."
She had honestly forgotten about the others. They had left her mind the moment they had taken flight. She tried to glance over her shoulder, back towards the mountain where they had been waiting at its base, but Azriel was already making a swift descent towards the city and she had to hold on tight as to not slip.
"Are you sure they won't mind?" she asked as he lowered her to stand. She made a point not to cringe at the sharp pang in her back. She didn't want this night to end so soon.
He shrugged. "I'm sure they got the message. They're very good at entertaining themselves."
"You'd have to be after so long of being alive." She teased.
They had landed by the river, and all the beautiful colors that reflected back to them cast rainbows on his cheekbones, ignoring the shadows that lingered. It almost made him mix with the city, as if he had been built here at the same time as all the colorful shops and houses.
She wound her hands together and tried to sound casual. "Exactly how long would that be for you?"
He looked at her through lowered lashes, copying her attempt at normalcy, though playful suspicion now mingled with his expression. "Five hundred and thirty-eight."
She coughed to cover up the shock that tightened her throat and bugged her eyes out.
"Fi-five hundred?" she sputtered, and he chuckled.
"Yes." He gestured for her to follow as he walked. "And how many years have you been entertaining yourself, Naya?"
She didn't want to tell him. He would think her no more than a child.
"A few…" she boldly looped her arm through his, and when he looked down at her with a knowing, teasing smile she bumped his hip with hers.
"Hey, I'm old enough." She laughed.
His look turned serious, questioning, and his footsteps faltered momentarily. "Old enough for what exactly?"
This wasn't where she wanted their time together to go, so she panned her stare straight ahead at the welcoming view that her body and mind longed to become a part of, and didn't let her smile fall.
"Old enough to have fun tonight with whatever it is you want to show me." She tugged his arm encouragingly.
He paused for a moment more before he relinquished and took the lead, stirring her towards whatever he had planned.
"I've never experienced anything outside of the camps before, so, you know, no pressure or anything."
He chuckled. "Are you hungry?"
"Starved."
OOO
They were ordinary people in this extraordinary city. Nobody paid them mind when they made their way through the streets filled with Fae and Faeries alike, didn't care when Azriel's massive wings barely fit through the doorway of a restaurant he apparently loved.
Their laughter mixed with the laughter of other ordinary people enjoying an ordinary, to them, night out. She felt small and yet as if she were larger than life all at the same time, like the joy overfilling her expanded her physically until she could reach the moon.
"This is called chocolate." Azriel pushed a plate with a decent sized slice of chocolate cake on it towards her, and she burst out laughing.
"And this is a fork." She held up the silverware and gawked at it mockingly. "Really? I've had chocolate."
His blush brightened his already brightened-from-the-fire cheeks and he smiled in embarrassment. "At the camps?"
"No. Elain made me pancakes." She pulled the plate towards her when he started to slide it back. "Which you could have enjoyed too if you weren't always gone."
She took a large bite and moaned appreciatively.
"Don't tell Elain, but this," she jabbed at the cake. "might be better than her pancakes."
"Well that's completely unfair."
Azriel and she both jumped in unison at the reappearance of their forgotten party. Elain stood in front, her arms scornfully folded across her chest as she stared pointedly at the half-eaten cake. Snowflakes rested in her light lashes.
Naya would have been worried if her eyes weren't alight with mischief.
"I mean," Naya scooped up another heafty bite and dangled it in front of them. "You've got to try it."
"We have." Mor took the offered fork and cleaned it. "It's kind of a weekly thing, actually."
She turned back towards Rhysand. "Get more chairs, would you?"
He rolled his eyes heavenwards, but snapped his fingers anyways, and several more chairs popped into existence and settled around the table. Multiple pairs of wooden legs scrapped against the floor as everyone clambered in and the ease settled back in place.
As they all laughed and talked, Naya was again reminded by the sheer sense of family they all shared. Mor easily reached over and griped Azriel's shadow-heavy arm when she brought up an old joke Naya didn't fully understand. Something about missing pants and a bit too much to drink on the males' parts. Feyre leaned comfortably into Rhysand's arms, snuggled against his chest and looking happily at all her friends as they jested and howled.
Elain was quieter than the lot, but she spoke up often and even had her own stories to reminisce on from her short time with them.
By the time the moon reached its apex, Naya was smiling widely, just happy to be a part of it all.
"We're going dancing now!" Mor announced loudly, pulling Elain to her feet and throwing an arm over her shoulder. "Let's get roaring drunk in honor of my father!"
A round of approval rang through them, but Azriel slid from his seat, and gestured for Naya to do the same.
"Another time." He said, coming to her side and helping her to her feet. "I promised to show Naya the city."
She quickly looked to the others, afraid of causing offense. Mor seemed shocked into silence. Her arm slid from Elain's shoulder as she straightened. Her brow lifted in question.
Naya didn't miss that Elain collected Mor's hand in her own, replacing the lost touch, and she wondered if what Lucien had said carried more weight than what she'd thought. Naya didn't want to send the wrong message. She wanted friendship more than anything, and she didn't want to do something that would jeopardize it.
She was slackening her grip on Azriel's hand when Rhysand spoke.
"Go." He gestured them towards the door, smiling encouragingly. "We'll get drunk enough for the both of you."
Azriel didn't wait for her to agree. He led her from the crowd with a nod to his friends. Once outside, he lifted her again into his arms.
"We'll have to fly where I'd like to take you."
Naya looked back to the restaurant, back to the people they left behind. "I don't want to take you from your friends."
He shook his head once instead of answering her and launched into the sky, taking them on their second flight of the night. She lost all thought as the elation claimed her again.
This flight was shorter, less than a minute, just long enough for him to fly them to the rooftop of an old apartment complex at the center of the city, high enough they were invisible to those below even as they sat, two bats on a perch, to watch the lives of the people play out before them.
"I like to come here to think." He gently placed her to rest on the shingles, and lowered himself beside her. His thigh brushed against hers, and warmth spread where he touched.
"It's amazing."
They were on top of the world, hidden in the shadows, two secrets kept tightly locked away in the dark. She watched a mother and her daughter crunch through the snow, heading for the bridge that crossed the river. The daughter was dressed in all blue, from her hat to her boots. Even her gloves were a bright periwinkle that complimented the ball of fluff on top of her toboggan.
Her mother stopped at the center of the bridge, and pointed out to the waters. The little girl rushed to the edge and peered out, jumping in excitement. Naya wondered what they were seeing.
"It's calming." Naya thought aloud. "Like nothing can touch us up here."
"I feel," Azriel began, leaning back on a hand and staring straight ahead. His profile was sharp, his jawline squared. "More connected up here than I do down there. I grew up in blackness, alone."
Naya found his face, held her breath against the openness there.
"For many years, I only had the company of my cruel brothers…and that blackness. Until the shadows came. I never truly learned how to be a part of more than that, outside of the family I have now, and even then, sometimes I detach.
"Being up here, watching them, seeing their lives and how they interact, how they experience fun and closeness and each other in ways I never had allows me to feel like I'm experiencing it too. In a way."
She remained silent, watching.
"It's as if I get to live a thousand lives."
She wanted to offer him something in exchange for his confession, a piece he could take away with him. She shifted to turn towards him, words ready to fall from her lips in gratitude of what he'd given her tonight, and then doubled over in pain.
"Agh!" she cried out, winding her arms around her middle and dragging a sharp breath through her clenched teeth.
"What's wrong?" he demanded loudly, the sudden increase in volume causing her to jump.
Spit dribbled over her chin as she cried out again. "I don't know. My stomach. It hurts."
His hand shot to her thigh and then away again immediately. She glanced sideways through her pain in time to see the blood that coated his palm and fingers, visible in the starlight.
Horror and bewilderment drained the color from his face, and it made her entire body heat in embarrassment as he found her gaze, eyes wide in shock, a dying deer at the end of an arrow. What she wouldn't give to be that deer.
She had started her flow for the first time. Right in front of him. Right on him.