Chapter Nine
More bedrest. And an immeasurable amount of embarrassment. That's what her night out had amounted to.
She kept picturing her blood on Azriel's hands, her cycle's blood, and would bury her head so far in her pillow she hoped for suffocation.
"It's really not that big of a deal." Elain had tried to soften over the matter more than once, but Naya's glares had become threatening and eventually she dropped it.
"What I don't understand," Elain began more cautiously, placing a heated towel over Naya's lower belly. The warmth helped enough that she released a grateful sigh. "Is how this is your first flow."
Naya peaked out from under the arm thrown over her eyes, and watched as Elain curled onto the bed beside her. The expanse of her petite body lined her own and Elain began rubbing a circular motion over the towel. It felt heavenly.
"Starvation, mostly." Naya admitted. "And I paid a healer for a tonic to slow my body's hormones."
She shrugged at Elain's aghast look.
"We get clipped once we bleed. I would have done anything to keep flying."
The sadness that made Elain tuck her head onto Naya's shoulder burned her eyes, so she quickly changed the subject.
"I'm sorry I ruined your night. Was the dancing fun?"
Elain giggled. "I'll say that even after all my time here, I'm still not used to it. It's less formal."
"How so?"
"Well," she wiggled her golden brows and a devious smile lit her usually innocent mouth. "There's a lot more grinding."
"That's nothing." Naya laughed. "Back in the camps, when I was younger, I snuck out to spy on the mated females and males on a night of celebration. They were dancing too." Naya looked to Elain to catch her full reaction. "Naked."
Elain threw her hands over her blushing face and dissolved in a fit of giggles, wriggling much like a worm caught out in the rain.
"Naked?!" Elain gasped and wheezed louder.
Naya nodded pointedly and couldn't help but join in when Elain covered her eyes again as if to shut out the shocking news. That was exactly how Mor found them, two little girls red with laughter and tucked into each other.
"Oh, you've got to share this one." Mor coxed as she dove to the other side of the bed and used Naya's arm as a headrest.
Elain and Naya exchanged a knowing look and fell back into pitiful laughter, ignoring Mor when she lifted a pillow, knocking Naya's head to the mattress, and swatted both of them several times.
"Aright! Alright!" Elain attempted to fight off the assault as she hurriedly told the story. When she finished, Mor rolled her eyes so far back Naya thought they would get lost in her head.
"You two are children." Mor scolded halfheartedly. "If you want to know about naked incidents, I've got plenty of stories to share."
Elain leapt up and silenced her quickly with a hand over her mouth.
Another round of laughter enchanted the room. Naya was on a cloud. Even after settling into more pain atop the already nearly-too-much-to-bear pain in her back. Even with her embarrassment. The readily available friendship these females gave her without question set her heart on fire in the best way possible.
She was so lost in the feeling she didn't immediately notice when the mood changed. Not completely, only slightly more somber as Mor pushed Elain gently from her and stood.
"I've actually got to go." Mor said, straightening her black turtleneck so it again covered her navel. "Keir is arriving soon."
"What are you going to do?" Elain shot to attention. "I thought they were free to roam the city."
"Oh, they are." Mor growled. "But I will be beside him every step of the way to make sure nobody sells him a single thing. See how long he wants to stay when every door hits his ass on the way out."
Elain played with her fingers worriedly. "Are you sure that's a good idea?"
"He bargained to come here for one reason alone. To hurt me. The least I can do is make sure it's not as enjoyable as he thought it would be."
Elain started to stand, but Mor shook her head. "I know what you're going to suggest, but no, I don't want you coming along. I don't want him knowing you or any of my friends. You'll just be ammunition to him."
She tried to hide her hurt by readjusting the towel on Naya's belly. "I understand."
Before Mor could leave, Elain leapt up and threw her arms around her waist tightly. With a comforting squeeze, she said, "Give him hell."
Mor tucked Elain's chin with her fingers and smiled. "You know I will."
OOO
Over the next several days, Mor was rarely seen, and in the moments she found herself in the House of Wind she looked exhausted. Naya supposed taunting your bastard father would do that to anyone.
Elain kept busy with baking. The first day, the kitchen counters had been lined with pastries topped with every berry she could think of, custards that smelled strongly of lemon, breads with nuts and raisins. When she ran out of room in the kitchen, she started to fill the dining room table, which was no easy feat as it comfortably sat twelve.
In the beginning, Lucien accepted sweet after sweet that Elain shoved into his willing hands, eating the desserts happily and hungrily. After the third day of relentless stuffing though, Naya would catch sight of him hightailing it around the corner if he heard Elain's footsteps anywhere near, clearly scared of the next treat she would offer him.
Though he didn't say anything, Naya knew he was relieved when it was time for him to leave, back to Vassa and Jurien, his traveling partners and away from the relentless chef.
Elain didn't seem to want to waste energy in giving a proper goodbye, so after passing him a plate full of her creations and wishing him safe travels she made her way back to the kitchens without another look.
Naya, feeling much better and finally able to walk again, raised her brows to Lucien when he eyed the plate of food with a look of unabashed horror. Clearly considering abandoning it on the side table, his eyes darted back and forth between the furniture and the food. Finally, he settled to launch it over the balcony, plate and all to fly out of sight. He dusted off his hands in triumph.
"I'll be seeing you then." He winked and wrapped himself tightly in his coat to turn and make the journey down the side of the mountain.
If Naya hadn't been seeing Lucien off, she wouldn't have seen him flying in. Azriel hadn't been around in days, either from his own embarrassment or some secret mission he was fulfilling.
Naya didn't care. She was just as ready to avoid him as Lucien had been to avoid Elain. She pretended she didn't see him catch sight of her as he closed in, and spun on her heel quickly to dart towards the stairs.
"Naya!" he called, but she ignored that too and hurriedly started climbing.
He was quicker than her. Of course he was, warrior and spymaster that he was. His hand closed around her wrist and turned her to face him.
She refused to meet his eyes.
"I wanted to talk to you."
She studied his boots. They were leather and black, bits of wet mud clinging to the sides, leading footprints to where he stood. It must have rained wherever he'd been.
"What about?" she tried to sound nonchalant, but her body was shaking and it made her voice vibrate.
"Listen," his hand lifted from his side and she wondered if he was running it through his hair. He sounded stressed, embarrassed too. "What happened is." He struggled. "Only natural."
Oh, Cauldron, no, Naya thought in horror. Please. Please. No. Her face could warn ships of sharp, pointed rocks, it was so bright.
"I wanted to make sure you were alright."
The pant legs of his Illyrian leathers were also muddy, all the way to his knees.
"I'm fine." She blurted, ready for the conversation to end, half turning so he would understand her longing to leave.
His fingers flexed over her wrist. "Good." He said. "That's good."
"I'm sorry I…" she couldn't get it out, couldn't bring up the reminder of that night. "That I…your hands." She wanted nothing more than to be back in her bed wishing for suffocation again.
She peaked up to find him blushing too, maybe even more than she was. He shook his head, looking anywhere but at her, but there was something more to his expression. A set determination, a haunted look behind his eyes that didn't make sense.
"It's alright." He was looking straight at the ceiling.
She scoured her mind for anything to change the subject. "Where have you been?"
The room felt a thousand times lighter when he released a breath and met her gaze at last.
"Yesterday, I was with Cassian, but before that, I was helping Mor."
Lucien's words from that night on the rooftop rang loudly behind her ears.
"You were in Velaris?" she questioned. "You didn't come home at night."
"No." he shook his head. "I stayed at an Inn."
The way he said it made it clear he wanted to skip over that bit of information, probably so he wouldn't have to admit he had been too embarrassed to see her.
She tried not to let it sting.
"How is Cassian?"
"Angry." He replied truthfully. "The camps are restless with so many dead. He believes they thought they would be granted a pardon from having females train. They aren't happy to find that's not the case."
"You'd think it'd make sense to them to replenish the lost warriors this way instead of waiting years for new, male blood." She scoffed. "But I suppose females aren't good enough to lead their wars."
Azriel came to rapt attention and she could tell this was where he had really wanted the conversation to end up.
"They are good enough." He started. "With proper training if they actually get it."
"What are you saying?"
"Rhysand has granted us permission to establish a female led camp." He held up a finger when she opened her mouth in shock. Her idea. The High Lord of the Night Court had accepted her idea.
"One of them." He continued. "A trial run to gauge the interest and then the reaction of the other camps. Illyrians are proud and this could lead quicker to more war than to acceptance of our ideals, but Rhysand doesn't believe we have much of a choice anymore. Our paths have been blocked at every turn by the camp lords."
"A female lead camp can prove their worth as warriors." Naya said excitedly. "They won't like it. I know they won't. You know they won't. We grew up in that hate, but imagine it." She gripped his arm back, strong and eager. "We could show we can fight."
She pictured herself, granted Illyrian fighting leathers, clad in the tight-fitted material, a siphon on her chest, a sword at her side…wings on her back. She faltered.
"They could show the camp lords, I mean."
"Naya…" Azriel whispered, but she turned her face away, not wanting to hear any pretty lies. She knew what it meant when she lost her wings, knew she'd never be a warrior, would never get that chance to train and fight as an Illyrian. It was never hers anyways.
"It's okay." She promised, putting an end to it. "When do you leave?"
He waited patiently for her to look up at him. "We," he said pointedly, "Leave in the morning."
She balked. "We?"
"I believe I remember you offering your help."
"But so soon?"
He nodded, and his tone became serious. "The unrest will only grow."
She swallowed the panic, let it become a heavy rock in her stomach that she could deal with later. Whatever influence he felt she could have on them she didn't quite see. What could she do apart from tell her story?
She didn't know how to establish a camp or how to rile people around a cause they had spent their lives actively avoiding. She could offer them no promise of safety. To them, it would be the greatest risk they would ever take, and she couldn't even assure them that it would be worth it.
Azriel must have seen the alarm bells sounding behind her eyes because he hushed her comfortingly, "Shhh. All you have to start with is share your experiences. We'll only plant the seed this time and Cassian and I will be right by your side."
Plant the seed, she repeated in her head, just start there.