A few days passed by with a companionable uneventfulness. It seemed Tiernan's gaping maw had circulated into the local gossip, yet her establishment had only benefited from loose lips. It wasn't as though her profit doubled, but an irrelevant interest in her origin exposed a handful of customers to the peace she both sought out and provided. She couldn't entirely swallow her disappointment that her books remained mostly undisturbed, though she did take comfort from the expressions of ease that seemed to adorn the patrons of Haven.
Just as things began to externally settle, Nesta could feel a building perturbation in her gut, fueled by a sadness she couldn't quite name, so she kept quiet, determined to force her uneasy stomach to follow suit.
Nesta almost wondered if it was the impending threat of Azriel's return to Velaris. Yet though she could sense her soft disappointment at the prospect, she could feel it wasn't the source.
It built beyond discomfort one day as soon as she woke up. Azriel had offered his services to man the counter and Nesta reluctantly obliged, feeling guilty for allowing his assistance. Velara stayed in the kitchen because of the slight disorientation she felt, refusing against Nesta's request to go home for such 'minor discomfort'.
It was early evening, just before sunset when Nesta could no longer ignore the tension in her veins. She barely gave Azriel a distracted glance underneath her lashes as she kept her hands occupied wiping the table closest to the counter. "What day is it?" She owned no calendar and though time always seemed to be slipping through her fingers, somehow, she knew, could feel it in her blood, like some mournful song.
"The 27th." He replied simply, unaware of her apathetic and subsequently tenuous grasp of time.
"I thought as much." She spoke gently, turning her face away too slowly to hide the ache in her eyes.
Azriel kept his focus on her rigid back, transfixed by the volume with which he could discern her unspoken pain. "What's the significance?"
"Nothing," she replied quickly, before taking a moment to fill her lungs. "Anymore; so, it would seem."
His attention didn't stutter from her withdrawn disposition, despite her forced nonchalance. There was an urge, almost an itch at the back of his throat to question her farther, but he couldn't justify any right of his to push.
He would've been all too accommodating if the tension in the air around her had lessened there, but it did not. It was unnerving to see the blankness of Nesta's expression, as if it was taking all her Cauldron-born ability to feel nothing.
At the end of the evening, after closing, she collected the few dishes left behind. Azriel followed her, disposing of any napkins that littered tables. He had no doubt that he looked ridiculous, looking for any reason to linger, to understand her dismal change of mood. It wasn't until after she headed to the kitchen to send Velara home, that he knew he needed to confront her.
It was transparent, the restless anxiety growing around the petite Illyrian female as she exited the kitchen; her thoughts seemed to settle on the surface of her green eyes, entirely perplexed as unspoken questions yearned for closure. When her employer entered the dining room, Azriel understood why.
It was dripping off her in waves of fierce distress, an undisciplined darkness. He could almost feel it reverberating in his veins. Quickly seeing to Velara, he offered himself as an escort for her walk home. Thoroughly focused on returning to Nesta, he offered no commentary along the way; his presence seeing to Velara's safety while the entirety of his thoughts clung to Nesta's emotional health.
Velara offered her thanks, noticing the empty expression in his eyes as she bid him goodnight. With a sigh, her voice edged with concern. "You'll talk to Nesta?" He looked at her, recognition blinking through his eyes at the sound of the female's name.
He offered her a polite nod and she noted the impatient mannerisms lining his entire body. A second later he excused himself without a single word spoken and Velara felt relief to know that Nesta's well-being was being looked after with such dedication.
He was slow to enter, sensing her visceral emotion before passing through the door as if she was finally free to unmask herself in the solitude. He was silent as usual, his inherent stealth sharpened by his quiet concern.
As the door shut behind him, he could feel her presence glued to the same spot she'd been standing when he had left with Velara. He tasted the tickle of darkness as wispy, charcoal tendrils ensnared her seemingly petrified person. It awakened his own shadows as they began to hum the echo of her own murky melody.
"Nesta?" He tried softly.
She awkwardly blinked and only the perfect angle of a naked moonbeam pouring through the open window was able to illuminate the thin, stunned tears that sprinted down her face. "Azriel? I thought you left." Her voice remained soft, though he could hear her attempt to skewer the words with the poised edge she often articulated.
"No." He shook his head as he approached slow enough to respect her space without arousing her often at-the-ready deflective defense. "I thought to see Velara home."
"Thank you." Her voice was gentle and genuine as she thought after her friend.
"And now I'm here for you."
She forced out a huff of laughter, all levity lost by the telling timbre of her breath. "I don't think that's necessary, Azriel. I'm already home."
The last word sounded strange to his ears, causing him to decide on the gamble that she trusted him, as he let all pretense fall away. "What is today, Nesta?"
She shied away from the intimate comprehension that coated his voice in the articulation of her name; it filled her with guilt at the thought to reply with dishonesty. "The 27th." She answered blandly.
He came much closer to her now as his deep voice crashed upon her in the darkness. "I've made it clear how I feel about deceptive innocence, Nesta." The skin at the back of her neck prickled in response to the firm line that threaded through his cadence. "I won't force an answer from you, it's not my place, but don't insult my intelligence with pointless or redundant replies. I'd like to think we respect each other more than that."
Nesta nodded as she looked at his dark silhouette in deep contemplation for a minute. Though a tightness in her chest yearned to look into his mysterious eyes, she was thankful for the shadow engulfing him, as if it protected her. Somehow it was easier this way when she couldn't see him, though his kind and patient presence was unmistakable.
It made her thoughts swim in spirituality. She felt a sinner seeking solace in midnight confession, as the wind whistled a haunting hymn of remorse. She sighed, wishing for a wall, any cover to cloak her in anonymity. "It i-" She cut herself off abruptly. "It was my father's birthday." Silence filled the space between them and she rightly assumed he'd expected more, which she was able to give as long as he hovered in the shadows, allowing her to pretend she spoke these words as if in an unobserved soliloquy. "It seems so odd and pointless for it to strike me now since he's gone, but it does." She turned her back to the alluring mass of shadows, allowing her eyes to seek out the dripping moonlight through the window before her. "It's not as if I ever made a fuss over the day." She laughed sourly. "On the contrary, I refused to acknowledge it." Azriel's eyes never left her, though there was only so much sorrow he could glean from the slight slouch of her usually straight spine, so he listened with fervent attention for the smallest adjustments in her volume and tone. "He deserved no gift, nor could we afford any, so I never gave him one, but…" She was quiet as if caught in a moment's memory.
"Yes?" He prodded gently and Nesta fought off the warmth in her gut at the reminder of his proximity by the feel of his soft breath, little more than a foot away.
"I was too angry and much too proud to dote as a daughter might, but," She shook her head, feeling shamed by the weight of her inadequate affection. "I would speak to him." She sighed. "It was never anything of importance and though they weren't words of kindness, I wasn't cruel. Small talk typically. I would remark on the price Feyre fetched from her new pelt or the way Elain's garden was finally coming together and he would just watch me in confusion. There was always this moment where I could see understanding fill his expression. He realized what I was doing, but he never pointed it out." A breeze shifted in the mild night, blowing her hair back and chilling her cheeks in a way that forced her to realize that silent, unbidden tears had fled from her eyes. "I sometimes wonder if it's because he understood that it was all I was capable of offering."
"I'm sure he appreciated it." The seductive shadow offered obligingly.
"The worst part is how I would sometimes look forward to his day because it was the only time my self-righteous fury could justify any forgiveness, temporary as it may have been. It was the only time I would speak to my father."
Deciphering the pain in her voice, Azriel recognized the wall her pride had constructed around her. "It is the only time you could." The voice amended.
She turned to face him and though he had moved closer, she still couldn't see his eyes, even though she could feel them. "No, it wasn't." She urged with no hostility in her voice. "No more than a handful of conversations passed between us in the span of a decade and still, I find myself entrenched in a quagmire of mourning for a man I never knew and never will know, because I was dignified and right while he was weak and wrong." Her inflection seemed to mock the simplicity of her own reasoning. "Even though I still believe it to be true, that comfort has gone cold." It was another reminder that she was more equipped to be alone, unable to stop herself from shutting down once she'd been hurt.
"So, you've spent the day carrying the silence." There was no question presented in his inflection; he already understood.
"It seems my mind is forgetful, because more than once I caught myself," Her voice broke, but was thankfully met with silence to help her find the courage to continue. "Planning what I would say to him today." It was what had made her certain of the date. "I thought about how shocked he would be to see me cleaning off tables and helping in the kitchen. It made me wonder," She scoffed and Azriel could hear her using the false sound to hide the authentic sob in her voice. "If he would be proud of me." Nesta could actually feel the tears now and without the gentle reprieve of the night's quiet wind, they scorched their way down her face.
Azriel stepped forward and the moment she identified warm sympathy in his eyes, her gut recoiled. "Don't…" There was no noble regality in her tone, just broken pride to cushion her desperation as she pleaded. "I can't…" She tried again, frustration flustering her words in clumsy articulation. "It's easier if I can't see you." She hated the sound of strength abandoning her voice.
He nodded. "Then I will become your shadow."
As if some trick of the light, what little she could see of his face and form fell out of her vision and were replaced with a benevolent darkness. It moved closer and though Nesta knew the sight should frighten her, all she could feel was his warm and compassionate presence. It took no more than a brief, strained breath before the shadow wrapped her in its tenderly hushed embrace. In the silence, she was unable to feign ignorance for who held her when she could feel his heartbeat nudging to her own and was even more incapable of numbing the deep comfort it brought her. Silence wrapped around them and Nesta could feel herself begin to shy from the emotional intimacy. "Is this the infamous power that gained you your title?"
The shadow rumbled against her chest in a way that reminded her of a laugh. "Surprisingly on the nose, wouldn't you say?"
"No." She spoke as if it was the only obvious answer. Even though he said nothing, she could sense his surprise as he pulled away, his features still opaque. "I appreciate the discretion, but can you let it fall away?"
She could practically taste the hesitance teeming from him, but slowly, he acquiesced to her request. Nesta watched with penetrating focus as Azriel unmasked himself before her. Now that her tears had dried, she was able to see his eyes looking back at her as they stood within arm's reach of one another.
"It's not as gentle as I've heard it described." Relief filled her as his amber eyes locked onto her cobalt own; no longer were they speaking of her pain, though she wasn't entirely sure that she wasn't hoping to examine his. Something flickered behind his eyes and she was suddenly reminded that they were still nearly touching. "The shadows don't sing." She watched him with astute eyes. "They seem to cling to you, clawing at your silhouette as if they can tear their way inside."
"There already are shadows inside." He responded simply.
"I know." Her voice was solemn as she reached for his hand. On reflex he tensed, causing her to meet his stare. "May I?"
There was something about the humble consideration in her voice as she looked at his scars in an almost muted reverence that left him entirely spellbound. He nodded silently, not sure if he had the adequate air in his lungs to speak.
Gingerly, she continued her reach, her hands unrushed as they discovered the scars she had remarked on that very first evening in the Illyrian Mountains. How much time had passed, he wondered, unable to calculate the linear passage when staring into her never-ending cobalt eyes.
Her touch was so warm and inviting that Azriel began to question if she was using her Cauldon-made abilities to coax something out of him. "Such suffering." She spoke in a huff of a whisper that refrained from pity, wrapping him in its sincere sympathy. "How are you not angry? How are you not cruel?" There was deep admiration in her voice as she kept her eyes and hands on his own.
"How would it help if I was?" There was no judgment in his tone as he recalled the full account of his life in half a millennium of existence. "I would've denied myself the very thing I had spent my entire childhood craving."
"Affection." She answered knowingly, still not meeting his eyes as she delicately traced his scars.
"I was going to say connection." He spoke sheepishly, trying to calm every nerve of his body, electrically charged by the dedication of her soft caresses, feeling as though she could see through him, murky shadows and all.
"Which do you prefer?"
"Are you claiming them to be mutually exclusive?"
Finally, she met his eyes. "Quite often they can be. I have known connections that were no more than desperate attempts for status and even more intimate connections, such as family, entirely devoid of affection."
"Family or blood?" He asked.
"Do you claim them to be mutually exclusive?" She threw back with a forced playfulness.
"There is a vast difference between the two." He asserted with a sigh. "At least in my experience."
Not a shred of sharpness was left in her melting eyes as she appraised him with genuine interest. "I'm assuming it was the latter who did this to you." Her tentative voice surprised him.
It wasn't merely the unmistakable compassion of her voice that stunned him, but also her continued interest to know his story, something he never spoke about.
Taking in a breath, he could remember it all with harsh clarity and he could feel shadows dance around him in response. Nesta seemed undisturbed as the darkness returned, her hands holding him down, grounding him as her eyes sought the core of him.
"They burned me." The words trickled off his tongue like they'd been waiting there all too patiently for 500 years. Nesta turned to face the broken pride in his strong Illyrian features. "My blood." Her expression was gentle as she could feel his scarred hands clench inside hers; his gaze was cast off, focused on anything but the proof of his claim. "I was bastard born with incomprehensible abilities and they feared me."
"They tortured you." Her inflection purposefully amended his statement. "Whatever motives you believe persuaded their behavior is irrelevant." Bringing her soft azure eyes to meet him, Nesta clutched his hands with a comforting pressure, a breathy exhale tumbled from her throat and it caused Azriel to still, as if drowning in her focus.
Tensely aware of how long she had been holding his hands and even more reluctant to let go, she forced herself to quickly drop them. She cleared her throat. "Yet you were strong enough to learn to trust. Not many are capable of such a feat."
"Influenced by your own experiences?" He asked, trying not to take notice of how swiftly the warmth had fled his hands at the loss of her touch.
She smirked humorlessly to herself. "Contrary to popular belief, I am aware of my apparent 'shortcomings', even if I deem them as strengths."
"Not entirely self-aware." He flexed his suddenly cold hands with a strained exhale.
"Perhaps," She began, the whisper vanishing from her voice as she took a step back, unable to breathe in the vulnerable atmosphere filling the short distance between them. "I'd prefer to be self-reliant."
"No one could accuse otherwise." His voice remained soft, laced with genuine pride and praise.
She stood taller. "Yet it won't be truth until I repay your High Lord and Lady's investment."
And simple as that, Azriel felt Nesta sever the intimacy of the moment, her eyes becoming guarded once again.
"Something you'll soon accomplish I have no doubt."
She nodded, giving him a tight smile. "Though not by my efforts alone." She regarded him gratefully. "Thank you for all the help you've given me."
He nodded. "Undoubtedly the best investment I've made in centuries."
"A debt I cannot repay." There was a solemn line in her tone, as if weighed down by the thought of her past debts.
"An enriching project I could never consider a debt." He could see it burning in her eyes, the need to make her way, the desire to live her own life, unimpeded by the biases and selfish will of others. "You have nothing to repay."
Nesta believed him, simultaneously moving and frightening her. So many times she had wanted to trust, so many times she had been made a fool. Was there any value in trying again?
She nodded and Azriel smiled at her; it was a quiet and fragile thing that made her realize she wasn't the only one who'd been hurt by those she trusted and if Azriel could still cling to hope in those pained amber eyes staring back at her, then so could she.
Shaking her head with an affectionate humor, Nesta spoke so gently Azriel could barely catch her words. "You're a truly surprising specimen."
"How so?" There was no offense in his voice as his head quirked, thoroughly puzzled as a playful smirk tugged at his mouth.
"I find myself inspired by you." She spoke with the simplest shrug as if her remark was completely commonplace.
He watched her softly for a moment and she could feel her insides clench under the attention. "Is that meant to speak more to my character or a lack of ambition on your part?"
Nesta found herself easily grinning at his jest. "I find your query entirely unnecessary. It must be obvious." She stepped closer with a wistful sigh as her hand rested against his shoulder, feeling warmth emanate through his cerulean siphon. Looking up through her lashes, Nesta sought out his eyes like burnt amber. "No one would accuse me of lacking ambition."
He turned his head, magnetized by the realization of just how close her face was to him. "No, nor I dare say they ever could."
Nesta nodded, her eyes crinkling with a quiet smile. "Thank you." His brow lifted and she continued. "For listening. I don't…" She gestured to herself and then him. "Usually know how to do that; though I'm not sure I've ever tried."
"A shame." He spoke with an almost sly crooked grin that made her stomach turn itself inside out. "You're a natural."
Azriel couldn't deny the growing trepidation as it expanded beyond his tense gut, now flowing through his veins and pounding to his pulse. He would be returning to Velaris tomorrow and only stark displeasure centered around the certainty, forcing him to swallow his reluctance. A month would've been much better than two weeks, he couldn't help but think sourly.
It was most unfortunate that he was expected to dedicate time both today and tomorrow to deal with the uncompromising and nauseating Devlon. He would've preferred to spend the full remainder of his time at Haven.
Thinking of his inevitable departure encouraged his unease to double. He sat with his legs hanging over the bed in the all-too-familiar room he had come to frequent at the Inn. He rubbed his hands across his face, wishing he could easily wipe away the tension that was affecting his sleep, though he suspected it wasn't the entire reason.
The texture of his palms pushed him to open his eyes and look at his hands. Tension wasn't the only thing that interrupted his sleep, he was forced to acknowledge as he remembered the softest touch of compassion that had held and caressed his marred hands. Surely, he had come to know of Nesta's consideration and kindness, yet he could never have been prepared for the tender and warm feel of her hypnotizing strokes, sentiment in her voice and sympathy singing through her skin. His hands gripped at nothing but air and he tried to forget the tingle that had intoxicated his flesh at her touch.
His uncompromising thoughts were suddenly grateful that Windhaven required his presence for the greater half of a day.
Azriel was entirely shocked to find Cassian speaking with Devlon when he arrived. "Cas," he felt a taut stretch of his stomach as he wondered why his brother had come. "What are you doing here?"
Cassian grinned brightly as he approached him, patting his shoulder affectionately. "Well, Rhys and I have been poring over arguments," He nodded at Devlon, who reciprocated the gesture. "And we think a mutual understanding is well on its way."
A soldier captured Devlon's attention and the male gave a slight shrug that appeared to be his method of formal dismissal. "When did you get here?"
"An hour ago."
Azriel's head aimlessly swayed. "I wasn't expecting you."
"I figured I could come and try to finish this ordeal so when we leave tomorrow, there will be no need to continue these back-and-forth exchanges."
"Tomorrow?"
"Yeah," He shrugged. "I figured I'd stay in the barracks here tonight, you know, share some ale and a few war stories with the soldiers, hopefully remind them of the importance in the unity of Illyria and the Night Court."
"A noble goal."
"I'll settle for an attainable one."
Azriel flew to the village, his movements unrushed as he wondered about the necessity to notify Nesta of the General's return. He couldn't begin to predict her reaction; would she be upset; what if she was pleased? Something told him that Cassian would not want to leave for Velaris without visiting the eldest Archeron.
Haven held a half of a dozen patrons and he could sense a slight impatience pulsing through the air. The sound of the door opening alerted Nesta and she met his gaze. A bright smile lit her face up and he felt the air tear from his lungs, yet he couldn't stop himself from approaching. She gestured for him to pick a table and he obliged; looking around the shoppe, he couldn't help but be taken aback by the power of her determination. She had made her vision a reality and it was impossible to not be impressed by it.
After a few minutes, Nesta joined him at the table, carrying two cups of tea. She sat and though her eyes were on Azriel, he could see her sharpened periphery honed towards the slightest call for her attention. "A lively night."
"Perhaps not in occupancy, but certainly in energy." A breathless laugh fell from her lips and Azriel noticed the smallest accumulation of sweat beading her hairline. "Was Devlon more tolerable today?"
He gave a half-shrug. "His company was otherwise occupied."
"Well, that must've been nice." She offered.
He laughed, his eyes roaming across the faces of her customers. "The day passed quickly enough."
"And yet, you're late, Shadowsinger." She chided with a playful narrow of her eyes.
"I wasn't aware that you had established a curfew for me, Nesta."
She smirked bashfully, looking down. "I wouldn't be so presumptuous as to think you need a keeper, Azriel."
He laughed genuinely, shaking his head at how her voice speaking his name reminded him of the way his stomach floated in his chest like every plunging dead drop he'd ever experienced. "It seems our opinions differ in that regard."
Her brows questioned him before the words fell from her mouth. "Should I adopt the role of sitter?"
"I don't doubt you possess the disposition for such a role, but I'm not sure my pride could take such a fall."
"You would be so lucky to be left under my care!" She asserted with a proud tilt of her head.
"Undoubtedly." He smiled at her and the warmth in his eyes thawed her icy orbs.
There was a comfortable and light silence surrounding them, yet Azriel couldn't help but notice eyes on them. After a minute, he realized the eyes weren't watching them, but her.
"It seems you've officially acquired some positive interest from the locals." He remarked softly, nudging his head to acknowledge an Illyrian male who he saw looking at Nesta for the sixth time. It was no wonder what captured his attention. The natural porcelain of her skin was no longer pallid and hollow, but bright and energized; the innate poetry of her figure had filled in the space that had once been skin and bones. A bashful blush adorned her cheeks and the infectiousness of her smirk accentuated the perfect pout of her pale pink lips as golden tresses framed her poised and regal expression. She was inarguably stunning and he quickly realized he'd been staring.
She gave a once-over to the admiring patron, who met her scrutiny head-on. "A class of interest I am all too determined to refuse, especially from one of his kind."
He tensed at the remark. "What do you mean?"
She met his contorted gaze with a nearly timid expression. "There's an aggressive arrogance in his eyes that I could never learn to trust. It reminds me of someone I used to know."
Azriel immediately thought of Cassian and carefully prodded. "Another Illyrian?"
Her eyes widened as she grasped his implication. She shook her head. "No. he was from another life."
"Your human one?" His tone was full of gentle consideration.
She nodded. "He was my fiancé, until I called it off. I'm thankful I saw it before it was too late. Though…" She uncharacteristically trailed off.
"Yes?" He finally asked, unable to muzzle his own curiosity.
Nesta met his engaged gaze and gave him the smallest of shrugs. "I can't help but think that if I hadn't, I wouldn't be here now."
"True." Azriel nodded. "You would be dead."
The remark surprised Nesta and he could see it clash across her usually poised features. "You think me so incapable?" There was a challenge in her voice, slightly marred by the offense she felt.
"Quite the contrary," He spoke simply. "You were a pivotal part in the war. If you had married, never to be reborn, countless human lives would've been lost."
It was clear she was taken aback by the comment and for a moment Azriel began to wonder if he'd overstepped his bounds. He thought to amend his bluntness but was interrupted by her gentle gratitude. "Thank you."
Now it was his turn to be baffled by the brightness in her eyes as she continued. "I'm ashamed to admit I've taken a predilection to self-pity in the wake of such destruction, but I never thought to be grateful for all that we kept standing, so many lives spared from slavery and death." She appraised him with a kind look of consideration. "Thank you for reminding me."
A cushioned quiet settled between them and as Azriel's stomach began to tighten while looking at Nesta's newly born peaceful expression, some sour emotion tugged at the back of his chest. It made him wary of the moment, desperate to distract his unease. He pulled at a past thread of conversation, just barely regarding the seemingly bewitched Illyrian male. "Would you say all your judgments of individuals are just as," he searched for the right word. "Efficient?"
Nesta watched his expression for a minute, her brow lifted as she read the contours of his face. "You think me superficial, Shadowsinger?"
He gave her a timid smirk. "I don't possess the proper disposition to pass judgment."
She gave him a tight-mouthed pensive grin. "No, you don't. A great shame with a countenance as inscrutable as yours." His eyes just barely revealed his amusement. "Why do you mention it then?"
"I'm curious how many have failed those penetrating eyes of yours?"
"Do you wonder if you're among such a list?" She teased.
"Well, now it seems I'm inclined to believe so."
She shook her head, eyes alight with a rare humor. "I can't always be so efficient, sometimes I must delay my opinion."
"Can I be of any assistance in that regard?"
"Are you so keen to face interrogation?"
"Perhaps peace has made me restless." He joked.
"Yet you seem more grounded than any I know." She replied with gentle respect.
The compliment pleased him and he wondered if she could see as much. "That sounds like a judgment."
"Call it an observation." She looked at the clock on the wall and excused herself to the kitchen.
Azriel stared off blankly, entirely unaware that he kept his eyes on her departing figure.
She returned a few minutes later. "Sorry, Velara's pies were ready. I needed to pull them out."
Azriel looked around for the petite and friendly female. "I didn't see her."
She nodded. "She went home." A compassionate kindness filled her eyes and Azriel couldn't tear his own away. "Today was a bad day."
He nodded sympathetically. "So, you're on your own?"
She smirked proudly. "Don't look so worried. I'm beyond capable."
"Of that I have no doubt, Slayer of Hybern." He huffed with an airy laugh, casting his eyes downward. "I merely wondered if you would appreciate some assistance."
She slightly narrowed her gaze on him. "Would this offer have anything to do with influencing your score on the regard of our earlier discussion?"
One side of Azriel's mouth tugged into a youthful smirk. "Perhaps I can provide you collaboration in both matters?" He watched her for a moment. "You can't blame me for trying."
She laughed. "I'm hesitant to put the High Lord's Shadowsinger to clean-up duty."
"I have no other task to occupy my time. I might as well be productive."
She couldn't argue with that, remembering her similar attitude when she had first set foot in the Illyrian Mountains a month before. "I won't deny you, if you wish." He smiled at her concession and she nodded. "I'm thankful for the accommodating company."
"Speaking of accommodating company," He nudged his head in the direction behind her where the male began to approach. She looked before uttering a soft sigh while squaring her shoulders. "Allow me."
"Azriel, you really don't have to."
He couldn't refrain from smiling as she spoke his name. With a soft shrug, he stood. "It's my job. And I'm not to be denied if I wish."
She dipped her head to concede, also standing to depart for the kitchen again.
Once the shop had closed for the night, Azriel began picking up with Nesta. "He really wasn't happy to be waited on by me."
"Even with such impeccable service?" Nesta tsked and shook her head. "You really can't make everyone happy."
He followed her into the kitchen. "Well, I'm sure you could've."
"I'd hate to plaster on the charm to sell a pastry." She began to run the water and started washing the dishes.
Azriel effortlessly took the place beside her, rinsing and drying the dishes. He turned his head to the left and watched her with soft eyes. "You have no need to plaster."
Her cheeks warmed and she focused her attention on the dishes. "That's easy for you to say."
"How so?"
She looked up at him, trying not to notice the warmth he emanated or allow her eyes to linger on the robust vein in his neck as her improved eyes could isolate the subtle motion of his pulse. "Because your company I enjoy."
He nodded, unable to allow himself a second to acknowledge how pleased he was. "Likewise."
Nesta cleared her throat, desperate not to feel the heavy beat in her chest as she remembered the way he had embraced her in shadows and even more, how it simultaneously charged her blood and promised her peace. "So, you return tomorrow?" The words tore from her mouth and she felt immediately irritated to have grasped at the one topic she could feel herself hoping to avoid.
Something sprinted behind his features. "Yes, the High Lord feels my presence is necessary in these uncertain times."
"No doubt eager to be reunited with a dear friend." She offered.
"Perhaps." A nod. "I'll miss this place." He sighed.
"Are you preparing your permanent goodbyes?" She chided.
"Not permanent." He quickly answered, realizing how unpleasant merely the thought was. "It's not as if my reassignment bars me from winnowing on my down time."
"So, tomorrow is not goodbye?"
He shook his head. "Not for long."
She scoffed with a teasing humor. "And here I was thinking I might finally get the chance to miss your company."
Azriel watched her closely. "But you would?"
She smirked, not able to meet his gaze. "Much to my chagrin, I dare say I could."
As she passed him a plate, his fingers grazed her own and thoughts of her gentle touch bombarded him again. "I would." He admitted; feeling a sense of danger and needing to escape their close proximity, he grabbed the dried dishes and began putting them away.
Nesta shut off the water and turned around to face him, her back leaning against the counter. "I'd wager you're the only one in the Inner Circle who could say that with some truth."
"I'd never taint my words with partial honesty."
She regarded him with esteem. "You are braver than most."
He accepted the compliment with a brief nod, his eyes soaking in the sight of her in the silence. Before she could speak, he forced out the sentence he'd been stalling since returning to the village. "Cassian is at Windhaven."
"Oh?" She was clearly surprised by his words, but even more perplexed with the change of topic.
"He never even saw this place before heading home last time. I wouldn't be surprised if he wants to see it before leaving."
"It's hard to believe only a month has passed." She said, feeling unmoved with the news of the general.
Azriel nodded. "It all came together faster than I could have anticipated."
She smirked shyly at the compliment. "It certainly did."
Nesta was relieved when Cassian walked through the door. In truth, she had been dreading his presence all day, yet it seemed the sight of him rendered all her anxiety pointless. Even her once-scalding fury withered at his approach.
"Az is right," he began. "This is a nice place you have here, even if you ignored my orders to purchase it."
She nodded her thanks, unfazed by his minute provocation. "Do you mean to claim that free civilians are under the command of military rule?"
"Of course not, though you could have followed my simpler suggestions."
"It seemed important to start my life here on my own terms." Her tone allowed for no argument.
"Do you feel you have?"
Nodding her head, she felt the need to tie down her smirk. "All is surprisingly well." She shook her head. "I never could've predicted it would become what it has."
"Nor I." He nodded. "I thought it was important to check and see how everything fares."
Nesta watched him closely, feeling an edge in his voice as if he might breach topics she had long since laid to rest. "You don't have to check up on everything; your obligation to me is over." Shrugging, she began to put food away. "I have become situated, even comfortable; it's almost felt like coming home."
"I'm stunned to see you settled and here in my home of all places." He thought of his own residence, no more than five minutes away in flight.
"Not yours." She said with a simple shake of her head. "My own. I've made my way and refuse to concede it."
"Not concede," he almost wanted to laugh at her antagonistic nature. "But maybe share?"
Nesta looked at him with a disarming sadness. She reached out, gently touching his cheek. "That time for us has passed."
It wasn't her words that stunned him, but the considerate caution presented as she spoke them. There was no harshness edging her tone, only undeniable honesty. She hadn't spoken to hurt him, but it was her benevolent intent that elicited such an effect.
Cassian wanted to continue, yet the resolute look in her eyes made it clear she wouldn't be persuaded otherwise. He realized he should've caught it in her earlier words. "It wasn't an obligation." He tried pointlessly. Nesta faced him, her expression uncertain as he continued. "Checking on you."
Her arched brow didn't twitch in the slightest and Cassian could see it wasn't the only way in which she was left unmoved by the comment. "If that were true, I would've seen you any other time than when direct orders dictated so."
"I didn't know how-" He began, but she held her hand up to cut him off.
"Cassian, don't." It felt like a dismissal even though it was clearly not her intention as she continued. "I'm finally happy and nothing you say can make me choose to return to how it was."
"But Nesta, I-"
"Never wanted me." She finished frankly, thoroughly exhausted with skirting around the unspoken thing that had once existed between them. Her words were sharp and piercing even if they weren't being wielded as weapons. "Not really. I was always your easily-instigated distraction."
Nesta stopped as she noticed his pained expression. "How can you say that?"
"How could I not feel it, Cassian? Don't insult me by claiming that you had any substantial feelings for me when your actions were constantly proof to the contrary."
It had always been there for Cassian, since the very moment he met her and he'd always assumed that it remained mutual, but it seemed to have faded away from her, without him even realizing it was happening. It was undeniable for him to see now as the burning fire that once captured her eyes whenever they sparred was lifeless as she looked at him. He wanted to fight but could see that she meant every word.
All he could manage in response seemed insufficient, but still he tried. "I didn't mean to hurt you."
Words failed her for what would be the right reply, so she nodded and tried what felt the most honest. "I don't think you meant to, but it can't be undone."
He nodded and glanced to the waning sun. "I should be going. Velaris awaits."
"Good evening, General."