It was only a few hours later when Nesta was looking back at Azriel again. She scoffed. "You definitely didn't give me the chance to miss you this time."

He offered a tight, close-mouthed grin that didn't reach his eyes. "I promise to take longer next time. I hadn't planned on returning tonight, but I just wanted to see that you're okay."

"Of course; why wouldn't I be?" She inquired, noticing the discomfort in his countenance.

"The flight home was…" He searched for the right words. "Quiet and stilted."

"Ah," She nodded. "Well, as you can see, I'm perfectly fine."

"Do you mind if I ask?"

Nesta could see from his expression that he loathed to be doing this, though he couldn't stop himself. She made sure to meet his gaze head-on. "Ask away."

"Did he try to upset you?"

She shook her head, a smirk peeking through her eyes. "No, in fact, the opposite."

Azriel tried to ignore the bitter mass in his gut. "I don't understand."

It felt an odd, prying topic, but Nesta knew she would answer anything he could think to ask, wanting to be that honest with him. "I believe he sought to mend our issues."

"You don't want that?" There was a hesitance in his voice, as if he meant to ready himself for when she would rescind her honesty.

"I don't want to entertain company that would seek to make me feel a burden, but that was all that ever came from our interactions. I'm finished with being an obligation."

"You aren't." He argued.

"Perhaps not to you." She nodded gratefully. "But these past few months, before coming here," She sighed. "I felt abandoned, like some broken promise, long forgotten."

"I'm sorry." He slipped out.

Shaking her head, she met his steady gaze. "I'm not. It took all of that, for me to find all this. If anything, I feel thankful. It really is better this way."

"Can I ask you something personal?" Azriel could feel the question scorching his tongue.

"Isn't that what you were doing?" He remained quiet and Nesta could see that he battled over his own inquiry. "Yes," She nodded. "You may."

"Did you," The word seemed to fail him, and he tried something new. "Care for him?"

She sighed. "Yes, I did. Quite deeply at one point, but did I love him?" Azriel was yet again stunned by her frankness. She shook her head, and he couldn't deny the relief it brought him. "I could never love him when he kept giving me reasons not to."

It had been five days since Azriel's return to Velaris and Nesta couldn't help but find herself bothered by the notion that she missed him. Though it had been a quiet, somewhat peaceful day, an edge gnawed at her from within.

She found brief reprieve from her nameless ache while watching her dear friend and culinary partner practically float on air for the first time. Velara had spent the afternoon recounting the early excursion she had with Kale.

Starlight filled her eyes as she recalled her morning with the male. "After breakfast with my parents, he said he had a surprise for me." From the look in her eyes, it seemed as though she was almost willing to risk her balance to twirl in her reverie. "He held me to his chest and flew us through the clouds in the sunrise." She sighed with a peaceful smile. "I haven't felt that in so long." Straightening a few pastries in the case, a becoming blush bloomed across her cheeks. "It's been a while since anyone sought to remind me of the wind on my face. I understand why; it really is indescribable."

Nesta sighed. "I never much cared for flying." She looked down and was surprised to feel her face warm as she remembered a strong embrace that had consoled her exhausted spirit, the morning of her re-location. "At first. Now, it's as if I understand what," The door opened, revealing her least favorite, slack-jawed trio. "Serenity feels like."

It was clear that Velara had noticed the patrons, but she acted as if she had not. "You must've had a pretty bad first experience."

She nodded. "Initially, yes. Though to be fair, I'm sure the High Lord meant to traumatize me."

The brunette woman turned to look directly at her with puzzled eyes. "Your first flight was with the High Lord of the Night Court?" Her face expressed the novelty of the story before she thought to ask. "It hasn't been so awful since though, has it?"

She seemed to think for a moment. "No, not awful, but perhaps claustrophobic; it felt as if I didn't have enough room to breathe." Stern began to pester customers in the slightest way he could without intervention, causing the two females to keep their eyes on him.

"What changed your opinion?"

Nesta remembered warm amber eyes, patiently acknowledging her as she awoke. His arms had been solid and reliable but they never felt stiff or constricting. Perhaps it had been the way he gently held her to his chest, as though he transported someone important, as if she hadn't been expelled from those who no longer felt tethered to her in obligation.

How considerately those scarred hands had held her. "I'd be willing to wager that the experience entirely relies on the pilot."

Velara nodded. "Well spoken." She noticed the time and excused herself to grab a new batch from the oven.

Tiernan muttered about terrible service, though he had yet to near the counter or take a seat. Nesta stood taller to strengthen her resolve for what was sure to be an unpleasant experience as she decided to approach him.

Velara hummed softly as she exited the kitchen. Plate in hand, she grinned to see the patron notice their dish with praising enthusiasm. Quietly, she made her way to the table, setting her creation down with an infectious smile.

"Ah," Tiernan bellowed. "How charming! A café run by some unwelcome experiment and her disabled pet." He laughed, shoving Velara with drunken force as she passed him.

Before she could hit the floor, Tiernan was being thrown through the door by an invisible force, his wings flailing and failing to create some resistance.

Eyes all around the shoppe landed on Nesta, her hand outstretched and eyes aflame as an indescribable magic filled the air, darkening like untamable shadows around the shopkeeper. The eyes of his two companions bulging, stayed on her, while making no move to approach.

Nesta exhaled, shocked by her own power, not even meaning to tap into it. Looking around, she flinched at the one emotion that stared back at her from a dozen different faces, fear. Her hand dropped and a few patrons shrunk in response. "I-" She began, not sure what to say or if it would even be listened to. In the silence, her thoughts jumped back to Velara on the floor. She knelt beside her and felt a tightness in her chest when her friend stiffened as she neared. "Are you okay?" She asked, careful not to touch the timid female. Nesta took little notice of customers quickly leaving.

Velara nodded and looked at Nesta for a moment, finally recognizing the High Fae before her, the tendrils of darkness fading around her. The undisturbed concern in her friend's eyes touched the Illyrian. "I had no idea you could do that."

"Me either." She replied, her voice undeniably lost and scared.

Velara watched her for a moment. "That's a lot of power to have and know nothing about."

Nesta was silent as she stood and looked around the room, not wanting to lie to her friend, but unsure of where to begin. "Why isn't Azriel here?" She mumbled to herself, trying to wrap her head around what had just transpired. An ugly foreboding tension weighed on her gut. Assessing that the Illyrian female was indeed fine, she offered her hand to help her up.

Velara thanked her and took the offering. Nesta sighed and her face tightened stoically. "I think it's best we close for the night." Though her words were simple and obvious, her thoughts were speeding behind her still face. Velara nodded. "You should probably head home."

After a late dinner, when the rest of the House of Wind had settled in for the night, Azriel found his way to the balcony. Jumping without pause, he seemed to fall into the Illyrian Mountains. He knew Haven was closed today and wondered if she would even be awake, but couldn't stop himself from winnowing regardless, having not been able to secure any free time to do so in the past several days.

It was an unwelcome sight that greeted him.

The front windows had been broken and their sign vandalized with a blood-red paint. The 'a' had been painted over with a 'u' and the 'v' modified into a 'm', a question mark had been added to the edge, posing a question. Nesta stood at the front door and turned with a nervousness in her posture. The relief in her eyes warmed his chest as he approached, but he swallowed the pleasant emotion to sputter for a question.

"What happened?" He finally managed, transparently distressed.

She sighed and looked down, shaking her head. "I lost control."

Azriel knew better than to believe her responsible or even deserving of such disrespect. "Who did this?"

"Tiernan, I suspect." She began picking up shards of glass that littered the ground in front of the door. "Everyone else still seems too afraid to approach." His eyes fell on her and she squirmed under the weight of them. "He pushed Velara and without thinking, I threw him through the door." She sighed. "Without touching him." Understanding filled Azriel's expression. He knew her magic had only been dormant, not depleted.

Finally, he spoke. "Is Velara okay?"

She nodded as a strained smile desperately reached for her eyes. "She's fine." Even though her friend had not run from her screaming, she still could not forget the fear in her eyes.

Azriel had seen enough to know that such acts of malice usually preceded more aggression. "You could stay in Velaris tonight. I'm sure we can find somewhere to keep you safe."

Nesta shook her head. "I'm not going anywhere."

For the first time since her relocation, he was no longer charmed by her stubbornness. "Nesta, it's not safe here."

"This is my home." He could hear the emotion in her voice and knew that she did not speak lightly. She dropped glass into a bucket she had set in front of the door and held her hand out for him to approach. He did and she turned her attention back to the sign. "Look at that."

He turned back to her. "I have and I'm telling you it would be safer if-"

"I won't leave." She shook her head, eyes still on the vandalized sign. "All that work and they couldn't be bothered to paint an 'a' over the 'e'. Humen?" She sighed in exasperation. "That is proof that I'm needed here more than ever."

"So, you can correct illiteracy in vandalism?" He was baffled and frustrated with her.

"No, to offer peace, civility and knowledge." She shook her head. "I won't leave. It's my power they fear and though I don't know the true extent of it, it's more than enough to protect me."

As irritated as he was, he knew he couldn't argue against the determined look in her eyes. Exhaling loudly through his nose, he shrugged. "Then, let's get it cleaned up."

She smirked and they began to pick up the shattered glass around them. Once they had finished with that task, Azriel turned his attention to the sign. He couldn't help but feel disappointed to see their handiwork carelessly scrawled over. As soon as he had hold of the sign, he looked down at her. "I'm staying downstairs tonight."

As he pulled the sign down, a jagged nail tore against his palm. He grimaced and set the large piece down. Nesta quickly approached at the sight of blood spilling. She grabbed his hand and led him inside with her.

Sitting at a table, Nesta cleaned his wound and began working to bandage it.

"I must admit I'm surprised." She looked back at him as he continued. "I wouldn't have thought you'd be too good at this." He nodded to her hands deftly moving around his own, the bandage applying just the right amount of pressure.

She shrugged. "I had some practice."

"When?"

"Some years back, I decided to learn because Feyre's initial hunting trips weren't the epitome of grace."

Azriel watched Nesta's expression closely and she nearly shrunk under the weight. "Why would you do that?"

The stoic chill of her eyes faltered under his attention. "Because she was tracking blood all over the floor."

"So, you learned how to bandage a wound to patch her up?" It had been a long time since he was convinced of her signature apathy towards her youngest sister.

"I merely was proactive in the effort to keep our residence clean."

"Just once or twice?" He lifted his brow, humor saturating his voice and gaze. She nodded quietly. He shrugged. "I always figured Feyre to be more prepared for such circumstances."

A large, clumsy huff slipped from Nesta's mouth and it was the closest he'd ever heard her come to a snort. She shook her head and the mirth didn't leave her eyes, electrifying them with a hypnotizing energy. "You Inner Circle are all too ready to exalt Feyre, yet I wonder if any of you actually know her?"

He felt offense immediately, not due to her claim of his ignorance regarding Feyre's character, but from the simple and swift way she lumped him into some collective, the collective that she seemed to openly experience distaste for. She continued, thoroughly unaware of the way she wounded her subject. "Feyre has never been prepared." Briefly mumbling to herself, she huffed. "She doesn't possess the proper disposition for such forethought."

He shook away the sting from her earlier jab and pushed a playful smile to his face. "Are you calling the High Lady of the Night Court stupid?" His lifted brow passed his words off as a teasing challenge.

She was undaunted by his loaded question. "Feyre is reckless, undeniably so. I wouldn't call her stupid, merely unable to put any plan to action with adequate reasoning or preparation."

"That is, without a doubt, the most diplomatic way I've heard someone be called careless."

She shook her head. "I have no need of diplomacy when speaking of my sister, whose habits and mannerisms I lived with for nearly 20 years. Trust me, reckless is an underwhelming descriptor for her."

"I'm not sure if I trust your judgment."

"It's hardly judgment, more of a … long-term assessment. Feyre sets her mind to something early on; once that happens, no additional information will sway her decision. She always enters engagements entirely head-on." The strained tone in her voice made Azriel suspect if it was a quality she admired, possibly envied. Nesta continued, more to herself. "She's always been that way with everything. One day she decided she would feed our family and by that evening she returned with a squirrel," She smirked at Azriel. "That she still swears was a small hedgehog." She shook her head lightly. "Two pigeons and a surprisingly large hare."

"She hadn't said anything?"

Nesta laughed, still holding his bandaged hand. "She simply returned with a rucksack filled with prey and said she had decided to go hunting." Nesta shrugged. "In one night, she proved herself capable of saving the family, so we just let her."

"Were you tempted to help her?"

Nesta looked at him quietly, having heard a similar inquiry more times than she could recall, yet this was the first time it hadn't been asked with disdain or in pursuit of condemnation. "I wouldn't have even known where to begin." She answered honestly and was surprised to find that her response pleased him; she was even more stunned to feel how his gentle and accepting expression filled her with relief. "My greatest transgression, it would seem." She added playfully.

"So far," He smirked. "Immortality should give you countless more opportunities to infuriate or offend someone." Her face faltered and Azriel tensed, his voice becoming soft. "Did I say something wrong?"

She looked up and smiled gently, causing his heart to skip a beat. "Nothing I haven't had to remind myself of hundreds of times." She shook her head and sighed. "Immortality." They looked at each other closely for a moment in the quiet. "How do you stomach it?"

He smiled tenderly. "It's the only reality I've ever known."

She nodded. "I know it might sound silly and simple to any form of Fae, but I never wanted this life." She relieved herself of a heavy exhale. "I only ever wanted enough to survive." She grinned guiltily and conceded ever-so-slightly. "That's not entirely true. I wanted enough; enough wealth and status to never have to question if a poor winter would be sufficient to destroy my livelihood. Beyond that, I just wanted a simple life; marry happily enough, raise some children, grow old." Her voice broke at the end and Azriel tensed from the pain in her voice.

"Maybe because it's the only reality you've ever known."

Her eyes were glued to his, as if she was lost in consideration of the validity of his argument. Finally, her voice pushed through the silence, so thoroughly soft and undeniably lost, meeker than Azriel could've believed possible. "If that's true, how can I be sure when I truly want something?"

Azriel shrugged, his eyes like a maple ocean, vast and mysterious. "You'll feel it, like an echo that reverberates through your bones or a burn in your blood, like a-"

"Fluttering sickness in your chest?" She offered abruptly.

Something about the tone in her voice made his stomach clench. "Sometimes," he agreed. "I hadn't experienced that feeling in a long time, so I continue to proceed with caution."

She shook her head and looked down. "Do you ever feel like you've lost the courage to proceed at all?"

"No and neither have you." She met his gaze as he continued. "Maybe you feel depleted of motivation or you're disappointed by the turn of things, but you've never lost courage." He gestured around them. "This shoppe is a testament to that. You had the courage to make something good out of nothing and though it wasn't easy, you haven't given up on what you want."

"Some things aren't so easy to want." Softly, her voice trickled out as she forced herself to let go of his hand, standing to place gauze on the counter behind her.

He stood and approached. "Nesta Archeron, Slayer of Hybern, deterred from desire due to minor inconvenience."

"I wish it was minor." Her voice was simultaneously wistful and melancholy.

He smiled at her. "Anything standing in your way is no more than a minor inconvenience."

The pride shone back in her eyes before they softened. "You only say that because you don't know what it is that I want."

His head whipped silently back and forth. "I say it because it seems the greatest obstacle in your way is you choosing to commit to your own desires." She nodded as a soft blush bloomed across her cheeks. "Maybe there is something to be said for the reckless?"

Nesta's breath spilled out with the slightest quiver. "They never let an opportunity pass them by?"

Azriel could feel his gut seizing and knew innately that the cause was her eyes. Desperate to look away, he cursed his bad luck for immediately coming across her velvety pink lips and he pondered if they'd always looked so inviting. "I've always wondered if I possess the proper disposition of the reckless?" He met her gaze and could feel the flaming pit in his stomach reflected back in her eyes. "What do you think?" He stood a little straighter and was surprised by the way his pulse quaked as her eyes pensively raked over him.

"There's only one way to find out." Her silky voice replied.

It was a challenge and though a voice in his thoughts warned him against what he might do, he was damned if he turned from her now. That simple realization propelled his soft, scarred hands forward as he reached for her.

When their lips collided, Azriel lost all sense of coherence in his scrambled thoughts. He expected it to be foreign; wrong, he hoped, but it wasn't. She slipped into his arms like she had been there a thousand times before, like she was supposed to be there and to him that's exactly how it felt. She was soft and strong, shy and entirely certain as she kissed him back.

Azriel's pulse blared in his ears and his chest thrashed when she gently placed her hand against him. She tasted of cinnamon and crisp fall nights, both comforting and terrifying him in a way he had never known, in a way that made him question if he had truly ever felt anything until this moment.

Logic had been silenced as his blood beckoned him to pull her closer. It wasn't merely attraction or arousal that had him enthralled by her; it was the way her eyes became soft when she asked about his past, the surprised smile that would brighten her face or the pained tears she shed for her father the moment she was alone. It was a thousand things that spoke to her compassion, where others were only foolish enough to see a heart encased in thick stone, never understanding the bleeding organ underneath.

"Wait." Nesta reached out to rest her hand against his chest as sounds began to approach. He watched her, his mouth still tingling and his thoughts a jumbled mess as she tensed. "Do you hear that?" It was coming from outside.

Reluctantly, he let go of her as they both headed for the door. Nesta was determined to cross through first, but he felt even more determined to hover as close as he could manage.

A large crowd had gathered in front of her home and Azriel tensed at the sight. He didn't need to see torches and pitchforks to recognize an upset mob. Walking beyond the doorframe, Azriel's right hand clenched subtly around his sword, thumb pressed tightly to the hilt, while his other fingers wrapped around the scabbard.

Nesta's hand gently stopped his own. He looked at her with an expression contorted by confusion. Searching her eyes, he could only see concern, with no hint of anger or dread. "Don't." She spoke softly under her quickened breath, her cheeks still flushed. "Look at them." She nudged her head. "They're scared."

"And armed." He noted a few males with swords hanging from their belts.

"As am I." She patted his hand once more and stepped forward.

Looking at the Illyrians with bold and unwavering cobalt eyes, nothing filled her thoughts but the necessity for truth to ease the anxiety in the faces of the community, her community, she reminded herself. This was her home and she had worked too hard to make it so to lose it to fear and misunderstanding.

"I'm sure countless theories have been established about me and as much as I would like to calm your concerns by claiming my abilities to be a fluke, I'm afraid I must disappoint, for the reality exceeds the locally circulated fiction."

She took in a deep breath, thankful to be given the chance to speak as all eyes and ears offered their full attention, though she knew how likely it was that fear is what kept them listening. "Not long before the war, a much more intimate battle for control was being waged and unfortunately I was entirely unaware that I had been precariously placed in the middle." She forced herself to stand taller so as not to be overcome by the moment that had changed everything. "Servants of the King of Hybern came for my younger sister and I. To prove his might, we were forcefully made Fae, nearly drowning in the very Cauldron of Creation." Eyes bulged all around, but she steadied herself to continue. "For a long time after, I wished that I had, instead of being reborn as I was."

Azriel tensed beside her, though not for fear of her safety, but with excruciating anxiety for the pain she had always been forced to shoulder alone. It made him infuriated with himself, that it had taken him this long to see it, to understand how deeply she had suffered. "That ruinous relic tore down everything from me, my home, my family and worst of all, my humanity, so I robbed it tenfold in that inky liquid oblivion." Azriel looked around and saw no shred of doubt amongst her audience. "I took something that day and it has waded inside me ever since." She turned her attention to the crowd. "I can't regret this power, when it is the reason I'm still standing, but I won't pretend that I am not frightened by it, by the potential of what that stolen darkness inside me is capable of. So, I won't expect your understanding when such ease still eludes me, but I promise that I will never willfully seek to abuse this power and cause harm. It has been a great protection to some and if I must, I will rely on it again towards the same ends, but nothing more. You have my word."

Nesta did not wait for any reaction from the crowd. She merely bowed her head and turned around. Pulling on Azriel's sleeve to join her, they both entered the empty and still Haven, leaving a speechless audience behind.