A note floating down as smooth as a feather caught by a gentle breeze, settling with a crinkle at her booted feet. Eyebrow lifting, Gwen bent over. Her leather pants squeaked as she straightened.
She stared unblinking at the two words. Short and to the point. Very Azriel.
Sevinda's tonight?
Cassian's words lingered with her throughout the night. Had her tossing and twisting beneath scratchy sheets until she unceremoniously knocked them to the floor. The combined seasonal heat and her restlessness made the evening downright suffocating.
Concern gnawed away her slumber. Gwyn overheard whispers of the Court of Nightmares. Even picked up rumors of their deadly Spymaster. But she'd never put together the dreaded most feared Spymaster and Azriel was the same.
No. The male she knew? He'd cut down anyone who would harm his High Lord or Lady. Wronged his family. Gwyn had witnessed him firsthand. When Azriel had swept in on wings of death, rescuing her from a cruel fate. But torture?
Gwyn cracked her neck with a twist.
Though sleep evaded her last night, she didn't have the heart to work out any midnight training. Not without Azriel. Not when something was awry. Powerless to help.
She scanned the note she still held, viewing the page as if the message would magically change any second.
"Sevinda's tonight?"
She closed her eyes, sighing out through her nose before she tipped her head up. Cassian stood towering and solid behind her, studying the writing over her left shoulder. His chin jutted to the parchment she carried. "From Az?"
Gwyn nodded, acknowledging, "Yes. Delivered as I shuffled in."
"Date night?" He teased, even though no playfulness glinted in his gaze. "You going, Berdara?"
As if summoned forth by a higher force, a fountain pen dropped to the dining room table. Biting her lower lip, she stepped over. She viewed the pen as one would a coiled viper, fixed to strike at any sudden movement. Slowly, she took the implement off the dark wooden surface.
"I'm surprised," Cassian said, leaning his backside against the edge of the dinner table. He crossed his arms over his broad chest. "He normally brushes everyone off for days."
Gwyn's brows shot up as she peered back to him. "I thought you said he'd be alright by today?"
"I just pulled that out of my hopeful ass. Usually, Rhys gives Az days off to…" A hesitation, his eyes drifting, hunting for the appropriate words. "... adjust. I counted on him being different with you. For you." His view slid to the paper clenched in her grasp. "That right there? Proof he's different with you. Hell, some days he'd be back in Velaris and we'd never know until he was ready. Could be a full week later. But this?" A soft smile. "He cares enough to not upset you. He cares for you, Gwyn. And no one is happier for my prick of a brother than me."
Her cheeks heated. She wrote a bold Yes . adding, Can't wait before the note faded into the ether. "I care about him too," she admitted, her smile slipping a bit. She tugged at the neckline of her leathers. Then checked to make sure her dagger was still on her thigh. "Is it true?"
Cassian's black eyebrows went up as he straightened to his full, imposing height. "Is what true, Berdara?"
"What he does...as — as the Spymaster?"
Cassian's eyes hardened as he ran his fingers through his long hair. She noted many knicks on his muscular forearms. Numerous pale slashes sketched into the darkened membrane of his wings. "We've all done things that stay with us. For the people of our Court. For Prythian. For our family." He shook his head. Flashes of memories shadowed his features. "That's all I'll say. Not my rank to comment on his duty…"
Alarm rose in her like noxious smoke, making her eyes water. "Oh, I didn't mean to bring up his work like I was trying to pull information from you and undermine—" A gentle squeeze on her shoulder halted her rambling.
"Gwynnie," Cassian said. "Your heart is in the right place. I know why you asked." He shrugged. "Don't sweat it. But speaking of sweat? Ready to get training?"
Cassian's grin curved and turned downright roguish. Gods, they were in for it today. He guided Gwyn to the door with his large hand on her shoulder. As they reached the exit, the wet heat assaulted them under the harsh sunlight.
"Mother's tits," Cassian grumbled, blocking the rays with his wing. "If I wanted fucking Summer Court weather, I'd live there."
Azriel wasn't with her. Not literally. The male was a shell seated beside her. A very broody, disheveled shell. More shadows coated those eyes than swirled around him, the latter sneaking beneath the clothed-covered bistro table to caress the back of her hand. His gaze transfixed more by the amber liquid before him than the company. His thumb rubbed over the bevels lining the short tumbler. Up and down. Over and over.
Silverware clanged on her plate as Gwyn slapped down with ample force to shake the tabletop. His hazel eyes flew to hers, his fingertips freezing on the rim of the glass. But still, he said nothing.
"Azriel." Gwyn took in a considerable, calm breath before she forged ahead. "What's wrong?"
"Nothing."
Yet another clipped, one-word reply. All Gwyn received since the instant he appeared to whisk her away on the rooftop. Then Azriel saw her wearing the borrowed navy sundress and called her beautiful, the sound sending her heart skipping beats.
Gwyn expected the night to be easy. Azriel was the one who reached out. She foresaw a casual dinner out. A natural step in what they were building together. But she had clearly misjudged. The tension between them was harder to cut than the deliciously seasoned, superbly cooked filet. One that she had no intention of finishing. She'd lost her appetite.
She bit down on her lip until she tasted blood. "Bullshit." His dark brows shot up his lined forehead. At least Gwyn caught his attention. Got a rise out of him. Fantastic. "It's like I've been having supper with your ghost all night."
Azriel's hazel eyes bore into hers. But behind them? There was... nothing.
"So you won't tell me what's troubling you, Shadowsing—"
"I can't tell you, Berdara," he answered, a muscle tightened in his jaw. Was he annoyed? With her? With himself?
Gwyn's eyes thinned into slits, her fingers clenching the chair beneath. Gwyn would not back down.
"I'm not asking you what you did, I'm asking what's bothering YOU . Not your duty. Not your tasks. What is going on with YOU , Azriel?"
Silence returned. A glacial dead air in summer's steam, the soft music drifting from the kitchen, and the fresh scent of lemon and basil warped compared to the frostiness between them.
Her heart clenched. The scrape of the chair legs against the terrace, her battle cry. She stood to leave, quietly hoping Azriel followed.
Wrapping her arms around herself, Gwyn strode out, head held high. Her low heels smacked on the pavement as she glared skyward, identifying the constellation Gerona, her companion towards the northeast. And praise the gods above. She remembered enough storefronts and sections in the city now to guide her.
"Berdara!"
She continued walking, not deigning a response. Why should she? His shadows appeared before her, slanting low as if they were imploring her to stop. To wait.
"Berdara!"
A hand snagged her bicep. Her training kicked in and Gwyn swiveled around, her arms shifting until the back of her forearm and hand her flush with his palm, and she shoved. Azriel lurched back, eyes large. A glimpse of shock and one of... pride shown on his face.
"Nice move, but you need more forward momentum if you meant to fracture my arm."
Hands on her hips, Gwyn strode forward until they were toe-to-toe. "I wasn't trying to break your arm, you... you idiot! " Azriel pressed his lips together. "But I don't appreciate being snatched from behind at night in the middle of the city. But as you can see," she smirked. "I can take care of myself."
She whirled around on her heel, planning to stomp off with dignity. Shadows swarmed her, and suddenly Azriel was barring her passage.
"Where are you going," he demanded, eyebrows lowered.
" Home. "
"By yourself?"
Her laugh dripped scorn. "Because I haven't been alone the entire night?" She sighed, scrubbing a hand down her face, most likely ruining the daubs of makeup Nesta had applied. "I'll see you at practice." Gwyn took two strides around him.
"Fine. Whatever."
Gwyn stopped so quick she stumbled, her hands balling into fists. The way he uttered the words, the surrender in his tone? The concession, as if he was predicting this all along? As if he expected, she'd inevitably run?
Right then, she had a decision to make. Go home and eat her feelings or…
She whirled around, facing him. Azriel stared at her, hands in the pockets of his black trousers, his eyes void—empty. Gwyn sauntered up to him and jabbed him in the chest so hard he withdrew a step. "I cannot believe you!" More steps. "You drive me mad!"
Another poke. Another step backward.
She pushed and forced until his back struck a brick wall with an oomph!
"Do you understand why I'm standing here? Why I'm choosing to do this instead of leaving? That face you gave me—like you expected the other shoe to drop all along. Well, I'm not that female you pined after that didn't give you the time of day. Or distraction girl."
Azriel snorted, the corner of his mouth twitching. "Distraction girl?"
Gwyn rolled her eyes. "Whoever they are, I'm not them. Are we together, Azriel?" His expression dimmed. "Well, are we? Because it doesn't feel like it right now." Her voice broke.
He blanched, shuddering in a breath. "I said I'd try to I—"
"Is this you trying?" Gwyn snapped at him, stunned at the tenacity and truth in her words. "Are you honestly trying, Azriel?" She held Azriel's gaze, not backing down. "I thought trying meant we're together." Inhale. Exhale. "I don't want to hear what you did." The Shadowsinger flinched, shutting his eyes. Gwyn cupped his cheeks, compelling him to open his eyes and meet her. "I just... I realize I'm new to all of this and this is new to us. But...I need you to know that I'm here for you. You can talk to me. I can't stand seeing you so…" Her lower lip trembled. "...you know...doesn't matter. This obviously means more to me than to you." His chest heaved as Gwyn stepped back. With tears in her eyes, she turned and started walking away.
'If she walks away Shadowsinger, she may not come back,' his shadows begged, flitting around in panic.
Before she managed another step, Azriel had her back pressed against a stone outer wall. He stood before her, his arms caging Gwyn in.
"If you don't think I'm trying, you're fucking wrong ," he said, his breathing ragged. Gwyn's face glared up at him, her eyes blazing like two bright turquoises. "I can't tell you everything. Even if I could, I wouldn't. It can't reach you." One hand dropped to stroke her cheek flushed with outrage. Angry as she was, Gwyn leaned into his touch, his calloused finger skimming over her freckles.
Gwyn swallowed thickly. "Then tell me something . I can't stand seeing you like this." Her eyes were glossy. "I know you shield yourself. Keep a wall up. But don't hide around me, Azriel. Please. "
Panic surged through him. Tell her about what he'd done to that male? Gods, he didn't deserve to be in the same vicinity as her as he relived the cuts. The blood. All of which tarnished his soul.
That quick, she flipped their positions, enclosing him as much as Gwyn's arms allowed. Those blue-green eyes were downright feral. "I'm not made of glass, Azriel. But that doesn't mean that I won't break or shatter. What happens when I do?"
Azriel's answer was immediate. "I'll be there to put you back together."
Gwyn nodded, her fingers grasping his chin. "Same, Shadowsinger. Trying means you help pick up the pieces. You let the other one help bear the weight." She exhaled, her warm gasp caressing his lips. "Let me help you. I don't care if you need space sometimes. I can wait and be there for you when you're ready."
She shoved off the building. Azriel seized her waist, swapping them again. Dragging his nose across her cheek, he said, "When I sent that note this morning? I was still drunk from last night. I lost someone in the field. A good spy and a great female. I sent her out on a mission. She got caught and killed." His fingers dug into her hips. Gwyn's palms slid up his arms to his biceps, hauling him closer by the fabric of his black dress shirt.
"I'm sorry," Gwyn whispered, slanting her head to the side to give him better access. He trailed downward, nuzzling the hollow of her throat. "Did you find who killed her?"
"Yes."
"Did you kill them?
He swallowed thickly, setting his lips where her pulse beat wildly. "Yes."
"Good," Gwyn loosed a sigh, as he placed another peck, then another. Lower and lower until his mouth skimmed her collarbone. She shuddered as his hands tightened on the curve of her waist. "I'm sorry you had to go through that, Azriel. Losing someone is never easy. And I'm sorry for being presumptuous."
"I'm sorry if you thought I was pushing you away." His tongue flicked against the line of Gwyn's collar, following the spattering of captivating freckles. Her body arched into his. "I need space from people after—" He shook his head, his day's worth of stubble scratching against her perfect, pale skin, leaving his mark behind. "Sometimes I need time."
Gwyn nodded solemnly. "I get that. And I can give you that. But, when you're ready, I'm here. You're not alone, Shadowsinger. I can take what you give me." Her fingers sank into his shoulders as she pulled him until her breasts flattened against him. Her peaked nipples rubbed his chest through the fabric of her dress, their hips lining up perfectly.
The reaction was immediate, their shifting scents undeniable. His body was strung as tight as an Illyrian bow. Gods above, she smelled amazing. Her skin tasted decadent and sweet. Every piece of Gwyn was something he wanted to savor.
Azriel drew back to view her, her cheeks glowing, eyes glittering.
"And thank you for telling me," Gwyn said in a husky purr, reminding him of soft moans and silk sheets.
"Gwyn," he murmured, gulping, his heart ready to jump out of his chest. He shifted to step away before they went too far. But Gwyn only brought his face closer, her fingertips delving into his hair. His eyes rolled back in his head.
"I'm not glass, Azriel."
Gwyn surged forward and kissed him. There was nothing tentative or sweet about the way her lips moved. No, this was a possessive, wild tangle of tongues and clashing teeth. This was Gwyn, proving she could handle everything Azriel gave her. And...godsdammit, he was going to give it to her.
Without a care in the world, Az sank straight into the kiss, plastered up against a wall in the heart of Velaris. He didn't give a damn about any passersby gawking at their public display. As if in answer, his shadows gathered, concealing them from view. Sometimes those damn busybodies were useful for something.
Azriel pressed Gwyn into the wall, slipping a hand into her auburn silk strands, angling her head to take the kiss even deeper. Her moan the richest sound as he rolled his hips into her. There was no hiding how she affected him—and she wasn't pulling away. Instead, her hands drifted down his back and gripped his behind, tugging him so tightly he was certain she could feel his cock throb. He groaned, long and low, grinding against her, his teeth dragging over her lower lip.
His name slipped from her lips like a plea, "Azriel." She gasped.
He froze, chest rising and falling at a rapid pace. Shit, what in the Mother was he doing pawing all over her? Practically dry humping the poor female out in the open.
"Gods, Gwyn, I'm sorry." He began to move aside, but Gwyn was having none of that. Her fingers dug into his behind, holding Azriel firmly against her body.
Gwyn's teal eyes were brimmed with wonder when she looked at him. "Don't pull away from me again, Shadowsinger." She kissed him tenderly, licking his lower lip as she drew back. His godsdamn knees wobbled. "I like this." She pressed her mouth to his and pinched his ass. Hard. "Gods, you have a perfect butt."
Azriel choked, lifting an eyebrow. "Not like you should be surprised. You spend enough time at training hiding the fact that you're staring."
"Lies and slander," Gwyn smirked, the tip of her nose brushing against his.
The back of his hands skidded over coarse brick until he grasped the curve of her ass, all her softness writhing into his aching hardness. He leaned his head forward, his breath whispering over the shell of her ear. "Not as nice as this one," giving a little squeeze for emphasis. She whimpered, arching against him as he nibbled the skin behind her ear, soothing the sting with his tongue. "And I know my asses, Berdara. Mostly, I'm known for being one."
She huffed a laugh, her arms climbing back up to his shoulders, enfolding him in a hug. Both of them left panting, trying to catch a breath.
Gwyn sighed into the side of his neck. "So was this our first fight?" Her hands caressed his shoulders in soothing circles.
"I guess so?" He snickered, kissing her temple. "I'm not sure."
"You were angry though. Well, so was I to be honest."
"I wasn't angry with you, Gwyn." He paused. "I was angry more with myself. The shit that happened. Not you. And if you were being as detached as I was tonight? I would have been pestering you too."
Gwyn grinned against his throat, sweeping her mouth over his heated skin. "Is this what making up is like?" A pause. Another peck to where his neck met his shoulder. "Because if it is? We're in trouble. I like the making up part. Very much."
Az chuckled, tugging her from the stucco facade, still bound in his arms. "Not going to lie, Gwyn. I've never apologized like this before."
"Shocking," Gwyn smirked. She stepped out of his embrace, holding out a hand for him, wiggling her fingers. "Come on, Shadowsinger, let's go home and make up some more."
Azriel took a deep breath. There were more than five digits and a palm in the hand extended. It was a peace offering. An open invitation. A crossroads.
For once in his godsforsaken life, Azriel gladly reached out for the hand offered. Without the worry of what Gwyn would find behind his mask. With no shame in his heart. And he realized the moment his fingers interlaced with hers, things would change—even if the darker places in his mind pounded against his happiness, taunting him to enjoy it while it lasted.