There's a brief teasing conversation by the IC regarding what's better being with a girl or a guy since Mor is bisexual and has been with both males and females. The convo is a friendly one out of drunken curiosity and not anything malicious. It's actually to show how easy the conversation flows now that Mor feels comfortable with who she is. If you want to skip that, use the Find on page function to go to 'A baby appeared.'
WARNING: One scene includes graphic violent imagery in a dream sequence.
"So you don't desire dick anymore at all?" Amren swirled her drink in her grip, settling back in the chair, short legs casually crossed while fingers fidgeted with a ruby necklace at her collar.
Mor popped a plump strawberry between her ruby lips, wiping her hands with a shrug. "Honestly? The thought of a cock may thrill me now and again but over the years, being with a female means more to me. Plus, there are things to replace the male organ where you don't miss it at all."
Azriel glanced sidelong at the redhead on his left. Her large eyes wholly focused on Mor as Gwyn chomped on a bite of biscuit. He wondered if any of Gwyn's books touched on females with females or males with males. To be a daemati and peek inside her adorable curious mind.
"And." Mor stopped to imbibe her bubbly champagne, having another nibble of berry. "It's nice to not have to draw a map and have someone know precisely where to touch—"
"Hey! I'm offended by that remark!" Cassian raised an eyebrow. "You weren't complaining when we fucked." Nesta snorted in a laugh.
Gwyn choked. Azriel leaned over, patting and rubbing her back as she hacked and coughed.
"You and Cassian had sex?!" Gwyn squeaked out before she stopped herself. Her face went from pale and freckled to pink all over. "Oh, gods, I'm sorry I didn't mean to."
"Don't sweat it Gwynnie, it's not a secret. Everyone here knows," Cassian said.
Ah yes, when Morrigan had wrangled Cassian to have her virginity to spite Keir's arranged marriage proposal with Eris. The second moment in Azriel's story where he experienced true heartbreak, adhering to his stone heart like moss for five hundred years.
"I had no criticisms because I was a virgin, Cassian," Mor teased. "I had nobody to compare our time to."
Nesta couldn't keep in her chuckling at that one, as Cassian was about to deliver something lewd in response.
"But," Mor started, tipping her glass flute to the Illyrian general. "I couldn't have asked for a better first time. Despite everything that happened...after…I will always be grateful, Cass."
Cassian's features softened some, he nodded. Azriel was on the brink of tuning out but noticed something different. Normally, exchanges such as this caused the very center of his chest to collapse, but tonight? Nothing. No bitterness. No regret. There was solely one thing he was pining for: the person whose lithe, slightly calloused hand was in his own.
"So, you don't miss it at all," Nesta asked with a mischievous tilt to one side of her mouth.
Mor pondered that, taking a slurp, smacking her lips together. "There's something about a female having all the same parts as you, they know their way around pus—"
A baby appeared on Gwyn's lap the exact moment the suggestive word left Mor's mouth, a curious expression on his cherubic face. One of wonder and delight, coupled with healthy fear in those starry indigo eyes, tucking his tiny wings tight the back of his light blue, footed sleeper.
"Oh, shoot," Feyre yelped, banging her foot as she scrambled out of her chair.
"Guess Nyx has figured out how to winnow," Rhysand stretched. "And I predict that means we're not sleeping tonight. Again."
Az watched Gwyn hold on to the baby's waist, mindful of the tiny wings, smiling down at the boy. "Well hello, little one. Nyx, is it?" Gwyn's questioning gaze lifted to Feyre, who nodded a yes, slowing her stride. Gwyn turned back to the babe in her hands. "We're okay, right, Nyx?" He burbled out some spit bubbles. "Well, that is fascinating," Gwyn pretended to understand him.
Wide-eyed, Feyre made her way back to her seat. "I'm sorry he just popped up like that. Rhysand secured his nursery with wards in case he decides to attempt flying without us but—"
"I forgot winnowing," the High Lord rubbed his temples with a free hand, clenching a full tumbler of amber liquid in the other. "Which is to say, I didn't overlook. Nyx shouldn't be capable of winnowing yet but—this suggests we have a mighty future High Lord to raise." Worried night swirled around him and dispersed with a simple, gentle caress from his mate.
Gwyn shook her head, her unbraided hair tumbling in loose waves to her shoulders. Nyx made cooing noises, grabbing for her curtain of copper. "It's truly fine," she reiterated, puffing out her cheeks at the child, who popped them between his puny fists with a squeal. Both Gwyn and the baby were all giggles and cute in a way that made Azriel's chest swell with the sentiment. Made him hope she could have a happy future surrounded by love. Children, if she wished.
"He likes you," Azriel whispered, discreetly kissing her cheek, dropping another to the Nyx's downy head, before standing. Nyx hoisted his arms to Az, the universal signal for up. The uncle obeyed the command, never able to turn down ordered hugs from his nephew. That child was going to be trouble one day. Any of the Inner Circle would drag down the moon in the sky for their boy. No one was able to say no to Nyx.
Azriel lifted the youth high into the air, his shadows immediately swirling around them. Nyx batted at them with his chubby fists, his tiny wings flapping excitedly, as he tried catching the wisps in his pudgy fingers. One of the little games they played. Part of Az still couldn't believe he was an uncle, getting watch Nyx to grow. And support his nephew along the way. Help the boy learn to fly. Teach him chess. Go with him to pick out his first dagger. Have him join in their annual Solstice snowball fight and kick Rhysand's ass.
Gwyn made to push up, grimacing, until Nesta started a commotion about supporting her to her feet. "I'm fine, Nesta, but thank you." The priestess stood beside Azriel, propping her chin on his shoulder, watching Nyx go after each shadow with a gurgly battle roar. "Well, this is so adorable, my heart might burst, Shadowsinger." The truth was his might, too.
"At least it's not your ovaries, girl," Amren teased. Both Gwyn and Azriel tensed. Nyx must have sensed as his gaze flitted between the two of them, burbling like he was demanding what's wrong.
"Azriel, could I borrow you for a minute," Feyre requested from behind.
"Yeah, just let me—" Gwyn made to grab Nyx, but Rhys snuck in just in time, saving Azriel from scolding her because of her injury again.
"Come on, Nyx, let's go play with Gwyn in the family room," the High Lord said, tucking his son to his side as he gently led Gwyn with the other, keeping her close. Rhysand nodded over his shoulder to Az, as if to declare he had her. Gwyn scowled in Az's directing, mouthing what he thought was fussy bastard.
'Yes, you are being fussy, Shadowsinger, but we need to protect our girl from her obstinacy.' For once, he and his shadows were one hundred percent on the same page.
Knowing Gwyn was in safe hands, Az turned his attention to his High Lady, who grinned, petitioning him to help set out desserts. "I'm uncertain what Gwyn likes, so I figured I'd ask you."
Azriel reflected back to the night Gwyn devoured all the pastries and became sick. "She loves anything with sugar." Then his mind went to her, removing the ganache from his face, licking the dark chocolate off her finger. His lips twitched and his blood heated with the memory. "But Gwyn loves chocolate."
"My kind of girl." The High Lady gathered up mismatched ceramic mugs for tea and coffee, setting up the buffet table. She paused, a quiet, dreamy smile crossing her face as her son squealed in delight. Azriel craned his neck towards the excitement, a plate of assorted pastries in hand.
The High Lord sat on the cream carpet, his child between his legs leaning forward on his arms for balance. Nyx banged his palms to the ground in a tempo all his own, babbling as Gwyn smacked her palms on the floor in front of him, answering him as if she knew the cadence by heart. Cassian was huddled up with Nesta on the couch, following the performance. Even Amren seemed to regard the interaction with fondness from her perch on the gray recliner.
"So, after we get this little guy back to bed, since you're staying the night, care for a game of chess?" Rhysand asked the priestess.
"I never understood chess sadly, but my sister showed me how to play cards."
Cassian snorted. "For real, Gwynnie? Huh, not what I was expecting from a priestess."
"Priestesses possess a number of skills you might not expect. Plus, I didn't say I was a great card player, only that I learned how to play."
Azriel snapped his mouth shut as he noted the way Gwyn lazily twirled red strands around her finger. Cauldron, she had that virtuous act down. From the little she'd spoken of her sister Catrin, if her twin had been the one to teach her how to play cards? Gods save them. Those males were folding with empty pockets tonight, and Az couldn't wait to bear witness.
"She fits in here with all of us," Feyre said, angling back to Azriel. Well, not all of them, Az's eyes drifting upwards to the second story, where Elain cloistered herself for the entire evening. Elain's abrupt retreat weighed him with guilt. Feyre nudged him with an elbow. "Think Gwyn would be up for babysitting?"
Azriel snorted, shaking his head.
"Babysitting, I don't know," Mor said while reaching around Azriel, pilfering a berry tart. "But Feyre is correct; she fits right in with our people, Azriel." When Mor looked over to her, he found her pecan eyes lustrous. They shared a smile, and some sort of healing passed between them. Happiness for one another, both having met someone that cared for them.
"We only started seeing each other a few months ago," Azriel stated, expecting Mor to encourage.
Mor casually picked up and sank her elegant, bare shoulder. "So? You've known her for what, years?"
But isn't that what terrified him? After how many years of waiting and actively searching? His darker shadows hissed in the background, warning him of his losses.
'You told one female once, and she turned you away. Found you unworthy. A burden. Useless.'
'Azriel,' Feyre's voice startled him in his mind, jarring him from his inner turmoil. Her blue crystal eyes glowing, a slant of amusement to her mouth. 'Sometimes the most unlikely person can alter the course of history.' She winked at him before calling everyone over for dessert.
Nephelle's Philosophy.
Azriel turned back to gaze at the priestess, her smile brighter than sunlight glinting on the Sidra. More splendid than any Starfall. And for a moment, he dared to dream. Feyre was right. Gwyn fit right in with the Inner Circle. With their found family. In spite of his hardened heart, he could not help but believe Gwyn was where she was supposed to be.
"You sure you don't need anything else," Nesta said from the threshold. "Are the pajamas comfortable enough?"
Comfortable enough? Holy Mother, the borrowed lilac shorts and top were the comfiest pajamas ever to grace her body. Who was she kidding? Unlike the library or temple, the bed, the sheets, the furniture, and even the people, all of it was warmer and more pleasant.
"Yes, thank you for letting me borrow these."
"Borrow? Hell, they're yours now." Nesta smiled smugly. "The guys owe you the shirts off their backs after you slaughtered them in those poker games. I've never seen Cassian lose so spectacularly, so praise you for that." Cassian actually had the worst luck of the evening. Rhysand held his own. Azriel was the one who had caused her the most trouble. He identified her tells, her bluffs. Even still, she'd nearly cleaned out his coffers.
Nesta chuckled to herself, crossing her arms as she leaned against the doorjamb, inspecting her nails. "The only thing I wish is that we'd opted for strip poker."
Gwyn laughed, wincing a little from the motion on her side. True. She would have kept all her clothes on, but the males... She smirked at the notion.
"Thank you for helping me dress, Nesta." Something Gwyn struggled to do on her own and bemoaned the instant she raised her arm to slide into the sleeve. And she'd been too bashful to seek Azriel's help.
"Cassian is too drunk to fly," Nesta grumbled, "so we'll be just upstairs. Azriel's chamber is at the top of the stairs on your right. But I think he's staying on the couch down the hall in the living room. I suspect he doesn't want to be too far away with you... injured." A peaceful smile showed on her face. "Goodnight, Berdara."
"Goodnight, Archeron. Sweet dreams."
"Same." She closed the door a tad and added, "Oh. And don't give Az any trouble tonight when he dotes on you and brings your medication. Take your tonic like a good female."
"Yes, mother." Gwyn stuck out her tongue as Nesta grunted and sent her a vulgar gesture before she walked off.
With an amber vial and spoon in one hand, Azriel nudged the door open with his hip. Gwyn was unable to stop her eye roll.
"Seriously, Shadowsinger? I can take the medicine myself."
"Oh yeah? When's the last time? How long between doses?" Umm. Well, he had her there, and from that lazy grin, he knew it. Azriel sat on the edge of the bed, his hip pressing against hers, as he caressed her jawline. "Let me take care of you. Okay?"
The way he asked with such frankness had her heart tripping over itself. How could she say no?
"Okay." She swallowed hard, pulling the covers over her exposed legs. Azriel still wore what he'd changed into after their visit with Madja when he'd changed out of his leathers for something more comfortable; a simple black cotton shirt and black pants. But of course, the shirt defined his muscles, and more of his intricate Illyrian tattoos peeked at the collar and under the edge of each sleeve.
He splashed the shiny maroon tonic onto the utensil, draining some back into the container to get the correct amount. Azriel very was fastidious. While twisting toward her with the spoon, he set the bottle on the end table beside the bed.
Her nose scrunched. "You're going to spoon-feed me?"
"If you behave and don't give me any trouble, I have something for you."
Curiosity beat out her willfulness as Gwyn opened her mouth. The spoon slipped inside, slanting so the liquid ran down her throat. She drank, scowling at the vile taste.
"It can't be that bad." Azriel chuckled at the distorted faces she was making.
Gwyn whooped in a choking fit, holding her palm against her chest. "I beg." Hack. "To differ." Cough.
"Well, you did good and I mentioned I have something for you." He leaned over and pressed his lips to hers. Once. Twice. A bolt of lust shot as he licked the seam of her lips, coaxing them to open. She yielded, her toes curling as his tongue swept over hers, tasting of rich liquor. He snickered, pulling back, resting his forehead against her furrowed one.
"What," she gulped. "Why did you stop?" Her demand ending in a breathless sigh.
"You're right," he laughed, kissing the tip of her nose. "That tonic tastes awful."
Laughing, Gwyn playfully hit his arm when her torso seized in pain. Carefully giving the shadowsinger a soft, chaste kiss. Grateful to have him at her side, she said, "You might have been an overbearing mother hen numerous times today, but thank you for taking care of me, Azriel."
Screaming. Someone was screaming in the house.
'The Priestess! The Priestess!' His shadows were recoiling in a roar of alarm over his bed.
His gut tightened as fear settled in. Azriel drew Truth-Teller from under the couch cushion and sprinted the short distance to her bed-chamber.
"Please! Please!" Gwyn wailed over and over as she writhed and twisted in the sheets. Every time her back bowed, her body contorted, she yelped in anguish. Each cry pierced him in the chest.
"No! Please stop!"
When Azriel found no intruder in the space, he flew to her side, lightly smoothing back her hair stuck to clammy skin as tears rolled down. As her hands grappled with some mysterious force. Living through some kind of hell. Or reliving.
"Gwyn! Gwyn! Wake up. Wake up, priestess," he pleaded, trying to jostle her out of her terror. "Gwyn!"
With a shriek, Gwyn's eyes popped open, and she launched straight up into a sit. Her eyes darted around the room, hunting for her assailant.
Azriel placed his dagger on the nightstand and cupped her cheeks, enticing her wide, unwavering gaze. "Gwyn. Gwyn." She finally saw him. "Hey." He swallowed down the cluster of rising concern. Azriel had never seen Gwyn so disheveled, so unsure. Not since the night… "It was a nightmare." He wiped away the beaded sweat from her brow. "Just a nightmare."
She trembled on an inhale. His hand drifted to the side of her neck, her pulse beat wildly against his palm.
"It seemed so real." her voice splintered. Gwyn slipped her hand over his. "You're here."
"Yes."
"And you're okay?" She was battling back tears.
He lifted a curious eyebrow. "Yes." She nodded, her cerulean eyes still troubled by whatever hunted Gwyn in her sleep. "Do you want to talk about it?" She shook her head. "Can you go back to bed?"
"Normally I would head to the roof to practice, but," Gwyn glanced at her bandages. "That's not happening. So, I guess I'll try to go back to sleep."
With a contrived smile, Azriel made to leave, but Gwyn seized his wrist like he was a lifeline. Her eyes were perfectly round when he stared down at her. "Can you stay with me, Azriel? Please?"
He was paralyzed by her words.
"I just don't want to be alone," she confessed in a thin voice.
And he didn't want to leave her.
Inhaling deeply, Az assured her, "I'll stay, but I'd like to rest in the chair if it's okay with you."
Gwyn agreed. "That's probably for the best... for now. With my injury and... everything."
He nodded, dragging the recliner over closer to the side of the bed. What he wouldn't give for any other scenario where she wasn't hurt. Where there wasn't a horrible nightmare.
He carefully eased Gwyn back down, kissing her damp forehead. "Goodnight, Berdara. Only pleasant dreams."
Her face was turned away as she muttered softly. "Goodnight."
Gwyn waited until his breathing turned soft and even before she shifted back to him. Azriel was a striking, intense male when he was awake. But asleep? Gods, he was utterly beautiful. So softened and exposed. A rare glimpse of the youthful male he had been. Before harrowing centuries kept him constantly on guard.
At some point, the shadowsinger must have tired of sacrificing his poor wings, leaning forward onto the bed, using his brawny arms as a pillow. His breaths puffed out on her forearm, challenging her self-control not to touch him. Brush the tumbled hair off his forehead. Stroke those hands that rescued her.
Gods, that nightmare…
A dark rainy night in Sangravah before all hell broke loose. The Commander's spiteful words and twisted smirk. Catrin's fright.
But Catrin never spoke before the fateful blow. Catrin never communicated at all except for those two nights a year she pledged to visit. But tonight?
"Gwyn, this is your fault. All. Your. Fault." Catrin's face distorted in fury.
Hands coiled around Gwyn's throat before the soldier pinned her to a stone wall. So she could watch.
"This is all your fault."
Cruel fingers bore into Gwyn's flesh, winding off her airway.
"You're going to kill him, you know."
Gwyn wanted to ask who, but the words were trapped in her chest. No air. The world around became foggy. Muddled.
Catrin's milky teal eyes met hers. Her voice warped. "You're going to get him killed."
Gwyn's head swiveled towards the sound of metallic weapons and boots on rock, to discover two Hybern soldiers dragging in an unconscious winged male with hair the hue of iridescent raven wings.
The rancor in Catrin's tone trickled with every word as she repeated, "You're going to kill him.".
One soldier snatched the male by the hair, hoisting his head up, and Gwyn's heart plummeted.
No. No!
"Azriel!"
As those brilliant greenish-gold eyes found hers, they begged.
"You're going to get him killed," Catrin snarled right before the commander separated her head from her body.
"Please! Please!"
Gwyn looked on in horror as they turned that bloody blade to Azriel. She resisted, wriggling and battling against the grip, but there was no use. Fear choked her like a noose around her collar, tightening and squeezing. This can't be happening.
"No! Please stop!"
"You're going to kill him," Catrin's head still mouthed on the floor beside the soldier's feet.
Azriel stared at her in accusation before the sword arced behind him.
"NO!"
Thankfully, Gwyn woken before the death strike, Azriel and his shadows prepared to comfort her. To piece her back together. But she'd lied to him. She wouldn't be sleeping tonight. Not when she could still picture him kneeling before her staring at her with cold, dead eyes. And not when she could still feel each phantom finger pressed into her throat like a vice.
So she'd watch Azriel. His chest rose and fell with a steady rhythm, the breath puffing out between his parted lips. Reaching over, her fingers brushed his, simply to remind herself that he was right beside her. This was real. He was safe and healthy. He still breathed. Even as the dream haunted her, the repetitive phrase continued to echo in her mind. A message she wasn't willing to accept.
You're going to get him killed.
Okay, so we had more IC fun, some cute Gwynriel moments, and added to the mystery. :-)
***Addressing Mor's sexuality: when I reread the section when she confides in Feyre, it read more like she's bi than a lesbian. She finds pleasure in both but prefers and is more attracted (and has been since she was young) to females. Thus the discussion the IC has. (Chapter 66 in ACOWAR.) But I just wanted to address that I did go back and read the scene in ACOWAR so I had context. :-) I do my homework. Sexuality in these books is vague (thus why I had to go back and re-read the scene with Mor as well), and not necessarily openly talked about, but I figured the IC would be cool with talking about it. I also believe there are way more people in Prythian that are closeted so it may not be an open topic for everyone to discuss. Their convo is one out of curiosity after some drinks and they are open to talk about everything. Just wanted to put a disclaimer on here that this conversation is done out of love and actual curiosity in the story, not anything malicious.***