Okay, so, I know I promised more bow-chicka-wow-wow last time, but I needed to add some details in this one so I'm ending it so that it's a VOW for the next chapter. A solemn oath. Next chapter, we increase the heat 🔥🔥🔥🔥 And shout out to my girl Gwyn who knows what she wants. As Cassian said, Az is going to have his hands full.
The hair lifted on the back of her neck.
Someone was watching her... again. Her strides were light as Gwyn hurried between the stacks, keeping her eyes on the bundle in her grasp. She had to get to the center of the library. A place where people were present.
A hand struck her shoulder.
Gwyn dropped the texts and grabbed the arm of the aggressor, wrenching it while turning to confront the person who touched her, ready to knock them to the ground.
In surrender, Shelah raised her hands, her chest heaving with rapid, soundless gasps.
"Shit," Gwyn said, withdrawing and giving the priestess space. Swearing to herself, Gwyn bent over, gathering the fallen books. "Oh, Shelah, I'm sorry, I thought—"
Shelah shook her head, pointing to the stack in Gwyn's hand. They were all requested by Merill, who was being especially frustrating this past week, causing Gwyn's mood to deteriorate all the more while Azriel was away.
The requested texts were Mysteries Creatures of the Waters and Seas and A Record of Prythian before the Great War. She wasn't positive what Merrill was up to, considering Gwyn was supposed to do additional research concerning the Valkyries.
Shelah tapped the spine of the dark navy hardcover with the pewter script at the bottom. Gwyn slid the volume out, turning the cover over. Legends of The Night Court. Wait, she didn't pull that one. Did the House mistakenly add the title to her load?
"Oh, did you need this one," Gwyn offered an apologetic smile when Shelah nodded, her deep chestnut waves moving against her hood. Gwyn handed the text to the mute priestess with a timid grin. "Sorry, I must have plucked it by accident. Here you— "
The stone rumbled beneath her feet before a horrendous crash sounded beyond them. Gwyn's eyes grew wide as she lifted her head towards the roar. She dumped the books, seizing Shelah by the arm.
"Run," Gwyn ordered as she watched stack after heavy wooden stack topple to the center of the corridor as dominos would fall, a tidal wave of thousands of books crashing to the floor. "RUN!"
Gwyn pulled the silent priestess along as she could hear one bookshelf after another crash, the creaking groan and splinter of timber breaking closer and closer.
She faltered as Shelah tripped, having caught her heel on the skirt of her robe.
"Shit," Gwyn swore, hauling the priestess to her feet.
"What's going…"
"RUN, Thea!"
Thea's brown eyes went wide as she beheld the chaos behind them. Close. So close now. The avalanche of fallen tomes striking the back of their legs. Thea sprinted ahead, her robes flapping behind her like a white flag. They had to reach the open rotunda of the library, just before the balcony blocking the chasm of gloom.
Her heart was in her throat, stomach at her feet as Gwyn propelled herself beyond the limit.
Everything happened so fast. Shelah stumbled again and Gwyn twisted to snag her, only to be knocked over by Thea, shoving her out of the way. An entire wall of books and shelves smashed on top of them in a maddening, tumbling rush.
Gwyn covered her head, shielding her skull from falling debris as the shelves and weighty tomes plummeted to the ground, burying them.
The creaking and shatter of wood ceased as one more book thudded to the floor. And again another. As Thea dug her way out, her loose honey-blonde hair affixed to a wide cut to her temple. Her mouth and cheeks swollen and bleeding. She carried her arm at an odd angle.
The blonde Valkyrie winced, holding a palm to the side of her head. "Are you okay, Gwyn?"
Gwyn wasn't sure. She felt numb, her heart beating too fast. The veritable mountain of novels pinned only a single leg when Gwyn took stock of her body. Slowly, she and Thea extricated themselves from the rubble of parchment and lumber, noticing their injuries as they worked through the wreckage. Thea was worse off than Gwyn, the former absconded by Clotho the instant the other priestesses entered the scene.
Roslin assisted Gwyn off the stone floor. When finally on her feet again, Gwyn hissed as her left foot came down. Shit. She tried and tried again, until able to bear weight. Even so, the leg ached like a bitch. A sprain or a twist, presenting herself a health assessment. Nothing serious enough to signal for a healer or even for a priestess to utilize the powers of their invoking stone. Besides Thea and…
"Where's Shelah?" Gwyn asked, whirling to the mass of debris behind her.
"I didn't see her," Roslin said, fear rising in her voice. "Was she with you?"
Gwyn hopped over to the paper hill, struggling to drag the large ten-shelf tall bookcase off her. Nine Valkyrie training priestesses were needed. They cleaned and tossed books until they spotted a hand sticking straight out between them. A limp hand. Cold. Lifeless.
"No. No. No." Gwyn repeated, burrowing further to get to her, beseeching the Mother. But the further Gwyn uncovered, higher books slid over.
Roslin pulled Gwyn back, supporting her walk over to a table. "You need to rest that leg. Clotho called on the High Lord and he's sending Madja."
And if Rhysand knew? So did Cassian. And Nesta. And Azriel.
The cavalry was on its way.
Merrill stepped back from the sight, her face unreadable until her bitter eyes of ice blue locked on her own. "Why is it that death follows you like a shadow, Gwyneth?"
The hair on Gwyn's nape rose again.
Merrill leaned in forward and Gwyn stiffened at the way her eyes bored into her, yet she refused to back down. "First your mother. Then Catrin. Now poor Shelah." She hissed, baring her teeth. "Who's next?"
Azriel's feet barely touched the treads as he dashed down to the library.
The words Rhysand had delivered at the river house, interrupting his and Cassian's reports, reverberated in his brain like over rung bell clangs.
"There's been an accident at the library involving the priestesses with…" Rhysand shook his head, smoothing a hand over his furrowed brow as he paced behind his desk. "One fatality."
Azriel's heart plunged as he winnowed before the shouts of his brothers could catch up to him. And as he landed from the sky onto the red balcony below, he issued his shadows ahead.
'Find her and report back to me,' the shadowsinger charged, praying to every god that ever prevailed for Gwyn to be alright. She had to be fine. She had to be.
He rushed right past a shouting Nesta as he tore to the stairwell, taking them three or four at a time until that wasn't fast enough. Until Azriel vaulted over the railing and plummeted down, opening his wings enough to glide to the level of the library, clutching the fence with his hands and dragging himself over the threshold.
He hesitated outside the door, picking up the cacophony of cries and weeping from within.
Fuck, Az knew something was wrong. Hell, it was why he'd headed back home from his mission days early. His skin was itchy, his shadows restless, and he couldn't wave off the tight pang in his chest. Something was calling him home.
And now…
"Please," Azriel prayed softly, hoping his words carried to anything with authority and purpose. Because if Gwyn…
If she was…
He felt a firm hand squeezing his shoulder.
Cassian shook him lightly. "We got this, Az. No matter what, we always do."
A breathless Nesta appeared behind them with the High Lord on her trail, his face set and resolved to uncover the cause.
Azriel's hand made for the immense door ahead, his cerulean siphons flaring with his violence and fear.
Gods help if something happened to her.
He forged ahead, taking in the entire scope of the horrific scene across the expanse.
"Mother above," Cassian muttered, making his way to the right with Nesta, who worked to whisk by him only for her mate to clutch her by the hand. Rhysand took the left, ordering them to secure the library. Azriel hurried alongside.
"Azriel, we need to secure the area and discover how this occurred. Understand?"
He nodded, expecting his shadows could obtain some answers. But honestly? Gwyn was his top priority. Her safety. Her well-being. As long as the risk was gone, if any legitimate threat remained? Everything and everyone else be damned.
His shadows gathered over to him, reciting, 'This way. This way.'
Azriel squeezed by Rhysand, pursuing his shadows straight into the commotion, beyond a group of praying and sobbing priestesses. His eyes fixated on the tumult in front, the imposing pyramid of texts and cracked wood as great as a hillside. Some of the rubble shoved aside as if they had to extricate…
His footsteps quickened and he swallowed thickly.
Azriel passed a library table with a...a body concealed by a sheet acting as a makeshift shroud. His feet faltered as he took in the still form. No. No…
His shadows pushed from behind before tugging on his gauntlets adorning his scarred hands.
'This way. This way,' they implored. 'The priestess lives.'
The priestess lives.
Azriel rushed after them until he beheld the most magnificent, infuriatingly beautiful sound he'd ever heard; his priestess arguing against medical care.
"I'm fine," Gwyn said, crossing her arms over her chest as she perched at the edge of a table. "Tend to Thea. She requires more attention."
Madja rose from the floor. Her depthless eyes thinned. "Then I want you to rest that foot, priestess. Rest the ankle. Ice the ankle. Compression with a wrap. Elevate on a cushion. Three days. Understand?"
"Don't worry, Madja, she will," Azriel answered as he stalked over to Gwyn's side. Her eyes widened as he approached and even more so when he wrapped her in his arms, in front of the entire delegation of priestesses.
Madja chuckled. "I'm not worried. Your steadfastness overcomes her stubbornness, Shadowsinger. Take care of her."
Gwyn huffed against his sternum, mumbling, "I'm not stubborn."
Only she would be stubborn about being stubborn, and didn't that bring fucking tears to his eyes, that she was still able to assert something as cute as that?
Azriel drew back, securing his hands on her shoulders. Except for bruising and a wrap on her foot, everything was in place. Again, he took her into his arms and kissed the top of her hard head.
"Azriel," Gwyn sighed, finally encircling her arms around his lower back. "I'm fine."
"Thank the Cauldron and the Mother," he said, his hand grasping the back of her head, meticulously feeling for knots and bumps.
She pulled her head back, peering up at him with eyes the color of clear ocean depths. "I'm truly fine."
"How did this happen?" Rhysand asked from behind them.
"I—I don't know," Gwyn started, before Nesta practically stumbled over, hugging her friend on the opposite side. Gwyn leaned into Azriel's side as he rubbed soothing circles on her back. "I just had this sense of someone watching me. And," she gulped hard, her eyes flooding. "Shelah came up behind me and asked for a book and suddenly...everything started falling down row by row. Shelah tripped, and I reached to help her up and Thea pushed me out of the way." Her body shivered on an exhale. "Madja told me that Thea is wounded and will require care but that Shelah didn't…"
Azriel met Rhysand's hard stare. He'd told Rhys about the first time Gwyn had those sensations when she witnessed two hooded figures meeting in the middle of the night. And now? Now someone was dead.
But those shelves were considerable, practically bound to the rock. Whoever the fuck shifted them out of position wasn't natural. No. They must have had help, power, or both. And with both these instances, there had been one related piece.
Gwyn.
No fucking way was anything going to happen to her. Not if he could circumvent trouble. Protect her. Azriel scooped her up in his arms, marching past the flurry of bystanders, ignoring Gwyn's protests as he headed with her up the stairs.
"I want you to move into the House."
There's no way she heard the shadowsinger right. Did Azriel really ask her to move into the House of Wind?
"I'm sorry, what?" She folded her arms across herself as Az plunked her down in an armchair in the living room.
"I want you in this house." A muscle ticked in his jaw.
"Funny, it's not even your house, Az!"
"No, it's mine," Nesta interrupted from the open passageway leading to the stairs. "And I agree with Azriel, Gwyn. This isn't the first time you've brought up this feeling before."
Azriel turned to Nesta, his fists balled, knuckles stark white against his tanned skin. "She's only informed me of the one time."
Nesta shook her head. "Multiple times, Az." Turncoat.
His eyes were chips of solid amber when they found hers. Fury brimming beneath that solid mask he donned.
"It's not a big deal," Gwyn said, cringing as she patted her twisted ankle.
"You got hurt," Azriel sputtered in a sudden growl that even had Nesta jolting and Cassian appearing by her side as he sauntered up from the library. "Thea, more so, but that could have been you. And Shelah... Fuck!" Az prowled the length of the room, tearing his hands through his tousled onyx hair. "Whoever planned this probably meant it for you if this has been going on so long!"
Gwyn stood, trying and failing to strike an imposing figure balanced on a single foot. "Even if it was, I'm not moving up here."
"Why the hell not," Nesta asked, her elegant brows as pinched as her scowl.
"No." Gwyn took a deep breath, turning to her friends at the door, avoiding the way Azriel was drilling daggers into her with his glare. "They will not run me out of the library. I refuse to let someone." Or something. "Intimidate me. Force me to reside here."
"Are we so bad to live with?" Nesta asked. Her friend's steel-blue eyes flushed with unshed tears. Gwyn offered her sister a taut smile.
"Not the point, Nesta. I refuse—
"Yes, you've refused a lot today," Azriel interrupted. "Refused to get that ankle tended by Madja—"
Gwyn narrowed her gaze. "Madja needed to tend to Thea, and I have pl—"
"Pliable bones, yes we know. We all heard you fucking repeat it thoroughly when you were expounding to everyone how you are 'fine' as you hobbled around. Even though," he paused, gesturing broadly to her legs. "You cannot bear weight on it."
"You know what? I'm finished with this conversation, Azriel," Gwyn huffed out, shouldering him as she strode by without stumbling.
Back straight and tall, ignoring the fact that Cassian was telling Azriel to allow her space. Nesta yelling at both of them to turn up a reason, an excuse, to keep Gwyn from returning to the library dorms.
"Both of you shut the fuck up for a minute," Cassian shouted until the room was hushed enough to hear a butterfly's wings. Gwyn's hand vibrated on the latch to the guest room when the general went on, "Can you just think for one fucking minute; she watched someone, a fellow priestess, die today. Both of you know what she's been through and we have all experienced our share of death. But she...she hasn't and the last time she had?"
Gwyn didn't need to listen anymore. Entering, she shut the door behind her and slumped down against the wood until her bottom hit the floor. Shelah was dead. She had been right there...if only Gwyn…
"First your mother. Then Catrin. Now poor Shelah. Who's next?"
"You're going to get him killed."
Her fist pounded against her thigh as the dam of emotion completely burst and the tears flowed.
Gwyn skipped supper, choosing instead to barricade herself in the guest room, preventing even Nesta from entering. The House sealed the door to keep all unwanted visitors out.
A few times, his shadow managed to slip in to check on her.
'She's curled up on the floor on the other side of the door, Shadowsinger. Fast asleep.'
Godsdammit. It pained him that Gwyn denied herself comfort. Denied Azriel his need to hold her. To soothe her, causing the buried place inside to ache as much as any physical wound.
'Aren't you guilty of the same when you are upset?' True or not, Az's unhealthy coping mechanisms were not the point. This was about her.
He'd listened to her soft, steady sobs the last time he'd made a scheduled silent pass in the hallway. Gods, hearing those pitiful whimpers was like being stabbed by a dull, rusty knife.
A few shadowy sentries settled at Gwyn's side on guard. His shadows adored the priestess as much as he did.
Cassian had talked him off a ledge earlier when she'd shuffled off down the hall. His brother saw Az was ready to tear down the damn door and grill the poor girl until she conceded to stay.
"You can't manipulate her into sticking around. Either of you," Cassian told both he and Nesta, standing in front of them like a father scolding misbehaved children. "Gwyn needs to comply on her own, and yes, I realize it would be best if she agreed. But, give it some time. She's..." Cassian paused, searching for the words. "Fragile right now." His brother turned to Azriel, pointing an accusatory finger. "And don't knock down her damn door, Az, because I know you're thinking about it. Some things you have no control over."
That was hours ago, and Azriel had avoided the door-breaking urge, but not the monitoring. Many hours later, well into the time reasonable individuals would be asleep in their beds. Even if his thoughts weren't all over the place, he'd still be awake. He briefly played with the idea of heading up to the rooftop to burn off some outrage. Or head back down to the library to investigate some more.
After Gwyn secured herself in the guest room, he'd descended the stairs again to the sullen library and he had been right—no way those shelves overturned on their own. Or fell by someone pushing them. No. Either someone had tampered with them or something, some other influence, working even within the enhanced wards surrounding the mountain.
Sparring or sleep? Well, his version of sleep; staring at the ceiling and resting his body.
Exhaustion won out over exercise, and he stood to undress, shucking his leather tunic and yanking off his boots and socks. As he stretched his shirt off over his head, he heard the unmistakable click behind him. Azriel rolled his eyes, knowing that both Cassian and Nesta had no boundaries in the House.
He tossed his shirt to the rug. "I told you to both to fucking knock... "
Azriel peered over his shoulder, and what awaited stunned the rage right out of him. Gwyn stood barefoot in an oversize shirt skimming just below mid-thigh, her back plastered against the locked door.
"I'm...I'm sorry, I'll just—" She turned to retreat.
"No. it's...you're fine, Priestess." He sent her a coy grin, smoothing the back of his neck. "It was more for the two other assholes in this house who don't get the concept of knocking." The corners of Gwyn's red, puffy eyes wrinkled up a little as she tipped up her lips. "Can I help you with something?" Please?
Gwyn peeked at him, her eyes watery. "Shelah died," she said hoarsely, and he swallowed around the knot rising in his throat. "I went to help her up. I almost had her before Thea pushed…"
And Thea was unconscious at Madja's with a major head laceration. If Gwyn would have made it to Shelah? Gods, he didn't finish the thought.
"Why?" Gwyn cried, her lower lip quivering.
The moment he opened his arms to her, Gwyn ran over and threw herself at him, crying as he consoled her. As he had wished to do all day.
"Shhh...I know," he repeated, pressing soft kisses in her hair, his palm smoothing down her spine. "Death is never easy to witness."
Once again, he was reminded that his tardiness had led to many deaths at Sangravah.
"Why?" She peered up at him, her misty eyes bleak. "Why did this happen?"
He exhaled, answering honestly, "I don't know. But you were spared and I…"
'We are all so very grateful.'
"Before you go on," Gwyn started, setting her hand on the center of his chest. "I want to make myself clear. I'm not moving up here." Gwyn's quiet, firm admittance rattled him. His brows pulled down as he held her at arms' length. "Don't give me that look, Shadowsinger. I told you I won't be frightened away."
Azrie's jaw clenched so hard he could hear his teeth grinding. "But it's not safe. And I don't want you there."
A step away increased the distance. "I know. But, someone needs to protect the others, and figure out what happened. Training to be a Valkyrie isn't an entertaining hobby, Azriel. I can defend them."
"Cassian and I can do rotations during the night—"
"This attack happened midday and you know the priestesses will not appreciate males milling about, especially if they're already scared," Gwyn tossed up her arms, letting them slap against her sides as they dropped. "Not to mention you have Court responsibilities—"
"Your safety is one of those duties now, Priestess."
She mocked. "Is it?" Irritation charged through him. Was she fucking serious? "If so, then yours is mine, too. You can't concentrate on your tasks if you are fretting about me."
"Exactly! That's why I need you up here with Nesta and Cassian. I need to know you're safe!"
She pointed downward. "And I need to protect them! I couldn't do anything in Sangravah. Anything!" Her entire body trembled like a volcano about to erupt from the force of her anger. With each deep breath she took, Gwyn's features softened. Her tone was calm and direct when she spoke again. "We have over twenty training recruits now, eight to ten in elite fully trained; I'll organize patrols with Nesta."
He scrubbed his hand down his face. "Gwyn…"
"No, Azriel." Gwyn cut him off. Her expression like a hardened warrior before the eve of battle. "If that means I don my leathers and walk the halls armed with my dagger, so be it." She turned back to the door. "I'll see you in the morning, I suppose."
Azriel didn't let her go. He wrapped her in his arms, hauling her back against his chest, lowering his head until his lips hit where her shoulder met her elegant neck. The gentle presses of his mouth touched a few freckles on her slender throat, which led him to the sensitive area behind her ear.
"When I heard someone had been killed, my heart fucking stopped. And when I got to the library?" His head shook. "I thought that was you under that shroud," Azriel's whisper brushed her skin, his voice wavering. "I thought you were dead."
"Azriel," she sighed, her fingers digging into the hair while she held his head. Rather than pulling away from him, she pushed him in closer.
Taking that as an invitation, he placed more open kisses on the column of her throat, his tongue flicking over her heated skin.
"I thought you left me," Azriel snarled, cursing himself at the unintentional show of one of his greatest fears. His arm pinned her tight against him, her firm ass nestling in the cradle of his hips as if made for one other.
He paused, nuzzling her creamy cheek, waiting for a response.
A haze of lust obscured the teal in Gwyn's eyes as she growled and ripped away, pressing her back against the door. "But I'm not dead. I should be." Her voice cracked. "But I'm not. But someone is because of me. And I—" Her hands opened and closed at her side as she looked to the floor, opening and closing her mouth once. Twice. "Okay. Roof or bed, Shadowsinger?"
He blinked once. Twice. "What?"
"Roof or bed? Fight me or fuck me? Because I need to do something. I need to feel anything other than this suffocating weight. I need to live right now. So what will it be, Azriel?"