TW: Gwyn gets triggered by something and it scares her. A little dark with Az at the end.

This chapter is kind of a mixed bag of emotions. Gwyn's fears. Fluffy Gwynriel. Cassian chaperone. Azriel's inability to deal with emotions and his past creeping up. It's a little dark at the end because of Az and his past (just him though, his own issues are not impeding on their relationship fully in this chapter.) This chapter sets up future plot points. You have been warned.

Warmth greeted Gwyn as she roused from the deepest sleep she'd ever experienced. So warm. The dull radiance of peach-tinted haze greeted her as her eyes cracked open. Faint puffs of air on her collar. A band of steel around her middle.

An…arm.

Her body braced, trembling like a leaf in a vicious storm. Someone was behind her. A male, she discerned in dread, as something hard and long pressed into her backside.

Gwyn's eyes slammed shut. Her hands curled into fists to her chest. Only then did she realize she clutched a hand in a death hold. Her shaking fingers blindly traced what she held. The calloused hills and valleys of the palms. The mottled whorls of the fingers. The wrinkled tautness of the palmar side. The pleats and raised planes of the wrist.

Azriel.

Not any male—Azriel.

'Priestess.' As a mother would soothe a child, a cool air caressed her forehead.

Azriel. Her savior.

Azriel. Her...

'Shhh, Priestess,' whispers stroked fondly over her skin.

"Azriel."

"Hmm? Gwyn? Gwyn…," he murmured, voice full of gravel and sleep. "Shit." He tensed from behind, cursing again before he removed his front from her back. "SHIT. I'm sorry."

Her whole body folded around his arm, pressing his hand to her mouth. A solid outcropping in a turbulent sea.

"Priestess," the shadowsinger said, his voice cracking. Her heart twinged. "It's me, Priestess. It's me. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"I am the rock against which the surf crashes. I am the rock against which the surf crashes…"

'Nothing can break you, Priestess.'

She repeated her mantra over and over until her mind cleared, her body loosened. And Azriel could liberate his arm from her vise.

Rolling onto her back, she wiped tears from her face. Azriel was there to greet her, half-sitting upright, facing her, full of regard.

"It's me," he whispered, apologizing again. The thumb on the hand she'd clung to so fiercely, stroked down her cheek.

"I know." Now. "It's okay," she assured with a tight smile. The best she could rally to allay both their worries. "I'm not sure what happened. I'm—"

He cut her off, his eyes piercing into sharp slits. "Don't. Don't apologize. Please, don't." It's my fault left unsaid, sprawling in the space now dividing them in the bed.

Gwyn reached for him again, bringing his hand to her cheek. "I woke up and didn't realize where I was. Or who was...behind me?" Azriel's beautiful face twisted in pain and he tried to tear his hand away. But she wouldn't let him. "Then I felt your hand. Your hand. This…" She halted to brush a light kiss on his scarred fingertips. "Is how I recognized for sure... I wasn't scared of you, Azriel."

She glanced around as she held onto him, belatedly noticing why the world was a coral hue when she'd first opened her eyes. Wings covered them like a tent. The sunlight filtering in highlighted the mauves and grays she never known were there among the black. The strong bones and a web of veins. A story of battle and valor etched into each pale streak knick.

Her fingers yearned to reach out. To stroke them. But she knew her manners when regarding Illyrian wings. Look, but do not touch unless granted privilege. They could be a bit... sensitive, per Emerie.

Nesta once said, "Berdara, the right touch on their wings? Straight to their cock." Her smile curled into pure wickedness as she took a sip of water.

Gwyn had spit out her wine and Emerie had amended, "Or straight to our clits and vaginas. Cauldon, why are all the talks of wingplay always focused around the males? Like they're so godsdamn special. Our wings, even when clipped, can be sensitive too. Maybe not as much, but good gods…" Ah, another interesting drunken conversation with her sisters that left her cheeks redder than the wine she and Emerie consumed.

"Your wings are magnificent," she whispered against the knuckles pressed to her lips. She could sense his eyes searching her face as she spoke. "These as well," kissing his hand again.

He trembled, drawing his hand away to dry a tear from under her eye. "No one's…" His breath shudder on an inhale as he shook his head, sending messy black waves across his furrowed brow. "No one's ever..."

"Well, they are." She sat up, her hands smoothing the black sheets over her lap. "Did you have your wing around us all night?"

Those wings shivered, varying the tint around them like the multicolored, sunlit glass in a temple window. "The House opened a window last night overnight." The winds wailed, and a chill blew the dark curtains covering the floor-to-ceiling windows. A sign summer would soon yield to the early bite of autumn. "You were cold so I…"

"Not that I mind, but you could have asked the House to close the window, Shadowsinger."

"The House doesn't listen to me, Berdara." Good gods, what had he done to aggravate the House so? "In truth? I was quite comfortable and did not want to move from your side."

"I hope it didn't bother your wing having to stretch out all night."

Dark hair fell over his forehead as he dipped his head, trying to hide his coy smile. "Actually, it felt nice to stretch. And even nicer to use as a shelter for someone."

Her heart pulsed and a ball of warmth pulsed inside the center. Gwyn sat up, reaching for him, pulling him close for a soft kiss.

"Are…" He exhaled. "Are you…" A pause.

"Use your words, Shadowsinger."

His lips tipped upwards at the reference before clamping back down. "Are you okay?" Gwyn nodded and Azriel sighed deeply, dragging a hand through his already mussed onyx hair. Hair that she wished to mess up even more. "And I'm not just talking about this morning." He slowly pushed strands of hair behind her ear and slowly placed a hand on her lower back, rubbing in soothing circles. "Yesterday was a lot. And I'm not just speaking about last night."

Last night. What they shared. And yes, they had shared. He'd relished in her pleasure, which somehow led to his even without her touch. She'd have to consult some of her books for more information on that technique later.

The reality of what occurred early yesterday slammed into her with sudden clarity. Unexpected death had paid yet another visit and she…

"I'm sad," she admitted in a whisper, focusing on the comforting swipes over her spine. "Shelah's... death." She swallowed down the swell of rising grief. "Her death should not have happened."

"No," he lamented, brushing his lips across her temple. He loosed a drawn-out sigh, drawing her attention.

"What is it, Azriel?"

He dragged a palm down his face. "We need to talk."

The last thing Azriel wanted to do was talk about this, especially after he'd stupidly slept on the bed with Gwyn instead of the settee. Fuck. Not after he'd woken up plastered against her body with a raging morning hard-on, panicking the absolute shit out of her, sending her into a fear spiral, shredding his heart to see her so afraid.

But this was a discussion he had to deal with. The sooner, the better, before he changed his damn mind.

Gwyn shifted, the silk sheets following her bare legs as angled her torso toward him, worry bunching her forehead.

"Okay," she said, her hands wringing the covers.

"This relates to yesterday. Cass and I were meeting with Rhysand before everything... happened. Rhys suggested I need to develop more spies."

The priestess tilted her head, the fall of red spilling over one shoulder. "Well, that's good, right?"

"It is, and it isn't," Azriel admitted. He wanted to pull his damn hair out at the prospect of training someone new. He was specific about who he instructed. Time was too precious to squander on someone who was either not going to work out. Or get themselves idiotically killed.

But he'd spent much of his night pondering. Watching Gwyn dream. All the little things she did in her sleep. How her nose twitched every so often. How occasionally, she let out a soft snore. Peaceful slumber. Nothing like the night a nightmare jolted her out of bed at the river house, shaking her to her very core. And had him vigilant by her bedside with a blade, as if he could attack the dream nemesis hounding her.

Every time Gwyn's arm slid above the sheets, he noted the newly honed strength in her biceps and forearm. The building calluses on her palms from wielding a sword with the skill of any trained soldier. Hell, she'd battled through injury and blood to reach beyond The Breaking. A true Carynthian warrior who'd claimed Ramiel's crest. A fierce competitor.

"They will not run me out of the library. I refuse to let someone intimidate me."

The way Gwyn outwitted the cowardly armed Illyrians with the beast during the Blood Rite struck him. How she'd known official Court dealings without being told. Her ability to scrutinize. To preserve and recall knowledge. The quickness of her nimble feet in the training ring. Her whispering steps on the library stones.

"And I need to protect them! I couldn't do anything in Sangravah. Anything!"

His wings quivered in unease. Gods, he loathed this with every fiber in his being. But he couldn't argue that it made sense. Gwyn would not stand down to his will with moving in. The next best thing?

Az twisted to face her, sliding the mask of Spymaster into place. One she would have to accept if she agreed to his proposal. "Even though I am not remotely happy about this, if you are going to stay in the library, you need to be careful." A pregnant pause had her reaching for his hand. "And if you want to be of use? I'd like you to be my spy down there. Because you're right; the priestesses will be too nervous with me around. You're already a priestess. You have a presence there. It makes sense."

Her eyes went large and her mouth fell open in shock, before transforming into a radiant smile. "Truly, Az? You want me to help spy in the library?"

He breathed deeply. "Against my better judgment, yes. Not saying you aren't equipped to handle this mission of finding out how this happened and what or who is behind it, but…" The mere thought of placing her in the path of danger made his skin crawl.

'We worry about you, Priestess,' his shadows finished his thought.

His rumination ended with a grunt. Knocked backward, Azriel practically tumbled off the bed as Gwyn launched herself, flinging her arms around his shoulders. He shivered at the accidental scratch of her fingernails over the edge of his wings.

"Thank you for not holding me back," she said, crying and giggling at the same time. He wrapped his arms around her. "Thank you. I know you worry about me. And how hard this is for you to let me do this."

"I understand how much this means to you. I respect you want to help. And I know you can do anything you put your mind to." Azriel rested his forehead against hers. The training will be brief, but you already possess some useful skills. And don't think I'm going to go easy on you just because we're together."

The priestess snorted in a laugh with no embarrassment. "Oh, I wouldn't dream of you taking training easy on me." She kissed him lightly, dragging her teeth over his bottom lip as she drew back. He growled at the slight tug. "Spymaster."

His lips twitched. "We're going to have to get started…"

"Today," Gwyn asked, her teal eyes glimmering like light on water.

"Well, since you're out of training commission for three days, we can work on strategy while seated."

Her eyes tightened into slits. "Seriously? No training."

"You were the one who made the decision not to be treated. Three days." Azriel tapped her nose, and she crossed her arms over her chest. Gods, she was fucking adorable when she sulked. Unable to stop himself, he lowered his mouth to hers and what meant to be something sweet turned into something else entirely as she clambered into his lap.

'Shadowsinger,' his shadows tried to gain his attention.

The bottom of her nightshirt rode up over her creamy thighs. His hands wandered up to her bare legs, over her hips, until they landed on her rear. The ass that haunted his daydreams and became one of his greatest fantasies.

'Shadowsinger! Someone's coming!'

He drank her moans as he tugged her to him, kneading and clutching her behind as they kissed and kissed. His eyes rolled in the back of his godsdamn head when her hips rolled into him in instinct. They'd done this before, with her grinding over of his clothes many times since the summer solstice. Exploratory and innocent rubbing accompanied their kisses. But this morning, there was a sense of urgency behind her movements, giving him pause. His concern for where her mind battled with how wonderful she felt against him, his hard length pinned between her heat and his stomach. Conflicted with how he urged her to move on him, take what she wanted.

Cauldron, she was fucking perfect.

'Shadowsinger!'

Knock. Knock.

They froze, her full lower lip caught between his teeth as they shared panting gasps.

'We tried to warn you.' The shadowsinger sighed.

"Az? You home?" Cassian. Of fucking course.

Gwyn's eyes went round, her auburn eyebrows practically to her hairline. Shit. Shit. She scurried off his lap looking guiltily adorable and thoroughly loved, dodging for the side of the bed like one would avoid a volley of arrows.

"Az, are you drunk or hungover? Or dead? Do I need to tell the House to let me in?"

'Conceal her. Scent and sound included,' he ordered, his shadows sketching a bow, and flew to the priestess's side.

"Az!" The knob jiggled hard.

Apathy was all Azriel put on before he nearly ripped the door off the hinges. Cassian was on the other side, wearing his training leathers and gauntlets, his forehead sweaty. The General peered around the room before focusing on his brother again, and said, "Your room smells like sex."

Gwyn was quite sure she would die right on the far side of the bed on Azriel's wooden floor. Lying face down with a blush and cringe permanently engraved on her face. Her marker reading Here Lies Gwyneth Berdara. Cause of death at age twenty-eight: mortification. Found wearing only underwear and a pegasus shirt in a room apparently smelling of sex.

The shadows at once flocked to attention around her. 'Stay down, priestess.'

Instead, Gwyn crawled on her belly across the floor until she could see boots and bare feet by the entrance.

'Stop moving. We can hide you if you don't move.'

"Hard to tell when the entire house reeks of sex, thanks to you and your mate," Azriel retorted, his tone bored.

Cassion chuckled. "True, but I've been at training with the Elites all morning and here you are; shirtless in a room scented with fun times. Your bed's a mess. You always make your bed."

She stayed as still as a marble statue, holding her breath until her lungs hurt.

"I just got up."

"You don't sleep, Az."

"I actually did for once."

Cassian huffed. "Where's Gwyn?" Her head jerked up, and the shadows scrambled. Oh, no. "I knocked on her door and no one answered."

"She took pain tonic. She's probably out cold. Resting." He emphasized the last word for her sake, knowing she was listening. Unbearable, fussy, caring male, tugging at her heart.

"Fair enough, I guess she's out of training for a couple of days."

"Three," Azriel reiterated as she rolled her eyes, wanting to jump out and strangle him.

"Well, Nesta had the House send breakfast to her room, so I'm sure she's fine. But I need you to help with the other recruits. Emerie can't make it today to help with training. Issues with her shop or some shit. I don't know. I tuned Nesta out when it started with it not being an emergency."

"Fine," his tone clipped. "Give me a few minutes. I'll meet you up there." Gwyn saw Cassian's boots pivot on his heels to leave. She finally let out a breath. They skidded to a halt with a screech. Shit. "Az, man." A pause. "You and Gwyn are still together, right?"

She heard Azriel's heavy, weary sigh echo through his space. And although she couldn't see his face, Gwyn pictured the shadowsinger rubbing his worried temples.

"Yes."

"But your room…. the scent. Have you and Gwyn.." No response. "Wait. Shit, you're not cheating on her, are you?," Cassian's voice lowered. "Look, it's not like we haven't fucked females in the same room before." Gwyn almost choked on her spit. "And I get you have...certain—" Whatever words Cassian spoke next were too muffled to discern from her position.

Azriel's sardonic chuckle rumbled like a quake, lifting the fine hairs on her body. "You don't know shit, brother."

"Fair enough. But I swear to gods if you are getting some on the side— "

The shadows pulsed, the mist spreading and intensifying at the nerve, bracing to leave her and be at Azriel's side to defend his honor.

"No, I'm not," Azriel snapped, a sharp and bitter tone slipping, peeking through his well-crafted mask. A mode of the Spymaster, she mused. "Doesn't require more than one person to make a room smell like sex, Cassian. Either way? None of your fucking business."

Gwyn smacked her forehead on the wooden floor, hoping the shadows could truly conceal her laughter. Azriel just admitted to…

Cassian guffawed and slapped him on the shoulder. "No, I guess not. Well. I'm glad you're not stepping out on Gwynnie. You know, she's like a little sister to me now. I'd hate to go older brother on you and kick your ass."

"You won't have to."

"She's a good girl, Az."

"I know."

"Don't forget Nesta's threat. And let's face it, her threat is one you can count on more than mine."

Something thudded against a solid surface. Once. Twice. "Can you fucking go now?"

A few hushed words were spoken before Azriel slammed the door. His sigh filled with many sentiments. The shadows sailed on the breeze to their master, settling behind his wings as he whispered to them. They flowed out under the door.

Gwyn stood, flattening out her shirt as Azriel paced like a caged creature. His hands tugging at the nape of his neck.

"Guess we'll just consider that the first spy lesson, Berdara."

"Oh," she started, following as he locked the door. "How did I do?"

He murmured, rifling through a wardrobe full of somber black. He peered over his shoulder. "Honest?"

She awaited her grade from the Spymaster. "Terrible."

Her face fell.

"You picked a dangerous position. If Cassian walked the room, he would have seen you." As she opened her mouth to retort, Azriel bent over to hunt for something on the floor of the bureau. Whatever Gwyn was going to say was lost as she stared at his behind in those tight shorts he had on last night. Well, not the exact ones, she smirked, proud of herself.

"The shadows can wrap me completely, but you won't have that protection at the library. I know you can be discreet, but you must do better." She acknowledged as his turn to the side delineated those thigh muscles. He picked out a pair of familiar leather. "And I heard you. Thumping your head off the floor?" He groaned, lifting a shirt over his head, stretching it down with care over his wings. And, gods, everything bunched and tightened and Gwyn's mind went poof.

The Spymaster continued on and on as he dressed with speed. Something about absolute stillness. She nodded. Something about concrete information. She nodded. He said something about staring at his ass. She nodded.

Oh, damn.

Az strode forward, now fully decked out in his scalloped Illyrian leathers that she'd become accustomed to. She struggled to cover her grin with her hand as her eyes flitted up to find intense hazel.

"Sorry," she said.

He inhaled and exhaled through his nose, long and hard. "Maybe this wasn't a good idea…"

She shook her head with urgency. "No. No. I swear I'll do better. You just distracted me, Shadowsinger." Gwyn pushed her shoulders back, straightening. "It won't happen again."

The corner of his lips twitched.

"What did Cassian say after he mentioned you...well...is it true you both...in the same room… you know what, none of my business." She put her hands up and shuffled around him. "But after that, before he accused you of cheating; what did he say?"

"Nothing," Azriel replied so quickly it raised an alarm. The shadowsinger never answered that fast.

"Oh. Well," she hesitated, twisting a piece of hair around her forefinger. "Okay then." Taking careful steps backward, limping to the door as she had last night, her palm settled on the bronze knob. "Az...why didn't you just tell him that... never mind. I guess I'll be in the guest chamber and await your presence for more spy training later?"

"Tomorrow," he replied, rolling his tense shoulders, stepping towards the door. "We'll continue tomorrow."

Oh.

Moments. That fast his disposition had turned from sweltering summer heat to frigid winter chill.

Her stomach curdled with dread as she spun the handle.

"Wait."

He needed to stop her before she left the room. Shit. None of this, his changing mood, was her fault. The morning had been stacking up since Gwyn woke up, quaking in fear. Which somehow led to her in his lap.

"I want to walk you across the hall in the shadows. We'll be discreet."

"Oh, okay. Whatever you think is best." The priestess nodded, keeping her eyes from meeting his.

'She thinks you don't want to be seen with her coming out of your bedroom,' the shadows practically screamed at him. 'She thinks you're ashamed!'

"It's not because I don't want to be caught with you, Gwyn. It's just I don't want Cassian to—"

Gwyn offered him a tight-lipped smile. "It's fine. I understand."

Did she?

'Clear the air, Shadowsinger! Our Priestess is feeling awkward!' He swore a few of them flicked his ear.

"Priestess, are you alright about this morning?" He had to be sure. "I know you woke up... startled and then we…" He gestured with his chin towards the bed.

She stared at her feet. "Yes." Her face lifted and his fingers yearned to push back that wayward swath of hair going opposite of her middle part. "But I knew what I was doing on the bed, Azriel. Though, I probably should have asked you. I was just so happy about the spying thing and... well..." She curled her bare toes over the wooden floor.

He shook his head. "It's fine, Gwyn." His lips twitched because it had been better than fine. "I was merely concerned about you." Not able to stop himself anymore, Azriel reached for her hand, giving it a squeeze.

He gripped her chin, tilting her head up. "Before you leave, I want to make one thing very, very clear, Gwyn. I am not ashamed of what we did, nor am I embarrassed to be with you. Or seen with you. Or have others see we're together. The only reason I didn't say anything to Cassian and played it off was because of how you hopped off me and hid. I didn't know if you wanted him to see. Nesta to learn you spent the night. And I'm sorry if I made you feel bad. Because I am honored to share this with you. And if you want me to, I'll fly over Velaris and shout it. But I'm sorry for how I acted and I'm a jackass."

"Well," she clutched his chin between two fingers, angling his face downward. "You were so big on communication last night, let's keep it that way for everything. And yes, you sounded like quite the jackass, Shadowsinger."

"Well, since we're being so candid. What you did on the bed? Crawling into my lap?" Az dragged his teeth over his lower lip. "It was hot."

Gwyn snorted and laughed for real, her cheeks round, glowing. He breathed a sigh of relief.

'There she is,' his shadows hummed. 'There's our girl.'

Fuck, didn't it make him feel like he was walking on clouds to know that he'd put that smile on Gwyn's face.

They walked to her room together, his shadows covering them from everyone's view. And as soon as he'd left her with a kiss at her temple, and an order to stay off her foot, his mood shifted again.

"And I get you have...certain—shit you're into. I don't want to get in your business, between that and what Rhys told me about what was going on with Elain before…"

Godsdamn, Cassian. Fucking, Rhysand. Why the hell couldn't they leave well enough alone? Even if he knew why Rhysand had told Cassian about his brief entanglement with Elain. And why Cassian suspected something else, jumping to the worst conclusion.

Because neither thought he could handle a healthy relationship.

Because neither wanted to see Gwyn hurt.

The secret shadows wicked merriment rose inside, smothering, whispering truth. His stepmother was right; Azriel was bound to ruin everything. After all, he was a waste of breath. A burden. Worthless.

Don't worry, there's plenty more FLUFF coming your way too! Sometimes Azriel just gets inside his own angsty head and in his own way. Spy training next!