SUMMARY: A casual Solstice dinner turns into an emergency Inner Circle meeting.
TW: There's a brief mention of what happened after Gwyn's SA after she returned from Sangravah. Mostly through her memories.
Also, this week was *insane* to the point where I just literally finished editing two minutes ago. Enjoy!
"I searched for you this morning, Gwyneth Berdara."
"Oh? Sorry about that, Nesta. I was sleeping." Not a lie. She had been slumbering at various points.
"But where ?" A sly smile crossed over Nesta's elegant face, reminding her of one of those evil queens from the human fairy tales told to her as a young child.
Gwyn didn't answer. Instead, she fixated on the chill of her refreshment and the glide of shadows over her lower back, as though Azriel's steady hand were resting there for comfort.
There were several lengthy, wonderful minutes where the only noise was the muffled chatter from their Illyrians. But unfortunately, Nesta was like a kelpie. Once she spotted something she wanted, she wasn't letting go.
"So… how was it?"
Gwyn's hand wobbled over the glass as she drew a sip of mellow red wine. Mother, spare her.
"Hmm?" Gwyn asked cooly, hoping her face wasn't blushing.
She peered out of the corner of her eye at Azriel. He was standing in a far corner, nursing a short cup of amber liquor, his face impassive. Cassian tipped forward, his tone low, and the conversation only meant for them. But as invisible shadows stroked over her wrist, she knew he was paying attention.
"So what's the reason, Berdara?"
Gwyn took a long sip from her crystal glass, smacking her lips at the tartness. "The reason for what?"
Nesta snorted, leaning in to gossip straight into her delicately arched ear. "The reason you look like you were riding a horse all evening. The reason you're walking bow-legged with a damned limp, my dear Gwyneth."
Their joined heads snapped up to sputtering and splashes, followed by harsh coughing and yelps booming from the sitting room.
Gwyn and Nesta watched as Cassian and Azriel cleaned spilled drinks off their black tunics and breeches and the floor. The House didn't want to take part in the cleanup. Thank the Mother the High Lord and Lady had not arrived yet, having remained until their babe awoke from a late nap.
Nesta's grin was one of wicked curiosity.
"Don't be coy, Berdara. You were clearly riding something." Those stark blue eyes like honed steel peered over Gwyn's shoulder and she knew who the eldest Archeron was grinning at. "Or rather someone ."
Oh, great gods. The young Valkyrie tried to keep her poise. Tried to manifest a mask of haughty disinterest, as Azriel often did. She truly did. Yet heat rose across her neck to her face, obscenely vibrant against the ugly greenness of the knit top Mor had gifted.
Nesta chuckled and elbowed her side, the cup nearly slipping from Gwyn's grasp. Her auburn brows lowered as she gazed at her friend.
"I guess even a nymph's pliable body was no match for the infamous wingspan," Nesta whispered in her ear, amusement coloring her tone.
Cauldron, drown her.
Gwyn poked at Nesta's chest hard, stepping away to the kitchen for some space. "I am not going to discuss it with you, Nes."
Nesta followed on sure feet, her long black dress swishing as she advanced. "Well, not now, anyway."
"No," Gwyn whisper-shouted, glancing to see if the boys were paying attention. Finding they were not, she set her drink on the counter. "You and Cassian can talk about your…" She fluttered her hands around as she searched for the right word. "Activities all you want, but this is our business."
Nesta's smile softened, stretched and Gwyn gasped, realizing she had mistakenly given her sister silent confirmation. Pulled into a sudden side hug, Nesta didn't say a word, simply held on.
A year ago, weren't she and Nesta so broken? They'd spent their days and nights engulfed in the fog of their horrors. Look at them now.
Gwyn leaned her side into Nesta's embrace, closing her eyes to stop the tear threatening to slip from her eyes. "Thank you, Nesta," she exhaled.
Nesta pulled away from her friend after their quick hug, regarding her with her silver gaze that was always searching. "Are you being careful?"
Um… well…
Gwyn's spine stiffened to the point of aching. She swallowed against the burning in her throat. The conversation regarding future children over Nyx's crib the night before hung over her head like a storm cloud. Cauldron, they weren't careful. Gwyneth Berdara, the priestess who was always prepared, had let passion override her common sense.
It was always the story, right? Her novels' romances which resulted in one character becoming unexpectedly pregnant resulted from the same thing; losing judgment. A mind muddled by lust and love.
"Fuck," Gwyn swore softly in a gasp, and the unseen shadows lingering around her wrists trembled. Nesta grunted, stepping closer.
"Well, at least I finally got confirmation," her friend said quietly, placing a hand on her arm. Gwyn nodded shyly in answer, avoiding Nesta's gaze. "So it happened last night?"
With an encouraging pat and a smile, Nesta requested the House for two glasses of tea. Gwyn accepted the cup from Nesta, the curling steam ascending from the hot beverage reminding her of Azriel's shadows.
"This works if you consume it within a day or two. You're fine, Gwyn," the eldest Archeron reassured. "I'll drink mine with you so we'll remember."
Gwyn nodded, her palms holding the white porcelain cup, shaking. She raised the mug to her lips—and froze.
Her fingers clenched. She shivered like a leaf in an autumn breeze.
The smell. Oh, gods.
The stench dug into her head, uncovering memories buried by time. By healing. Memories unearthed like a lost grave, exposing bones long forgotten.
The scent was sitting in a room clad only in a cloak. Bleeding from many traumas. Bruised. Beaten. Unblinking.
The aroma was pain and helplessness. Regret and unworthiness.
The vision of pale, bloodied freckled feet peeping out from beneath the swath of black fabric as Madja tried explaining she must drink. A gorgeous blonde with sad, compassionate eyes attempting to coax her. Mor, she recalled. Until eventually, Gwyn took the drink, swallowing so fast she scorched her tongue and throat. It was bitter and harsh. But she needed to drink… otherwise…
The thought alone made her want to vomit.
But what she'd done last night was her choice. Her choice with someone she loved. Gwyn had made her bed. They'd made their bed, she amended.
I suppose if someday I found the right person to raise children with, and we weren't facing an impending war. Now was certainly not the time.
Gwyn composed her shoulders, struggling to stop her fingers from shaking.
She could do this.
I am the rock against which the surf crashes…
The cup rattled.
Just drink the damn thing, Berdara.
I am the rock against which the surf crashes…
"Gwyn, honey?"
Blinking, Gwyn slowly cracked open her eyes to find them wet. Hot tears trailed down her cheeks, a map of her grief. She rubbed them away with the back of one itchy sleeve.
Nesta stared at her, those cold blue eyes edged with heartache and empathy. She must have figured it out, Gwyn thought.
"I need to do this," Gwyn swallowed, steadying her voice. "I have no choice."
A muscle feathered in Nesta's jaw, her eyes flitting over Gwyn's head as she nodded. "Then we do this together, Berdara. On three, we give it hell and knock it back. Alright? One… Two…"
I am the rock against which the surf crashes…
Shadows roiled around him like a gathering tide, heaving and receding over his shoulders.
"What do you think?" Cassian asked, scrubbing over his scruffy chin.
Azriel sighed, taking a sip of his drink. "Matters of your family are between you and your mate, Cass."
Cassian dragged his fingers through his hair, placing them behind as he tipped his head back to the ceiling of the deserted House library, having traveled there for privacy. "I can't get her out of my head." His warm eyes met the shadowsinger's. "Tulia was at Sangravah, Az. She's five now, but she was… fuck, she's so young. She was there and witnessed everything," Cassian continued, "And yesterday? She looked at my hair and asked if I was a damned ballerina."
Azriel was the one who choked on his drink this time. The first had been Cassian overhearing his mate blatantly ask Gwyn if she's had sex. Cauldron damn Cass, Az should have known the insinuation of his evening before the snowball fight was going to come back to haunt him. Another reason General Annoyance was not the Spymaster.
"I did not scare or intimidate Tulia. At all." His grin spread wider as he went on. "You should have seen her with our gift. Pure delight, Az."
"I've heard her sing before. Gwyn took care of her when she lived with the priestesses."
"I know, Gwyn's who introduced Nesta to her." The grin slipped a trace. "Gwyn said Tulia has issues sleeping. Nightmares. She hates the dark and… I guess she is even aloof with the other kids. And per Ananke and Deidre, it's been worse since..."
Since Gwyn left. Fuck. Gwyn was troubled about the ramifications of her departure. And Azriel knew his Valkyrie enough to perceive guilt was weighing on her.
Suddenly, his shadows trembled as if rattled, and their voices melded into one another so vociferously and intricately that he could understand only a few pieces in the confusion.
'Help.'
'Shadowsinger.'
'Hurry.'
"I think you should speak to Rhys and Feyre. With Gwyn too. Then talk to the girl if this gets far enough."
As Cassian nodded, his shadows bit him. Not a playful nip, either. They chomped his arm hard enough that he gritted his teeth.
'What's wrong?' he asked his shadows.
'Our little Valkyrie is unhappy and hurting.'
The siphons on his gauntlets flared with blue fire as he stepped around Cassian, stalking the hallway in a brisk clip toward the kitchen. When he lifted his head, he found Nesta braced in his direction. In her eyes, there was a slight hint of an indictment, along with unease. He cocked his head to the side. Gwyn's back was to his, her shoulder trembling.
Her sweet voice was on a steady repeat, the empty, delicate cup in her hand covered in hairline fractures from the pressure of her grip.
Words he instantly recognized and dreaded. Words she hadn't recited for so long.
"I am the rock against which the surf crashes…"
"Gwyn?" He kept his voice low and soothing. His shadows smoothed over her collar, brushing over her bare skin in cool sweeps.
'Pulse is too high…'
'Heart is pounding…'
'Breathing is rapid and shallow…'
'Shadowsinger, something trapped her in panic…'
Gwyn didn't answer, merely kept repeating her words, her eyes sealed tight against the current reality. What in the fuck happened?
"Deep breath, Gwyn," Azriel spoke into her ear. Her trembling eased. "Nothing can break you."
She choked as if air reentered her lungs after being trapped under the water and breached the surface. The shadowsinger caught her eye as she craned her neck to peer at him.
Reaching around, he took her cup, setting it on the counter. He detected an aroma of the dregs. His stomach tumbled.
Contraceptive tea.
His heart pounded under his rib cage like a war drum. Fuck. How had he not thought of this? Rather than protecting her, he put her in this situation.
'This is not your fault, Shadowsinger.'
'Yes, it is,' he rebutted.
Az never even asked if she'd drank this before. Priestesses rarely drank the tea, as their beliefs aligned with children being blessings directly from the Mother. If he'd only asked…
If Azriel had, he would have realized Gwyn most likely had once before—after her assault.
But he hadn't. He didn't think about anything while taking her to bed.
Nesta briefly met his gaze and left the room with a stern nod, leaving Gwyn in his care.
"Shadowsinger?" Gwyn turned fully to face him, his shadows nuzzling into her cheeks, swirling around her hands. He reached for her, taking her hands in his. His lips brushed her forehead.
"Are you alright, Gwyn?"
"I—," she paused, exhaling shakily. Her hands squeezed his. He returned the gesture. "I'll be okay." Her eyes were deep, watery pools. Her lips curved up in a tight smile. Too tight. "I will have to get used to this."
No, Gwyn fucking wouldn't—and Azriel was going to make damn sure of that.
The High Lord and Lady finally appeared with their charming son in tow, accompanied by a bejeweled Amren. There was an unexpected tension during their arrival. Somehow, plans had unexpectedly transformed. Dinner had switched to a meeting with the Inner Circle of the Night Court. After Mor arrived fashionably late, Gwyn was grateful for the excuse to leave.
"Gwyn, I'd like you present as well," Rhysand said, signaling for her to follow.
Shock jolted through her. "Oh, of course, my Lord. I mean, Rhysand."
Azriel walked beside her, hands tucked behind his back, his face harboring indifference even around his family. He halted and reached out a hand to stall her, letting the others pass and leaving them alone in the hallway between two great pillars of onyx. His eyes lightened a little as he gazed at her.
"Are you sure you're up to it?" He asked gently, as an inky mist surrounded them.
Gwyn fidgeted with her hands and straightened her shoulders. "I'm fine. I can do this," she said, nodding for emphasis.
Azriel offered a small bow in return and strolled with her to the private library. Everyone quickly found a seat, leaving the space at the desk open for the High Lord and Lady.
Gwyn found an open wingback chair in a corner. Azriel somehow tucked himself behind her. She inclined her head back to peer at him and he was—he was no longer simply Azriel, her friend. Her lover.
No. He was the Spymaster of the Night Court. Cunning and fatal. Unreadable and discerning. Unmerciful and unmovable. Azriel had once more become defined by his role. And it was startling how quickly he veered between them.
"Pressing news arrived in before we left. Word has come from Eris," Rhysand started, his finger tapping on the glossy wooden desk surface. "Nuala has not reported back at their contact point on the border."
The power of shadow and night darkened the room at once.
Rhys's eyes stared above Gwyn's head. "I just found out, Az. Otherwise, you would have been the first to hear."
"I'm not shocked that fucking prick worked over your head, Az," Cassian said, sneering, cracking his knuckles. "Besides, you damn near killed him not too long ago."
"And you and our Spymaster also rescued his Autumn ass when he didn't deserve it," Amren added. Mor remained noticeably quiet during the entire exchange.
Gwyn's eyes grew wide, and she looked to Azriel, finding his handsome face utterly neutral. But she knew. She knew Azriel. Deep down, he was worried. But she stopped her sudden urge to grab his hand and offer him comfort. Later.
"Eris is a preening asshole," Nesta added. "He's using this to go over everyone to speak to Rhys as if he is already High Lord."
"And yet I would rather deal with Eris than Beron," Rhysand added, fixing the lapel of his navy jacket. "The enemy you know and all that."
A critical violet stare found Azriel's again. "Cerridwen is already on the hunt."
"I sent my shadows as well," Azriel said. "I'll find her."
Gwyn noted the words used. Not we'll, but I'll. Cauldron, bless him, Azriel was taking this as a personal affront. As a professional failure.
"Keep your shadows outside of the Autumn borders, Azriel," Rhysand stated.
While Azriel remained mostly motionless, Gwyn noticed his fists balling up behind her. "Seems counterintuitive considering Nuala is most likely in their—in Beron's—clutches."
Rhysand zeroed in on his spymaster. Suddenly, his power was more evident. "It won't do any good right now."
"And this brings us to the other tidbit of news," Feyre said from her seat at the desk, bouncing Nyx on her knee, attempting to be cheerful with her son despite the terrible news. "Eris has informed us Beron has strengthened his wards around his Court."
"Happy fucking Solstice, everyone," Cassian grumbled, his head falling against the back of the settee.
"How?" Amren asked, her head tilting like a curious cat. "That decrepit Autumn prick shouldn't be able to do this. He isn't you, Rhys. You shield Velaris, but I doubt you can even manage this."
"The Queens? Koschei? All of them?" Rhysand said. "What matters is, they have strengthened the wards to alert on any High Lord presence… and those specifically in my Inner Circle."
A slew of loud, creative swears erupted in the library, followed by muffled ones as Nyx glanced around.
"Even me?" Nesta asked.
"Witnesses saw you dancing with Eris last winter solstice," Feyre said. "Your mating to Cassian is well known. We have to assume to be safe."
Azriel crossed his arms over his broad muscled chest, the fabric of his black tunic stretching wonderfully. "What does this mean for my shadows?"
Rhys shrugged. "We don't know whether they can be detected, since they are part of you. We sent Lucien ahead to test a theory."
"Fireling bait? Nice," Cassian said, his smile mischievous.
Rhys didn't waver from the business at hand. "We're meeting with Helion tomorrow. We need to hold tight. Cerridwen is doing surveillance on the Spring side. Kallias has spies working at the border of Autumn."
"Not good enough," Azriel spat. "We need someone on the inside."
The High Lord released a bit more of his power and Cassian let out a low whistle. "Is that so? So what do you propose, Azriel? Brute force? Do we go and take Beron out?"
"Fuck yes. Exactly what I'm proposing! Nuala could be hurt or—"
The tiny catch in his voice caught her attention. Anguish. Ariel was silently suffering, sick with anxiety.
A bolt of inspiration struck her.
"If I may?" Gwyn interrupted the standoff between the High Lord and his Spymaster. "You said the wards only apply to you, the High Lady and the Inner Circle?"
High Lady nodded as she spoke. "Eris implied as much. We're guessing Cerridwen now as well. How? We do not know."
"The way Helion assumed the magic works was something to do with scents of magic?" Rhys added, his brow furrowing. "No one is entirely sure, which is why my bet is on Koschei's magic."
"Keir double-crossing Eris?" Mor asked, pulling on her crimson lower lip. "Wouldn't surprise me one fucking bit. "Especially given the history there."
"Well," Gwyn began, focusing on Rhysand as she spoke. "Then you need someone to go in. We can't leave Nuala there."
The Valkyrie didn't have to turn around to notice the Spymaster stiffening behind her. A faint azure glow projected off the wall from his siphons. She could feel the energy rising from his body.
"I'm listening," Rhysand said, resting his elbows on the desk, steepling his fingers.
"You need someone who can move about undetected, correct? I—"
"Gwyn," Azriel interrupted, his voice clipped.
She didn't bother to turn around, merely pleading her case to the High Lord and Lady themselves.
"As I was saying before your Spymaster rudely interrupted me—"
Nesta laughed, Cassian staring at her, head cocked, trying to cover her mouth. She bit his fingers.
Sitting up tall, Gwyn lifted her chin. She tried to seem opposing in her ugly green sweater and leggings. "I am descended from the Autumn Court. My mother spent time in the Forest House."
Several gasps sounded.
Rhysand blinked in curiosity. "Your mother lived in the Forest House? I thought I may have overheard you mention this before, but I truly did not know."
Gwyn shrugged. "Never came up in discussion. My mother lived there for several years and was left at Sangravah's doorstep. She told me a little about the house. Because of my heritage, I've studied their culture extensively in the library. I am well-versed in—"
"Gwyn!"
She once again ignored Azriel's protests.
"I am well-versed in the dynamics and the limitations of their court. Your spymaster has also trained me in the art of spying and sent me on a mission. I believe I could be beneficial."
"Plus, her hair is red. She'd fit right in with those ginger fuckers," Cassian chimed in and Gwyn offered him a smile of gratitude.
"Thanks… I think," she said.
Her chair spun around so violently, she was surprised her neck didn't snap. The Spymaster loomed over her with his hands on the armrests.
A sense of finality emanated from Azriel's voice as he declared, "No."
Her eyes pierced his hazel as Gwyn leaned in closer. "Need I note our last official mission, my fellow Carynthian warrior? Do you recall the last time you said no to me? I saved your ass."
Azriel's cut jaw twitched. "I wouldn't have needed saving if you weren't there."
"Or you'd be dead, Shadowsinger."
Azriel's nostrils flared and his fingers pressed so hard, the armrest splintered.
"I'm the Spymaster. I say who gets sent and who doesn't…"
"Az, Gwyn has a point," Cassian said, and the look Azriel sent him would send a lesser faerie or man running for the hills.
"And if this was Nesta, Cass? What would you do?"
Cassian considered for a moment and snatched his mate's hand. "I wouldn't be able to stop her. I would trust in her training. As you advised me during the Blood Rite."
Azriel's rigid body did not budge. He only met Gwyn's glare and reiterated, "No, Gwyn. Not happening."
"And what if the High Lord goes over your head on this?" Gwyn countered, crossing her arms.
"I like this girl. She has balls," Amren whispered to Mor. Mor mumbled something about popcorn in her quiet reply.
As Azriel leaned in closer, their noses almost touched. "Then the High Lord will look for another fucking spymaster."
With a raised chin, Gwyn said, "You can't order me like this."
"The hell I can't! This is my court position. Gods, you are… " His speech trailed off as his chest swelled and dropped.
She thinned her eyes, her teeth grating. "I'm what? Finish the sentence, Azriel. I dare you."
"Enough," Rhysand ordered. The only one who didn't seem relieved by the reprieve was Amren, who was thoroughly enjoying the interaction from her perch. "Thank you for the suggestions, Gwyn. We'll table this, for now." He frowned at Azriel, who stood, challenging his brother to go against him.
Mother, would Azriel resign from his position over this? Over her? Why was he so against this? What was the point of instructing her? Did he think her skills bore little use?
Questions swirled in her mind like a maelstrom, sucking her down with a vortex of whys and what-ifs.
Feyre cleared her throat. "Finding out what Helion thinks is the first step." Her blue starry eyes found Gwyn. They exchanged a nod. "And then we go from there."
Dark mist gathered and besieged them, weaving with a smoky blue radiance that had Gwyn's heart and body jumping in fear.
Her pulse was still pounding as her eyes refocused.
Azriel was gone.
"Gwyn? Any luck with your research? The books? The Seer Stone?" Rhysand asked, his voice smooth as velvet.
She bit the inside of her cheek. "I could not find other copies of the books. But I remember pages were missing in the text on the High King Merrill had me pull…" Gwyn rambled on, her thoughts entirely focused on the shadowsinger.
How? Gwyn thought as she tugged on her leathers the next morning, fighting against the tightness of the fabric.
How was any of this possible?
How could the most beautiful night and day of her life end in such a way? Alone in her bed.
Azriel hadn't knocked on her door last night. When she'd tiptoed to his, her bare feet making no sound, he hadn't answered. Either he was too angry, or he wasn't even home.
Gwyn's heart throbbed as she laced up her boots. She imagined him displeased with her. With himself. With Rhys. But she was also mad as hell, and damn well she should be.
After all, didn't Azriel know how he sounded in front of everyone?
Hadn't they already played this game before their mission to Sangravah?
Hadn't they had this exchange?
Hadn't Gwyn proven herself of immense value?
Wasn't she capable?
"I am," she reminded herself, drawing the knot taut on her boot and moving her very capable ass to the dining room for breakfast.
She plopped in a chair across from Cassian and beside Nesta dressed in their training leathers. The House released a bowl of familiar lumpy porridge and a banana in front of her. Cassian smirked across the table, knowing how much she abhorred the oatmeal. This was also why she snatched the sugar meant for tea and started spooning the contents into her bowl.
"Damn, Berdara," Nesta said, observing her friend challenge her mate.
Cassian merely huffed and went back to whatever report he was reading.
"Considering your aggressive response to my mate, I take it you are still annoyed?" Nesta asked her friend between sips of tea.
Gwyn had two options today. One, get through with as little drama as possible. Push her feelings deep down and let them come out only during practice, like a sane individual. Or...
She slammed her spoon down, shaking the table, gaining the attention of her two housemates.
"Yes, I'm still upset," Gwyn said. "He made me…" She paused, her lips drawn into a tight line.
"Gwyneth Berdara, at a loss for words? I thought I'd never see the day," Nesta teased, earning a withering stare.
"Azriel made it sound like I can't take care of myself."
Cassian's head snapped up. "That's not what I picked up."
Nesta rolled her eyes. "You would defend him."
Shaking his head, the Illyrian elaborated. "No. Honestly, Gwyn. What I got was him saying sending you in was a lousy idea for strategic reasons. Which, as you remember, I disagreed with."
"I heard you," Gwyn said. "You stuck up for me. I truly appreciated it, Cassian."
"But," he continued, throwing his spoon like a spear into his bowl. "I also have known Az forever. In the end, I would be wrong to discount that fact." He exhaled deeply through his nose. "He was overprotective of Mor, too. This is the reason he almost killed Eris."
"Somehow, that doesn't make me feel better," Gwyn said. "And Mor? I've seen her at practice and she is more than capable."
"Not with Eris," Cassian said. "There's history there."
"Yeah, complicated. I've heard this much," Gwyn snapped. She hesitated, taking a bite of her oatmeal, gritty against her teeth.
"Enjoying your bowl of sugar, Gwynnie?"
"Shut up, Cass."
Nesta snorted with delight again and then twisted to her mate. "What you said yesterday about the Blood Rite, what Az said; was that true?"
"Yeah. I didn't fucking care if Eris lived. I needed to get you out, and he reminded me you guys could make it on your own."
Gwyn wanted to tear her hair out. She considered her words before she spoke. "Well, what changed? Why does he think I'm weak now?"
Cassian shook his head. "That's not why…"
"That's how I feel. I think Azriel doesn't think I can do… anything."
Cassian's eyes strayed over her head, and he straightened abruptly as he cleared his throat. Nesta bared her teeth.
As Gwyn stared at a scratch on the table, she wondered how long the shadowsinger had been hidden behind her. To sense his gaze upon her, his shadows flitting about, she didn't have to look.
No greeting. No words. Uncomfortable silence enveloped them as Azriel's sure but quiet steps finally made their way to the kitchen.
The House, in its infinite wisdom, decided that moment was the one to plop a beverage in front of her. A steaming cup of contraceptive tea—
Gwyn nearly heaved. Following her lonely night, Cauldron knew this wasn't crucial. But she could not avoid the damn drink forever. She must conquer this in her life. She wasn't weak.
As she reached for her cup with shaking fingers, Gwyn discovered the cup gone—and found scarred fingers pressing a large mug into her open palm. The rich aroma of chocolate wafted in the air. One peek down, she saw extra marshmallows floating at the top. Hot chocolate. Her favorite.
When she peered up, she saw Azriel with her cup of tea… drinking. Without a sound, the shadowsinger stepped around, making his way to the training ring.
Hot tears found their way to the corner of her eyes, and her throat burned. From the emotion, not the beverage.
How? He was so mad, undoubtedly still furious at her, and yet...
"Gods, even sulky and moody, they are cute as hell," Cassian muttered under his breath.
"Unbearable. And that was possibly the sweetest godsdamn thing I've ever seen," Nesta said before smacking her mate in the arm.
"Ouch, Nes! What was that for?"
"Why don't you ever drink the tea? I didn't know the males could do that."
Cassian's warm, bewildered hazel eyes gaped at Gwyn, his lips set in a crooked grin. "Illyrian males wouldn't do what Az did. Never. Hell, where we grew up, females weren't even allowed tea. But for a male to drink one? Fuck." He scanned where his brother had exited. "I've never seen him like this... ever. I wasn't kidding when I said you got him whipped, Gwynnie. He tries to be distant, suppresses his emotions. But he can't hide around you. And yeah, he's tried since you first showed up at practice."
"Really?" she sniffled.
Nesta rolled her eyes. "Berdara, you two were stealing glances from day one. We both noticed."
"It's true. Back in the day, this version of him was rare. And now? Every time he looks at you, I can see it." Cassian dragged his fingers through his hair, wrapping a leather strap around what he gathered at his nape. "Fuck, I'm going to tell you this and you cannot tell Az I told you." When Gwyn nodded, he went on. "What I told you about when you guys were in the Blood Rite? Az talked me off the ledge, reminding me we trained you both and we had to trust in you. I always felt like he wasn't saying it only for my benefit, but for his, too. He cared for you even then, Gwyn. You got under my broody boy's skin. Even though I cannot support him on this move, I understand him. No one wants to put someone they love in danger. You'd rather stab yourself in the heart. Give Az time to cool, but not enough time to stew. Then talk to the idiot. And if Az won't talk, you'll make him Gwynnie, and he'll let you."
Her laugh was wet as she rubbed under her eyes. "I didn't realize you're that perceptive… or romantic, Cassian."
"I knew all along," Nesta said, playfully nudging him. "Ten marks says the broody bat says sorry first, Cass."
Cassian scoffed. "You're on, Nes."
Phew, well that was a lot, right? And I just want to say, nobody panic! Chapter 46 teaser will be up on my Tumblr ( mystical-blaise) this weekend!