SUMMARY: The Valkyries enjoy Gwyn's birthday. Azriel has a special gift.
So, not only did I finish reading "A Shadow in the Ember," but I wrote this, and uploaded it ON TIME! I'm proud of myself! LOL
In her gloved fist, Gwyn glanced down at the note Nesta had given her. A hint, Nesta had informed her.
Azriel, who had winnowed them into the city center, quietly chuckled at their antics. "Have fun, Berdara," he said as he lightly kissed her temple. The shadowsinger left them to their own devices after his gentle reminder to stay safe.
After he was out of sight, both sisters' perfectly innocent grins twisted into sneaky smirks.
Gwyn skimmed the paper again, considering. In an elegant script, Theo wrote his love letter to Amara at the place where he fell in love with her.
"Come on, Berdara," Nesta said, scrubbing, blowing into her knit-covered palms. "Because of your… morning, we're late and we don't have all day."
"I'm insulted that you didn't get this in a second with the volume of filth you've read, Gwyn," Emerie teased. "Perhaps we underrated the great mind—"
Parchment crinkled as Gwyn crumpled up the offending scrap of paper at the suggestion. That her mind was slow or to challenge her inability to solve the puzzle. She jammed the paper into the pocket of her gray winter coat, straightened her cobalt woolen hat, and simply answered, "The park. Theo found Amara playing in the snow and offered her his cloak. Chapter 26 of Every Winter Hereafter ."
Nesta snorted, tucking her arm into the crook of Gwyn's elbow. On the redheaded Valkyrie's other side, Emerie followed suit. "Then let's go."
As a unit, they moved through the city. The Valkyries. Sisters. Fearless. Unrelenting. Looking forward to the day and the year to come.
A wild shriek broke from her as she reeled around, chucking a ball at Emerie as snow pelted her shoulder.
"This was a brilliant idea," Gwyn chuckled, crouching to pick up another ball of snow. "Why should the boys have all the fun?!"
"A new tradition," Emerie yelled before wet sleet struck her face. Sputtering and wiping her face, she howled. "Damn you, Nesta!"
Nesta's laugh was tinged with a sardonic glee that could have grown only from Lady Death.
"You're out, Em. It's just down to me and the birthday girl," the eldest Archeron crooned from behind her tree barrier.
Gwyn didn't bother to answer her friend. No. She knew Nesta too well. If she responded, Gwyn would reveal the current position she'd crept to, nicely tucked away behind three full boxwood hedges.
Taking off her hat, she quietly gathered an arsenal of snowballs.
"So who ended up creating the snowstorm?" Emerie asked Nesta, either as a diversion or sheer curiosity.
That was an excellent question. True, the Night Court was in the thick of Winter. The climate of Velaris, however, was generally milder than the Illyrian mountains and the Winter Court.
"I asked Feyre," Nesta revealed, and Gwyn tried to gauge if her voice was closer. "She used her magic and collected some water from the Sidra. Let it fall and chill. During the day it grew warm enough to give us snow."
Tears welled in Gwyn's eyes as she thought of Feyre, the High Lady for Mother's sake, wanting to do something like this—for a simple ex-priestess's birthday.
Caught off-guard by emotion, Gwyn didn't pick up the crunching footsteps until it was too late. Her body twisted to the side in time to dodge the snowball aimed for her head. She stayed low, ducking, missing another throw as she dashed into a grouping of trees.
"Godsdammit," Nesta snickered as she cursed and gave chase.
Gwyn did her best to hold in her amusement as she sprinted, her breath burning in her lungs as she hopped over fallen twigs and avoided tangled underbrush. She removed her hat, dropping it on a branch sticking out from behind a wide trunk, so only the poofy pom on the crown was visible.
Her legs pumped and scorched as she ran, not stopping until she found—there. Until she spotted a tree suitable to climb, one like one she and Catrin could climb outside of Sangravah. Her mother's favorite, one that reminded her of a tree found outside of the Forest House, with leaves that shimmered like gold coins in sunlight.
She could almost hear Catrin whispering, her voice edged in a challenge. "I bet I can beat you, dear sister. First one to touch the sky wins!"
In the same way, she had done as a child, fast as the wind and silent as a star, Gwyn scaled the tree.
"Where the fuck did she go?" Nesta asked, whirling around, with Emerie jogging close behind.
"She's a tricky little nymph," her Illyrian friend snorted. "You know you're both down to one more hit apiece."
Nesta's features were stark in determination, her gloved hand wrapped tightly around a snowball.
Gwyn stared at a single one in her hand, about to launch—until she noticed a branch above. A bough drooping heavy with snow.
Her lips twitched. Standing as quietly and carefully as she could, Gwyn rose and leaned over, pulling herself over with the branch above. Biting her lips and praying to the Mother they didn't look up, Gwyn jumped.
A cascade of snow tumbled, snapping offshoots until it crashed upon her unsuspecting Valkyrie sisters.
Unbridled laughter erupted from her as she hastily made her way down the ladder of branches. With an oomph, she hit the ground and made her way over to her laughing sisters, currently digging their way out.
Gwyn pulled her hat off the tree branch, placing it on and sticking her hands casually in her pockets as loomed over sisters.
"I believe I won," she declared, a smug smile stretched on her face.
Emerie and Nesta were rosy-cheeked as they clambered out of the snow heap, the former shaking the excess from her wings as they stood. "Touché, Berdara. You are a devious thing."
"That I am. So, not only have I out-crafted not only Illyrian warriors but also Valkyries."
"Your moody bat will be proud," Nesta said.
Gwyn smiled again because she was certain her shadowsinger would be.
"Here's your next damn clue," Emerie said, drawing a now damp paper out of her coat pocket.
The next hint was obvious. Persa met Marisol at a bookstore in The King's Favorite, which is where they traveled to next. The quaint bookstore, one Gwyn was well-acquainted with thanks to Azriel, was due north of the park. The bell above the door dinged as they entered, the owner at once recognizing them and waving in greeting.
"Good afternoon, ladies. Can I help you with anything?"
"Romance," Emerie and Nesta said in unison.
Gwyn thought for a minute about what she would be interested in reading next. She'd just completed a very smutty selection that Nesta had suggested. Surprised at the depravity—which wasn't quite Gwyn's style. She was in the mood for adventure, mystery. A softer love narrative, which she relayed to the store owner.
The shopkeeper gestured for them to follow. "We just got these in."
Nesta didn't spare a glance at the titles of the twenty-five new books on the stand. "We'll take them. Or, I should say, she'll take them. It's her birthday."
Gwyn's mouth dropped open. "Oh no, I can't accept—"
Nesta lifted her chin, a picture of haughty regality even in wool and tweed. "Yes, you will." She swung her attention back to the owner. "We'll take them all."
A stern expression as sharp as a blade met her eyes. There was no point in Gwyn dissenting. Once Nesta Archeron had decided, arguing would be as effective as beating one's head against a stone wall. After the clerk wrapped up the bundle, stating they would deliver it to the House of Wind promptly, Emerie handed Gwyn her next clue.
"Now I'm glad we're doing this one before the drinks," Emerie whispered to a chuckling Nesta.
A dainty human woman saved a brooding demi-fae warrior when she flung this at an ilken. The answer was an ax, which weaved them through the cobblestone streets of Velaris to the Palace of Iron and Steel, an amalgam of skilled makers of armor and blades to simple cutlery and practical pans for cookery.
"Um, dare I ask why we are here?" Gwyn queried, her body sticking Nesta's as they made their way down a corridor, the heat from smelters and liquid metal both invigorating and startling.
"Here," Nesta said, pausing before a store called An Ax to Grind. She leaned over and murmured into Gwyn's ear. "If you hate this, it was Emerie's idea."
Emerie punched Nesta in the upper arm. "Liar."
Gwyn swallowed hard as a hulking male with long golden hair and a beard swathed in soot-covered clothes and a stained leather apron approached.
"Ah, the birthday party, correct?" When their leader nodded, he signaled with his hand for them to follow.
Gwyn clung tight to her sisters. After all this time, this was new. Her heart pounded in her chest in time to the resounding clang of mallet on metal and the hiss of steam from heated metal into water. The uneven breath of the bellows. The warmth made them each shed their outwear, draping them over their forearms.
"I'm surprised to find this group," he cleared his throat. "Of all females."
Gwyn suddenly walked a little taller, her brows drawing together. Nesta clicked her tongue. "Is that a problem?"
He glanced over his shoulder, "No, it's just Cassian had made the arrangement."
"Cassian?" Gwyn asked, her gaze flitting between Nesta and Emerie.
Nesta's smile was soft when she spoke of her mate. "Yes, he set this up. Said he didn't need his elite Valkyries missing out on any practice strictly for a party."
Gwyn snorted in a laugh at that.
"Here you go," the large male said, halting before a wall of gouged wood with a target. Besides them was a wooden rack with a row of—axes. Their giant guide picked one up, demonstrated how to hold it, and then threw it at the target, meeting it dead center. "So that's it."
The girls made their way over to the rack, each taking up their weapon.
"As Emerie said, I am very glad we are doing this before any drinking," Gwyn said, taking her place up at the line to throw. "Though I guess Nesta could have been our designated ax handler."
"So, are we competing?" Emerie asked, taking a practice swing, making sure she had enough room to avoid her wings.
Both Nesta's and Gwyn's snickers answered enough.
Nesta glanced at the clock on the wall. "Three throws per round. Best three out of five wins."
"Closest to the bullseye, I presume?" Gwyn asked, both her hands on the handle, as the male showed, the wood now sitting between her shoulder blades.
Nesta nodded in answer.
Gwyn steadied herself, took a deep breath, and heaved with all her might.
"I'm simply pointing out that your wings probably gave you an unfair advantage," Nesta said.
"Ah, yes. My crippled, unstable wings helped me kick your ass—excuse me—both your asses." Emerie's reply dripped with sarcasm. Her smile widened in well-earned pride.
"No, you won fair and square," Gwyn grumbled, kicking a pebble across the cobblestone. Even though Gwyn could admit Emerie decimated her competition, she did not like losing. She even hated to admit her defeat.
Their third stop of the day was a bistro patio, warmed by magic and a rustic fireplace, for lunch. Seated beside the crackling hearth, Gwyn may have overindulged a bit of cheese… and sweets. But it was her birthday, after all. And for Catrin, she would indulge and enjoy both of them.
Nesta had rushed them along after their second glasses of wine, peeking up at the diffused sun in the sky.
"We're burning daylight, you two. There's more to see," Nesta said, sliding another strip of paper across the glass, wrought-iron tabletop.
Gwyn knew precisely where their next stop would be. Of course, she recalled where Polonia and Christus had sex. In the stables. One of her favorite scenes of all time and made her notorious list. A list she had no intention of sharing with her sisters. It made her list, not for the location. Cauldron, no. The thought of hay made her itchy. But the scene; number 49.
A sexual act Gwyn never expected would turn her on and yet…
Perhaps it was a salute to Ms. Drake's ability to engage the reader. But she'd be lying if Gwyn hadn't eventually replaced the lead male with a certain well-built Illyrian in that picture in her mind. Long before the fantasy had a chance to become reality. Someday, possibly. Az was always willing to try, as he was with everything else.
Well, almost everything.
There was a wariness in his hazel eyes whenever he let her join him on a brief run with spy work. Usually donning the role of teacher over companion, which seemed to hamper his overprotectiveness some. But not completely. Though, that they'd even had the conversation after their Solstice fight and he'd been the one to offer the suggestion? Well, that had warmed her heart and then they'd warmed their bed.
Because that's what Gwyn wanted. Not to be seen as helpless. Not to have someone guard her. She wanted someone to walk through the world with her.
"Earth to Gwyneth Berdara," Emerie said, snapping her fingers in front of her eyes, causing Gwyn to flinch back to reality.
"Sorry," Gwyn smiled timidly, tucking back a stray piece of hair that escaped her braid.
"Yes, forgive her," Nesta said, keeping in step beside them. "Her mind has to be complete mush after this morning's… what the hell did he do to you all morning?"
Her face warmed as if under direct sunshine in the Summer Court. She stared ahead and found the back of the river estate beyond the rolling hills beside the Sidra. The babbling of the river sounded more interesting than the present insistent babbling of her best friend. One she could not ignore.
As they trudged up the slope to the stables beyond the well-tended gardens, Nesta elbowed her in the side as her friend sidled up beside her.
"Come on, Gwyn, give us something ."
"Yeah, we're dying here, Berdara," Emerie said, her gloved hands clasped under her chin as if praying to the Mother.
Gwyn's cheeks heated again, but her lips twitched in amusement at the outright whining of her chosen sisters. Her family.
"Azriel is very private," Gwyn started, before being interrupted by her cohorts' answering grumbles. "But… I suppose I can let you all know… he's kind."
"I'm not surprised," Nesta said, her smile soft as she gazed at her. "I've seen how he's glanced at you for over a year. When he looked at you, something was slipping through his mask. And what I saw was the only reason I didn't knock him upside the head. Because I saw Azriel's intentions were honorable."
Gwyn nodded in answer, a wide grin on her face. "Don't tell him, but he's sweet and…" Her voice slipped to a whisper. "He told me he loved me."
Nesta and Emerie stumbled, holding their arms out to stop her.
Nesta's hands fell to Gwyn's shoulders. "He did?" Gwyn bobbed her head. "And you?" Gwyn's shy silence gave them her answer before they wrapped her up in their arms.
Emerie's giggle sounded wet. "Not that I know Azriel well, but he doesn't seem like the type of male to open up, Gwyn."
"He makes me feel… safe. Always." And as she extolled the virtues of the male. Her male. Tears pricked the corner of her eyes. "And he makes me happy."
Nesta kissed her forehead and drew back. "I'm happy for you. And you make him happy, too." Her mouth twisted. "That wasn't what we were asking."
"Give us one thing," Emerie pleaded.
"Oh, Mother above," Gwyn said, shielding her flaming face, trying to turn away as her sisters poked and prodded at her willpower. "Alright, I'll say this much. As he is with everything, Azriel is extremely… attentive. "
"Oh, I bet he is," Emerie quipped. Nesta snorted. "What about the wingspan?"
Gwyn rolled her eyes. She wasn't going to speak size with them. The way he filled her, stretched her. How his presence inside completely consumed her and stole her breath. She shook the dirty memories from her mind, praying to the Mother her thoughts weren't written in her features.
As they strolled up to the stables, the horses whinnied and the earthy scent of fresh hay hit her. She walked up to a horse, putting out her hand and letting the mare sniff her before allowing it to nuzzle into her palm.
"Since when does Rhysand have a stable?" Emerie asked.
"Since Feyre, who advised him there are some of us who can't winnow or fly."
Gwyn continued to stroke the coat of the dark mares, her mane the hue of midnight. Stunning. "And what's your name?"
"Umbra," a voice answered from the center aisle. The redheaded male was striding toward them with two stallions by the rein. He was clad in varied shades of brown, with darker breeches and a lighter tunic. A maroon cloak scraped the edges of his mahogany riding boots with brass buckles. His long russet locks were held back with a leather strap.
Lucien, Gwyn recalled from Solstice. "Her name is Umbra."
"So our High Lord finally demoted you from envoy to simple stable boy, Vanserra?" Nesta said, her tone a little icy.
"Ladies," Lucien greeted, bowing somewhat while still holding onto the two horses. "Is there anything I can aid you with while I'm here?"
"I'm surprised you didn't say, Ladies and Nesta," Nesta replied.
Lucien's lips quirked. "Are you sure the Mother didn't bless you with the ability to read minds, Mrs. Archeron? Or do you prefer Lady Death or Lady of Bloodshed?"
"Prick," Nesta snorted and pointed in Gwyn's direction. "It's her birthday. We're going on a ride."
The son of the Autumn lord smiled, the genuine kind. His russet eye crinkled in the corner and the golden eye whirred. And he was… handsome.
"Is that so? Well," he switched the reins to one hand, pressed his hand to his chest, and sketched another bow. The picture of a refined gentlemale. "Happy Birthday, my lady."
Gwyn smiled coyly, clasping her hands in front of her. "Thank you."
"Do you need any help to saddle or mount the horses?" Lucien asked, focusing on Gwyn and Emerie, and particularly not on Nesta.
"We're good," the eldest Archeron said. "Nice horses. What do you have planned?"
Something softened in his face, a noticeable stain of pink across the crest of his cheeks. "Elain agreed to go on a ride." A pregnant pause. "We're taking a trip. I have some emissary duties in the Day Court. I invite Elain whenever I leave, and this time, she agreed."
Nesta blinked as if in surprise. "Oh, well then… have a good time."
Lucien nodded, "Indeed we shall." He turned back to Gwyn. "Happy Birthday." And then he walked his two chestnut horses out of the barn and into the late afternoon sun. Nesta's steely blue eyes thinned as she watched him disappear from view. It took some time to saddle the horses and mount. Gwyn chose the horse that accepted her when she walked into the barn. A female of dark majesty who followed her like her very own shadows in the stall.
While sitting on her mount Umbra, Nesta joined her on a gray filly who was a little wild. Fiain was her name. Emerie atop a mare with a colorful spotted coat pattern named Garang.
The horseback ride was exhilarating. The wind blew her braid straight back as Umbra raced through the tall grasses, vaulting over small streams. There was a beauty in the wildness. Freedom in each labored huff from the horse. She could only imagine Umbra with wings, and they were flying. When she glanced back, she led the race against her sisters.
Catrin would have loved this, she thought. And she would live not just for herself—but for her.
The last clue led them back into the city on their way to her favorite bakery. Albeit not the bakery that Trion accidentally banged the door into Tera when they first met in Forever's Call. No, they were headed to her favorite bakeries, the one Azriel brought to during their first days together. The one near to Sevenda's.
On their walk there, her eyes caught the sign for the lingerie shop nestled in the Palace of Thread and Jewels. She'd dragged her sisters inside, with Nesta protesting that they didn't have time.
But Gwyn wanted this. A gift. Not for Azriel. No. A present for herself, to make herself feel good. To feel beautiful. To feel proud and brave. Sensual and powerful in her new skin. And if Azriel liked her purchase on top of that? That was the icing on the cake. Happy Birthday to her, indeed.
So, armed with their purchases, the trio headed to the bakery, which had Gwyn's mind dancing with dreams of cream puffs and eclairs. Exactly how she wanted to end her perfect day. Full of chocolate and sugar, a tea, and then home to snuggle into bed with her shadowsinger. Preferably naked.
Out in front of the bakery, Gwyn took two steps but found her sisters slowing.
"This is where we leave you," Nesta said, her voice laden with secrets.
Gwyn spun around with wide eyes. Were they going to leave her there? Alone in the middle of Velaris?
When she realized they might leave her in the city, her heart banged against her ribs. And yet… Gwyn wasn't terrified.
"It's fine, I'll head home by myself… with a pound of chocolate… also for myself."
Shadowy mist and cedar suddenly engulfed her. Familiar, secure arms wrapped around her waist until she squeaked.
"See you later, Berdara," Nesta crooned, "Come on, Emerie, Cassian is meeting us over there."
A smile played upon Gwyn's face as she reached for his scarred hand and fell into the void of shadows that swept them away. The world tumbled until her feet met the ground once more.
"Shadowsinger," Gwyn greeted, enclosing her arms around his neck. She took a good long look. He wasn't in his leathers, wearing a similar black sweater and slacks he wore to Rita's. Fading sunlight highlighted striking planes of his handsome face as she placed a soft kiss on his mouth. "Hi."
"Hi," Azriel replied, his voice rough as his hands came to her waist. "I missed you."
She huffed a quiet laugh. "I was only gone a few hours."
He lifted and dropped a wide shoulder. "True. But I still missed you. Your smile." Her breath caught as his lips brushed her cheek. "Your pretty eyes. Your laugh." Then he tenderly kissed her forehead. "The endless chatter to fill the void."
Gwyn snorted, sticking out her tongue. "My only goal in life is to fill your void." His head tipped back in a rich answering laugh that warmed her. That she'd been the one to bring him delight. His shadows danced around them. "The fact that you are so romantic will remain our little secret. Are you sure that's all you've missed?"
"Mmm," he crooned, his words glancing off her lips. "Are you referring to the missing your decadent taste? The way you feel wrapped around my waist? Or the feel of you hot and wet, clenching around my—"
Gwyn placed a finger over his smirking mouth, trying to ignore the building heat between her legs. "How romantic, Shadowsinger. And I'm surprised after this morning that your jaw still can move enough for you to speak."
"As I am surprised, you can walk. In all seriousness, did you have fun today, Gwyn?" He asked. There was a hint of fear in his voice.
Her eyes sprang round. "Did you play a part in planning this?"
"Some. Nesta... Well, she's Nesta. But I did my part."
She held him closer, pecking his cheek. A burst of chilly air blew through the alley, one she now recognized as next to Sevenda's. Where they once accidentally revealed their relationship. His wings folded around them, cocooning them. "I had a wonderful time, Azriel."
His mouth stretched into a full smile. "Good."
"You were always at the end of the hunt?"
"Yes."
"So, what you're telling me is I got pelted with snow, ate till I was nearly sick, threw an ax—"
Azriel's hazel eyes widened, and he cocked his head. "Wait. Threw an ax?"
She ignored him. "—went horseback riding for the first time and at the end, you were the gift?"
"I guess so. How about going back to the ax?"
Again, Gwyn ignored him. "Did you keep the receipt?"
"Smartass. And no, I'm not the gift." His shadows darkened to his right. He reached in and pulled something out from a pocket of darkness. "This is. Happy Birthday."
Skepticism written on her brow, Gwyn took the gift, the weight of it heavy in her palms. The leather smooth and soft. The thigh sheath was a muted black, the handle of a blade visible above. Swallowing hard, she unsheathed the dagger.
The steel was nearly black, reminding her of—the shadowsinger's trusty blade. Of the most feared knife in all of Prythian. Truth-Teller. Only, this handle was elegantly scrawled, the scrollwork of a ribbon winding around the hilt. A cobalt jewel reminiscent of both his siphons and her invoking stone ended the pommel.
Her teal eyes were wet when she lifted them to his. Her voice was shaky when she finally spoke. "Azriel…"
He was quiet, almost shy when he spoke. "Do you like it? It's a little smaller than Truth-Teller. I had the blacksmith account for the size of your hands for the handle and—"
Gwyn stopped his second-guessing, her lips meeting his. Sweet presses against his soft, full lips. Until the tip of her tongue coaxed the seam of his mouth. He opened for her, the kiss intensifying, deepening. His tongue rubbed against hers, exploring. And she hoped he could feel how happy she made him. How much she appreciated him. How he made her feel.
Az's teeth lightly dragged over her bottom lip, drawing out a gasp.
His lips grazed hers once more before he rested his forehead against hers. "We really need to stop making out in this alley," he said in a breathy laugh.
She laughed loudly as her head fell back. "True. And thank you. I love your gift."
The tension escaped him, his shoulders practically sagging in relief at her words. "Good. Do you want to go home now?"
"Yes, but can we fly? I want to watch the sunset."
"Anything for the birthday girl."
Azriel would never get over the feel of Gwyn in his arms. The intensity of her holding on as they flew over Velaris. Her excitement was tangible as he pretended his arms were falling asleep, threatening to release her.
"Don't you dare," she squealed, her arms nearly strangling him.
His shadows whipped at his shoulders by his flapping wings, warning him not to joke about letting their girl go.
No. Never.
The shadowsinger was proud of himself. He hadn't checked on her all day. Though he'd thought about flying over. Just once. But Az held out, needing to fulfill his promise. To trust her. Trust in her ability to fend for herself. Protect herself.
So he did. The joy in those eyes like two sparkling aquamarines made the anxiety he had been holding all day worthwhile. Even though the dread served as a distraction from all the horrible shit happening in their world.
But today—he promised himself to give Gwyn today.
As the chosen balcony of the House of Wind came into view, he lowered his mouth closer to her ear as his feet touched down. "Don't be mad."
"What?" Gwyn asked in a laugh. "Why would I be—"
"SURPRISE! Happy Birthday!"
Next chapter, you will get an important convo between Nesta and Azriel.
Chapter 49 teaser will be up on my Tumblr ( mystical-blaise) this late Sunday!