CHAPTER SUMMARY: STARFALL
ANNOUNCEMENT! Last week was not fun. So, I am taking a week off from updates to catch up on chapters. The next update will be Friday, November 26th!
"Ouch!" Gwyn went to rub at her abused scalp, only to have her hand swatted away by its abuser.
"Don't you dare touch your hair, Berdara," Nesta gritted out with several hairpins between her teeth as she loosely wrapped another ringlet, securing the coppery-red curls in place.
Yet again, an evil little piece of metal jammed into Gwyn's scalp.
"Son of the Mother, Nesta!"
"Well, if you'd stop moving, I wouldn't be poking. I swear, Gwyneth, you squirm more than my infant nephew." Nesta placed her hands on Gwyn's shoulders, forcing her to sit still. "Perfect, just like that. I'm nearly done."
Gwyn drew a deep breath and exhaled as she let Nesta finish her task. All the while ignoring the heavy thud of her apprehensive heart thumping behind its bony cage. Starfall was tonight. A long-held, cherished tradition upheld by the Night Court. Something she'd only honored in the sacred sense, performing prayers and rituals for the Mother. Thanking their most venerated deity for imbuing their world with renewed magic.
Beyond the hallowed hallways of the sanctuary and the library, the priestesses heard about the celebration high above. How all of Velaris would dull its lights together to await the yearly passing of the stars. And after evening service over the past two years, Gwyn wondered if she could sneak into the party in the House of Wind. And every year the notion grew into a passing fancy. A daydream.
Until last Spring, when she'd taken that first step. Made her climb out of the library and into the training ring. First ventured into the city accompanied by the notorious spymaster of the Night Court. Gwyn's same escort for this evening.
She started squirming again. Nesta groaned but tucked the final hair clip in her hairstyle.
"There. Cauldron above, Berdara." Nesta held onto Gwyn's shoulder hard, preventing her from spinning to look in the mirror. "Emerie's turn," Nesta said, her own silver silk robe swishing around her thighs as she moved. Emerie approached, a sly grin on her lovely face. In her hands was a makeup kit. Gwyn's eyes widened.
She eyed her Illyrian friend questioningly, raising a brow to stress her curiosity. "Makeup?"
Emerie arranged the kit out on the dressing table behind Gwyn, the smooth click of the latch following.
"Well, we all know Mor is the queen of makeup here, but she's busy with Feyre and Rhysand making the final touches for the festivities. Plus, my girlfriend has taught me a few things." The gorgeous Illyrian female couldn't hide the grin at the word. Her infectious delight. Fingers tilted her chin and Gwyn closed her eyes at the silent direction.
She didn't dare speak, only trying not to laugh as Emerie quietly cursed to herself before a thumb dragged over her cheek or the corner of her lip. The low song from Nesta's Symphonia had her humming along to the music and her heart slowing to a measured tempo.
"Press your lips together," Emerie ordered after some time had played as the paintbrush had over her skin. "What do you think, Nes?"
Soft padding footfalls followed a slight noise. "I'm impressed, Emerie. This is perfect."
"Well, wasn't I already perfect before the makeup?" Gwyn teased.
The oldest Archeron snorted, and Gwyn opened her eyes, peering up at her friends from her seat.
"So, can I see now?"
"Not yet," Emerie said. "First, we'll help you in to your dress. Then you may revel in all our hard work."
Gwyn huffed and rose, following her found sisters over to where her gown hung over the window, haloed by the setting sun.
"Doesn't Starfall happen later? Is there a reason I'm getting ready now and you two aren't yet?" A secret smile adorned her steely-eyed sister's plotting faces. "Does all this prep have to do with a certain evasive sullen Illyrian?"
"Perhaps," Nesta chuckled, removing the gown from its hanger.
A contented sigh escaped Gwyn's lips. She adored the dress. The first thing she'd owned outright, that she'd aided in creating. That Nesta paid for as a "woefully late birthday gift," though Gwyn was sure it cost as much as all her birthdays combined.
The design was as graceful as it was sensible, considering her comfort. She requested some coverage, yet chose to be daring. If this was indeed a ribbon, in true form, Gwyn was going to come at it with all she had.
Several thick straps arced over the back in an elegant swoosh that followed the curve of her lower back. Adorned with a splash of sparkles on one side, they twinkled, as if struck by a shooting star. She insisted on wide, durable straps in case she needed a sword, though she questioned in her mind later how one would attach a sword to the bodice with simple straps.
The accent cascaded over the single shoulder strap, shimmering iridescent silver over a blanket of midnight. The textile was midnight black, but the color of the flowing overskirt immediately caught her attention. Even wound tightly upon the fabric bolt, Gwyn simply knew.
The darkness of night and umbrae flowed down from the top, seamlessly blending into cobalt.
With a tremendous breath, Gwyn slipped the silky white robe off her shoulders, left clad in black lacy undergarments. She stepped into the attire, letting her sisters adjust. Emerie knelt and helped her sister slip into the black low heels that concluded the ensemble.
When they stepped back, her sisters' mouths were set in proud smiles and their eyes brimming with emotion.
"Now, you can look in the mirror," Nesta said, choking back tears.
As Gwyn's eyes met her own in the mirror, her hand came to rest over the renewed thundering beat of her heart, slowly taking herself in. For that was her in the mirror. It was how she wanted to see herself. How she felt in her training leathers. Strong. Proud.
Her gaze skimmed up and down, pivoting her head to ogle the delicate twists of copper and the loose braid over the crown woven with… oh, gods.
"Is that—is that the ribbon?" Gwyn asked, voice cracking.
Nesta appeared over her shoulder, her eyes lined with silver. Nodding, she set a palm over Gwyn's bare shoulder. Her own freckled hand lifted to cover her friend's.
"I thought it only proper for your first Starfall," Nesta said. "And don't you dare cry. You'll spoil all of Emerie's toiling."
"Cauldron, you look even more beautiful than usual, Gwyn. It ought to be a crime," Emerie said, enclosing an arm around her.
When her sisters embraced her, Gwyn let out a squeak. "Thank you both. I would like to thank you for not applying too much makeup."
"You're welcome. Truthfully, you barely needed any, our pretty little nymph. No doubt someone is getting lucky tonight looking as gorgeous as you do," Emerie teased, tapping Gwyn's nose over her still visible freckles. Only rosiness had been added to her cheeks and lips, a heavy border of kohl around her eyes, and her lashes darkened and elongated. But the sophisticated female gaping back at her in the mirror was still her.
"Thank you both," Gwyn said, swallowing hard. "I—"
"No. Don't you dare fucking cry, Gwyneth. Come on," Nesta said, towing her along with her arm tucked in her own.
His wings rustled restlessly. Arms folded, his fingers tapped a tense rhythm over his dress jacket. Adjusting his ebony tunic. Securing and re-securing his gauntlets, his siphons flaring a faint azure to the tempo of his pulse. His shadows wreathed around him, darting over and over.
"Mother's tits, stop fucking twitching, Az. You're making me nervous just watching you."
Azriel went still, his eyes lifting to his amused brother leaning against the wooden banister.
"What's so funny, Cass?"
Cassian snorted with enjoyment. "You, brother. It's fun seeing you fidget. Rarely does one see the shadowsinger actually nervous. It's adorable."
Azriel schooled his features and rolled his shoulders. Fuck. Nervous wasn't exactly the word. But he couldn't deny that tonight seemed distinct from other nights. From all earlier Starfalls. Tonight was different. Felt different.
"That's it. That's my new ribbon," she said so softly he barely heard the words.
He hadn't forgotten Gwyn's claim in the park last year. With her remark in his head, rung by his shadows, he strove hard to let this night meet her promises. And Azriel only hoped she...
A tinkling crash resounded from the kitchen and had him wincing.
"Shit! Sorry," Mor said, her heels clicking on the hard floor. "I think we're going to need more wine!"
One side of the shadowsinger's lips twitched.
"House, can you clean it up!" Cassian said. "We've got kids coming tonight!"
"Thank you," Mor called out again.
Azriel resumed leaning against the doorjamb, this time his hands in his pockets, his siphons warming the fabric of his black trousers. Distinct heeled footfalls sounded closer, gaining ground.
"Well, you're dressed fine, Az," Mor's golden voice said in appraisal.
He dipped his chin in thanks, surprised his face didn't heat as they used to when Morrigan offered a compliment. Especially dressed as she was in a clinging silken ivory dress, leaving little to the imagination. Times had certainly changed.
There was solely one female Az had on his mind and had him damn near coming out of his skin in anticipation.
Cassian smirked, approaching, straightening the shadowsinger's collar. Azriel bristled, his hands and shadows brushing the general away.
"What? Let me fuss. I want you to look sharp for Gwynnie," his brother teased, winking insufferably. Azriel rolled his eyes, but his mouth couldn't hide its quirk. Fuck him.
"Cassian!" a biting voice snapped from the top of the stairs. Nesta stood, dressed in a robe, but her face was ready for the evening. "For the love of the Mother, Cass. You're still in your damn leathers! You're not ready yet?"
"Clearly, no, Nes, I'm not," Cassian replied, crossing his arms over his broad trunk. "It's still early. Is that a problem, Sweetheart?"
"Service. Tonight. We promised—"
Cassian's hazel eyes went round. "Shit. Tulia. We promised to see her sing at the service and then bring her up to the party."
The clock ticked. And then Cass spun around, darting up the stairs. Gracefully tripping once. Stopping to place a hard kiss on Nesta's cheek before disappearing beyond the landing.
Nesta's chilly eyes found Azriel, and he straightened. His heart damn near came out of his chest. And as Nesta stepped aside, that same heart stopped.
Mother of the Cauldron.
As Gwyn carefully navigated the stairs, his eyes and shadows remained locked as each heel descended on each tread. His feet moved on their own until his toes struck the bottom stair, hand settling on the newel post.
A quiet chuckle drew his gaze upward.
Azriel was lost for words, more so than usual. And he just gawked at her in hushed wonderment.
Mor cleared her throat and nudged him in the side. He blinked rapidly. Astonished, he glanced up at the two marvelous turquoises slightly above him. Eyes full of a tender apprehension as she refused to move. One of her reddish brows arched and one side of her rosy lips curved up.
With a deep exhale, he offered her his scarred hand. Like a gift, she gave him hers.
Awed gaze remained fixed, Azriel brought her hand to his lips and gave her a soft, lingering kiss on the back. He felt her breath catch.
"Shadowsinger," Gwyn greeted in a voice of sweet music.
Swallowing hard, Azriel guided her down the last couple of stairs until he was finally the one peering down at her. He was lost for words once again.
Once again, Mor cleared her throat. His eyes snapped to Mor's as she gestured to Gwyn, mouthing to say something.
"Gods, males are idiots," Nesta murmured quietly as she reached Mor's side.
A powerful whistle joined an ensemble of solid boot steps. "Bet you wish you had my ability to spout poetry now, Az. You pompous bastard," Cassian chuckled deeply as he trudged down the stairs, fully garbed in his best black suit. Azriel sent him a vulgar gesture.
When the shadowsinger's eyes found those brilliant teal again, something settled within him. Nerves, lingering concerns about whether the evening would be enough, all vanished. None of that mattered. All that mattered was seeing her beam. And hearing her laugh. To hold the warmth of her hand in his own. For Azriel, her joy was everything.
Shadows hummed around them and he couldn't shield his smile as his fingers closed around hers as he guided her to the balcony and the adventure beyond.
"Are we flying?" Gwyn asked, draping her arms around his collar as Azriel easily swooped her up. His arms a pleasant, reassuring warmth under her leg and folded around her. Because Nesta will kill you if I mess up my hair before—"
The crush of his lips against hers cut off her words. A brush of Azriel's tongue against the seam of her lips had her opening for him. Allowing him to sweep in, sweep over. To taste. To claim. All too soon, he drew away with one last flick of his tongue over her swollen, trembling lower lip. Their breaths mingled as he leaned his forehead against hers. One of his thumbs traced a circle against the curve of her hip.
Gwyn shrieked as Azriel suddenly vaulted into the air beyond the wards. The world collapsed into shadowy mist and darkness. And when the blackness parted, it revealed a familiar brick outside of Sevenda's bathed in the orange glow of the fading sun.
Gwyn wiggled in his arms, giggling when his powerful arms only tightened around her.
"Hey, Az? You can let me down now."
Azriel's answer was to carry her even tighter, his lips grazing over her cheek.
"Az, you can't carry me all night," she insisted, squirming.
Grousing, he set her down, blatantly sliding Gwyn down his body as he did so. Heat coiled low in her belly as she came into contact with him. His heat. His solid, hard form. Her eyes fluttered shut as his hand slipped to cradle her nape, his lips caressing her ear.
"I should have told you this when you walked down those stairs tonight, but you rendered me speechless. Gwyn, I've never witnessed anyone or anything as beautiful as you."
Her swallow was audible. "Oh."
"Oh?" Her toes curled in her shoes at the feel of his warm breath against her neck.
"You look nice too, I mean," Gwyn said, heat rising to her cheeks, her fingers curving into his biceps.
His lips twitched. "Nice? Is that so?"
As he lowered his head to hers, her stomach let out a horrifying rumble. Letting out a grunt, he kissed her forehead instead.
"We should probably eat. I know you get particularly irritable when you're ravenous." Gwyn tiptoed back, nibbling her lips, playfully batting at his sculpted chest as he chuckled. "Exactly my point. Come on. Dinner first, but we have someplace to be soon."
She tilted her head. "Hmm? And where would that somewhere be?"
"You really hate secrets, don't you, Berdara?"
"On the contrary. I love mysteries and puzzles—but I love solving them before the reveal."
Azriel snickered quietly, clutching her hand. "So I'm guessing this is driving you insane trying to guess what I have planned?"
"I wouldn't say insane. More like excitedly frustrated."
A spiral staircase led them to the rooftop. Her feet faltered when she saw it for the first time. Teal eyes stretched, glistened.
Hundreds. There had to be hundreds of tiny balls of buttery faelight strung above the tan stone veranda. A private, small table with two chairs sat in the middle. An intimate setting for two. A simple blue tapered lit candle in the center.
Azriel pulled out a chair, and Gwyn sat, taking in the surrounding sight. He must have arranged this for weeks and weeks outside of his work.
"Oh, Azriel, this is so lovely."
"Glad it meets your approval, Berdara." He exhaled heavily as he parked beside her, kneading the back of his neck. Rare color blossomed on the apples of his cheeks.
Her eyes couldn't focus on one thing. A radiant sky of amber tones. Potted flowers bordering the edge. A gentle sea breeze flowed in, swishing the faelights. Surrounding them in the ever-present essence of lemon and verbena and brine. Mingling with him; cedar and cool mist by her side.
Perfect. Absolute perfection, as if planned by the Mother herself.
When Gwyn swung back to him, Azriel was staring at her with a ghost of a smile on his lips. Staring at her in a way only books had depicted. Her chest warmed, and she swore something inside sparked.
"What?" she asked.
As if in a stupor, he snapped around and sat up straight as footsteps approached.
Sevenda herself emerged, hands folded as two servers brought a pot, bowls, and plates. Glasses and a bottle of wine. A rich, decadent scent filled the air.
"If that's all, we'll leave you," Sevenda said with an easy grin as she glanced between them.
"Wonderful, as always. Thank you," Azriel said. Sevenda sketched a bow as she retired with the staff, leaving them to their meal. The shadowsinger poured the wine as Gwyn hastily removed the cloche, revealing cubes of freshly baked bread. Olives. An array of meats and vegetables.
Curiosity consuming her, Gwyn lifted the lid of the steaming pot and was nearly as melted as the contents.
"Oh, my gods, Az. Is that an entire pot of melted cheese?"
He set a glass of wine in front of her before lifting his own. "I thought you might like it."
She lifted her own cup, taking in the city's view and sea in the setting sun. "Cauldron, you know what this reminds me of—"
"Chapter forty-two of Destiny's Gift? Where the couple ate fondue on a rooftop…"
Gwyn gasped, nearly dumping her wine glass, somehow through the mercy of the Mother not spilling a single drop on her dress. "How?"
The shadowsinger's full lips turned up in a smug grin of arrogant male pride. "I pay attention. Your infamous list was just a roadmap. I did my own investigation into your preferred… literature."
She clicked her tongue, fingers closing around the stem of her wine glass. "Congrats. You know, cheese is the way to this girl."
"Cheese and filthy books. Noted."
Gwyn snorted and delayed until he took a sip to say, "Be still my beating heart. I think somebody may end up getting lucky tonight."
Azriel choked and sputtered as she raised her own glass, offering him a napkin to clean up the mess.
"It's cruel to make me walk after all of that cheese and dough," Gwyn said as he ushered her alongside the Sidra. His clenched hands were cramping to a near painful level, but he didn't care.
"Well, you know there were vegetables on that platter, as well. You choose to eat the bread like the ducks on the banks of the river," he stated, a smile in his voice he barely recognized. A lightness that only seemed to come out in her light.
"I hope you're not implying there's something wrong with my overindulgence, Shadowsinger," she crooned, knocking her shoulder into his as they crossed the cobbled footbridge toward their destination. His heart sped up.
Azriel bent his head, pecking her temple. "Never."
"Good, because we are very close to the Sidra and I would hate to have to toss you as Nesta did to Cassian's infamous Solstice gift. Though perhaps you could find it for her," Gwyn smirked up at him.
He tried to hide his grin. Tried to hold back, but his head tipped back in a loud, easy laugh. And when he peered back down, she was staring up at him with triumph.
Faelights lit the way in the gathering darkness. Up ahead, the venue was in view. Taking a deep breath, they continued on.
"Now, will you tell me where we are—"
His shadows had been clouding Gwyn's view as they strolled, keeping her in the dark of their true destination.
And when he suddenly slowed and stopped, he stood behind her, placing his hands on her shoulders. His Valkyrie's words from a year before, a persistent presence, reverberated like a distant memory. Followed him like a shadow. Resounded like a future.
"The music hall. They have a big concert around Starfall, right?"
He felt her body sway and his grip steadied her as the lights illuminated the golden building ahead. Her hands flew to her mouth.
Her gaze trained on Velaris like a worthy opponent."I want to attend the concert. And who knows, maybe I'll show up to Starfall itself next year! That's my goal—that's my new ribbon."
Az dipped his mouth to her ear, a tendril of coiled copper brushing against his lips. "I wanted to see you cut another ribbon, Gwyn. " Her trembling fingers lifted, finding his hand on her shoulder. Her body quivered in his steady grasp. "What do you say?"
Gwyn wordlessly tucked her arm into the crook of his again. Watery eyes trained on the gilded building ahead. A spectacular sight to behold, Gwyneth Berdara rendered truly speechless.
She didn't speak as they stepped up the stairs. Up and up, his eyes soaking Gwyn's awe as her eyes took in the monumental building's majesty. Uttered no sound as he proudly led her to the private box. Having his own box was courtesy of a most intransigent High Lord concerned for Gwyn's well-being in the throng.
Silence as Gwyn took a seat on the crimson velvet tuft beside his own, his hand never leaving hers. Her throat bobbed with every hard swallow. Over the back of her hand, his thumb stroked soothing circles. And when the lights dimmed, and the curtain raised to reveal the orchestra, Azriel barely noticed.
He watched Gwyn the entire time, noting each reaction. Every tear that slipped down her face. Her astonished gasps at the crescendos. Every smile a thing of secret, lovely beauty.
'Your hearts sing the same song,' his shadows hummed dimly to the beat of his heart. And at that moment, they truly did.
Azriel couldn't recall which songs the symphony played. He also couldn't recall how long the concert lasted. After the final song and the deafening applause, he had winnowed them back home, landing them safely on the side balcony of the House of Wind before leading them out onto the patio where the festivities were underway.
They'd just made it in time. One by one, the lights blinked out across the city, anticipating the annual passing.
"Come on," he said, leading Gwyn over to the stone railing. She managed to wait for several heartbeats, her stunning face in profile staring up ahead. Her nose crinkled, her foot tapping with amusing impatience.
"So when is this supposed to—?"
The crowd and city erupted in cheers before Gwyn finished her sentence. Glasses clinked behind them as revelers toasted the first to cross, streaking above them, leaving a sparkling trail of lapis and sapphires behind. Others followed the spirit. More came after. Blue and silvery rays painted the City of Starlight as hundreds of stars passed overhead.
But he barely paid heed. Azriel was witnessing once in a lifetime—Starfall was every year.
Those eyes raptly focused, shadowed beneath thick lashes. A vivid teal that often reminded Azriel of the sea shimmered like the passing stars.
"The most beautiful thing I've ever seen," he proclaimed breathlessly.
A smile spread over her full, rose-tinted lips. "This is unlike anything I've ever seen. The stars truly are—"
"I wasn't referring to the stars."
The sky bloomed in a display of light against the blackness. Stars spun and twisted in a sacred seminal dance into the unknown. For years, Azriel used to be haunted by the unknown truth of their destiny. Nearly suffocating fear clutched him like a snare. Year by year, he had felt a similar path to those spirits. Through both victories and defeats. In the face of uncertainty. In every glance, he averted. By him. From him.
But now? With her mischievous eyes reflecting those stars, Gwyn faced him and welcomed him. She and him, facing those unknowns together.
In a joyful dance, shadows swirled around them as she extended her hand.
"Dance with me, Shadowsinger."
A once unbelievable scene lay before him. Where Azriel stood proudly at Gwyn's side, taking her arm as the music played and the stars fell.
Next Chapter: More STARFALL
Chapter 52 collage teaser will be up on my Tumblr ( mystical-blaise) next Sunday, November 21. I'll have a TikTok (mysticalblaise) video teaser up next week! I am still going to be active on Tumblr.