Thank you all for reading! *hugs*
Chapter 2
Bryn hissed as a cloth soaked in warm water was laid over a shallow cut running against the curve of her scapular spine. She lay on her stomach amongst the piles of blankets, hay and low wooden frame that made up her bed. Since birth she had called the attic home, thankful that she had never grown tall like her brothers who usually stayed away due to the often stifling heat and low cobweb infested ceiling. Roman sat next to her, his head only inches from brushing the cathedral ceiling. A single candle flickered in a small holder next to his feet, inciting wobbling shadows to dance clumsily across the walls. His hefty weight caused a strain against the aging wood of the bed, each movement he made eliciting a brittle groan. He pressed the cloth against the wound, the last of the stripes that littered her back. Older scars crisscrossed between them in raised ridges turned pale by time. It had been months since her last misdeed, maybe even a year. The pain was new again. She could feel the echoing bite as water seeped through her skin all the way to her bones. Soon the bruises would set in and she knew that tomorrow's work would take her twice the time.
"Quiet," Roman ordered, gruffly.
Pursing her lips together, Bryn tried to think of other things. The clearing in the mountains, so peaceful and so very far away from here. The beautiful colors of the wildflowers, more dear to Bryn than the delicate, velvety roses that climbed up the eastern wall of their house. The smell of due clinging to the tall grasses as the sun blazed. And...
Azriel…
Sorrow and panic cleaved through her. It would be impossible for her to meet with him tomorrow. Or the next day or the next week. Impossible to send a message to him even. Roman would be watching. As would the others. And if she wasn't there for weeks maybe even months...what if she never saw him again? The thought brought a fresh wave of tears to her eyes and try as she might, she couldn't contain the shuddering gasp that burst from her lungs like a flood of water.
"You brought this upon yourself, you know." Roman said, taking a gentler tone. Anger ignited inside Bryn; an old match sparking again. He was right, she had been careless.
Stupid, stupid, stupid. She thought, anger morphing into something darker. Heavier.
Roman lifted the cloth away and dropped it into a pale at the side of her bed. Bryn shifted, pulling her hand up to her mouth, biting at her thumbnail. To rage or to surrender? Both temptations battled within her, each speaking a strong case. She wanted to shout at him, hit him, watch him bleed as he made her bleed...but she was exhausted and plagued by memories of far more painful punishments.
"I've been very clear with you from the start," He continued, pressing a larger dry cut of cloth to the length of her back. Sections of it blossomed red, soaking up what blood remained. "About what is expected of you, Bryn."
Bryn's eyes fluttered open and shut. She had heard this speech before. Time and again. Knowing what came next, and damning the consequences, she turned again to thoughts of Azriel. Anything to block out the-
"After losing mother…"
Pain far greater than that of the cane struck through her heart like a bolt of lightning. Guilt wrapped around Bryn like a vice, cutting off air and bringing a swift death to the rebellious thoughts that still swirled in her head. Her fault. It had been all her fault. Her very existence had only one clear outcome from the start. Why had the fates blessed her with life, only to take away the one thing she wanted even before she knew she had wanted it?
"-and father...we all have to do our part." Roman continued after first allowing her to stew in the remorse he had baited her with. His tone was bitter now, hatred laced in his words so heated Bryn flinched. "Don't we?"
With waves of misery flowing through her, Bryn could only nod wishing her brother would just leave her be. Perhaps the curse that flowed through her veins was a blessing in disguise. Had she the ability to speak, nothing could stop her from unloading a decade's worth of animosity on her brothers. The results of such a tirade...would be catastrophic.
"Good girl," Roman said, reaching out and ruffling her hair with one muscled hand. Bryn flinched away and turned her head over, praying he couldn't see the tears that pooled in the corners of her eyes. "Two weeks...Understood?"
Bryn made no move to answer. With a labored sigh, Roman rose from the bed, the wood cracking under the relief of removed pressure. He turned towards her door and picked up the candle.
"Sometimes I wonder," He said before reaching the door. "If you're worth all this trouble."
He descended the steps, leaving Bryn in the dark.
"You're not coming, are you?"
Azriel looked to his bastard brother, Cassian, his face as smooth and as hard as a stone. He held a glass in his hand, filled to the brim with bronze liquid. It felt cool in his hand, cooler even than the shadows that pooled at his feet.
They stood atop his townhouse located on the northern mountains of Velaris. Compared to the House of Wind, it was modest in size. Standing only two stories high it occupied the middle of a quiet, cobblestoned street set upon the mountainside. Like the other houses on the block, it was constructed of white clay, it's front walls covered in blooming bougainvillea. The color was so vibrantly fuschia they could be seen by pedestrians walking across the Sidra far down below.
While the other members of the Inner Circle had chosen homes deep in the heart of the city, Azriel preferred to occupy one on the outskirts. The view was unsurpassed. From his rooftop deck he could easily see both Mor and Cassian's neighboring townhouses as well as Rhys' home and Amren's loft lining the Sidra. The port was also visible to him, as well as all roads leading into the city. Though they were heavily guarded, Azriel preferred to have them in his sights. So even though Rhysand had told him time and again that him he was no sentry, Azriel could still keep watch over the city he loved, the only place he had ever felt at home.
The sun was setting, coloring the cloudless sky a rosy orange. Lights were beginning to flicker on, the first coming from the Rainbow welcoming in the evening. Soon the view would morph into one of a sparkling city, teaming with music and laughter.
Cassian's siphons, their deep glow somewhat stunted in the waning light, calmly reflected the agitation in his eyes. He was silent now, waiting for the answer that Azriel didn't want to give.
"I think not." He said, finally. Flexing his wings in preparation for Cassian's response.
However, instead of raging, Cassian merely crossed over to a small cart that lay by a velvet upholstered chaise and poured a drink for himself. After swallowing a large gulp, he stepped to Azriel's side. Azriel turned his gaze back to the cityscape, shadows creeping upwards.
"Feyre was asking after you." Cassian said gruffly. "Rhys wanted to, I could tell."
"Is that all?" Azriel said, his voice low and indifferent.
Cassian huffed a bitter laugh. "Yeah, your High Lord and Lady are asking for you. That's all."
Azriel flinched deep down, the move unnoticeable even to a warrior of Cassian's skill level. He couldn't go on like this for much longer. Loyalty to his people, to Rhys, after all he had done was screaming inside of him. Clearly, they were already suspicious.
He shrugged, fighting against his instinct. "I was ill."
A boldly simple lie. Cassian wouldn't believe it. Neither, Azriel guessed, would Feyre. But Rhys might...
"Ill." Cassian repeated, flatly.
"It happens." Azriel said, trying to sound amiable.
"And now?" Cassian baited.
"It would be rude to show up to our High Lady's party already intoxicated." Azriel said, without hesitation.
Brows raised, Cassian finally turned to look at his friend and fellow warrior.
"You're not-"
Before he could finish speaking, Azriel lifted his glass to his lips and drained it completely. A pleasant, but none too familiar, warmth flooded his tan cheeks and the heavy weight on his chest lessened some.
Had he not been so shocked, Cassian would have burst into laughter. Rarely did Azriel drink, let alone drink so heavily. He watched as the shadows surrounded Azriel turned a deeper shade of black, traces of lingering sunlight fleeing in the presence of such darkness.
Frowning, he asked, "What's going on?"
He knew Azriel didn't have an answer for him. Just as Azriel knew there was no point in crafting another lie for Cassian. They had seen too much, done too much together for such infantile games.
Azriel's eyes narrowed as they caught sight of her home.
Mor.
If she had told Cassian...he would not be here questioning him. He would coaxing him out for another drink or a sparring match. Or a hunting trip deep in the mountains. But here he was, trying to get him to attend a party. Azriel wondered if Mor had told Rhys or Amren. Cassian would likely be the last to know.
No. Had she told anyone...they would be here. Even against their better judgement.
Until they all knew, Azriel wasn't going to open his mouth or offer any explanation for his behavior.
But this wasn't even about Mor. The pain was still there yes. The shame and humiliation he brought upon himself. But they were small compared to the worry that had plagued him for three days. That had kept him up nights. He didn't want Mor to see him this way. To misunderstand. To think herself guilty. Responsible for this...this...whatever it was that had taken hold of him. This ache.
For three days, he had gone to the clearing at dawn. And waited for her. The girl whose name he didn't even know. Couldn't know.
And she hadn't come. Neither had the wolf. He waited for hours, but no living thing breached the treeline.
So he was trapped by his own stubbornness, unable to leave knowing that the chance, however slight, still existed. What if she did come and he wasn't there? He couldn't bare to think on it. Instead he waited, replaying their last encounter in his head, searching for an answer to the question that had become a steady presence in the back of his mind.
What had he done to scare her away that day?
Try as he might, he couldn't find an answer. He had startled her by the river yes, but she had stayed that first day. And returned the next day. And the next.
Azriel sighed, calling a shadow to reach for the stately bottle that sat, now half empty, on the cart. Cassian caught hold of it before Azriel could pull it back.
"Az," he said, pointedly. But aside from grabbing his friend by the collar and beating an answer out of him, Cassian wasn't sure what to do. Or say. It had been a long, long time since he had seen Azriel in such a state. In fact, he could pinpoint the exact day. They had been much younger then. Mor had winnowed into their camp. Her eyes were hot and her movements steadfast...every ounce of her attention targeting Cassian.
Cassian cringed, the memory and its consequences still burning like a fresh wound inside of him. He hated himself for doing it. Hated the look on Azriel's face. The same one he saw now. The one he was certain Azriel wasn't aware he was making. Cassian would have dropped his concern if Mor too was refusing to attend the party. It would make sense that something had transpired between them. But with Vivianne and Kallias visiting, Mor had been as involved with the planning as Feyre. They had been excitedly preparing the House of Wind all damn day. So if it wasn't a fight with Mor...Cursing under his breath, Cassian returned the bottle and glass to the cart, tempted to smash it to the ground and watch the liquid spill across the floor. He hitched one foot onto the balcony, wings stretching wide.
"I'm not making excuses for you," He said, looking back at Azriel. The shadowsinger hadn't moved, his eyes still trained on the horizon, glassy and grim. "And next time...I'm sending Amren."
Cassian lept from the roof, his wings carrying him across the city into town.
Azriel watched him, nostrils flaring. Amren. The very mention of her getting involved was more than a veiled threat. That Cassian would stoop to such a level should have been enough to stir him to action. But Azriel felt...nothing. No annoyance. No anger. No apprehension at the thought of Amren falling from the sky with talons turned on him, those eyes still snakelike even in her new body.
Such a terrifying image, one that would bring even the most powerful of fae, trembling to their knees...didn't reach him. His heart was blocked by a circle of black, one that grew each day he found himself alone.
Azriel turned his gaze to the South, to the human lands miles upon miles away. His resolve now steeled. His mind made up.
He would continue to visit the clearing. And if he didn't see her by the week's end...then he would venture into the human lands. And he would find her.
Bryn was up before the morning sun had risen. A week had passed and while her back was still sore, the shallow wounds had healed and her work had picked up again. What remained was a different sort of pain, a steady ache that vibrated through her with each heartbeat. Dread. She tried not to look to the mountains each morning, tried to ignore the flutter in her stomach that willed her feet to move to the forest, tried not to think of Azriel waiting there for her. Seven days had already come and gone, perhaps he already thought her done with him.
Nothing could be further from the truth. She told herself. She had spent hours trying to think up a believable excuse, someway she could communicate to him, but aside from leaving again and risking an even greater punishment before revealing the truth she had nothing.
After dressing, she slipped quietly through the house to attend to the morning chores before her brothers woke. It was the first day of the week and there was much to be done. Not bothering with shoes, she exited the house and headed towards the stables tying a sun-faded cornflower blue apron around her waist as she walked. The grass, flush from showers that had fallen throughout the night, tickled her feet.
She reached into the pocket of her dress, fingering a small handful of sugar cubes she had swiped from the kitchen. Her family had raised a small pack of horses, each one of them a beautiful, strapping Friesian. As a child, Bryn had been terrified of their towering figures and marble black eyes, but working with them was now one of her great joys. Belka, the eldest, raised his head when he heard her approaching and chuffed; knocking his shiny mane around. Bryn smiled. Though she longed to speak to them, coo sweet nothings in their ears, she had discovered years ago that somehow they knew. Without words, she could speak to them. A touch there, a glance here. Belka, his eyes even blacker than Azriel's shadows, could see through her limitations. She was grateful to have them the creatures that humored her. "Listened" to her.
She pulled one square of sugar holding it flat on her palm. He gratefully snuffed it up as she ran her hand up and down the length of his head. After repeating the process with his brothers, Samson & Fell, she pulled up her hair tying it back at the base of her neck with a bit of ribbon. Reaching for a pitchfork, she began to shovel hay into each enclosure. The chickens and goats were next. After fishing four eggs from the hen house and scattering their breakfast over the ground, she headed for the well at the northern end of the property. It took four trips of lugging until she had enough water for the washing and by the time she had finished she could already feel a familiar soreness growing in her arms. Shrugging it off, she moved back to the house to prepare breakfast for her brothers. She hoisted three logs into the fireplace. The pile was low.
I'll need to cut more before Roman notices. She noted, striking a match against the stone basin and setting the logs alight. Bryn rounded the large dining table and began to pull together a hearty breakfast. Knowing the smell of burning cedar would wake her brothers, she worked quickly. Slicing into a loaf of bread she had prepared last week and breaking open each of the four eggs over a slowly heating pan over the crackling flames.
Roman and Lorens were the eldest of her four brothers and they had inherited the land after her father's death. While Lorens was happy to tend the orchards and go into town to sell the spoils, Roman found giving orders was more his style. He spent most days away, trading stories with his father's friends at the local pub, boxing with the other bachelors his age on the outskirts of town or hunting in the southern woods. But even Roman, for all his hollering and bulging sinew, didn't dare to cross into the fae lands.
The other two, Isaac and Gareth, were aimless. Knocking off Lorens requests for help, preferring to spend their days in town with Roman chasing girls and causing trouble. Bryn didn't mind it though, it was relief to see them trot off to town. As long as they were gone she could complete her work in piece. Otherwise…
"Morning, Bryn," Isaac said with a smile, creeping up behind her and smacking a hand across her back. All the air in her lungs left her in a rush and she clutched at the counter as the impact radiated across her still healing skin.
"Oh," Isaac feigned, not bothering to hide a vile grin. "I forgot."
Bryn kept her eyes trained on her work. Knowing all too well that revealing even the slightest hint of pain or anger would only encourage him further. Don't look at him. Don't do it.
He stood close behind her, sucking in a breath. "You smell like shit, Bryn. Were you sleeping with the goats last night?"
Bryn bit down on her lip, her cheeks flushing. She realized, far too late, that he was probably right. With only three garments to call her own, it wasn't often that she had the chance to wear something clean. Then Azriel...could he smell it on her too? The dirt and the muck and the sweat? She spun, turning her head away from Isaac to grab a plate, hoping he didn't sense that his words had hit their mark.
Isaac dropped down into the chair at the head of the table, hitching one foot on the bench to his left and stretching his spindly arms far above his head.
"Roman said I could join him on the hunt tomorrow," Isaac drawled. Bryn only shoved a plate in front of him, the eggs not quite cooked to his liking.
"Hey," Isaac hissed, catching her wrist as she walked away. His grip tightened as he pull her back. He glared at her with those wicked green eyes. Eyes that Bryn had, in her darkest of dreams, imagined sticking a knife through with great pleasure. "I'm talking to you."
Bryn made her face an empty mask, cocking her head to one side as if she were suddenly interested.
"Roman said I can join the hunt, isn't that great?" Isaac repeated. "Out in the woods for five whole days."
Great. Bryn thought, steeling herself as her blood warmed. As if she cared about anything they did. It was a pathetic attempt to get a rise out of her. While he was free to roam, she would be confined to the house. If only Gareth was going along with them too, leaving only Lorens. He had, on the rare occasion, been lax when it came to Roman's rules. Gareth, on the other hand, the youngest of the four only two years Bryn's senior, would be bored which meant he would be watching her like a hawk, following her around like a leashed dog making sure she didn't step out of line.
It was Roman that put her to work. Roman that decided when and how she was punished for even the smallest of "disobediences." But it was Isaac who truly reveled in doling them out. She could see it in his eyes, feel it when he touched her. A shiver wrenched through her spine at the thought of it.
She pursed her lips but nodded, hoping her eyes didn't give away her complete lack of interest and disdain. Thankfully, Roman stepped through the door, bleary eyed and yawning. Isaac, knowing his place in the pecking order, hopped out of the chair and slid down the bench, dragging his plate along with him. Breathing a sigh of relief, Bryn hurriedly made her eldest brother a plate and the busied herself with the others. Roman didn't look at her when she set a larger plate in front of him. Bryn, returned to the fireplace, brushing away a fine blanket of ash that was beginning to accumulate and dumping it into a pale next to the wood pile. She dusted her hands on the hem of her skirt, cleaning them of the dark powdery substance.
"Firewood's low," Roman said between bites. Bryn halted, but registered that there was no annoyance in his voice. She spun and nodded, a silent plea for excusal. Roman only tilted his head gruffly and Bryn hurried out the back door.
The next day...
Dark clouds rolled across the orchards sending a chill through the air. Spring rain and fallen throughout the night and was threatening a swift return. Banks of fog, thin and eery, blocked out the mountains of Prythian. A respite for Bryn, but not one that was particularly welcomed. It was quickly becoming a habit she couldn't shake. The adrenaline, the rush of euphoria, she felt when imagining the clearing was fleeting, but worth the inevitable crash that followed. Even though it turned her stomach sick she couldn't help but imagine him there. Waiting for her.
He has to be. She thought as her heart dropped into her stomach. The alternative was too much to bear.
Another gust of wind knocked around the thick, bowed leaves of the pear tree she was perched in. Her legs, bare and ticked with small scratches accumulated during her climb, trembled against the cold. Lorens stood below her, catching the fruit she dropped down before inspecting it and tossing it into one of four bushels.
When the wind subsided they both looked to the house several acres away. Roman was calling to them. Lorens cast Bryn a tired look before trekking through the trees. He picked up his pace when Roman bellowed again, his impatience palpable to even Bryn.
Bryn leaned her back against the base of the tree, reveling in the sense of peace that was slowly creeping over her. For five days Roman and Isaac would be gone. Confined or not, she felt a weight begin to lift away. Her eyes fluttered shut and she loosed a long sigh, imagining shadows like Azriel's slipping from her mouth and disappearing with the wind.
"They're leaving."
She looked down to see Lorens had returned.
"All three of them." He finished.
Bryn cocked her head to the side, slow to take in his words. Understanding, she popped up, gripping a higher branch and pulling herself up until her head breached the canopy. Sure enough, she could see two of the horses drawn and a third body walking alongside them heading south down the stamped dirt road that led into town.
"I convinced Roman to take Gareth with him." Lorens continued, lifting a hand up to one of the lower branches.
Wide eyed and questioning, Bryn looked down to her brother. She never saw him smile, but there was a light in his eye, a warmth that the other's had never possessed.
"Come on," He commanded softly. "That's enough for today."
Still wary, Bryn slowly navigated through the branches and lept down from the tree. Lorens was there to catch her, his hands at her waist. He lifted his hand to tug a leaf from her hair.
"I'll be going into town soon." He said, bending down to pick up the heaviest of the bushels.
Bryn expected as much. While her other brothers seemed content to leer at women and at times engage in a one and done fucking, Lorens had been nursing a relationship with Marion, the baker's daughter for close to five years.
That's why he sent Gareth with them. Bryn thought, hoisting up two of the bushels. He wants to spend time with her.
She followed him back to the house, the gears in her head turning.
"I won't be back tonight." He continued, running a hand through his dusty gold hair after dropping the bushel to the ground in front of the cart.
Bryn's heart jumped into her throat. Roman was gone. Isaac was gone. And now Gareth. What was left of her common sense, the thread that struggled to hold her back broke apart. She brushed passed Lorens heading towards the door. He would not try to stop her. He had never cared what she did, never tried to give her orders or join in on her brother's tricks. She was free to go. For five whole days. If she left now she could make it before noon, but she would need to change. And if the rains came-
"Bryn," Lorens called.
Bryn stopped, freezing up. She turned to face him, hair flying about. Lorens was looking at the ground, a deep frown etched on his long features. He sighed, hitching his arms at his waist.
"Tell me," He said, still averting his gaze. "And be honest. Where are you going?"
It was rare for one of her brother's, even Lorens, to ask her a question that couldn't easily be answered with a yes or no. Even rarer that they cared to hear the answer at all. But Lorens was looking at her now, his eyes the same as hers, the ones they shared with their long gone mother were pleading. But no amount of pleading would coax the truth from her. She couldn't risk Roman or Isaac finding out. And it would be foolish to think she could trust Lorens with her secret. As if she were even capable of explaining. Eyes darting, mind racing, Bryn settled on a shrug and simply pointed to the northern hills. A half truth.
"Into the woods." Lorens said flatly, doubt laced in his words.
Bryn nodded, hoping a small grin would be enough to appease him. Feeling the pull of time, she spun around and headed to the house.
"Why?"
Bryn swallowed, halting again. Her eyes slipped shut before she turned, morphing her face into one of cool indifference.
"You're meeting with someone." Lorens ventured. "Aren't you?"
Bryn paled. She had to go. She had to go now.
So, she nodded slowly. Mechanically.
She looked toward the treeline and her eyes widened. Standing there, exposed and vulnerable, was her friend. The wolf; it's white fur even starker now that the sun was blocked out. Bryn pointed out to him, Lorens following her gesture.
"I-the...that wolf pup?" Lorens realized, gently incredulous. "From all those years ago?"
Bryn nodded again.
He looked back, eyeing the creature warily. Bryn waited none too patiently.
"The wall is down," He said, finally. Gravely. "You need to be careful out there. If something happens...Roman will come for both of us."
Bryn wasn't listening. She turned again, rushing to the door, but Lorens followed her catching her hand.
"Bryn," He said, his voice marred by something Bryn couldn't recognize.
"Please, you need to listen to me," Lorens said. He paused, swallowing hard. "There's talk of...sending you back. To him."
All of her excitement drained away. Shards of ice stabbed through her, melting to her feet and filling her up until her body felt so heavy she could hardly imagine moving at all.
"So be careful." Lorens said, more gruffly this time. He released her hand. "And promise me, you'll be back."
Shivering, Bryn met her brother's gaze with fierce determination. The words she could speak were clearly visible in the dark pools of her eyes.
I promise.
This isn't right. Bryn thought.
Clouds whirled in the sky above her. A storm was coming.
Is that all this shivering is about? She thought, panting as she hurried up the hillside stepping over fallen trees and knocking aside low hanging branches. She had memorized the path she took, even though it was not written into the ground. Even after eight days, she could recognize the landmarks she had put to memory. The large rock overgrown by thick vines. The small dip in the valley where pale mushrooms grew in the heavy shade of the towering redwood trees. The bones of a long dead beast, white as death against the deep warmth of the healthy soil it rested upon.
She was close. But...something wasn't right.
She had been imagining this moment for days now. Dreaming about it. Desperate to feel the mountain leaves beneath her feet. The smells of forest decay stinging her nose. The soft light of the due covered clearing. She had been happy in those dreams, giddy with anticipation, smiling wide, even laughing.
She felt none of that now. Unease had been bubbling in her stomach since she had left the farm. Clad now a muslin tunic, over a deep brown underdress that fell to her knees. It was the only clothing she owned that kept all of her scars carefully covered.
The further she climbed, the heavier she felt. Muddled thoughts needled her brain, each one piercing holes of doubt into her resolve.
It's fear. She told herself. If he's not there...if he's not…
A low growl sounded behind her. She looked down. The wolf, her friend, was following her still. As silent as a ghost, weaving between the trees. She had thought once to give him a name. 'Spirit' had come to mind. But it felt wrong, to give such a wild creature a title. To bind it to her unwillingly. As if she had the right to do so.
She slowed so he could catch up. He brushed up against her legs, the smallest of whines reaching her ears. Bending down, she ran her hand over his head. She spoke her question in her head, dark eyes meeting amber ones.
What is it?
The creature huffed, poking at her cheek with it's wet, black nose. A sliver of a grin tugged at her lips. She wrapped one arm around it's neck and squeezed lightly.
I missed you too. She thought. The wolf slid from her grasp, rounding her and stretched one massive paw up in the air. Only to drag it down her back igniting a stinging trail along her spine.
Crying out, Bryn scrambled to her feet and shot an accusatory glare at the animal hitching both hands on her waist. Unperturbed, the wolf just glared back up at her.
Realizing what it wanted, Bryn huffed and took up her trek.
I'm not going to tell him. She thought. Never.
She sensed the wolf only start to move again when she was several dozen feet away, mere seconds from the clearing. She stopped, positioning herself in front of a tree that blocked most of her view. Inhaling deeply, she let her forehead rest against the bark, and made one last attempt to calm her fluttering heart.
If he's not there...She thought, her stomach swaying. It's alright. I can come back tomorrow. I can wait today. Every day. And...he'll come.
It was a lie. She knew it. But lies had saved her before. Staved the pain. Hoarded her hope. There had been days where the lies she told herself were all she had. And they had been enough. To get her through.
Opening her eyes, she stepped around the tree, eyes searching.
He wasn't there.
Lips parting, Bryn loosed a pained sigh and dropped down to grassy floor. She pulled her knees up to her chest, shivering as a wave of disappointment wracked through her system. She had been gone too long. Far too long.
No, she thought. It's alright. It's...still early. I don't think I ever made it out here this early. He could still come. Maybe it's the storm. Or...or…
Hope shriveled. Her words felt empty and hollow, even in her head under her control. She rested her chin on her knees and closed her eyes tightly, fighting back a string of tears.
Her sorrow ebbed as the morning slowly turned to afternoon, but Bryn didn't dare to open her eyes. Instead, she allowed for dark images to flood her vision. Streaks of shadows, locks of jet black hair, hazel eyes somehow darker even than the shadows; yet marred by flecks of gold light. Shimmering, shuttering and warm.
With her sense of sight unused, her ears picked up on a familiar sound. The wilting of grass under a quiet footfall. Thinking it was the nameless wolf again, her only friend, she opened her eyes; ready to pierce him with a baleful admission knowing it would be taunting her with that "i told you so" look he was always casting in her direction.
But it wasn't her friend. It was Azriel.
Gasping, she stumbled to her feet. Somehow, yet again, he was more beautiful than she remembered. Her weak human memory marring his visage. She could hardly believe it, even though she wanted to, but there he was. Smiling. At her.
Even after she had made him wait all those days. Even though she had no intention of explaining her absence to him. Her joy gave way almost instantly to something much darker. Had she shadows of her own, they would've swallowed her up then and there.
"I'm sorry," He said, "I was held up."
He was apologizing to her. As though he had done wrong. As if he were to blame. Feeling foolish, almost dizzy with shame, she shot a flurry of curses through her head. How could she be so idiotic? Azriel, whatever he was, he wasn't human. But he was beautiful...quiet and kind. Kinder than any man she had ever known. Somehow she knew it even though she hardly knew him.
Why would a creature like that, night incarnate, bother with her?
She huffed, a pathetic attempt to will away the tears that were forming in the corners of her eyes.
Stupid girl. She thought. Roman's right. They're all right. What was I thinking coming back here?
Bryn shook her head, numbness crawling over her. He had come. Every day it seemed. It was what she wanted, but now...She felt dirty; contrite. He had waited for her. Even though she had given him nothing. Could give him nothing. No explanation. No excuse. A tear slipped down her cheek to her chin.
I shouldn't have come here. I shouldn't have-
She was going to cry, she could feel it coming. She had to escape. Had to run before he saw. She grabbed at her skirt, stepped backwards and moved to leave.
"Wait." Azriel said, not a command. Not an order. But a plea. "I don't mean to-"
Bryn shook her head more vigorously, hating herself. Hating the curse. For years she had gone without speaking. Without caring about it really. She may have been annoyed that she couldn't talk back to her brothers. Fling insults at them. Those feelings were fleeting though. They were nothing but dangerous whims brought on by the anger that had lit her insides since her birth. But she could forget her anger. Even ignore her emptiness. But now...she wanted to explain. To make him understand. To set him free of whatever misguided obligation brought him back here each day to wait for her. It wasn't fair; it wasn't right. She let go of her dress, pushing her hands out, palms flat, then pointing away.
Go. She mouthed, as the word bubbled up in her throat only to find it was trapped and powerless. Please go.
Azriel only stepped closer, his face like a sea; the surface calm with unexplored depths lying just below. Equal parts dangerous and dazzling. Bryn was desperate to know what lay underneath. Desperate but frightened. The truth was always frightening with men. The truth always hurt.
She jumped as something brushed against her hands, then took hold of them. Eyes fluttering, blurred by tears, she searched for the source. Azriel, he was there. Right in front of her. Gently taking hold of her hands and putting a stop to her frantic gesturing.
Impossible. Bryn thought, He was all the way- too far away. To be here. Right here so quickly. But...he's not human. He's something...something else.
She choked on a sob, but didn't dare try to pull away. Knowing all too well what would happen. What had happened to her, time and time again, when she tried to deny they men she had known. Fear poured from her heart like poison, saturating her veins. Azriel it seemed, could sense it. He released her hands immediately. And stepped back. The visage of calm melted away, replaced by concern so pained that Bryn's fear evaporated and she remembered how to breath.
"What is it?" Azriel asked, his voice thick. "Has something happened?"
Bryn's head cleared, the tears evaporated and instinct took hold. He stepped back. He let her go. He...listened to her.
For one fleeting second she considered telling him why she hadn't come. But as she tried to figure out a way to explain. She knew she couldn't. Whatever he saw in her...it would change. He would start to look at her the way the people in town did, wary and pitying. And she couldn't take anymore of that. No, it was better this way. Azriel couldn't know. It would be too dangerous. Too messy.
After a deep inhale, Bryn shook her head. Slowly this time. Succinctly. She bowed her head, allowing the shame to overwhelm her. She wanted to throw herself down and tell him how sorry she was, but without the words she didn't know what to do.
"You don't need to apologize."
Bryn's head flung up again at his words, at the softness and surety in his voice. Her eyes were wide, her question clearly written on her face. She shook her head again, placing a hand on her chest and mouthing words too quickly for Azriel to follow. Except that he knew, he could sense, what she wanted to say. He knelt down next to her, offering her a small smile.
"Please," he said. "You're here now. That's all that matters."
Bryn's ears rang. Her face became flush and she looked away.
Yes, she thought, smiling back at him. We're here. Together.
As always, thank you for reading. I'm so in love with this fic and I'm so lucky I get to share it. I would love to hear your thoughts. Until next time!