I know it's been forever and I am so very sorry! 2018 was...rough. To say the least. I had to move home. I still feel adrift. I didn't have a desk in my room or a private place to write but I do now! I'm trying to keep up, I promise I'm not abandoning this fic! It is very dear to me. Thank you for your patience and thank you for reading!

Chapter 9

Shadows in waves of sumptuous navy and indigo surrounded Bryn in a flurry not unlike a blizzard. Specks of starlight, tiny and prismatic, were threaded through each plume like many carefully embroidered jewels. Everything had happened so quickly. Before her foot could land on yet another step, her world was spinning. Bryn was certain she should be frightened. Or at least dizzy. But I feel...fine. Like I'm-well…? She didn't know what to call it. She could feel Azriel's arm around her middle and the strength and power that ran through his fae-adjacent body. It radiated off of him always, but now that she was pressed against him, the pair of them seemingly shooting through space at what she imagined was an alarming speed, she could feel it as easily as she could feel her own heart beat. What had once frightened her, stirring both reverence and instinct, had changed. She felt...Warm...and safe.

The sudden stop that followed, however; now that was enough to turn her head. Her hands balled up into fists. Her arms which, during flight had been almost casually draped around his shoulder and chest, ensnared his neck with the veracity of a boa constrictor. Her eyes pinched shut as the roaring winds subsided, leaving behind an eerie, almost unreal silence. Muted colors, mostly reds and golds, danced lazily underneath her eyelids like blurred blots of paint against a pitch black sky. The whirring winds stopped as well. Silence following. She could practically smell the night air on him.

"I-I'm sorry," Came Azriel's voice, uncharacteristically breathless. "I don't know why I-"

Bryn could feel his fingers trembling against the shallow turn of her waist. And his heart, too, was pounding like a drum beat. She could feel it as surely as she could feel her own, pressed up against him as she was. They seemed to be almost in sync, fluttering like fireflies. Her eyes shuttered open, curiosity and concern winning out over her flight anxieties. If that's what happened. Bryn thought, confusion joining the swirl of emotions that floated through her head. That wasn't like before. It was fast and dark and...kind of thrilling.

With the sun now fully set, her eyes needed little time to adjust. She could see the city down below; gleaming like a chest full of precious gems. The sunset had only just passed on, the mountains to the south were crowned in a warm peachy glow that would soon sink down past the peaks. Far up above, the first of the glittering stars were visible against a deep blue sky.

Oh! She realized. We're...home.

Home. The word had tumbled out of the depths of her conscious quite by accident. It hung in the air, still but loud...and heavy somehow. She couldn't shake it away. A flush crawled up her neck.

A-Azriel's home. She tried to correct herself, frowning. Not-this isn't, I'm just a guest. It's the house that I'm- it's not like I-

"Bryn?"

Bryn turned to him, her brows shooting up in a pathetic attempt to seemed untroubled. Azriel's hair too, had been tossed and fluffed by the shadowy flight. Several stray curls fell over his browline. Bryn could feel her cheeks go hot, And here I thought he couldn't possibly be any more attract- she didn't dare dwell on the thought -well, I can fix that. As Azriel continued his unnecessary apology, Bryn pulled her arm around and plucked a thread of obsidian hair gingerly between her index finger and thumb and pulled away from his brown line and back into place.

As Azriel watched this unfold, a look of perplexity overtaking his concern. Bryn's brows knotted together as she continued her work, gently pushing the hair from his face with a seriousness that was nothing short of charming. She patted down the final stray lock, the corners of her mouth turning up with pride. Azriel managed a small smile too. A small nearly silent breath of laughter left him as he gingerly setting her down onto her feet.

"Thank you," He said, lifting one hand to scratch at the back of his head. His mind was still a whirl. It was a rare, extremely rare, situation to find himself caught off guard. He didn't like it.

How could I have been so careless? He thought, frowning.

To lie to his High Lord and Lady...he'd never stooped so low before. Not that it was an outright lie. No, he had never been asked. About where he had been going. At least not by them. Cassian though...Azriel loosed a groan. Now he knew too. He would have to deal with...all of that. And soon. He looked to Bryn, who was tugging nervously at a stray lock of her own hair.

Azriel sighed, his shoulders falling. It was to her that the first explanation was owed. But he was unsure of how to even begin.

"Bryn," He started, his voice even more restrained than usual. He gestured towards one of the plush divans that dotted his rooftop terrace. Understanding, Bryn floated over and sat down, pulling the hem of her shawl tighter around her shoulders. Moving slowly, the cogs in his head still turning, Azriel sat down beside her, tucking his wings in tight so as not to accidentally brush up against her. He leaned forward, resting his arms on his thighs and weaving his fingers together. Bryn watched him patiently as he tried to untangle his thoughts.

"I'm sorry," Azriel said finally, his eyes locked on his hands. It had been a long, long time since he had ever really seen the scars that covered them. Longer still that he had cared to notice the reactions from newcomers. They were apart of him. No different than a freckle. He ran his thumb across his finger, feeling the ridges and lines. Like dried up riverbeds. "I wasn't thinking…"

His voice trailed off into nothing. He had hoped the answer would come to him. One that didn't seem so self-serving.

"Those people were...they are my family-"

Azriel's shadows shuddered, his ears pricking up as Bryn inhaled sharply beside him. He straightened. Bryn's hands had turned to fists, clutching tightly to her shawl. Her dark eyes were alight, fire and brimstone echoing in their depths. Anger, not fear, radiated off her in waves.

"Oh," Azriel said understanding shifting to face her. "No, not my brothers."

Cassian and Rhysand did look, from far away and perhaps up close as well, as though they were of the same blood.

"My new family," He corrected himself. "Not the one I was born into, but…"

Bryn's shoulders relaxed and the heat in her eyes faded as he continued.

"My real family." He said, eyes sparking in earnest. "The one I chose...and that chose me."

Azriel sighed, moving to stand as nevers jittered inside him. His hands went to his pockets and he began to pace back and forth in front of her. Bryn lifted her chin, following him with her eyes. He seemed...off-kilter in a way she hadn't seen before. It both intrigued and worried her.

"I haven't...told any of them about you." Azriel admitted finally, unable to meet her gaze. "Nuala and Cerridwen and Madja, they're the only ones who know you're here."

Oh. Bryn continued to listen, even as unease sparked in the back of her mind. It's just as you thought. She could feel a familiar, sinking blackness begin to leak through her system. She tried to push the sensation away and instead focus on what Azriel was saying.

"In fact, you're the first human." Azriel explained. "To enter into Velaris in centuries."

Bryn turned her attention away from Azriel, looking down upon the city. Her eyes followed the curving line of the Sidra until they reached the sea. Gentle breezes began to circle inwards towards the land, snaking up the river until finally reaching them.

Of course a place like this wasn't meant for humans. Bryn thought to herself, unknowingly feeding the blackness.

As if sensing her thoughts, Azriel lowered himself down to his knees in front of her with all the stealth and grace of a dance. He lifted his hand, placing it gently over hers, calling her attention back. Bryn met his gaze, but the intensity of it was almost too much. She felt the blush looming again and swallowed hard. She felt her grip loosen on her shawl and his fingers snaked through hers. Butterflies stirred to life in her stomach. His eyes, as dark and as dazzling as the shadows that surrounding him, were piercing through her like a knife's point.

I'm forgetting- She thought, to breath. H-how do I-

"You have every right to be here," Azriel said, ardently. "Rhysand and Feyre...I've no doubt they would welcome you wholeheartedly. They mean...everything to me." He continued, wanting to explain. Wanting her to understand. "But, they can be a lot. I didn't want to...well, to frighten you."

Bryn felt some of the doubt dissipate under the sheer, unwavering force of his sincerity. She nodded, hoping to assure him that she understood.

"They will," Azriel continued, "want to know why you are here. Why I brought you. And I didn't want to force that conversation onto you so soon. Not until you were ready. Not until you had time-"

Azriel's eyes darted away from her. It was the truth. But it didn't seem right. At the time, he was certain he had been right. But now he wasn't so sure. He should have been honest with her from the outset. With Rhysand and Feyre too. And Cassian. He was beginning to flounder. Shame and self hatred broiling in his veins.

Bryn could see it. It wasn't often he let down his guard in such a way. It was almost alarming.

All because of me. She thought, he did this all...kept me hidden away from his family. To protect me.

A sickly sweet sensation warmed her from the inside. She leaned forward and wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him as best she could into a hug. She felt his body go stiff at first, but after a moment he relaxed and she could feel his arms hovering around her waist until they very slowly and gently made contact. The lightest of touch imaginable.

Thank you, she mouthed, pulling one arm free so that she could sign the words as they had created them. There's nothing... She shook her head. To apologize for. She blanched and the blackness, sensing her sadness doubled back. They had no signal for that yet. Apologize. It was a complicated word. So many of them were. And though they had together made so many strides towards better communicating, there were times like these when it felt more like a drop in the ocean. It was maddening.

"I know." Azriel said, At least I think I do.

He hoped she understood too. With that done he could move on to-

"Cassian," Azriel muttered under his breath. Bryn cocked her head to one side, not understanding.

"My...well the bigger one?" Azriel said,drawing he hands back to hover above his shoulders to indicate Cassian's infamous silhouette. "I should...go see him. And try to explain. I owe him an explanation."

Bryn nodded, even though she didn't want him to go. She could feel the blackness growing, it's fervent caress gnawing at spirit.

Bit I can't- I mean I couldn't possibly ask him to stay. There's no good reason. And his family is...his family.

She watched him vanish in a swirl of shadows somehow even darker than the surrounding night. She looked out and down to the city below. The sun had dipped further down south, taking with it all the warmth and light from the day.

She was alone again. It wasn't long before the unease returned, settling into the marrow of her bones. Making its home. It's presence known. A deep and dissonant ache grew out from her heart, pumping through her blood stream, offering its power to the voices in the back of her head. The one chained to her, whether by the curse put upon her or by her own fears, she could never be sure.

He's hiding you. The voice spoke, it's presence like that of a vipers...sliding up her neck and hissing into her ear. It was hers yes. But it was also his. And someone else's, some amalgam of the person she once was and the person she came close to becoming, locked away in that aging palace of ore and stone. His visage was clear in her mind's eye. His bright, almost white eyes, sparking with gleeful malice. The mocking smile. The poison laced within the words. And the truth. He swept you away so quickly. Did want you to see them. Didn't want them to see you. Why do you suppose that is?

Bryn stood up, the adrenaline pulsing through her needed attending to. A chill she hadn't felt before snaked around her neck, slithering down her back, hugging the curves and knots of her spine. She pulled her shawl tighter around her shoulders and crossed her arms together across her chest. Searching the night sky for some measure of comfort or solace, but finding none.

You don't belong here. You're mortal. You're cursed. Perhaps he's risking punishment to keep you here. Perhaps it's too late for him. Humans aren't supposed to be here after all. In the land of the fae. It isn't natural. This...cohabitation.

Bryn tried to breathe, but she couldn't gather enough air into her lungs. Her fingers itched to cover her ears, foolish enough to hope that it would be enough to block out the voice. But she knew it wasn't enough. Nothing would ever be enough. A tightness began to grow in her chest, the turmoil pulled and pounded and stretched beneath her skin. It was everywhere within her, there was nowhere for it to go. She felt as if she would burst.

"Stop," she whispered, her hands traveling up to her neck, her fingers tugging at curls in her hair. She needed it to stop. Needed a release.

Or maybe...maybe he's embarrassed.

She stumbled backwards, her legs hitting the chaise. She gripped the fabric in one hand, the other fell down to her chest, clutching at the fringed hem of her shawl. She doubled over, feeling suddenly tired and heavy.

Of course. That's it. He's helped you and now he's stuck with you. A mortal girl. Defective. Unable to speak for yourself. Can't even read or write. Do you think he pities you?

Bryn didn't want to believe the voice in her head, but the words it spoke rang true. She couldn't deny them. Couldn't run from them. She knew that until she could find a way to break the curse she would never be free of it. It had been bound to her since her birth. By circumstances beyond the realm of her control, by words forged like weapons and by a deathly pale set of eyes. She knew, that truly she was nothing. A worthless human. A body that should never have seen light.

A warm breeze lifted up from the town, carrying with it the smells of the city. Food and warmth, smoke and floral notes. She could smell jasmine and tuberose. She turned her eyes back to the view and the shadow ebbed, if only by a fraction. Even though a storm raged in her like a blanket of black clouds, she could still see the beauty in this place. Velaris. The color and magic.

You broke through the curse once. She thought, causing the shadow to shudder. It was brief but...you did it. You can do it again.

She straightened, eyes slipping shut as she remembered to breath. She placed one hand on her middle and focused instead on her breathing. With each inhale and exhale, she felt the tension in her shoulders and chest lessen. Her senses felt renewed, she could hear the soothing sounds of the evening more clearly. Somewhere in the distant trees that dotted the mountain behind Azriel's home, an owl was cooing gently. Calling for his mate. The breeze tickled the tree lines, sending leaves shaking in a calm, pattering echo. This place was alive. This place was thriving.

And if I'm to break this curse. Bryn thought. I need to be too.

She knew how to start. Azriel had given her all the tools. Feeling restored, Bryn rose and headed down the stairs into the house.

Azriel chose not to winnow. He still had much to think over. He was always careful with his words, but when it came to Cassian he was much more vigilant than he was with other members of the Circle. Cassian was like a match in that way, coarse and tough but easily ignited. And once ignited, he could come close to burning even the closest of his allies. An outsider might look at the group and believe Amren to be the truly dangerous one. And in many ways she was. But Amren was a paradox. Both fire and ice. It took a lot more than a few barbed or deftly veiled words to light that spark. Cassian on the other hand...even the most trivial of suggestions could set him off. It was amusing, most of the time. Even Azriel found that he could enjoy it on many an occasion. There were even times when Azriel would allow himself the pleasure of being the instigator. Usually it manifested itself in a perfectly harmless yet snide retort, the sort that would leave Cassian speechless and the rest of their comrades sniggering. But there were the rare times like this where his words would carry far more weight, and thus demanded more attention and care in their choosing. He could use all the time available to him, even if it was only a minute or two more. He still set Bryn's comfort and security above Cassian's wounded ego.

With a flush of shadow he landed in front of the restaurant. Instinctually, both his shadows and wings spread around him as a shield of sorts. Every tendril of muscle, every hair, bristling in preparation for what he could only imagine would be a barrage of questions and demands for information. But there was no sign of Cassian. Or Rhys or Feyre or Elain. Azriel cursed under his breath. So many explanations to make. All of them, even he had to admit, could have been avoided.

They were supposed to be gone longer than two days. Azriel thought to himself, his wings twitching, mirroring his annoyance. He cast his eye down the trails of the Sidra, to the palace that Feyre & Rhysand had built from rubble. The shadows around him hissed and pulsed as a mixture of shame and self-hatred grew. He had lied to his High Lord and Lady. Perhaps not directly, but he had hidden information from them. Something he had swore never to do centuries ago. Azriel knew, better than most, that second chances were hard fought battles. Especially within the Circle. Rightfully so, Rhys was still far from earning back Mor's trust, after the choices he had made leading up to the fight against the king. Azriel's shoulders fell as the weight of his own choices began to grow. He considered his options. Cassian came first. If only because Azriel was certain that his reaction would be more explosive than that of Rhysands. And even if her were mistaken, he was certain that Feyre would handle Rhys in his stead, if only for the night. He couldn't admit, even to himself, the thought of seeing his High Lord and Lady now...of having to admit to his deception. He couldn't. Couldn't see it through. Not yet anyway.

So Azriel's wings expanded once more and he shot into the sky, wondering where his bastard brother could be.

I'll just have to explain it all. Tell him the truth. Azriel thought, It's all he'll accept. He knew what Cassian would ask. He could hear the questions in his head. Who was she? This girl. A human girl. What prompted him to bring her to Velaris? Azriel sighed as wind and light fluttered around him. He still didn't have an answer. Not really. Not like he usually did. His world revolved around shadows and facts. He could sense the truth on a level the others couldn't. His senses were alight to it. Sometimes he could hear it threaded through the voices of his targets. Sometimes it was so clear, so loud and so brazen that he could taste it on the air. Or smell it in the fear that radiated from his victims like invisible vapors.

Instinct. His shadows whispered, giving him the answer he needed.

Yes of course. That was something even Cassian could understand. It was paramount to their Illyrian heritage. It rivaled that of Rhysand's. No, no it was enough to surpass it. Rhysand had too much of his father him in. The steady hand, the willingness to sacrifice more in order to lead. He understood the rawness of his emotions yes, but he had been born with only half of that blood running through his veins. He had the tools within him to combat the wildness of his mother's blood. To tame it if needed. Azriel could attempt such control in ways Cassian couldn't but even he knew deep down there were some emotions he could never hope to control. No matter how hard he tried.

Azriel was pulled from his thoughts as a light along the Sidra caught his eye. It was a small, iron lamp hung above a deep navy door. It stood out, not because it was any brighter than that of the surrounding homes but because it was unusual to see it lit at all.

In many ways, Cassian and Mor were very much alike. Though they had both been granted homes of their own by Rhysand, they very rarely frequented them. While Mor was happy to traipse through the palace and the House of Wind, Cassian split his time flitting between the war camps and the palace. In times of peace, it was difficult for the warrior to keep himself as busy as he would like to be and often resorted to amusing (or annoying) his friends to ease his restlessness. While Mor and Azriel both retreated to spaces of their own when necessary (Azriel more so than any other in the Circle), Cassian seemed instead to loathe time spent on his own and to combat it he would seek out companionship, sometimes even tucking in at Azriel's house or a night or two. So to see the light flickering in his home, was a rare sight indeed. The house that Cassian had chosen was perhaps the most modest of the bunch. Even though Amren's was smaller by comparison, she had stocked the loft with so many jewels and gems, clothes made of the finest fabrics and furnitures of such a superior craft that it always seemed more stately by comparison. Cassian's home however was oddly minimalistic. Likely due to the fact that he spent very little time there. Like Mor's however, it occupied a prime location along the center of the Sidra. The two story townhouse was crafted entirely in rich woods and metals. A true warriors home, carved from the earth and scantily decorated with it's natural treasures. The great room at its center sported towering ceilings, the exposed beams stretching up at dramatic angles. A large fireplace of shaved and shined stone pieces occupied a good section of the main wall. Whenever Cassian was home, it was lit; stocked to bursting with wood collected from around the camps. The smell of it, earthen and heady filled every corner of the home which, along with the disquiet of cozy crackling of embers, made for a peaceful, welcoming atmosphere. It reminded Azriel of the shreds of pleasantry he experienced in the camps as a child; huddled around a fire with Rhys and Cassian in the cabin belonging to Rhys' mother. As Azriel stepped through the door, he was reminded against of those times. Heat pressed up against him from every angle as he pulled the door shut behind him. But it wasn't heat from the fire.

He hadn't bothered to knock or call out. He realized on the flight down that if Cassian was home it could only mean one thing: that he was expected. Sure enough, Cassian had settled into one of the high backed leather chairs that sat in front of the roaring fireplace. He had likely purposefully chosen the one that faced towards the door. Azriel loved his bastard brothers deeply but he couldn't argue that they both had a distinct inclination for the dramatic. Even from the short distance between them, Azriel could see Cassian's equally amber eyes were hot and trained on him with the same intensity he usually reserved for the battlefield.

Azriel stepped down a small flight of stairs into the room, tucking his wings in as he lowered himself into the seat across from Cassian. His shadows settled in too, twisting and twirling with the ones that flickered across the room against the dancing firelight. Despite knowing how much it would irk Cassian, Azriel had adopted his usual easy mask of indifference.

Between them sat a small wood carved table, bearing a tray of various dark liquors and several ornate glass tumblers. Azriel leaned forward and helped himself to a shallow splash. Cassian had a drink of his own and, as per usual, it was filled higher than it arguably should have been.

Oh brother, how transparent you are, Azriel thought, pleased to find a pocket of amusement in the messy depths of this situation he had dug himself into. He would need it, if he were to get through the impending conversation. When he dared to look at Cassian again, he was surprised to find the warriors eyes were no longer trained on him, but on the firelight before them. Flames reflected in his eyes fluttered fervently and a hearty crackling loosed from the center of the fire as another log gave way to a barrage of hungry embers. Azriel lifted the glass to his lips and sucked in a long, readying swallow.

"You're back early." Azriel ventured, attempting to keep his tone light and innocent.

Cassian flinched at the sound of his voice. It was a minute move, only visible to the likes of Azriel's eye. Yet he made no move to respond. He only shifted his gaze to his glass and lifted it to his mouth.

As he drank, Azriel dared to press on. "Summer court not to your liking?"

"Who is she?" Cassian said, allowing for barely a breath of quiet to float between Azriel's query and his own.

Azriel sighed, the air flowing from his nose as his lips remained pressed into a thin, unmoving line. It was so like Cassian to breeze past the pleasantries. So like him to take his shot at the first hook. Azriel would have danced around it, enjoyed watching his opponent squirm a bit. But his brother was never quite so reticent. He should've suspected it. And yet, as only Cassian was able to, he was caught quite off guard. He tilted his glass, eyes locking onto the liquid within and watching the light play off the golden surface.

"She is…" Azriel began slowly, his voice as slick and as dewey as the contents of his glass. "A friend."

Cassian snorted into his drink. A half hearted, if not lame attempt to hide his surprise.

"A friend." He repeated after a moment of perplexed rumination.

He finally met Azriel's eye. What he saw was pure steel and sincerity.

"A human friend." Cassian elaborated, as if speaking the words out loud would help to clarify them. "You know the humans are afraid of us because we kept stealing them away those centuries past."

"I didn't-" Azriel started, shadows flaring around him defensively. He knew that Cass had meant it as a joke. But after what he had seen. In light of everything he still didn't know. The thoughts that kept him up at night. That darkened with each passing day. To even kid about such a thing Was something Azriel could not abide.

"I didn't take her." Azriel tried again, but couldn't quite contain the guarded bite in his tone. "She...I-I-"

Shit. This was exactly what he had wanted to avoid. He could practically sense the confusion and amusement that fought for dominance in Cassian's seat across the table. So he paused, took a breath to collect himself and started from the beginning.

"These past few months," He said, eyes darting back to his glass as his thumb traced the rim. "There have been...revelations put to me that I…"

Images flashed through his mind's eye. Mor asking to speak with him. The teary conversation that had followed. His grip on the glass tightened as the shadows around him rallied in whispers to keep him on track.

"-That I should have seen before." He finished, rather lamely. "I'm not proud, Cassian. Of the mistakes I have made. And seeing as I've made so few…"

Cassian managed a single barking laugh at the Shadowsingers faltering attempt to ease the tension, still too agog at witnessing his usually cool friend flounder to find the words to respond.

It was all the encouragement Azriel needed. Cassian was angry with him yes, but not so far gone as to be humorless. A small, tired smile drifted across Azriel's face.

"I found myself ill equipped to deal with it all." He continued. "I just knew I needed time. And space. To make sense of it. So I left Velaris. In search of...I don't know what exactly."

"You could have come to me," Cassian said. It wasn't a question, but Azriel could sense the anger and the doubt behind it. He knew that, even before Bryn's involvement, he had already wounded Cassian.

"It wasn't that I didn't want to," Azriel explained, meeting his brother's eye. "but to do so would mean...It wasn't something I could...I couldn't betray the trust that had been granted to me."

Cassian nodded. He wasn't sure yet to what Az could possibly be referring to, but he knew that whatever the case, Azriel wouldn't lie to him.

"I headed south. I don't know why. I just needed the distance. There was clearing. It was quiet. And beautiful. So I kept returning. Whenever I needed the feel that quiet. To escape this city. That's where I met her."

He went silent for a moment. Cassian waited patiently for him to continue.

"Bryn. Is her name. She stumbled upon that place too, I think. I didn't seek her out. Nor did see seek me out. At first. It was...nice. To have someone outside of the circle, outside of my spy rings to talk to. So we continued to meet. For several months. Just to talk. Until…"

New memories flashed before his eyes. All the signals he had missed. Or misinterpreted. They seemed so clear to him now. So obvious. He had been ignorant. The shadows at his shoulders began to shudder, quivering and growing like a mass unto itself. They molded with the shadows around the fireplace, pushing against the firelight as if trying to wrestle the flames into submission.

Cassian watched, alarmed as a distinct chill began to settle over the great room. He rose from his seat, wings spreading as the flint in Azriel's faraway gaze turned razor sharp. There was real depth to the darkness in those eyes. It was rare that Cassian had seen it. Rare for Azriel to allow anyone to see it. Cassian didn't like it. Not one bit.

"Az," Cassian called, warily.

The shadows retreated at the sound of his voice. Light fluttered back into Azriel's eyes, his attention drawn away from wherever his mind had taken him. But there was still anguish there. And regret. Cassian could see it as plainly as he could the shadows.

"What does this have to do with the girl?" Cassian asked slowly, his curiosity winning out over his concern.

In response, Azriel leaned forward and reached for the decanter. He stood, his empty glass slipping from his hand and falling silently on to the lush carpet below. Azriel looked down at the glass indifferently before shrugging. He took two steps towards the fire to feel the heat of it, needing it to be closer. He leaned one arm against the mantle of the hearth and drew the decanter up to his lips. Cassian watched, his hands wringing together as her bore witness to the strange sight before him. He'd never seen Azriel at a loss for words. Or so tied to the drink. It was unnerving to say the least.

"I followed her one day." Azriel said finally. But it was all he could manage to say. His throat began to constrict. He had the words, prepped and ready, but he didn't dare speak them. He couldn't. Couldn't admit to them. Couldn't dare to relive them. To speak them and give them life.

He could feel, in the back of this mind, that the decanter was starting to slide from his grasp. But he felt frozen, unable to speak the words and wanting to. And yet, at the same time, not wanting to. But before the decanter could slip away completely, it stopped. Azriel looked up to see Cassian standing next to him, his hand clutching the bottom of the glass.

"Careful there," Cassian said with familiar glint in his eye. "That's expensive grog you're holding."

Azriel attempted a breath of laughter, but it came out lifeless. He allowed his hand to slip away as Cassian pulled the decanter free. Azriel leaned his forehead against the mantel, shaking his head.

"I can't," He admitted. "It's not my...I have no right to tell it."

"Tell what?" Cassian pressed, gently.

"Bryn-Her story," Azriel said, "What was…"

What was done to her. How i found her. Every possible end to the sentence he was forming seemed so cruel. Too terrible and too real. How I failed her...

"I brought her here." Azriel pressed on, speaking through gritted teeth. "Because she needed help. "That's...that's all I have to say. All I can say."

Azriel could feel Cassian's eyes on him, but the warrior said nothing for some time. The soft crackling of the fire was all the noise that permeated between them.

Finally, with a sigh Cassian retreated back to his chair. Azriel lifted his head from the mantel and watched Cassian from beyond his armored shoulder.

"Alright, alright." Cassian said amiably, as if he were his old self again and all the anger was forgotten. "You're off the hook...for now."

Azriel studied him for a moment, before nodding in silent thanks.

"Now sit down. You're not the only one with stories." Cassian ordered, reaching for his glass and pouring another heaping splash of amber liquid into it. "I'll tell you how that snarky little whatever-the-hell-she-is got me kicked out of the Summer Court. Again."

Again, thank you all for reading and thank you for your patience! It will be a couple more weeks before I can finish up another chapter I'm guessing but I appreciate your support and feedback so much 3 Another reason this chapter took a long time is because I'm really struggling with these voices! These canon characters are so loved, I hope I'm doing them justice. .