Chapter 13

Azriel reclined on one of the low couches that lined his suites and tried not to watch his mother too closely.

She was nervous, terrified of being crushed once again under a High Lord's palace. Just because Persephone could see sunlight through the lattice-wood screens that covered the windows did not mean she wasn't in danger.

The same sun was warm on her skin when she was made to conceive Azriel.

He was afraid of her fear, which only made her afraid of his fear. Persephone tried not to watch him as much as he tried not to watch her, but both mother and son monitored the other's every breath.

'Whispers of death stirr in the hallway. Their presence disrupts the air, even as we welcome its touch ,' his shadows- the voices of the dead- whispered.

"Mother, the door is about to open," Azriel said softly.

Persephone raised her arms from where she sat surrounded by three now-sleeping puppies. Latticework covered two long walls of the room, with the low couches sitting against them. Azriel crossed the marble floors, his boots falling silent as he stepped onto a thick scarlet rug.

He lifted his mother with ease and set her down on the far end of his own couch- where she could sit with the screens to one side and a solid wall behind her. While Persephone undid the straps on her cart and pulled herself off of it, he gathered the puppies to transport them onto the pillows beside her.

Azriel sat and stretched out a wing to block her from sight before saying, "Enter."

As his shadows promised, the door was opened by a whisper of death- Nuala, with Cerridwen on her heels.

The wraiths kept their heads bowed as they moved towards a low table in the center of the room. They moved with an intoxicating fluidity- something akin to mist disturbed by a soft breeze. His mother grabbed the ridge of his wing and held him in place, shivering. She knew the light shining behind her only meant the two could see her more clearly.

His spies carried two trays- one of hot tea, the other piled with fresh foods ranging from ripe fruit to dainty cakes.

They knelt on the carpets beside the table and bowed their heads.

"Thank you," Azriel said.

Nuala and Cerridwen stood and backed slowly from the room. He kept an eye on them as they left, but also monitored Persephone, cowering behind his wing. Once the door closed she eased her grip.

Her hands fell into her lap, limp, and her whole body seemed to sag. Azriel reached out to squeeze her hand- it was trembling. She turned her head towards the wall, burying her face in the stone as she cried.

"What's wrong, mother?" he said softly.

She pulled her hand from his and grasped it tightly with the other. Azriel had no warning before Persephone lashed out- slamming her hand into the marble. She lifted her face from the stone and he saw a snarl on her lips as she beat the wall repeatedly, then pinned one hand down with the other. It still shook, and that only made her angrier.

'I'm sick of being scared ,' Azriel had never heard his mother speak, but she made her feelings clear.

"Stop- please," he grabbed her wrist before she could punish her hands any more. The puppies had stirred at her outburst and now they were squeaking as they tried to figure out what was wrong, "It's alright."

Persephone shook her head and pulled her hands from his.

"Well… at least you won't have to be afraid much longer," Azriel murmured. "Your family is coming tomorrow."

He thought it would help ease her frustration, it worked… in a way.

All emotion melted from his mother's face, just as it had when he first told her the Grecians had come. According to Nuala and Cerridwen's reports, it was the same reaction Rhysand had Under the Mountain whenever someone whispered of freedom. He couldn't imagine going back, and didn't know how to be the person they'd known.

Persephone was trapped in Prythian for fifteen thousand years. To her real family, only four thousand years actually passed. Four thousand years didn't even cover her time beneath the Hewn Palace.

She wasn't the female they knew, not in any real sense.

After a while she turned from her son, scooted the puppies away from her lap, and pushed herself forward on the couch. Azriel moved to help her, but Persephone pulled away. She planted her feet on the floor and shoved off from the couch as hard as she could.

She managed to make it into a sort of squatting position. Azriel obediently stayed back as his mother took one agonizing step, then another. Pain lashed her face and a whimper escaped her lips, but she was determined to prove she could manage something at least.

After the third step, she fell onto her knees. Azriel winced, but at least she'd landed on the rug. It cushioned her as she shuddered and took several deep, settling breaths. She pulled herself the rest of the way to Nuala and Cerridwen's tray using only her hands. By the time she arrived she was sweating, panting, and flush with pain.

"Can I at least fix the tea?" he asked.

Persephone stared her son down as she lifted the silver carafe of hot water and poured it over the strainers in their cups. He sighed and got up from the couch. The puppies squeaked indignantly, so before he went to the table he picked them up and placed them on the floor. They promptly ran to swarm his mother once again.

"Just in case you were going to try and bring my mug over," Azriel said as he plopped down across from his mother.

The temper in her eyes faded and reached out her hand. Azriel took it and Persephone drew him over so that his palm was pressed against her cheek. She closed her eyes and sighed.

' I'm sorry .'

"You have nothing to apologize for," he said.

Persephone released his hand and reached over to pat his cheek this time.

When she pushed the plate of snacks towards him, he barked a laugh, "Now don't start on that." She made a face and picked up one of the small finger-cakes to set it in front of them, then set his tea beside it. Azriel picked up the cake and set it in front of her, "I'm not hungry."

She returned it, then nudged it closer, ' Eat .'

"Mother, I said I'm not hungry," he put it in front of her and nudged it.

Persephone pursed her lips to fight back the smile that finally brought a little light into her eyes as she reached out and started picking at his face and jaw, emphasizing how difficult it was to find enough skin to pinch.

' You're too thin. '

"Oh, you want to talk about weight?" He laughed as he started pinching at her own face- the difference being that his mother was ticklish along the sides of her throat above where the collar sat. She squirmed and swatted at his hands to fend him off, but her smile remained.

Persephone picked up a second cake and put it in front of him, then picked up the (fairly dented) one in front of her. She lifted it and raised her eyebrows, ' We'll both eat. '

"Deal," Azriel picked up his cake and raised it to her in salute. He waited for his mother to do the same thing. Slowly, they both drew their food closer, waiting to make sure the other was truly intending to eat. When Persephone took a small bite of one corner, he abruptly shoved the entire cake into his mouth in one go.

She clicked her tongue at him and Azriel grinned as he chewed, not caring that his cheeks were straining and food threatened to tumble from his mouth. As she'd done ever since he was a child, Persephone picked up a napkin and started wiping bits of crumb and frosting from his face immediately. She swatted his arm as he swallowed the first bit and his triumphant smile only grew.

It was a moment of levity- a gift from him to his mother to give her strength. Even if he was born of something evil and cruel, he could still be her light in the darkness.

Azriel finished chewing and cleared his throat, "If it's alright with you, I'd like to see your world."

Persephone's smile faded. She reached out to pat his cheek… and shook her head.

' No '.

-0-

-0-

Mor, Amren, Rhysand, and Feyre were waiting in the dining room when Azriel- looking utterly defeated- and Persephone arrived.

Rhys had ordered the long mahogany table be removed and replaced with a small, circular table more traditional to Day Court. They were to dine sitting on cushions upon the floor- that way when Persephone entered she could see them all at her own level.

The dining room was massive, especially without its usual furniture. A nearly oppressive amount of gold leaf was painted over marble columns which connected to a truly ridiculous ceiling. At its center, above the circular table, a grand chandelier of rainbow glass formed the center of a flower. The petals were sculpted into the ceiling itself and crusted in chips of lapis lazuli and other precious stones. It glittered blindingly, and Azriel didn't miss the elbow Mor threw into Feyre's ribs to draw the High Lady's attention from that ceiling to their new guests.

Persephone had bathed since they last saw her. Her hair- braided back by Azriel, was shining in the candlelight. Mor caught a whiff of the bath soaps she had purchased in Day, a lovely jasmine and freesia concoction that was subtle yet striking.

Her dress had been changed in favor of a lavender one that was again tucked neatly around her legs. She had two short canes in her hands- neither longer than a forearm- and used them to pull herself forward across the floor. As they approached she moved closer and closer to Azriel's ankles, but she seemed determined to not hide behind her son.

"Lady Persephone, it is an honor to see you again," Mor bowed her head low as Persephone moved to the empty space beside Amren. There was no cushion in the area for her to sit on- as per Amren's orders. Azriel would sit between his mother and Mor, with Feyre and Rhysand across from her.

Persephone stared hard at the table, unable to force herself to look around. Amren wrapped an arm through Persephone's and snapped her fingers.

Nuala and Cerridwen approached from the kitchens, each with a large covered platter. They entered the room behind Rhys and Feyre so that Azriel's mother could see them coming. She drew Amren closer as the twins neared.

In defiance of Azriel's express orders, Nuala rounded the table to stand between Rhysand and Amren as she set the main platter down. His mother recoiled further as the female approached, then froze when a tendril of graveyard mist rolled from her to break upon Persephone's skin.

She actually looked up at Nuala- her focus unwavering and unafraid. There was something like devastation shining in Persephone's eyes.

"Enjoy your meal," Nuala bowed and reached over the platter to lift the lid. Cerridwen remained between Feyre and Mor as she braced her tray, removed the lid, and crouched low so that the females could pass around four plates piled high withinjera bread.

Nuala and Cerridwen backed away from the table, bowed again, and retreated to the kitchens to begin work on dessert. Still, Persephone watched the door they vanished through, not caring that she was looking between a High Lord and Lady.

Something changed in her demeanor. For better or worse, no one could tell.

"Azriel mentioned you like this dish," Rhys said gently, drawing Persephone's attention back to the table. She shrunk into Amren and lowered her eyes from his. Not quite as terrified as she'd once been, but far from comfortable.

Nuala's platter held a large disk of thick, spongey injera , atop which was piled large scoops of different Illyrian stews that varied in levels of spiciness. The plates Mor and Feyre passed around held small circles of injera rolled and piled like hand towels.

To eat the dish, one simply had to tear off a bit of the bread and use it to pick up a bite of the stew.

While it was true Azriel's mother enjoyed the dish, it was chosen more for the way in which it was consumed- without any need for a knife and with everyone eating from the same platter. The first was in case Persephone could not handle the sight of a High Lord with a knife- given their history of torturing her. The second was a quiet way to reassure her the food was not drugged to incapacitate her or Azriel and facilitate her re-capture.

Azriel spun the platter until a light brown chicken-based stew was pointed in their direction. He tore off his bite of bread and scooped up a bit of meat, then ate it without incident. He then reached over and took the glass of water in front of his mother, poured a little into his mouth without letting his lips touch her cup, and set it back in place.

Food and water tested.

The siphons on his hands glowed as Azriel summoned his power to detect what he already knew was absent- poison, sedatives, or paralytics. Nothing.

"It's a little salty for my taste," he said softly as Persephone studied his face, "but otherwise it's fine."

The rest of the table waited with bated breaths as Amren nudged Persephone into taking a bite of chicken for herself.

Once she reached for a second piece, the others took it as permission to dine freely.

The platter was spun time and again as everyone focused on their favorite stews, but no matter what was in front of Persephone, she would eat the closest dish. Her face was red with the spices at times- prompting Azriel to pour her a glass of iced milk. Nothing was more important to him than his mother's comfort, so he didn't feel any guilt when he turned the dish and held it in place, forcing the others to focus on the spicier side and give her a chance at the mild.

Persephone didn't eat as much as her son had hoped, but she ate enough to take the edge off her hunger. He wasn't entirely joking during tea earlier- she needed more food. He made a mental note to ask the twins to prepare a smaller platter of the mild dishes to bring to his suite.

"Lady Persephone?" once the meal was finished Mor looked to Azriel's mother. "We are going to be joined by Cassian now, so I'm going to move a bit closer to you and Az. Is that alright?"

She'd flinched when Mor said her name, but nodded and let Amren pull her a bit closer. The cushions were shifted and a new space opened between Rhysand and Amren.

Rhys must have been the one to send the signal, because without any further word the doors opened and Cassian came in. He wore a simple white shirt and brown linen pants. For the first time in weeks there was no scowl on his face, but a soft, bland smile. His wings were tucked tight against his back, and he stretched them out to drape behind him as he sat.

"As always, Lady, I just don't see how someone so lovely could have produced our dear Azriel."

Persephone was trembling again, and she reached behind her with one hand to tug at Azriel's wing. Amren froze as she untangled herself from her old friend's side and shifted closer to her son, who used the wing as a dividing line. It wasn't his joke that frightened her, it was the sheer crush of people.

Nuala and Cerridwen reappeared a moment later with individual plates of tulumba - fried dough covered in a sweet syrup and served once cooled. The twins set one serving in front of each, but Nuala paused on the other side of Amren. She did not dare come closer to Azriel's mother.

"It's alright," he said. He was curious about what his mother might do. As soon as the twins appeared her attention was once again wholly on the half-wraiths.

Nuala nodded and stepped around Amren, keeping her motion slow. She lifted the plate from her tray and set it down gently, then placed a small fondue fork in the bowl- Azriel had requested the utensil for his mother.

Persephone shrunk away from the twin, but not nearly as much as she should have. She watched Nuala carefully, and when the wraith's arm accidentally bumped her shoulder- Azriel's mother held her breath and a single tear slid down her cheek. Beyond that, nothing.

"Az? Are you alright?" Cassian leaned over to inspect his friend's face.

He swallowed hard to clear his throat before nodding, "I'm fine, why?"

"Because someone put something sweet in front of you thirty seconds ago and it's still there," Cassian shrugged. The Inner Circle had been warned against too much joking at the table (in case it got out of hand as usual), but he was genuinely concerned with the look on Azriel's face. Az wasn't going to leave his mother's side in Vele Luk, so it wasn't like he would have the chance to ask how he was doing.

"Oh, um, I'm not very hungry tonight," Azriel noticed a flicker of worry in his mother's eyes. She'd managed to eat only one piece of tulumba , but considering how scared she was of most of the table, that was a feat.

Azriel picked up a small piece of fried dough and popped it into his mouth. He knew the weight hadn't left his gaze. His mother looked back to her food.

Something bothered him, and he cast his shadows out into the room.

' The banshee has come to Vele Luk. It watches you. It watches the Queen. ' The shadows whispered as Azriel cautiously surveyed the room.

Under the guise of looking at each of his friends, he studied the space. There was a glittering column in the distance behind Rhys- but the flicker of faelight on stone would have revealed anyone lurking. Feyre's back was to the kitchen doors, where Nuala and Cerridwen stood watch. He trusted them implicitly. The only thing behind Mor was a black-draped statue that was of no interest to-

Azriel's eyes snapped back to the statue-

It was already gone.