Nesta and Cassian were still off cauldron-knows where, doing cauldron-knows what, the scent of their fresh mating bond still lingering in the House, so Azriel was left to train the priestesses alone. Not that training them was bad, he was thrilled that they were learning to fight, but at least when Nesta and Cassian were there, he could focus on teasing them, rather than his own growing desire. He stiffened at the sound of Gwyn's voice behind him,

"Azriel?" And spun quickly to face her, "Sorry, I didn't mean to startle you,"

"You didn't, I was just thinking,"

"About?"

"Nothing, don't worry about it. Did you need my help?" He hated the slight dismissiveness of his tone, but he couldn't actually tell her what he had been thinking of, could he? No, he couldn't. She might never want a male like that ever, he couldn't make her think she had to. He wouldn't, she would have to come to him, or he would be grateful for her friendship.

"Yeah, you said we could move on to archery today after warm ups, Cassian hasn't actually started on that at all, we need you to go over everything."

"Oh. Okay, I assumed you'd already been over the basics." She shook her head, and he sighed, gesturing for her to follow, "Is it just you, or are there others?"

"Emerie as well, she's coming." The few moments it took for Emerie to cross the training ring almost left Azriel shuffling on his feet, but when she arrived he was finally able to start the lesson.

Stop being so tense, she thinks something's wrong with you. A shadow whispered in his ear, he wasn't being too tense, was he? Perhaps he was. Cauldron, did she think he didn't like her? Now you're overthinking it. Be normal. He almost snorted, that was easier said than done, but he forced his thoughts away from Gwyn, and towards the bows in front of him.

"The first thing we have to do is to string them, you can't do anything with an unstrung bow, except perhaps hit someone over the head with it, but that's not very effective." Gwyn snickered, and Emerie bit her lip to keep from laughing, "Grab a bow each, not that one, you'll never be able to draw it." He handed Gwyn a smaller bow, the limbs recurved to allow a lighter draw weight, and Emerie grabbed its twin from the rack. "Those have a draw weight of about thirty pounds, but we'll build that up, until you can draw Illyrian war bows."

"What's the draw weight of those?" Gwyn asked, her voice soothing the worry he was still feeling,

"Anything from eighty to one hundred and twenty pounds. Mine is a hundred." Her jaw dropped open,

"You mean, they can be four times as strong as these? These look pretty heavy as they are."

"They will be to start off with, you'll be using a different set of muscles than you're used to, so we'll be able to build it up." He drew their attention to the notches at the ends of the bows' limbs, when the string could sit. "Get one end of the string on the limbs, and set that limb against your ankle, and step through with the other foot." He adjusted their position, grateful that Emerie had figured it out, so that he didn't have to get too close to Gwyn as she corrected herself. "Now, use your foot as leverage to pull the string up to set it in place." He demonstrated with a third bow, smoothly setting the string in place, and both females managed to copy him, grinning when they were each successful.

"I win." Gwyn chuckled, and Emerie narrowed her eyes, managing to string her own bow moments after Gwyn,

"We'll see about that." She retorted, and Azriel smiled, and as they turned back to face him the sun burst into the ring, setting Gwyn's hair burning bright in the morning glow. She was so breathtakingly beautiful that he forgot he was supposed to be teaching. He slowly walked them through each step of shooting, from their stance to the arm guards that they needed to wear to avoid the string slapping against their forearms. Once they had gotten the hang of it, Azriel set them off to practice, keeping an eye on them as he made the rounds to check on the other priestesses.

Once he got back round to them, both females were starting to make progress, although neither had actually hit the target yet. Gwyn barely turned her head, but he knew that she'd noticed him, and took another shot,

"What am I doing wrong?" She asked, still gazing at the arrow embedded in the wall a good three feet from the target.

"You need to use your whole back to draw, not just your arm. Imagine squeezing your shoulderblades together when you draw." She nodded, trying again, and the draw was much smoother, but still the arrow thudded into the wall behind the target, and she turned to him, disappointment shining in her eyes, "Try it again. Make sure you don't release full draw the moment before you let go of the string. Draw, sight and loose all in one movement." She nocked another arrow, taking a deep breath, and he came next to her, "Here," he lifted her elbow slightly, "Now release," she did, and the arrow flew straight and true, just hitting the edge of the target. She turned and grinned at him,

"Show me that again." So he did, no matter how much his blood roared at touching her, he helped her adjust her aim, until the arrow thudded straight into the center of the target. "I did it! Did you see?"

"I saw," he grinned, "Well done, now prove it wasn't a fluke," she flipped him off but returned to the range, and while he was helping Emerie achieve the same result his shadows, his very blood sang at every shout of delight when she hit the target. Emerie was having difficulty adjusting her wings to allow her to reach full draw at all, and he had to ask he to show him exactly how much movement she had.

He frowned as Emerie moved her wings, there was no way she'd be able to get to full draw with her right wing unable to move properly.

"Perhaps we can get a brace made, or if you're comfortable to let Thesan see if he can at least recover a greater range of movement?"

"I don't know, will it hurt?"

"Certainly not initially, but perhaps later on, if you wanted to regain flight, maybe, but regaining a bit more movement should be painless." She hummed,

"I'll think about it,"

"Let one of us know if you want to try, we can always ask Madja to try first, but for now, perhaps we can get a brace made to hold your wings up so that you can shoot properly." Emerie nodded, "And I'll work out some exercises for you to perhaps be able to build up the muscles there to do it yourself, do you mind if I check to see exactly what's damaged?"

"Yeah, that's okay." She still shuddered when he touched the muscles at the base of her wings, finding few of them intact, fewer that were still capable of bearing any sort of load.

"Okay, I can try to work something out for you," Gwyn had managed to unstring her bow by herself, and wrapped an arm around Emerie's waist,

"We'll figure it out," she muttered, "In the meantime you can just kick everybody's ass at close combat." Azriel smiled as the females walked away, laughing softly,

"Make sure you cool down properly," he reminded them softly as he started to tidy up the equipment that they had all used, and his gaze fell on Gwyn, talking softly to Emerie and another female, sweaty and exhausted, but still she practically shined in the early sunlight. When she tipped back her head and laughed, his shadows skittered around him, dancing with that sound as it flowed through the air. They loved her, as they told him repeatedly, annoyingly often, and demanded that he make sure to see her again that day. He told them to mind their own business, but still couldn't tear his eyes away as she waved and headed back to the library,

"See you tomorrow, Az!"

"See you later!" He waved back at her, grinning broadly until wingbeats alerted him to Rhys' arrival to take Emerie home. He quickly shook himself off, and finished tidying up, waving goodbye to the other priestesses as they left.

No one heard as Azriel slipped out of his bedroom window that evening, the cool wind nipping at his skin as he caught an updraft and spiraled up to the roof. He lay back on the roof, watching the stars twinkling above his head, letting the wind ruffle through his hair, and closed his eyes. On nights like this, he sometimes couldn't face being inside, he needed to feel the wind on his face, his wings. He opened his eyes again, his gaze falling on a familiar star, his mother's voice sounding in his ears, almost as if she was there,

Always remember that star, Azriel. Every time you look up at it, so am I, that's our star, forever.

He didn't know what compelled him to do it, but a familiar song burst from him, his mother's song, the only lullaby he had ever been sung, the words falling effortlessly from his lips as he gazed at their star. He hadn't seen her in so long, he hadn't been able to, but he would find time, he would get away from his work soon. He could practically see her sitting beside him, hear her voice in place of his. The wind became her fingers tidying his hair, became her voice singing through the darkness, his shadows on his shoulders became her hands, holding him close, just being there.

Gwyn didn't know what had driven her from her bed, but the moment she stepped outside, the song hit her. She didn't recognize the words, they were in a language she didn't know, but she knew the hurt, the longing in them, in that lullaby. That voice, she could have sworn that she'd heard it before, but she couldn't have, she didn't recognize it, still, the huskiness seemed familiar, the deep tones flowing over and through one another effortlessly. Whoever he was, he had a beautiful voice, and she found herself drawn towards it, her blood singing with him.

Arrorró mi niño Arrorró mi sol Duérmase pedazo De mi corazón Cierre los ojitos Ya se va a dormir Que el pícaro sueño No quiere venir.

She followed the song all the way to the House of Wind, freezing when she saw the shadowed figure on the roof, head raised to the sky, great, dark wings spread behind him, voice raised in song. He did sing, she was frozen in awe at his voice, at the way it sang to her, but she still felt like she was intruding. Gwyn dared to snatch one final glance at Azriel before she turned to leave, and his head turned, surely he couldn't see her from all the way up there? But something made her stay, made her sit on a nearby bench and listen as he repeated the song again and again, until she knew the lyrics herself. The raw emotion in his voice almost brought her to tears, and she almost turned to leave again, but something made her stop, and sing with him.

His shadows leapt and danced as a second voice sounded through the air, light and feminine, brighter and happier than his, a comfort to the pain of his own song. As Gwyn's voice continued to rise, his shadows left his shoulders to dance around him, she sang to them, for them,

It's her.

She's here.

Go to her.

We love her.

He almost chuckled at the overload of demands, but he sang with her, their voices twining together through the cold night air, the familiar melody giving him the courage to speak to her, to go down there. He practically threw himself off the roof, free-falling before opening his wings and gliding to the ground. When he landed, the street was empty. She hadn't wanted to disturb him. Gwyn wasn't her lingering scent proved that she had been there at all.