Chapter 13

Cassian had near rammed through me in his excitement that Rhysand had organised a night in the town. I was left to dodge the wide berth of his warrior's shoulders, hearing the distancing of his voice talking about a clean shirt as Azriel showed little more than a slight upturn in his pale lips.

"Rhysand did give me warning about something to do with bouncing off walls," I mused. There was a space between us that many would probably consider awkward to engage in conversation with, but to Azriel—and myself—it was more than fine. "I'm not sure I've seen him drink anything more than a glass of wine at dinner yet. Sometimes lunch. Should I be wary of tonight?"

Azriel regarded the question with mirthful caution. "I think it is best to mind his wingspan when he inevitably starts dancing."

I tipped my head. "Will I have to watch out for yours?" Weeks spent lurking around the same parameters as the Shadowsinger had come to ease being familiar to his presence. If I were with him alone, perhaps that would not be the case, but I found my trust in Rhysand growing each day and that trust extended to his circle. I was coming to trust Azriel through the roots of Rhysand. I'm not sure how far it extended just yet. But the space between us remained more than just for comfort.

"I'm not known for my skills at dancing. Though I have a feeling you do not either."

I bristled at the accusation but supposed that if he were wrong, it would make him a terrible spy if he could not read people. I wasn't even entirely sure why it stung me in the way it did. Did I not seem the type that could dance? Or more of someone that was like him and chose other ways to entertain their night, like nursing a drink? Neither was truly good or bad, but… It was a slight blow to the face. I had not chosen the life I did. If had been nurtured in Velaris, then perhaps I would be more inclined to the freedom of such activities. I did not want to be the woman that remained at her seat, refusing offers to join in swaying to music.

Rather than outright admitting he was wrong—even just so I left the night open for myself—I said, mimicking Rhysand, "Depends how much I'm convinced to drink."

A guttural laugh came from behind. "If you're looking for good influence, I'm afraid you're in the wrong company." Rhysand strode down the short flight of stairs, taking each step with a purpose. He had changed his shirt to something far more suited to a public appearance. Though, he always looked suited for the eyes of… anyone really. The top few buttons were left undone, the fabric folded slightly to leave the skin of his chest bare, revealing just the slight v-shaped indent of where his chest muscles began.

"Am I underdressed?" I found myself blurting out. Cassian had gone to change as well. At least Azriel showed little sign of care.

Rhysand didn't so much as blink his eyes over me. "Not at all."

Behind him, Cassian jogged down the stairs with a fresh, dark grey shirt with short sleeves ending just past his shoulders. Simple, without even the adornment of buttons. "Keeping your clothes on is what you have to worry about." Cassian winked. "Not that you'll hear any of us complaining." Under no control of my own, my cheeks heated uncomfortably wondering just what exactly the High Lord had swindled me into. Unlike Rhysand, he certainly took his time to observe my choice of clothes for the day. It was nothing more than a plain blue shirt just like his own, but longer sleeves and a feminine fit along with black trousers that were probably far more suited to trekking than wandering the House of Wind. I liked them, and they were comfortable.

Rhysand's wings appeared out of thin air. They flared out to the sides in a peacock display, but not for the sake of simply letting his audience note their length, but because it notably hid Cassian behind the black fleshy membrane. "Ignore him. He's the only one prone to removing any layers. And if comes to that, we're usually dragging his arse out."

Cassian veered around his High Lord's wing, eyeing them with disdain. But even with their friendly jesting, he did not so much as brush his shoulder against them. "And ruining the night when the real fun begins."

Rhysand only flicked his eyes towards his hair, breaking into a smile. His show of wings wasn't only for display as we headed towards the open balcony and flew down into Velaris right on the rainbow of sunset.

Rita's ended up being a nightclub of sorts. A gush of relief came over me, half-expecting something more…exotic by the way they were talking. The owner seemed to know them well, and so did the staff who gave nothing more than warm waves and nods of greetings. A table, just far away from the main crowd, but not so far away that it was quiet had the perfect assortment of chairs for Illyrian wings. Rhysand had already tucked his away in whatever void he sent them to, but we were without that privilege.

Nearly as soon as my thighs touched the seat, drinks were brought to the table. "The usual starters," the staff said. "You've got new company. I made a guess. I hope it's right but wave me down if it's not."

It was a peachy looking liquid inside of a deep-set glass. I smiled at the woman in thanks who left to serve the rest of the bustling minglers. Cassian already had his own, amber coloured liquid close to his mouth, the others not far behind. I watched them take generous first gulps, being sure not to drizzle a single drop outside of their lips.

A sudden thought imposed on me. I was sitting with three men. Three brothers, to be correct. I had spent much of my time observing people and their habits, watching them when they didn't know they were being watched. Men, quite often, spent time alone with the company of only other men to break free of whatever cast they had with women around. Was I invited simply because I had been around at the time the idea came to mind? Had they wished for a night that belonged to them?

A foot kicked mine. I jolted, my knee brushing the unpolished underside of the table. "A drink will wipe away that look. It's why we're down here." Cassian gestured to my untouched peach-coloured drink.

I clutched at it as though it was an accusation that I was not guilty of. My thoughts wandered again before I remembered to also take a drink. There were a lot of people here. So many that my back and neck itched. I could feel the whites of my eyes grow larger, testing me to see if I would let it and quite literally, watch my own back. I knew consciously that the people inside of Velaris were no threat. Rhysand wouldn't allow any to enter his hidden realm, let alone survive. But it was the unknown of their faces and their wild movements. Conversations so loud that I couldn't' distinguish any from the other. It was an inflation of information to process that I couldn't pull myself away from yet.

One of my hands had slid from the glass, though I did not realise so until roughened and calloused fingers danced across mine. The mere touch of another's skin had me recoiling my entire arm to my chest, ardently searching for the culprit. Cassian's eyes searched mine, his hand still gently splayed across the polished wood. He was trying to read me, just as I now tried to read him, but a moment later, his eyes turned towards the form on my left. No words were spoken aloud for some time.

"Would you prefer to sit with your back against the wall? You don't have to stay at all if that is your wish. I know how fond you are of your bed."

The table was pushed against the wall on the far narrow end. Azriel and Cassian had taken the opposing side and Rhysand closest to the wall on ours. Did he read my thoughts, or were they just that open for him without the prying? I would be able to see more, and have more of myself covered by taking his position.

I shook my head and took hold of my drink once more and spoke aloud. "Cassian's right. I just need to drink." Sealing my own promise, I lifted the glass to my lips and downed as much as I dared. It had a slight tang, but otherwise strangely sweet. Before I could even place it down, a wave of lightness struck me. The three Illyrians stared at me. I laughed. "Don't be sober on my account."

The alcohol kept arriving. At a manageable pace, thankfully, but they seemed to be well-managed in any case. Rambunctious laughter often filled our table, deafening the sound of anything else. After some time, I didn't even put much thought into anything other than the enjoyment of a beverage and whatever topic came to hand. Rhysand made great efforts to avoid anything to do with court dealings and Azriel and Cassian followed with no complaints.

I eyed the drink in Rhysand's hold. It was a dark red of something that I hadn't yet tried but its pungent sweetness reached my nose even over anything else. He rambled on about one of the other High Lords—the name of whom, I had forgotten by now—with the glass teasing his lip, elbow driven into the table. His other hand lay against his closest thigh.

I wanted his attention. I knew that nothing more than calling his name would have his head turning, but I was doused in liquid courage and what use was it if I did not use it? It was on his advice, as well. To be the one to reach for touch. I had taken his sleeve, once, maybe twice since arriving here, but never skin.

My own words haunted me. There's been no one I have desired to touch since my brother.

I found my hand snaking towards him. Fingers brushed over him until my palm enveloped the back of his hand, and I squeezed. Rhysand turned his head down to me at a cool pace, bringing no shocked indication. Something I became immensely grateful for. I didn't want it to be strange. I just wanted it to feel normal, like I was not breaking an unspoken law.

He said nothing, only flashing his eyes in a silent question, a smile caressing his cheeks. I gestured towards his drink. "What is it?" His hand was warm and softer than the ones I could compare them to. Not as soft as my brother's, but he had been far younger and unweathered than the seasoned High Lord.

Rhysand parted his lips and swirled his drink around, leaving a transparent stain of red temporarily around the inside of the glass. "Would you like to try?" He held the glass towards me.

Not knowing how to take his indirect answer, I removed my hand from his and took the glass. The taste was just as pungent as the scent, and even after the three beverages I had already downed, it still gave me enough of a kick that I recoiled from it. The table laughed at me.

"You knew what reaction you would get, didn't you?" I accused the High Lord, handing him back the glass. With the effects of the alcohol still lingering, I spluttered out, "Bastard." It only came with a heavy bout of laughter.

Cassian patted the table. "I know exactly what you will like," he declared. "Mor swears by the cauldron that it is the best thing she's ever tasted, and I hate agreeing with her, but she is close to right."

I squinted an eye. "Close to?"

"Well, I have my own favourite but it's an acquired taste."

I rounded my lips between my teeth, sinking into my seat. "I'll try that. I want to know what your favourite is."

He actually seemed quite surprised at the request. His neck lengthened, head cocking slightly. "Very well," he obliged with a broad grin. "I'll go hunt it down for you." He disappeared in the bodies of people.

"You could make him do that all night, you know?" Azriel mused.

"I hardly think the General of the Night Court is an errand boy," I hummed.

"No," Rhysand chortled, the sound reverberating into the glass at his mouth as he lounged deeply into the chair. Bad manners, I chuckled to myself. "But he is still adamant about being a favourite. I'll admit I've been taunting him to entertain myself more lately. He is on a mission to please you."

"I've already made it clear that Madja has that title." I narrowed my eyes in thought. "Maybe it's smart not to tell him that. I'm not sure I really mind having my drinks brought to me." The two Illyrians laughed their agreeance. A familiar face showed itself, two gazes locking. "Rav?"

"Annika," he sang. "I didn't think this place was your type of scenery."

I really had to get out more if that was a common thought… However right it was. I nodded towards my company. "They chained me up and dragged me out of my room."

Rav grinned at the High Lord and Spymaster. "Good job. It's good to see your face down here more often."

"I was with you yesterday."

His shoulders pressed towards his earlobes. "And so much could have happened since." He opened his palm towards me. "Dance with me. Just for a song."

My lips dried and parted. Dance? Azriel was right—I was no dancer. Not that I had any inclination against the act itself, for I had longed to dance under the moonlight, and flying felt close to it some days. But in a busy club where there could be eyes to watch me? And to dance with another?

I looked to Rhysand on my other side. His violet eyes scrutinised Rav for a moment but perceived no threat. Like always, he said nothing but held a light expression.

Liquid courage was either my saviour or demise. I took Rav's hand. It was warmer than Rhysand's, and sweatier from a night of action. The comparison shook my core at just how much more comforting I found the High Lord's over his. I would have thought it the other way around. Rav was more alike me than anybody else here. Simple, not powerful in any extraordinary way.

I tried to look back over my shoulder, wondering I had made a mistake, but I barely saw a blur of raven hair and violet before bodies swept in front of me and the music drummed my ears. Rav released my hand, already dancing. I laughed at his fearless moves, shaking my head in refusal to join. But eventually, he roped me in. And for more than one song. I swayed to the music, cheeks beginning to hurt and left my woes behind me. At some point, I found the other Illyrians away from the table, enjoying their night as well.

The night passed by me, the tire unnoticed until a face I hadn't seen in a better half of an hour closed in. "Annika?" Cassian called. "Anni, we're going back home." I stopped dancing, looking around for Rav, but he had disappeared…. When had he disappeared? "If you want to stay longer I can hang around. Or Azriel might since I'm leaving early tomorrow morning. Or this morning, I'm not sure how late it is."

"N…No, it's fine," I said. "I just don't know where Rav went."

Cassian flicked his gaze about, too quick to truly search. "I'm sure he's fine."

I knew he was probably right. I had far more than my share to drink and my thoughts were hazy. He had probably told me that he was going somewhere, and I just hadn't registered it. But he seemed to have come alone, and I didn't want something to have happened and not taken notice. "I should say goodbye at least." I curled my wings tighter, head stretched high to try and search for his head of hair between the crowded club.

Faces and bodies blurred together. No noise, not even the music, was making sense to me. An elbow jarred into my back, sending me stumbling forward. My wings curled tighter, desperate to not touch anybody or anything.

My wings.

People.

So many people.

Why hadn't I noticed it before? They were so close to touching me all this time. I forgot about Rav. Where was Cassian? I had to get out of here, I needed open air. I spun, searching for his broad frame. "Cassian?" There was no answer. "Rhysand? Azriel?" Their names tumbled from my lips, not even completely at times. My heart thudded at an unnatural pace.

Where were they? Had they already left? I couldn't even see the exit.

A form of black emerged like a corporeal shadow. My feet back away until I locked with hazel eyes. Despite the proximity of those around him, he spanned out his wings, forcing his path and space. He remained unbothered, even when people brushed up against them. My back pressed against a wall.

"Annika? Are you alright?"

I nodded, but struggled to release a breath to speak. Cassian stepped closer, stretching his wings wider and curved them forward, the tips nearly touching the wall a foot either side of me. A cage. No—something far more welcoming than that. It cut me away from everything else but him.

In the flurry of everything, it shouldn't have surprised me when my first coherent thought appeared. "I never got to try your drink!"

Cassian smiled gently. "Another time," he suggested. "For now, I think we should get out of here. I found Rav near the bar. Passed out."

I released a full breath and nodded. Cassian softly gestured towards the adjacent wall where the door was and we started to head for it. The warrior kept his wings flared, but far more rounded in front of him, acting as a wall that kept us both clear of bodies. "Does it not bother you?"

"What's that?" Cassian queried.

"Your wings," I said. "I can't stand people touching them. We do not even touch each other's, let alone strangers in a club lay a hand on them." By 'we', I meant Illyrians, but even the brotherly trio knew to keep that distance.

"It does," Cassian admitted. "But I'd rather it be my wings that they knock against than you."

The confession stunned me into nearly tripping. Wings…They weren't something that we took lightly. Some women fell into despair that would not often lift for the remainder of their lives when their wings were lost. In battling rings, aiming for another's wings would land you far worse than a broken nose. They were our flight, our strength and our lifeline. But they were not our protection—they were our weakness.

The strength in my own voice shook me. "Tuck them away," I commanded. Cassian's brows lifted. "Put them away, Cassian!" They gave a small flap but tucked close against his back like my own were. My heart knocked against my ribs. Tears welled in my eyes. "Don't ever do that."

With the exit in sight, I flurried towards it, meeting Azriel and Rhysand on the other side. The flight back was chunky and sloppy, but we made it back without mishap. Rhysand decided to stay the night, mumbling something about seeing Cassian off. I muttered my own goodnight, making note to thank them for the night away another time.