A/N: This chapter contains NO SPOILERS from ACOSF. It should be safe to read. The future chapters will contain spoilers however, but I will write a warning of that in case.

2 years later, Azriel's POV

Velaris had spent the last few years rebuilding after the attack on the city. There was still much work to do, but it had begun to look closely similar to before the attack. It had, however, never lost the radiant atmosphere of magic and happiness. It would always be a safe haven for those who resided in it. And as the sun warmed the streets of the city, a dark male lurked between two buildings who allowed him to remain hidden in the shadows of the sun.

The spymaster of the Night Court was working this sunny morning. These past days, he had been watching for spies from foreign lands in Velaris - perhaps from Hybern, he feared - as there had been whispers of such. The borders were heavily guarded, so it puzzled him how anyone would get past them. Nevertheless, he and his shadows were lurking for them. Wreathed in shadows, he was near invisible in the small alley as he beheld the busy street before him, not a single movement or flicker escaping his trained eyes.

He was just about to sneak further away from the inner of the city when he caught the scent of something strange. He couldn't put his finger on it, but it felt slightly alluring - as if calling for him. Yet, another scent entwined with it seemed familiar to his nostrils and an involuntarily anger rose in him - much to his own confusion. If he wasn't already, he went on his guard as he breathed in further. It might be a trick made by the spies to lure him in and diminish the threat, the person standing in their way. Of course, he had his own spies spread through the city, but he had too many years of experience as spymaster to rule out the impossible.

Azriel peaked slightly and carefully out of his hiding spot to seek out the origin of the scent. The street was busy this morning with faeries doing their daily duties, either going to or from work - as many shops of course were open at night in the Night Court - or just going for an early shopping trip. Searching with his attentive eyes through the crowd, his eyes instinctively landed atop a familiar face. Though it had been years since he had last laid eyes on her. Azriel initially struggled to remember when he had seen har last and concluded it must have been the day of the final battle against Hybern. To be fair, he had actually forgotten her slightly as he had been busy preventing new threats to the Night Court.

It was Iris, the daughter of Amarantha, who he saw walking past on the street before him. And it was without doubt, he now realized, her scent that had picked up on moment ago. It had changed over the years and now reminded him of something ancient, endless. And the other scent that seemed to linger on her too - he still couldn't place it. She looked older than he remembered. Perhaps she had 'grown up' since the war, perhaps years of peace had allowed her to do just that. Not that he had ever considered her a child or immature, but with a life of enslavement and torture, she hadn't been allowed to live; learn who she was, what kind of person she was, as one usually did whilst growing up. He hoped that was the case. As a Fae she stood out in the crowd consisting mostly of lesser faeries who all bore more magical looks: wings or horns or a different skin color. Iris, like other Fae, resembled a human besides being taller and having pointed ears. And, of course, besides the beauty that was gifted all Faeries. Still, she looked changed since the war. She had gained more weight, now filling out her body perfectly, and her hair had gained more color. It had been a greyish blonde as he recalled, but now there was also a hint of red when the sun hit it, probably thanks to her mother and the sun over Velaris.

But while she looked older and more healthy than last, she also looked… sick? Or just very tired, perhaps. Azriel wasn't sure because of the distance, but he almost sure that he could spot dark, purple shadows under her eyes. And a tiredness in her eyes that seemed focused, but at the same time distant as if her thoughts were very far away.

He didn't have time to consider walking up to her and saying hello, because she suddenly walked towards a small apartment and walked in through the door. Before the war, he had trained with her, helped her master her powers to channel to multiple people at once and helped her fight with a blade. Even though she had fight alongside him the war, she hadn't been a warrior. No matter how many hours she had trained the days leading up the final battle, as he had noticed, she had never been a natural with a blade, nor with her powers. She had been raised by Amarantha to be sold off to the highest bidder, perhaps as a bride to some High Lord. She had been taught the ways of being a Lady, the wife of someone powerful, to whom she would be loyal and please. And even though she had eventually refused and been imprisoned, those lessons and way of life would always be a part of her. It had been imminent to him then, and now. In the way she spoke and held her herself - tall and proud. Were it not for the depression in her eyes and very bland clothes, he could have easily have misplaced her with a lady of some court.

As he had trained with her, she had shared stories from her past, some quite similar to those of his in the sense of being tortured, but except those rare moments of honest, she had been very private, not always saying a lot. However, she had always had a look on her face that said that there was plenty on her mind. In a way, he thought now, she was a little bit like him.

He remembered that she was close with Nesta and had sometimes heard her name mentioned when Cassian had complained about Nesta's many tavern visits where Nesta had been drunk and, quoting Cassian, fucking around. Iris had been with Nesta on some of those drunken trips, looking out for her close friend. But he hadn't heard her name since Nesta had begun training with Cassian, and to be brutally honest, he hadn't given her a single thought until now.

Still standing in the small, shadowy alley, Azriel sent out one of his shadows towards the apartment that Iris had just entered, too curious to not know what she was doing - perhaps even to know how she was doing. In the same moment, he recognized the apartment. It was not an apartment - it belonged partly to the Inner Circle's highly trusted healer, Madja and partly to the few other healers she shared the space with. It seemed to confuse him further; what was she doing here? Had it something to do with the tiredness that had taken residence in her face?

For a short second he contemplated the morality of spying on her. Her visit to a healer was indeed very private, and besides being Hybern-born, she was hardly any spy from Hybern. Maybe he shouldn't interfere with this… But he didn't have any more time to think it over and retreat, before his shadow whispered back a snippet of a conversation.

"It's not helping anymore. I'm so tired of feeling like this. I can barely sleep at night. And the constant headaches and nausea." It was a female's voice that spoke, and a sigh followed her words. Azriel swore he could sense the same tiredness in her voice that he had seen in her face. Iris' voice had some of the same hardness as Nesta's often had, along with the slightest Hybern accent that gave her r's a sharpness and e's a light, almost dancing sound.

It was not Madja she had an appointment with, but one of the other healers, a male. "Yes, that's not ideal… Perhaps… We could try one last thing, but it might not work better." It seemed evident to him that it was not the first meeting, that Iris had been here before, perhaps many times before. "If not, I really think you should consider telling the High Lord. I'm sure he could-"

"No, that's not an option. What is your new suggestion?" Her first words with which she interrupted him were sharp and very determined. She clearly did not want to involve Rhysand.

Azriel contemplated the spoken words. So, there was indeed something wrong, some sickness probably, something they had troubling curing. But what did it have to do with Rhysand? Why did the healer imagine that he with no healing powers could help her?

The healer now sounded quite tentative. He didn't like what he was about to propose. "Instead of taking it with food, perhaps injecting it directly in your blood might work better. But I'm very hesitant about it; it's much stronger this way. If you take too much, it could end badly."

"I know the risks. They're the same as before." It was clear that she was shrugging off the importance of being careful with this new form of medication, whatever it was. A lot of medication was not good for one in higher doses, that much he knew, and therefore, he had no clue about what they were discussing. It could be anything.

"Iris-"

"I have another appointment so I should really go now."

"Fine. Let me pack it up for you, then." The healer was silent for a few moments while he prepared a package. "Here it is. I have included a small syringe. Start with only two drops each night, nothing more until you see me in two weeks."

Azriel saw Iris exit the apartment again, now with a small bag in her hand, probably containing whatever medication they had just discussed. He knew that it had been wrong to spy on her, especially in such a private scene, and he felt guilty for abusing his powers only to feed his curiosity. She was definitely not a Hybern spy or any other trouble, yet he couldn't help but follow her as she determinedly walked down the street. He stayed on a street parallel to hers and occasionally had help from his shadows to check her location, all so that he wouldn't be seen.

When she finally stopped, it was before an entrance to a children's school which she went through. On the way, she had paused by a fruit shop where she had collected two large baskets of various fruits which she had carried with her. Azriel stopped, too, just nearby the school, his curiosity winning again. And from his new hiding spot, he saw Iris through the window and heard her with help from his lurking shadows.

Iris' face had changed completely the moment she had walked in. Now, a big, sincere smile filled her face as she kneeled down to greet the children that ran to her, hugging her. She was clearly a familiar face to the children for they were beyond delightful to see her; they were all talking to her and asking her questions, all at the same time which made it impossible for anyone to understand what they were saying. Iris asked them how they were doing and took time to speak with each of the children before she raised herself from the crouched position and greeted the teacher as well.

"Are you staying today?" The teacher began to hand out the fruit to the children as she talked with Iris. "You know they would love to. They have been asking all week when you would be back."

Iris seemed hesitant and more distant now with her eyes locked on the pure happiness in the children's eyes. "I can't today," she simply answered. "Maybe next week."

The teacher looked intensely on Iris as if she could see right through her. She knew that it most likely would be the same answer next week. "That sounds great. And if you've changed your mind, the job offer still stands. We would love to have you - I think you would make a wonderful teacher," the teacher told her with a warmth in her voice. She continued to open her mouth only to close it again with something very clearly on her mind.

"Thank you. That means a lot," Iris answered. "Maybe… maybe one day," she said, turning down the offer with the tiniest promise for the future.

On the street across the school, Azriel watched the scene take place through the window. There were clearly some obstacles in Iris' life right now, it would seem. He wondered if it was related to her disease - if that was the right word - that she had just earlier received new medication for. Could it be the trauma of her past? He tried to remember how she had seemed to cope years ago when she had arrived to the Night Court. She hadn't seemed very traumatized, as far as he recalled - she had seemed more eager to move on and create a new life for herself. But why was she then struggling to do so now? Maybe there was more beneath the surface, he told himself.

Back inside the classroom, the teacher seemed to have gained the courage that she had just lacked for she lowered her voice for only Iris, and Azriel's shadows, to hear. "If you need someone to talk to, I'm here. You can always come to me, Iris. Okay?" Yes, the teacher definitely saw the same as Azriel did: something was going on.

…

Later that day, he was gathered around the table and eating his dinner at the river house with Rhysand, Feyre, Morrigan, Cassian and Nesta. At his arrival, he had given report to Rhysand: not a sight of any Hybern spies today. He hadn't told him who had occupied his mind most of the day. The mood around the table was good and voices were high as they spoke. Morrigan talked eagerly about an upcoming celebration to be held at the Day Court. As the Court of Nightmares wasn't very festive and suited for this event, and as Velaris was still kept a secret to most, Helion had offered Rhysand to let them host the party at his court. It would be a large party, celebrating the anniversary of the victory against Hybern, and no expenses would be spared. All of their allies would be invited for a night with drinking, feasting and dancing - to remember that Prythian had made it through those hard times, and to remember and honor all those that they had lost.

Azriel wasn't particular interested in the celebrations. He was working overtime and was plenty occupied with that. In fact, he was in need of spies, now that the lands were still weak after the war. It wouldn't be too difficult for a foreign country to invade and gain power. With his spies spread out in the courts and in the lands beyond the sea, they had somewhat precautioned themselves. But he didn't trust the silence. There had to be something in the brewing. Perhaps the tiny rumors of a new threat from Hybern would be realized, even though he hadn't heard or seen anything to believe so.

"Oh, we must import wine from Vallahan! It is even better than the wine that Tarquin serves at his events," Morrigan insisted to Rhysand. She sent him a look of pleading, not letting him deny her request. Her abilities to persuade made anyone unable to deny her anything. For that look, had it been directed at him, Azriel would have given her the world.

She had been the center of his affection for 500 years, and though he had been with other people, she still remained the one he couldn't help hoping for. Hoping that she might - some day - desire him, too. He had never pushed her but had always been there for her in any way she needed. And that had always been as a friend. It obviously hurt each time she flirted with another male and dragged them away to privacy, but he had always told himself that his patience might just result in something more.

And for Morrigan, he let himself get a little interested in the party as well. He'd might even show up. Actually, he probably didn't dare stay away - Morrigan and Cassian would drag him there if they had to.

Feyre chimed in, too, on the excitement. "Actually, I don't think I have a dress to wear. Will you go shopping with me tomorrow?" The question was directed at Mor who seemed to light up at the question, always loving an occasion to wander through the many beautiful shops of Velaris. She didn't have such a particular taste for luxury as Amren did but still enjoyed it.

The two females continued to discuss the plans for their trip the following day as they finished eating. As they were clearing up, Azriel found himself questioning Nesta what he hadn't been able to let go.

"Have you heard from Iris lately, Nesta?" his question sounded, not revealing any motive behind it.

Nesta, who had just risen from her seat, stiffened at his question. Her sharp, calculative eyes were laid on him as she was trying to figure out why he was asking this. She even looked surprised - more surprised than she would be by the fact that he was interested in her friend.

Her eyebrows furrowed as she answered him, "Only a little. I saw her last week. Why do you ask?" Her skepticism was clear to detect from the tone of her words. The others had quieted their conversation to listen in.

Azriel had prepared for this question, but still found himself considering it now, again. Why was he asking? He had never particularly shown interest in her before, not since the war. Why now? "I saw her in Velaris, today. She didn't look… well." He left out the fact that he had practically stalked her. Nesta probably wouldn't appreciate that.

Nesta was silent for several moment, contemplating his words. Her eyes were still locked on him. As he was used to with her, she didn't show one sign of weakness towards him - he was used to people fearing him and his shadows. But he could swear on the Cauldron that Nesta almost looked at him with disgust in this moment. "Like everyone else, she has problems." A clever way to tell him that it was private. Her answer made Azriel feel bad about the fact that he had, indeed, crossed a boundary and interfered in something private. "What did she say?"

"No, I didn't talk to her. I just…" Azriel couldn't bring himself to speak the words: that he had stalked her. He regretted that he hadn't talked to her, because she could perhaps have given him answers, instead of now having to question Nesta that seemed very protective of her friend. "Is she sick?"

"That is none of your business." Her answer, this time, was instant as anger rose up in her.

Cassian spoke, trying to calm her down, "Nes-"

"Why is it that you finally seem to care?" Nesta interrupted him, completely ignoring the warrior to her side as if he hadn't just spoken. Her voice was blaming, irritated.

Azriel, who usually stood very still, stilled even further. Yes, she was definitely hiding something. "Finally?" He raised an eyebrow.

Nesta's eyes flashed. She knew she had said too much, but she was too angry to withdraw.

Azriel continued, "That's hardly fair. She hasn't exactly shown much interest in this court herself. Left after the war and-"

"And why do you think she did that?" A pregnant pause after Nesta interrupted him. Azriel tried to imagine a possible answer to her question. He had thought she simply wasn't interested in politics. Or perhaps… His thoughts were interrupted, again. "For fuck's sake, she your mate, Azriel."

Mate.

Everything seemed to still around him.

Mor, who hadn't said a word since she had stopped her conversation with Feyre and Rhysand on the festivities, gasped. Pure chock was painted on her face, and beneath, something else - though it didn't make sense, he saw the slightest of shame. "Azriel, that's-"

Azriel returned his eyes to Nesta, not letting Mor finish. "What do you mean?" How is that possible? His question was more of a demand than a question. His mind was racing, trying to search for the clues he hadn't seen. In the mere span of seconds before Nesta answered, he kept coming back to the question: how is it possible? Usually a male sensed a mating bond first. In fact, he had very rarely heard of a female discovering it first. And wouldn't he have sensed it eventually…

"That's why she left." As if it held some hidden meaning, Nesta looked to Mor and then back to Azriel shortly after. "I promised her I wouldn't tell, but you're too blind to ever notice, it seems." She let her words sink in before she, this time slightly softer, continued, "You should talk to her. But know that she has her reasons for not telling you. If you hurt her in any way, I will personally skin you alive." With those words and a threat left hanging in the air, Nesta left for the front door.