CHAPTER VII
"It was here."
Zivia muttered under her breath then took another turn in an alley. She had been walking around the streets of the city for minutes now after leaving Rhys at the town house, looking for the sweet shop they passed by earlier.
She rolled her eyes as another dead end met her. Turning back, she scratched her head as she casually walked back to the main street. Some of the faeries would occasionally look at her and she best hoped that they couldn't see how utterly and pathetically lost she was. As much as she thanks the Mother for giving her gift, she couldn't help thinking would it hurt anyone for her to do something about her terrible sense of direction?
She growled in frustration and just as she was about to give it up and fly home, she sensed a familiar presence around the corner.
"I thought you were dancing?" she said as Azriel emerged from the shadows lining the alleys. He looked a bit surprised at her noticing him
"And I thought you were tired," he countered.
"Well I am now." She loosed a sigh blowing the loose strands of hair from her face.
His eyes narrowed at her and she felt stupid for her sarcastic retort. She opened her mouth to say something but realized that he wasn't exactly looking at her but at something behind her. Her wings. Or where her wings were supposed to be, at least. She hadn't let down her illusion since conjuring it up back at the bridge.
It was that same look he was giving that prompted her to ask, "What is it?"
The others might not have noticed but she saw all that curious looks he was giving her the moment she arrived at the Court. It would be incredibly stupid of her to think they meant anything besides him being suspicious of her. She met his eyes that almost looked black in the dark.
"What are you?"
She blinked.
"Excuse me?"
Last time she checked, she was still a high-Fae complete with all the necessary limbs but she ransacked her memory for any possible instance she could've gone wrong with casting her glamour. She once tried to make herself look like a wyvern only to end up her looking like a hybrid between a monkey and a horse – almost gave her father a quick trip to the afterlife, she could still remember. But that was centuries ago. Surely she's gotten a better grip on her powers now.
"You look like you're having an identity crisis," said Azriel noting the horrified expression on her face, an almost smirk ghosting his lips.
"Yes!" she blurted, "No! I mean, don't…don't I look normal to you?" She hated that she sounded desperate and worried.
He made a strangled sound that might have been a laugh. He covered it with a cough and said, "What I meant was the kind of magic you use."
Oh.
She scratched her nose in embarrassment. Stupid.
Her magic, of course it would be about that. It shouldn't have come as a surprise to her if the spymaster asked her about it. She had actually been expecting for him to make a move the moment she knew that he knew something was off about her. Feigning ignorance would only increase his wariness towards her, and if they were going to spend time together in the Continent, it definitely wouldn't help.
"It's my gift," she said as Azriel stepped completely out of the shadows. "Aside from my deft use of the air magic that our kind possesses."
Like being a daemati or a shadowsinger. But she couldn't discern what hers was called exactly.
The Illyrian started walking and though he didn't say anything, she felt inclined to follow.
"The High Lord of the Day Court has the same affinity towards light," she ventured, falling into step beside him.
"But it's different. Helion's light allows him to break various kinds of spells. Yours doesn't do that." His voice sounded accusatory.
"It doesn't," she murmured more to herself than him.
The way she uses light allows her to manipulate it at its basest form giving her access to bend it to her will and to merge with it altogether.
"It feels a lot like mine."
She turned toward the shadowsinger. "That was what I felt whenever I see those shadows around you."
That was what it was that has always been tugging at the back of her mind but couldn't quite place.
"I have not met another shadowsinger yet and I'm wondering what you were for being someone who could use a magic similar to mine but with a different element."
And all those curious looks he was giving made sense now too.
Maybe that's what she really was - a lightsinger.
Nope.
Doesn't sound good, didn't seem right either.
"I guess it has something to do with me being in my mother's belly when she was Made, probably messed up something during my development."
Ever since discovering her abilities at a very young age, her parents have always been puzzled how it was unlike any other magic they've known. But that was the extent of it. It didn't matter whatever kind of power she had as long as she was alive and healthy, considering the ordeal she and Miryam went through together.
Azriel inclined his head as if deciding whether that was explanation enough. The gesture made his face catch the light in all the right places and she hated that little tumble her heart made at the sight of it.
After a while, he halted and faced her. "I'll go from here." He paused, considering. "Do you want me to accompany you back to the House of Wind?"
Her cheeks heated and she fumbled for a response. "No. I'm – I'll be fine."
"Are you sure?"
She raised a brow at him. "Yes."
Azriel tipped his head in a bow before spreading his mighty wings and shot toward the sky, sending waves of humid night air. Her eyes followed him for a moment while she smoothed her hair back into place and deciding to call it a day, she turned on her heels to go when she found herself standing in front of a shop lined with jars of rainbow-colored candies and stacks of chocolate bars.
No way.
She quickly looked back towards where the spymaster has flown to but he was already gone. Reluctantly, she entered the shop unable to decide whether to feel thankful or embarrassed.
Their trip to the Continent wasn't scheduled for another day and Zivia spent most of her time waiting cooped up inside the library, gathering as much information as she possibly could.
Being secluded in an island away from the rest of the world for centuries, she needed to increase her limited knowledge about how things exactly go in the outside world. She was reminded about Mor saying that the mortals she's used to won't be the same as the ones they are going to deal with and she wasn't about to make a fool out of herself and disappoint the High Lord especially not in front of his spymaster. Hopefully, her experience in politics and with humans back in Cretea would help her through it.
She just came out of the library and on the way to sun her wings after spending hours inside when Cassian landed in the balcony.
"Hey there, princess," he greeted.
"Please don't call me that." Her brow furrowed at him. "What do you want?"
The Illyrian flicked an invisible dust on his armor as he tucked in his wings and stepped inside the dining room.
"I was wondering if you're up for another exercise."
"Again?"
The two of them have spent some time at the training grounds above the house, sparring with each other. She was quite surprised when he first asked her to train with him and, thinking it would be a nice way to kill time, she obliged with his request. It wasn't a total shock when he came back to ask a second time. And a third and a fourth…
"Let me guess, the High Lord was again busy with all his lord-ly duties and Azriel is out there spying and whatnot?"
He turned to her and smiled sheepishly. "I'm telling the truth this time."
When he told her that days ago, she knew he was lying but she did not dare call him out for it when he clearly looked upset and mad.
"You know I'm not some kind of punching bag where you can punch away all of your frustrations hoping to chase them off from constantly bugging you."
She met his gaze and for a moment, his muscles went taut and he stood with utter stillness that Zivia second-guessed whether it was right to bring up this subject. But she knows that they both knew what – or rather who – was the reason behind his constant need to vent out.
"So is that a yes?" he asked, all the tension disappearing from him like a smoke on a windy day. A wide-toothed grin now plastered on his face.
She couldn't help rolling her eyes as she threw up her hands in exasperation and they both head to the training grounds without any delay. They've somehow developed an unlikely platonic bond during those times and she would really feel bad for not helping him on this one.
It was barely half an hour after her workout session with Cassian when Rhysand sent out notice that he'll be meeting them at the estate to talk about last-minute plans before they set off for the Continent. Azriel and Cassian were already present when she got there. Mor arrived few minutes after her.
"What happened to you?" exclaimed Cassian throwing an incredulous look at Mor. "You look … rushed."
Indeed, the female looked like she just got up from bed, her hair disheveled as if hastily styled and she wore a dress that was probably the first thing she saw after waking up and didn't bother looking for another.
"I got the notice late," Mor reasoned as she smoothed out the folds of her dress.
Zivia pointedly ignored the narrowed look that Azriel was giving Mor, as if also doubting the words she said. When Mor sauntered over to a chair beside her, she noticed a small bruise-like mark on her neck that she tried to conceal with her hair when she noticed that she was staring. She gave her a not-so-subtle wink and Zivia snapped her attention back to Rhysand and did her best to school her face into obliviousness, more so when she felt the shadowsinger's burrowing gaze turn to her.
The meeting was fairly quick, going over some new information that Azriel was able to gather and also additional preparations that needed to be done for the upcoming treaty council involving all the high lords of Prythian in a few months' time.
Zivia was walking along the corridors of the estate after the meeting when she caught sight of the lush garden through the glass windows. An onslaught of fresh and sweet earthy scents greeted her upon stepping out of the veranda and she took a deep breath, drinking in the aroma that reminded her of her mother's own botanical garden atop their palace. She followed the cobblestone path that leads to the fountain in the middle of the garden, letting her hand graze along the hedges as she walked by. Almost every kind of blossoming plants were present – from hydrangeas to daisies to daffodils and peonies and tulips and roses and her all-time favourite, sunflowers. She was busy admiring the towering yellow-petalled flower that she overlooked someone who was crouched and digging the soil around the plant. The gardener spotted her as she approached and stopped to greet her.
"Hello."
It was the High Lady's sister.
"Uhm, hi."
An awkward reply wasn't what she was planning to give her but given how gorgeous she looked even in her drab gardening clothes, she instantly felt conscious about herself again. She was suddenly glad that she was able to take at least a shower before going to the meeting.
"You like flowers too?" Elain asked her as she dusted off the dirt from her gloved hands. Her palms didn't appear too sweaty when she removed them.
Must be enchanted, she thought. Like the one she would use whenever her mother would ask her for help in trimming a bougainvillea shrub, as it prevents getting her fingers torn by its spiky stems.
"My mother developed a particular inclination towards horticulture and I find myself enjoying it too. We do pottery together for some of her plants."
She took a step closer to the sunflower to stoke its petals.
"Isn't it amazing how they turn towards the sun, following it across the sky? Plants do have magic on their own." Elain's smile was expectedly devastating.
"Do you think they'll live when grown away from sunlight?" she mused as she stared at the flower tilted towards the ball of light now sinking slowly on the horizon.
"Where there is darkness, the light will always find its way."
Her head snapped to her, brows knitting together in confusion. She wasn't sure if she was still talking about the plant and there was something odd about the look Elain was giving her. But it didn't linger for long when she offered to walk with her to the fountain and talk more about gardening.
