Chapter 9: Inheritance


AZRIEL

Azriel blew out the hot breath pooling in his mouth, it tickled his nose upon release, and he instinctively tucked in his wings tighter, as if he was preparing for flight, but really, he was just trying to keep his body heat from escaping. Simultaneously, he was keeping himself busy by watching Cassian swing his own legs over the stone ledge they sat on.

Both Illyrian warriors peered down at the ending ceremony below, amongst the weathered and ancient gargoyles they hid, while getting a bird's eye view of what they had to deal with.

"I didn't know the Night Court had so many nobles and war-lord leaders."

"We don't." Azriel frowned as Cassian's unknowing remark. "They are hoping Rhys will stir things up tonight, give them a chance to rise where others fall."

"That's unlikely," Cassian chuckled, "Rhys isn't one to tear others down. He'll probably banish some of the vulgar ones, but he won't upset the order of things… I don't blame him for doing that for the Court of Nightmares," Cassian shivered in mock disgust. "He should overlook that hell-hole, if they can get the job done and stay out of our way then let assholes be."

"Don't let the Hewn City nobles hear you say that," Azriel loosened his wings for a second, bringing them back in, "especially when they feed off each other's unrest. Rhysand still needs to pretend like he hand-picked whom he put in power. Makes them think twice of turning on him when the opportunity should rise." Azriel had his spies and shadows for that, but it never hurt to be proactive.

"Maybe your right," Cassian joked, "thank the Cauldron it's Rhys and Mor down there, I would have clobbered a few for just asking for more, greedy little shits."

"Thank the Cauldron," Azriel dryly agreed. He too found it disgusting, especially when Cass and him came from nothing, and once they retired (if they got to live that long) they would return happily to a peasant's wealth and life.

For a solid hour, Cassian had joined him to scout the continuous line of heads streaming into the House of Wind, entering to the doors for a traditional first meeting with the newly anointed High Lord. All potential assassins in Azriel's mind, but less so as the hours ticked with no suspicious action to speak of.

Azriel was ready to rest his eyes but thought of a better idea. "Cassian?" For once the shadowsinger was the first to break the silence. "Was it always this cold?" The winter winds seemed harsher this season for some reason. "I thought it was only this cold at the Steppes, or was that just me?"

Cassian didn't wait a second once he noticed Azriel's bored gaze. "I'm freezing my fucken balls off Az," that brought a small smile to the shadowsinger. "You might be doing what Rhys asked you to do, your spying shit," he waved a hand, not really interested in anything that diverged from his role as General of Rhys' court armies. "But what the hell are we doing up here anyways? I thought we were supposed to join Mor and Rhys at the blessing and coronation?"

"We will," Az muttered, knocking his crouched knees together, "do you see any familiar faces?" The House of Wind was streaming with nobles, and Illyrian war-lords, and their following retinue, to meet with the new High Lord and assure their place and power in this new era of the Night Court, of course Cassian would recognize a few faces, as well as a few wings.

"I know a few," Cassian's eyes seemed to be trained on the coven of Illyrian wings following the very familiar face of Devlon as they strode like an arrow through the parting crowd, "what a cunt. I fucken hated his guts for years, and now look at him!" Azriel did and did not see the reason for Cassian's blatant disrspect, there was a story there. Cassian's face did not lighten, he looked like he was in need of a good drink, "we must play nice, hell with that. I am not going to enjoy this, damn it." It looked like he lost the battle with himself. "Rhys would have my ass if I touched a hair on his head. I can't believe what Rhys is going through," he waved his hand, "with having to listen to these power-hungry mongrels in his mind."

"I know the feeling." Azriel's eyes were trained on his own cunt. "He better watch himself today, especially around Mor." If Lord Keir Darkbringer so much as whispered a foul word in her direction Azriel was sure Truth-Teller would find a lovely space in his carotid artery.

"You better watch yourself." Cassian brought him back from his dark thoughts, he knew Az too well. "You remember what Rhys told you the last time you lost control with Keir's men."

"Pour poison in their drink?"

Cassian slapped his back. "Behave Azriel, you know what I meant."

Azriel felt a true smile tug on his lips.

The distinct snap of air and space made with winnowing brought their attention to the balcony space behind them.

They had expected Rhysand, or Mor, perhaps to get them to be present for the last meetings that required a bit more intimidation of the Inner Circle.

But instead they got two child-like half Fae females, shrouded in smoke and shadow as they walked forward to the intimidating Illyrian males, fully corporeal despite the moving clouds they inherited from their mother. The darkness bit at them heals, and their supple dark skin was stark against the glistening white marble of the House of Wind.

"Nuala, Cerridwen," Azriel's smile grew to greater proportions, motioning them closer, and trying not to scare them as he had done the first time he had met them. "Did you get what I asked? Did my friends treat you both well?"

They nodded simultaneously, and Azriel felt his shadows come alive around him as theirs came closer to him. They were successful shadowsinger, his shadows answered him and theirs too, shifting and curling welcome as the twins handed him the list of names his network of spies had procured for him.

"Well done little ladies. I have something for you too." Azriel reached into the pouch at his side, revealing twin fabrics of rich shiny aquamarine scarves, their simultaneous grins were answer enough for him.

"Hey! Not so fast," Cassian tutted when they began to whisper over the new scarves rather than pay their respects to the pleased guardian shadowsinger, "what do you say to Azriel?"

"Thank you Azriel," his twin wards said in sing-song wonder.

Azriel blushed and waved them off, "I'll meet you both back home. Lock the door with the spells I taught you and wait for me there. I will be bringing dinner, but there is snacks in the cooler if you do get hungry."

"Yes Azriel." They winnowed home without another word, both clutching their new scarves in shared delight.

Their sudden absence left him aching to finish the day and return to them.

"Yes, Mama Azriel." Cassian said in an annoyingly sing-song voice.

"Shut-up." Azriel got up from him crouch.

Without a word needed, both he and Cassian were standing, ready to jump off and join the gathering at last.

"How are you really doing Az?" Cassian said before they jumped. "Rhys told me about the little female in the Spring Court, but you never really talked about it. Did you want to bring her here to live with us? Is that why you took the twins, are you feeling lonely?" Azriel rolled his eyes, but Cassian took it as an invitation, "brother come on, I'm worried about you. How about we could go to the club later tonight after we finish here? I know this female with the biggest -" his hands went to his chest.

"No Cassian."

"I was just trying to help, there is nothing wrong with feeling lonely, and wanting someone to"-

"Drop it." Azriel clamped up once more, jumping off the ledge, and gliding back into his place as the spymaster to his High Lord and not the Illyrian that dreamt of the smell of roses, and those bright green eyes.

"What's his problem?" Cassian followed his dive into open air, the wind swallowing his words, and his instincts telling him Azriel was not over what happened in the Spring Court.


0o0o0o0o0o0


Azriel's place as spymaster was in the shadows of a curtain, but still over Rhys' left shoulder as he held a smaller meeting amongst the close friends and family of: Lord Keir of the Hewn City and his nobles, Devlon of the Windhaven Camp, and two other superior Illyrian war-lords of the south, Feng and Ramzan.

His purpose, after handing Rhys the list of likely traitors and their crimes, was to intimidate the other Illyrians and spooked nobles with his eyesore of a presence. A shadowsinger was a child cloaked in whispering shadows. One of his kind had not been born in three hundred years, and the last known shadowsinger had met a bad end in Ramzan's camps. It was no wonder that the very same Illyrian warlord eyed him as if he was a beast off his chain.

Devlon eyes narrowed when they met him, studying him perhaps, and perhaps his face reminded him of his Lord father that he had not seen in decades. Azriel noticed the overwhelming pride Devlon had as he wore his own Illyrian leathers in front of the snobbish Fae nobles of the Dark City. Devlon's were weathered more than Cassian or his, an eyesore amongst the fancy nobles' robes and tunics, encrusted in gold and silver, and designs of their House or Gods, but he held himself with a pride worthy of an Illyrian King. As for Azriel, he needed his shadows for the looks those snobbish Fae nobles gave him. Perhaps they had more experience in this game than his Illyrian brethren, his whispers ringing more loudly with them here.

Oh they like to think so, Rhys mumbled in his mind while he spoke to a buxom red-headed nobleman's daughter, the father glaring daggers at his High Lord's roaming hand, and Azriel fought the growing grin in a place like this, remaining the Shadowsinger statue.

Instead, Azriel stayed very still when they looked his way, tempting insubordination, hoping his shadows told him whom was their enemy amongst the many. Still, his shadows did not answer him, did not whisper anything but the usual communal whispers around the room, and amongst those he heard the usual plotting he and Rhys had already expected.

"He is powerful. I wonder how he will use that power."

"We must be forceful with our complaints, perhaps he we will overwhelm him-"

"Did you see the way he chose Illyrian's in his Inner Circle, it is simply not done!"

"I would love to suck his big fat-"

Azriel pulled back before he got sick. Despite what he heard, his shadows seemed to be asleep since the Spring Court, and that worried Azriel for other reasons. Rhysand had inherited all his father's allies and enemies, and what bothered him the most were the ones that were still left undecided. That was why Azriel needed to be on his game more than ever. The High Lord's position came with many responsibilities. Rhys would have to make his people see there was no other way but to follow him, that he was not a weak leader, that he could be brutal, but he would not be like his father. Rhysand would have to play both roles... flawlessly...and that would be no easy feat even for him-

I'm working on it Az, was Rhys' dry echo in the shadowsinger's mind as he let go the horny red-head noblewoman before her father ran up the steps and tore off his-

Az, please, I'm trying to focus here, Rhys said confidently a final time before his mind left his.

Azriel felt the pressure come off his shoulders, he was being overly worried, worrywart Cassian had called it, because if anyone could bring all the Night Courts to heel and the Illyrian war-bands back into their place it would be Rhysand.

Despite that assuring development, he couldn't help but notice that Mor was glorious in a gown of pure gold on Rhys' right hand, a breezy and sophisticated smile looked right on her as her hand was kissed repeatedly by nobles that would never have done it before. For a moment, he imagined what life they would , what life he would have, if Mor was Rhys' Lady Consort of the Night Court.

It would be a struggle for Rhys to find a better match, Azriel grumbled in his mind.

Morrigan was brave, intelligent, and rather a sociable High Fae female with all the makings of a noble leader, her part in the Human and Fae Wars had helped so many unfortunate, and that was something that all but solidified Azriel's approval of her. He would never dare think he was worthy of her, females like Mor were smart enough never to even dare think of such a low-born match.

But, in a gathering like this, the nobles of her kind were petty enough to only see her beauty.

It was not hard to see why. Her gown attracted many wandering eyes, her symmetrical and pleasing face moreso, but her gown as lighter than her hair, complimented her, close to the color of sunlight… but not close enough.

Azriel looked down to his poorly gloved hands, the same ones he had worn and taken off that night and remembered when he had rocked and petted sunlight hair. How his scared fingers had felt so warm against her scalp, the air had been so sweet in the Spring Court, the crickets incessant chirping as he felt her holding onto him for protection, and the feeling of Kianna softening against him, wanting to leave that place, to come back with him….

"Azriel." Mor had snuck up on his place covered by the dusty and heavy throne-room curtains, blinding him with her dress and the slight worry rimming her kohled brown eyes. "It's stuffy in here, can you take me outside?"

"Of course." He lifted his arm out as Rhys had done a thousand times, she took it without a second thought, her gaze flickering to the throne's dais she had left which now was taken up with only Rhysand and… her mother and father.

Azriel understood her urgency now.

They made it to the balcony furthest from the ceremonies' guest, and the first thing she did was tear off her gorgeous earrings and throw them to the white marbled ground, "how dare he bring my mother here. Especially when Rhys told him not to." So that is why she had left so suddenly, "he knew how much that would bother me, and of course he did it to get a rise out of me. He wants to make me uncomfortable, see me run away from them, the bastard," she mouthed off, "he wants to see me weak. I hate him Az, I just hate him so much."

Azriel wanted to agree with her, tell her all the ways he thought of making her father suffer, making sure that he never breathed a relaxing breath again, but he knew this was not about what he wanted to do. Instead the shadowsinger calmly reached down and picked up the gorgeous gold earrings and gently handed them to back to her.

She stared at them, and at last took them back. "Thank you Az." She gave a long and steady breath, "why are you so good to me?"

Because your worth it, Azriel might have said once, but after going to the Spring Court, seeing what it was like to be a female surrounded by pig-headed males he knew the real answer now.

"I respect you Mor." Azriel muttered, taking to the ledge as he found himself doing more often, and pretending to be occupied with the people below it, "everyone should treat you this way."

"If only everyone could be like you," she said sweetly, and that made him blush for some reason. She caught this and quickly added, "Cass said you were feeling down since you had been back from the Spring Court. Is that true?"

Azriel didn't say anything, looking harder at the people below.

"You know you can be honest with me Azriel." Mor voice was softer now, understanding. "I think these past five years have showed you how close we've become. We are family Az," that was an understatement. In Azriel's mind, Cassian and Rhysand were his brothers for far longer than that, Rhys' mother had made sure of it, but Mor, she was something special to all three of them. At least he can put it like that.

In a Mor-like fashion she hit the problem on the head. "Does it have to do with Tamlin's little sister?"

"Rhys told you."

She didn't deny it, "he's worried. We all are. We know when you are hurting Az. I just wanted to know... why?"

Azriel didn't want to explore this new part of himself, but something told him he needed it. He needed to let her fix the missing pieces together to understand why he felt as if his heart had been ripped from his chest, and his wings always seeming to tuck in rather than spread. It was physical. It was spiritual, it was an unknown he had little experience with.

"I don't even know myself." Azriel was honest, "It's hard to explain."

"Well, could you try?" Mor illuminated, "I'm not pushing you Az. I only respect you," she used his words back at him, "so you can tell as a friend."

Of course she added the last part, very vocal of that part of their relationship. He still came across a feeling of true happiness with Mor, it was tempered now by a deeper understanding, and him talking about his feelings was the least he could do with a female like the daring Morrigan.

He tried. "She would have been safer here." Azriel said for the first time since returning home. "I respect Rhysand's reasoning that her presence here would have started a War, and surely more unrest between our Courts, but I still believe we could have helped her, that she would happier here…" there was so much selfish need in his voice that Azriel reigned it in. "I don't sleep anymore." He waved a hand and the glamour surrounding his eyes gave way to two dark bags under his eyes.

Mor's face turned graver. "Oh Azriel."

"I didn't say it so you could pity me." Azriel continued, once the floodgates were opened, they really did open. "I feel as if I am to blame if anything would happen to her. That it's my duty to make sure she…" there it was again, this unspoken connection of protecting the small Fae female that could be crushed with one touch from her potentially sadistic brother, be used for someone else's gain, or perhaps in the worse of his nightmares, her maiden head sold to the highest bidder, and he would be forced to watch.

"It sounds like you care for her." Mor dared to whisper, coming up right beside him. "You saw a bit of me in her, didn't you?"

How did she know? Azriel had no idea, but nodded, only adding, "and maybe not so much you Mor, but perhaps me too." Her clenched his forever scarred hands, "I wanted someone to be there to protect me too, and this time I had no excuse not to help her. I was going to…" he bit back the guilt, "I was going to end her life for revenge for Selene and Nyx." He breathed deeply, calming himself, not focused on Mor's horrified expression, "but Rhys gave me a different path, and I…" he fought himself, and Mor was giving him the time to. "And I was tempted down a darker path, and I almost did."

"But you didn't take it-"

"I almost did." He repeated, for some reason he stood up to put some space between the too good Mor, "and when I didn't take her life, something clicked into place Mor. I don't what it was, but I knew my calling, I found peace in it."

"You did?"

"Yes." Azriel nodded in solemn reply.

"What is it?" Mor seemed to be on edge for some reason as he regarded her once more. Azriel looked over to her, connecting with her soft yet warm brown eyes, and that face he had admired for so long changed under his assured gaze.

Azriel gave her a kind smile. "I was born to protect people like her."


What do you think of this chapter?

Too short? What would you like to see in Kianna's :)

Have a wonderful week my lovely ones,

Odeveca