Chapter Two
Part 1: Breakfast
Azriel didn't sleep at all. Of course he didn't. He had let down Rhys and met his mate on the same day. Both were singular experiences. His thoughts flipped between the two all night. Finally, around dawn he gave up and drew himself a bath. As he was drying off, he was surprised to feel the tug in his chest. This was a deliberate channel of emotion down the fragile bond. He smiled to himself, impressed that she had the self control to send the request through the bond, and pleased that she had chosen this personal way to communicate with him, rather than sending a message through the house. He answered an acknowledgement tinged with urgency, which he hoped she would interpret that he was coming soon. He dressed in casual black pants and a grey shirt that Mor once said flattered him. It was fine silk that was soft and hugged his form when the wind blew, but had an understated elegance. It gave the impression that care had been taken with his appearance, but without the airs of the finery that Rhys often wore.
He flew to the House of Wind and found her outside leaning on the balcony. She was taking in the sights of the city just after sunrise and seemed to be enjoying the view. She wasn't wearing the heavy pants and rough shirt she'd been wearing yesterday. Although the house had surely cleaned them and mended any tears. Instead she had chosen to wear clothes provided by the house. She was wearing a pair of loose fitting dark brown pants that billowed in the breeze and intermittently hugged the muscles in her legs. Her shirt was a surprising choice. It was a pale green silk halter top that went around her neck and met in her lower back below her wings. It left all of her wings, back, and arms exposed as it rested low on her hips. It fit snugly enough that it wouldn't blow up improperly in flight, but was also made of soft material that would hug her form in the wind. She had a simple, elegant tattoo on her inner left forearm that looked faintly Illyrian, but was certainly not one of the common bold, masculine designs common among the warriors. It was a graceful twining of two tree branches. Azriel wondered what it could mean. He ignored a flare of jealousy when he thought it might match another male. The wound from the arrow below her collar bone was hidden below the shirt, but the wound from the arrow in her wing was exposed. There was barely any mark. She'd healed quickly. In the proper light of day the green shirt set off her hazel eyes and highlighted her olive complexion. She was beautiful. She wore her hair unusually short for a female. It came to her shoulders and was long enough to pull back into a short ponytail, but today she left it loose and it rustled in the breeze.
Azriel landed gracefully and smiled at her. She returned the smile genuinely. "Good morning," he said cheerfully. "Did you sleep well?" he asked politely. It was as good as any conversation starter.
"Good morning," she replied. "No. I didn't sleep at all," she said with a smile. "I met my mate yesterday. I don't know about you but that doesn't happen often to me." She was smiling at him and taking in the details of his face in the morning sunshine.
He laughed. "No, it doesn't." He shrugged and admitted he hadn't slept either for the same reason. He could tell she appreciated the minor confession.
"Are you hungry?" he asked, pretty sure he knew the answer. She nodded. "Do you like coffee?" She nodded again. "How does your wing feel?" She furrowed her eyebrows, surprised at the change in topic. He quickly explained, "The best way into the city is obviously to fly. Clearly you can make it to where I'd like to take you for breakfast, but I'm trying to gauge if we should go straight there, or sweep around the city for a bit while the sun is low."
"Ah" she said, understanding the thoughtfulness behind his question. She tested her wing a bit. It moved freely and appeared healthy. Again he was impressed. He had been left weak for three or four days after taking an ash arrow in the critical part of his wing muscle not too long ago. "Lets do a short flight first to test it." Afterward I'll have a bit better idea how far to push it today. He nodded his acknowledgment as she turned and gestured to the city. "This is Velaris?"
"Yes," he answered.
Before he could say anything else she asked, "And that is the Sidra River?" she asked.
"Yes," he answered again. "You've heard of it?"
She nodded. "One of the few things I do remember from my mother is her telling me about the famed Sidra River. She told me it flowed through a magical hidden city, where the people are well-fed and no one is unhappy. She named me Sidra in the hopes that my path would lead me to a place of warmth, plentiful food, and happiness." She held her hands out to the city and said wistfully, "And here I am. With my mate." She lowered her arms to the balcony and took in the city a bit longer. Then she turned to Azriel and said sheepishly, "I guess that sounds silly to you."
"Not at all," he said quickly. "I'm surprised that she'd heard the name of the river and the rumors of the city. It had been a secret for five thousand years. She must have been in tune with all of the local folklore and legends. But that is pretty much how the city would have been described in legend." He smiled at her. "I'm sure people have their own reasons to be unhappy, but the city itself is safe, and provides a warm home to those who live here. There is no poverty or war, and only minor crimes." He watched her and waited for her to respond. The breeze billowed their clothes and hair. She inhaled deeply and closed her eyes. A small smile played on her lips.
"Let's eat," she said. She turned to him and gestured to the city. "Lead the way." He couldn't have been more pleased with the request. He nodded and leapt into the air. After a big flap he looked back to see her just behind him. When she caught up he assessed her flight. She seemed healthy. No sign of wincing as she beat her wings or lopsided wingbeats that would imply one was weaker than the other. She held her hands together in a fist in the center of her chest, as if she was still carrying a weight under her, but she gilded easily on the wind. Azriel banked right and flew up along the river. She followed and took it in with a broader smile on her face. He led her up the hill on the opposite side of the river and spiraled down to land on the tiny flat roof of a three-story building. She spiraled down after him and landed in the tiny space easily, backflapping quickly to land gracefully and not bounce into him. It was a flat concrete roof with a low brick wall encircling it. Toward the back there was a door that clearly led to steps down into the building. In the front there was a tiny iron table and chair which faced the river. It was a beautiful view, especially in the morning sun. The smell of coffee and bacon and other food drifted up from below. Azriel gestured for her to sit and he walked to the door. Just as he reached to open it, the door burst open. A large fae woman with rosy cheeks and a big smile and booming laugh greeted him. She smashed his face in her hands and kissed his forehead, leaving smears of flour and jelly on his face.
"Hello Shadowsinger! Good morning! It has been over a week since you visited! I'm so happy you have returned!" She looked past Azriel and spotted Sidra. She gasped. "And you have brought a friend! I must get you another chair. I will be right back. Wait here."
"Oh no I will go get it. I'll carry it up the stairs," said Azriel, holding her hand and trying to restrain her from running down the stairs ahead of him. It was a narrow hallway and he would never get in front of her.
"Don't be ridiculous!" she laughed. "I have a boy who will get it. He must earn his wage," she laughed. "You stay here and visit with your guest! I will bring you coffee." She nearly shoved him away from the door, so he let her. He turned to Sidra and shrugged sheepishly. She laughed that he had been overpowered by an older fae female simply by force of will. She was standing along the wall taking in the view.
"So? Do you come here often?" she asked sarcastically. She was smiling openly, which pleased him.
"Yes. Clearly." An adolescent fae male appeared at the door with a chair which he hurriedly sat down across the table from the other. He nodded politely and gestured for them to sit. The cheerful woman appeared in the doorway with two saucers and cups filled to the brim with foamed milk. She put them both on the table.
"Cibi, this is Sidra. Sidra, Cibi has been tending this restaurant for over a century. She takes good care of me." Sidra reached out and shook Cibi's hand.
"Lovely to meet you," Sidra said warmly.
"So nice to meet you!" Cibi boomed and shook Sidra's hand vigorously. "Sit, sit!" she motioned for them to sit. They had no choice but to obey. Royal blue napkins materialized next to the cappuccinos. "Would you also like breakfast?" Cibi asked.
"Sure," said Sidra. "I'll have whatever he's having."
"Two," said Azriel. Then he clarified. "Three plates for us to share." Cibi nodded and hurried back across the roof and down the stairs. The scent of fear bloomed from Sidra. Azriel looked her steadily in the eyes. "I won't try to trick you. I ordered two plates for you. I will eat off of my plate and not take anything from you, either from your plate or out of your hand. I promise." She eyed him carefully for a moment and then nodded.
"I still don't have any money on me. So you'll also have to pay," he nodded.
"Of course," he said.
"That might be quite the bill," she said a bit shyly. "I guess you noticed I eat a lot." He nodded affirmatively. "I have a high metabolism," she looked down. She picked up her cup, careful not to spill any of the foam and took a tentative sip. "Damn. That's really good," she said appreciatively. She looked back up at Azriel and smiled. His heart leapt. It was the first time she had looked him in the eyes and smiled for him. He smiled back.
"Have you always eaten twice as much as other females your age?" he asked. He was hoping she'd pick up on the gentle request to continue the question game from last night. She sat back in her chair, crossed her legs, and spread her wings to the sun as she held her coffee cup to her chest. She was clearly basking in the morning light and breeze. She continued to take a sips as she pondered his question and looked off into her namesake river. She clearly understood the second intent of his question. She thought for a moment and seemed to decide something.
"Since I was an adolescent. About the time of my first cycle I started to eat more. Of course it's hard to judge because I was living off the land in Illyria, so I rarely had the chance to eat my fill. I do recall, however, that my favorite game was elk. Whenever I brought one down I would use nearly every bit of the animal for various things, and would eat all of the meat within a week. We killed an elk a few years ago, and cooked it for a celebration. Based on how many people ate a hearty meal from it, I'm guessing an elk would provide the sole food source for three or four people for a week, yes?" She looked at Azriel for confirmation. He agreed. Cibi appeared with three large plates balanced on her arms and more smaller ones following her in the air. She sat them all down on the table. The young boy followed with a carafe of water and some glasses. The food smelled wonderful. The main plate contained two eggs, three slices of bacon, and some steamed vegetables. Smaller plates contained a stack of toast, butter, and jars of two types of jelly. Cibi poured them some water and asked if they would like more coffee. They both asked for more coffee and handed their empty saucers and cups to the boy.
Once she had left, Sidra took a bite of the food and made appreciative motions with her head as she chewed. She adjusted slightly in her chair to keep her wings spread and fully in the rising sun. After a few minutes of silence she swallowed and asked, "What is your typical day like? How often do you come here?" More reasonable but loaded questions. He steeled himself and decided to dive into the conversation, letting his guard down significantly.
"I often work overnight. Speaking to people who don't want to be seen speaking to me, listening in the shadows." He watched her reactions as he spoke. "I'm the High Lord's Spymaster," he shrugged.
"And Master Torturer?" she asked directly.
"Yes," he said in a matching tone. "It's not the most effective method of gathering information, although the reputation helps. And to get such a reputation you must earn it and maintain it. So whenever I do need to do such…things, I make sure it is known by the right people so that the fear of crossing me and, by extension, the High Lord, doesn't fade." He took a sip of water and then finished the last of his eggs.
She asked, "What do you find to be the most effective method of gathering information?" Another simple but dangerous question. She was good at this.
"Paying attention and listening," he said with a smile. He hoped very much the smile would dissuade her from taking it as a threat.
"You mean like noticing I'm eating everything on my plate but probably not asking for more because I don't want to be rude. So you pretend to want more food by taking a small portion and passing the plate back to me," she said. She also paid attention.
"Exactly like that," he said. Not everyone would so casually accept the conversation about torture, but then not everyone had recently removed a heart from a living fae. He thought wryly that even fewer people would be comfortable realizing they had been scrutinized so closely, but he got the impression she was doing the same to him. She nodded matter-of-factly and there was no scent of fear from her, which he appreciated, so he continued his answer to her first question.
"The shadows are often…uncivilized," he continued, choosing his words carefully. "I come here in the mornings to…transition." He motioned to the view and the rooftop. "Cibi will bring me food, shower me with affection, and leave me plenty of space for my thoughts. I often eat breakfast here and remind myself of life in the light." He took a long drink of water and sat it down. "And then I often go meet my brothers for morning training. If I have any leftover anger or emotions to deal with, beating the shit out of Cass usually dissipates it." He smiled at her.
"Don't lie. We both know you can't beat Cassian," she joked. By the gods they shared the same personality, but she was much more observant than her half-brother.
"No one can actually beat Cass, but I can give him a run for his money," he said as he took the last bite of his bacon.
"I'd like to take a crack at him," she said with a grin. Then, "That sounds like fun," she said more to herself. Azriel finished chewing and took stock of her again. She had finished one plate of food and was working on the second. Her wings were still wide open to the sun and she lifted her face to the breeze whenever it picked up. It was still a bit cool in the morning along the river, but she showed no sign of chill. She was fit as any Illyrian warrior, but not obviously much bigger than an average female. Her wings were a bit broader and stronger than most, but that may also be because so often the females he knew had their wings clipped. She was a bit taller and broader than Feyre, and her wings were larger than Feyre's, but there was something else. He thought he could feel a faint thrum of power. Again he thought that she was much stronger and more powerful than he yet knew.
He continued answering her question. "After training, if I've been awake all night I'll go home and sleep for a few hours. Rhys and I will have an intelligence briefing if necessary in the late afternoon. Sometimes he asks me to join him on activities in the city or do other things for the court. We often all have dinner together. After dinner I'll head out again into the shadows."
She nodded and finished her second plate. Azriel hadn't taken anything off the common plates. She noticed. She thought for a moment and then picked up a piece of toast. She spread some jelly on it and tasted it. She seemed disappointed but ate it anyway. He considered asking her what she knew of the midwives on the continent, but she didn't strike him as one who spent much time around babies. He also didn't dare expose the impending crisis in the Night Court. He decided to see how the day went. If she seemed trustworthy, he would discuss it with Rhys tonight and plan how to ask without giving too much away.
"Tell me more about what happened after you left Windhaven," he said. "I know five hundred years is a long time, but give me the outline of where you have been since." He was taking a risk, but was careful to phrase it so that she could give him as much or little detail as he wanted. She began talking. She was guarded but nevertheless told him a surprising amount. She kept talking as they finished breakfast. They walked down the tiny stairwell, through the ground floor restaurant and out onto the street. Azriel led her closer to the river and they began to stroll up the river and through the city.
Walking around the City -x
They walked all day and talked. Sometimes one talked at length, telling a story. Sometimes they traded short questions. A few times they fell into silence, which neither minded. As they passed people, Azriel received the usual mix of people crossing the street in fear or respect of him, but Sidra smiled freely at nearly everyone. She waved and smiled at every child who looked at her and delighted in seeing so many children in the city. She was unfailingly polite, and often complemented shopkeepers or artisans on their work. In short, she was charming.
Azriel told her about growing up with Rhys and Cassian, about the wars and Rhys becoming High Lord. He told her the parts of the story that were well-known about Rhys's captivity Under the Mountain, and the quickly-becoming-legend of Feyre Cursebreaker. He told her the public portions of the stories of Feyre's sisters and the Cauldron, but left out the tension between Nesta and Rhys, and the fear of losing Feyre, the child, and Rhys when the baby is born. He did not tell her that Cassian, Rhys, and Azriel had destroyed the village they came from and murdered her father. He was pretty sure she would approve, but thought that was a story Cassian should share with her.
Sidra, in return, gave him a general history of her life. It contained many more dry facts than commentary, but it painted a picture. After leaving Windhaven, she made her way farther down the mountains into a warmer area. She found shelter and subsisted. She was near to starving for much of her childhood, but she would watch other people hunt and trap without being seen. She was clever, and so built her own traps for fish and game. As a young adult female she floated between the towns that were scattered in Illyria to trade or buy what she needed. She often came across females who were tending a house and children alone while the males were out hunting, whoring, or on a drunken binge. In these cases she often traded labor for food and temporary shelter. She was stronger than a typical female and her help was appreciated. Sometimes the household she aided had enough money to pay her in currency, but most often the shelter was her payment. She hunted to support these families. She could kill the huge elk that lived in the mountains and bring them back to the house. Such a huge game was a treat, and so they were happy to have her stay.
Over time she began making regular rounds, which coincided with the seasons and migrations of the people in the area. Some families depended on her annual appearance with food, often at times they might otherwise starve. She built a network of females who protected her when she needed it by hiding her from males who would surely clip her wings and make her take a husband. They tended her wounds if she was hurt, and taught her new skills of survival. She probably held in her head the most complete natural history of Illyria. She told several anecdotes about specific females and their children. Azriel noted that she didn't mention a single male by name. He suspected that her services included more than just chopping wood and skinning game. He knew perfectly well that Illyrian males could be brutal and abusive, especially to females and children. He also knew a bit about what Sidra could do to them.
They ate lunch at a streetside restaurant along the river and then crossed the river and walked up to the Rainbow. She loved the Rainbow as much as Ferye, and insisted they visit Feyre's studio. Sidra squealed with laughter as a small child showed her his paintbrush by smacking her on the nose with it, getting yellow paint all over her face. The child's mother was mortified but Sidra assured her it was fine. She used her finger to wipe a bit off her nose and bopped the child on the nose, leaving him with a bright yellow spot to match hers. The child fell to the floor howling with laughter. Clearly this was not the silly behavior he expected of an adult. Azriel stood back against the wall of the studio, acutely aware that the scent of fear had risen from several of the children when he stepped in. He was a bit sad Feyre had missed this display of joy from one of the children who had come to her studio, but even more sad that the reason was that she was at home resting. Her back was hurting. They all feared her time was coming within the next couple of weeks. He realized that Sidra might very well be a good person to ask about a difficult birth, and made a mental note to discuss it with Rhys tonight.
They came out of Feyre's art studio and were walking down the alley when she spotted a street-front shop down the side street selling food. Of course she was hungry. He laughed to himself and followed her down the street. She chatted with the shopkeeper, asking him questions about his food, how it was seasoned, and how it was cooked. He proudly told her all about his operation and his secret ingredient. By the smell of it, the secret ingredient was probably garlic. She ordered one of his specials and asked Azriel if he wanted one. He didn't. She shrugged and watched as the shopkeeper handed her a stick that had meat and vegetables speared onto it and roasted. She took a bite, moaning and nodding appreciatively to the shopkeeper as Azriel paid. She thanked the shopkeeper and they began to walk down the street. This one was a bit quieter than the others, and by this time of the day fewer people were out. Most were at home for afternoon tea, school lessons, or some other occupation.
"Thank you again. I told you that feeding me for a day isn't cheap," she said, as she continued eating.
"Don't mention it," he said. He decided to take advantage of the lack of people nearby who could be listening and asked a more intense question. "What did the fae male do? The one who's heart you removed." She looked at him sidelong over her stick of food and took another bite. She chewed and swallowed before she answered.
"He raped a child," she watch his reaction. Satisfied that Azriel could handle the rest of the story, she elaborated. "Of course he had done several other things that easily warranted a hole in the skull, but the last is what earned him that particular death. The girl was seventeen. She and her mother came to the manor and appealed to Lord Dronan. When we questioned the monster - I won't repeat his name - he said that she must have fallen." She took the last bite of food off her stick and dropped it into the trash of a nearby shop. It was a fabric shop. A few females were inside milling around, feeling the fabrics and shopping.
From her vantage point she could see several brightly colored, sequined types of cloth that would make fine formal gowns. For a minute Azriel thought she might go inside. She apparently decided to finish her story and so stepped back out into the street and continued, out of earshot of anyone else. "He had some standing in the province, and so politics dictated that Lord Dronan accept this ridiculous story. A few weeks later the monster had breached some minor protocol of deference, and so Dronan sent me out to get him. I am head of security for the manor, so it was my job to bring him back to the manor for him to apologize to the lord and pay a fine. Manon and Petria chose to go with me. The child's mother is a good friend of Manon. So I caught him," she finished simply.
"You won't get in trouble for killing someone you were only supposed to catch?"
"Oh he'll be mad. At least he'll need to make a show of being mad. Dronan is a good male, despite what he would like anyone else to think. He hates that monster as much as me and was probably expecting I'd kill him. It makes it easy for Dronan. He followed protocol. I didn't. Sidra misbehaved and was reprimanded for her actions. Done deal."
"He won't punish you somehow?" asked Azriel. He was worried about what consequences she may be facing at home.
She shrugged. "What is he going to do? Banish me? I'm his head of security. He really likes having me there. He would never. If he did, I suppose there are worse fates than this." She motioned to the city with her arms. He was pleased she regarded his home favorably. She was casual in her language but it was clear she was getting some affection for the city. She had begun referring to the Sidra River as 'her' river. It was possible she could consider this a home. Her mother had done him the favor of planting that seed, which had been slowly germinating for over five hundred years.
"He won't try some sort of physical punishment?" Azriel asked, terrified of the answer. He knew what types of punishments for subordination were common in many parts of Prythia.
"Ha!" she bsrked a laugh and shrugged off the possibility. "No," she said simply.
He pondered this as they continued their walk, which again led them down to the river. They walked to the main bridge, not too far from the River House. She paused in the center of the bridge. She leaned her elbows on the edge and looked over the edge at the fast-flowing water. The tide was coming in so it was turbulent. Azriel mimicked her stance and leaned on his elbows next to her. He could feel a question bouncing around in her chest. He waited patiently for her to find the words and ask.
"You haven't touched me," she said.
"You haven't asked," he replied.
"No. I mean, not even casually. You didn't brush my wings as you sat down next to me at dinner. Not once today have you accidentally brushed my hand with yours." She turned her head and looked him in the eyes. "Are you afraid of me?" she asked.
"That's usually a question I ask," he said. "No. I am not. I haven't accidentally-on-purpose touched you out of respect. If I want you to truly make your own choice, I have to let you make it. I certainly don't want to set up reasons for you to pull away from me." He paused for a moment and then added, "Are people often afraid of you?" he asked.
"Yes," she said simply. He chose not to ask her to expand on that. He would not want to answer it if the roles were reversed. He knew that to remove a heart in such a way that it would still beat, it probably wasn't her first time to attempt it. He followed the thought and decided to ask a more personal question.
"Several times today you have felt fear. I don't think it is just me, but you are definitely working hard to keep some sort of panic under control. I don't want to push you, and I definitely don't like the scent of fear from you, so I haven't touched you," he said.
She turned and looked out over the river. "It's not you," she said.
"I would like to know what it is, but will wait for whenever you're ready to tell me." They were leaning on the bridge, close enough to each other that he could easily hold his wings less tight against his back and brush against hers, but he didn't dare. They were quiet for a few minutes. He plucked up the courage to ask, "Would you like me to touch you?" He didn't have the nerve to look her in the eye. She kept looking straight ahead. She shrugged.
"I'm not sure," she said honestly. Azriel looked down and their hands, each folded together in front of them.
He moved his scarred left hand a bit closer to hers and asked, "May I?" She stared for a moment, then nodded. He moved his hand closer to hers and brushed the backs of his fingers against hers. She straightened hers and interlaced them lightly with his. The movement was gentle and the touch was light, but the scent of fear exploded from her. It saddened him. He pulled back and looked at her. "Is it the scars?" he asked.
"What?" she shook her head when she realized what he was asking. "No."
"You haven't asked how I got them," he said.
"Those scars were obtained deliberately and through a lot of pain. It's not something I wish you to relive and certainly not something I wish you to describe to me unless you want to."
"We'll try again some other time," he said. She didn't move or acknowledge him. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Then another. After a few breaths the scent went away and she stood up. She backed away from him a bit and stretched her wings, holding them into the light breeze for a moment.
"What's next?" she asked casually.
"Any chance you're hungry?" he asked with a smirk.
She laughed. "Always. Yes. Do I need to get a job in a kitchen so that we can afford it?" she joked.
"No," he said with a chuckle. "It's nearly time for dinner at Rhys's. Would you like to join them for dinner?"
"Sure," she said. "But I need to check in with my friends first. I can't believe I've been gone all day. I'm such an ass."
Part 2: Dinner at River House
"Fly?" he asked. She nodded eagerly. He shot into the air over the river. She joined him a wingbeat later. The sun was low in the sky as they made a wide arc around the city and lazily made their way up to the House of Wind. They checked on her friends. Manon was incredulous that Sidra had spent the entire day with him, but declined to join them for dinner. Petria was recovering but asleep. She was beginning to flit in and out of consciousness and Manon wanted her to see a familiar face when she was awake. The healer reassured Sidra that Petria would recover fully, but it might still be a day or so before she was awake and ready to travel. Azriel assured her that the house would provide anything else they would need, and would alert them if Manon should wish it. She confirmed with Azriel her current clothes were appropriate for dinner at the High Lord's house.
After about half an hour of debate and discussion, Sidra was satisfied with her friends' situation for the evening and followed Azriel into the sky toward the River House. By now he sensed she was hungry and flew in a more direct path to the house. They alighted gracefully on the lawn. She followed Azriel into the house. He pointed to Feyre's paintings on the walls as they passed them. She stopped to appreciate each in turn. He noted with some pride that she lingered longer in front of the paintings with Azriel in them. She was mesmerized by the painting in which Feyre had captured the moment the three of them summited Ramiel.
Tonight's dinner was the same group, without Manon. Rhys sat at the end of the table directly across from Sidra. Feyre sat next to Rhys, with Cassian on the other side of her. Azriel sat next to Sidra and directly across from Feyre, who was tired, and more uncomfortable than yesterday. Dinner was served. Azriel had discreetly asked the staff to set the table for seven, even though only five would be joining. Azriel passed each plate of food to her and waited as she took a large helping of each. Tonight he didn't bother to take extras as he passed plates to her for extra helpings. Feyre politely asked about their day. Azriel let Sidra talk. The two females chatted easily, and Feyre laughed heartily about their visit to the studio.
After the meal was finished, and they were sipping on wine or whiskey, Azriel could feel a question bouncing around in her chest. This was going to be a doozy. He met her eyes and simply said, "Ask." She cocked her head in question at him. He elaborated, "I can tell you want to ask something. It's making me restless, like I have an itch I can't scratch. So." he motioned to the group. "Either ask your question or risk having me scratch you in an attempt to make this weird feeling along my spine go away." She laughed. Cassian's mouth fell open at the statement. Azriel looked at thim and motioned for him to shut it, which he didn't do. Feyre beamed with pleasure and gave Rhys a knowing look. Azriel was certain they had at one time had a similar conversation. Rhys's eyes twinkled at Feyre in response.
"Tell me the worst you know of Azriel," she said to the group. They all were taken aback. She boldly continued. "Many people are easily tolerated when they are at their best. It's not the best of people that others need to be wary of. I'm getting an idea of who he is at his best. But that isn't a danger to me if we were to be mates." They were silent for a moment. Surprisingly, Feyre spoke first.
"I'll tell you the worst I've seen, but then I'll also tell you something extraordinary." Azriel noted she didn't speak for Cassian and Rhys. It would be up to them to decide if they would answer the question. "I've seen the results of him torture. Only once. He's effective. It's brutal. Uncivilized. Awful." She looked at Azriel with affection and continued. She described what she had seen that day under the Hewn City in enough detail so that Sidra understood, but didn't dwell on the details. "He has a job, and his first loyalty is always to the court, to us. He does what is necessary to protect us. He takes no pleasure from it," she finished.
She shrugged. Then, with a mischievous smile she changed the subject. "As for a positive story - he felt up my wings once." Rhys's and Cassian's eyebrows both shot up. Rhys looked at her, clearly saying something to her in her head that made her blush slightly. Azriel got the feeling she started talking again to shut him up in her head. "I wasn't born with wings. I became fae when I was twenty years old. I learned I could shapeshift to create wings about a year later. When I decided I wanted to learn to fly, Azriel offered to teach me. The first lesson was for me to create the wings with proper form and function. So he felt my wings. Nearly every inch. Over about thirty minutes he guided me on what muscles were missing or improperly formed. What parts needed to be lighter or heavier. A few times he held his out for me to touch so that I could better recreate the form.
"At no time was there any extra brush or touch. Nothing improper. He didn't touch any place or touch me in any way without asking first for clear permission." She was looking seriously straight at Sidra now. "I understand the fear of awful things males do to females. This male is not one of them. You are not safer anywhere else than beside him," she finished firmly. Sidra nodded a thank you for the story and glanced at Azriel, as if reconciling this character Feyre had just described with the male in front of her.
Cassian spoke next. "He helped me to kill our father." Sidra's eyes shot to Cassian. "When the three of us were full warriors but still young, we flew to the camp you and I escaped from. We discovered that my mother was dead. No one could say what happened to her. I don't know if yours was among the females left, but I suspect whatever happened to my mother was the same for yours." He apologized with his eyes for breaking the news, but continued. "All the males in that camp were the same. Brutal, abusive beasts who were so pathetic they had nothing to feel good about, so they abused the females and children in their camp. We rounded up the males and killed them one at a time. Az kept to the perimeter, preventing anyone from escaping us and brought them back to the center. He and Rhys each held an arm as I beat the piece of shit that sired me -sired us - to death. It was slow and bloody. He begged and cried like a child. Az and Rhys didn't flinch. They didn't question me or try to talk me out of it. Afterward we took the females and children to a new camp and burned all remnants of the place you and I were born." Cassian shrugged and finished the last of his drink.
Sidra accepted this story without comment or reaction. "And a good story?" she asked.
Cassian's eyes twinkled. Of all the people to tell a "good" story of Azriel, he trusted Cassian's judgment the least. Cassian's elbows were on the table, he held his hands flat and patted them together as if clapping with the opportunity. He laughed and looked up at the ceiling. "Let me see. So many to choose from."
"He beats me and Rhys at snowball fights. Pretty easily." Thank the gods this is what Cass had come up with. Cass told her a bit about their annual Solstice Battles and a few specific antics. They were all laughing by the time he had finished. Laughing together - as a group.
Sidra looked expectantly at Rhys. He met her gaze cooling, with no expression. "I was held captive for nearly fifty years with all of the other High Lords." Oh no, Azriel thought. Not this one. "I was made to do and see many awful things. As you know Azriel is my Spymaster. He's damn good at it, so of course he found a way to smuggle me out. I refused. I was weak at the time, and Azriel could very well have overpowered me and winnowed me to safety. But he didn't. He left me there, knowing it was torture for me and not knowing if he would get another opportunity."
"Why did you ask him to leave you?"
"I didn't ask. It was an order," he bristled with a bit of power, reminding her exactly who she was talking to. She didn't flinch. "I needed him and my court to stay here and take care of my people. Times were bad, and it took all their efforts to keep it together while I was away." He held her gaze a bit longer. Again, it was one of those stares that most people back down from quickly. She didn't. "Little did we know that all the High Lords of Prythia would be saved by a young human woman." He smiled and looked at Feyre.
Sidra asked Azriel, "Did you know what situation you were leaving him in?" Azriel nodded slowly. "And did you know why he asked - gave - the order he did?" Again, Azriel nodded slowly.
"It was one of the hardest things I've ever had to do."
"Why?" she asked directly. He resisted the temptation to give a light answer and thought better of it.
"Because he's my brother." Azriel looked back at Rhys, who inclined his head and raised his glass a bit.
"Same here, brother."
They were quiet for a moment. Sidra looked back at Rhys and indicated with her head she was waiting for the other story. A mischievous smile spread across Rhys's lips and he looked at Azriel. Cass burst out laughing. Rhys has told Cass in his head where this was going. Uh oh. He thought.
"When we had just become full warriors, my father took us to a whorehouse. It was his idea of a celebration." Feyre looked at him with furrowed brows that said "really?" Rhys shrugged. "There wasn't a lot of choice under my father's rule, especially for me. I had to pick my battles with him, and this was one I decided wasn't worth it." He drained his drink and continued. "Now Az had always been a pretty serious and reserved male. He was dropped in our camp right after he became a Shadowsinger when he was ten. He was weak and small and had to work extra hard to keep up, so even in the rare moments we had some free time, he never let loose and misbehaved as the other adolescent males," he looked at Cassian, who shrugged unapologetically, "were want to do. Cass and I weren't too thrilled with father's idea of a celebration, but Az took this as some special project. I swear he acted as if this was some sort of intellectual test. Of course Cass and I teased him mercilessly." Cassian made a noise that indicated "teased" might be putting it politely for the audience. "Afterward we noticed the females from the whorehouse kept coming by. Seeking him out. It kept up. Even during the war, we would have random prostitutes show up smiling and asking sweetly for Az. This went on for years."
"When I became High Lord, he finally admitted to me that he was using them as spies. He bribed them with chocolates." Cassian was howling. "My father went to his grave thinking Az was the greatest lover in Prythia and was getting free attentions from sex workers all over the island. It drove him nuts. The asshole deserved it." Sidra was laughing too.
"So - 'most effective method of gathering information' is…chocolate?" Sidra asked with mock sweetness.
Az smiled and answered, "It's pretty effective. Although since Rhys became High Lord the situation for the poor - prostitutes included - has improved. They aren't nearly so desperate any more. They aren't the network they used to be."
"Because they can't be bribed so easily?" asked Feyre.
"Something like that. And, of course, not all females' favorite sweet is chocolate." His eyes twinkled. He'd noticed she had chosen - twice - a sweet with raspberry over the chocolate option.
Sidra nodded her head in thank you to Rhys. She contemplated her plate for a long moment. When she raised her head and looked at Azriel, he thought she was going to ask for more food. She said simply. "Very well. I accept."
He was confused for a moment. Surely she didn't mean… "Accept what?" Azriel asked.
"The bond." It was Azriel's turn for his mouth to gape open. Cassian was so stunned he failed to say anything, for a change. Azriel shook his head to clear it. "If, of course, you would like to." she said. Azriel couldn't believe it. His whole body nearly leapt of its own accord with joy. At the same time, he was confused.
"Why?" he asked stupidly. Not his most charming moment.
She answered him plainly. "Petria will recover in a day or so. When she does, it will be my duty to return home to my responsibilities. I don't want to figure this," she motioned between them, "out with the uncertainty of the status of the bond between us. I suggest we seal it, then decide how we want to manage it. I will deal with Dronan accordingly." He tried not to be crestfallen at the practical nature of her suggestion, but at the same time it was a very shrewd plan. He knew he was being used in it somehow, but that didn't change the fact that they were mates. As she said, they would deal with whatever is next with at least the certainty of the bond sealed between them.
"All right. Of course I'd like to seal it." He thought for a moment about logistics. Rhys had the same idea at the same time he did.
"Why don't you two use the cabin? We can send some food and you both can spend some time there. When Petria recovers, we'll send word and you both can decide what to do from there," said Rhys. Azriel appreciated the offer but wasn't prepared to leave for the cabin immediately. Less than three hours before she had nearly panicked as his light touch on her hand.
"I think that is a good idea," Azriel said. "How about I take you back to the House of Wind for tonight? You can think it over tonight. I can meet you there tomorrow morning. If you change your mind, we can simply spend tomorrow together in the city or whatever you'd like to do."
"Agreed," she said. She didn't appear to have anything else to say, so Azriel rose and pulled her chair back as she stood up. She thanked everyone for dinner and the conversation and followed Azriel out onto the lawn. She paused for a moment as she looked down the river. After a moment of deep thought, she indicated to Azriel she was ready to go. He leapt into the air and she followed. By now she knew perfectly well how to get to the House of Wind, but she followed just a wing's width beside him as he meandered a scenic route to the house. He used the extra time to consider his conversation with her when they landed. He would need to ask more direct questions, and questions that seemed intensely personal, but didn't want to spark that bloom of panic again.
Part 3: Kiss
They alighted on the balcony. Manon was there waiting for Sidra. Petria had woken a bit more and was recovering as expected. The healer had given her strong sleeping draughts so that she would rest easier and without pain. A moment came when Manon expected Azriel to leave. He stayed perfectly still. Sidra asked Manon to excuse them for a few minutes. Manon was clearly surprised and stalked off, muttering under her breath something about spending the entire day with him. What else could she possibly need to talk about?
Sidra turned to him and was standing a few paces away from him. He walked away from her toward the balcony and leaned against the railing, facing her. He lifted his wings over the edge and held them loosely, letting them flutter slightly in the breeze. Sidra walked over to the balcony and mimicked his stance. She, too, let her wings drift in the breeze over the balcony.
He took a stab at his core question. "If you want to be practical and simply seal the bond, it is possible to do it without the…physical aspect of the mating," he said carefully.
"You really think so? I've heard stories of mating frenzies. You really think you could control yourself?" she asked.
"Obviously it's not what I would prefer. But if you want, I would…stay away from you as long as needed to comply with your wishes." He spoke slowly, trying not to let any emotion drift into his voice. He felt like he was cracking open inside.
"We might as well get it over with," she said. Not the most passionate offer he'd ever had. She looked at him accusingly, "Do you even find me attractive?" she asked.
He guffawed and stuttered. "Um. yes." Also not the most smooth reassurance he'd ever offered a female. She looked at him with genuine surprise, then down at her hands that were clasped in front of her. "You?" he asked. He was afraid to turn it into a real sentence, but he looked at her, his eyes communicating what he was asking. She smiled slightly, blushed, and nodded. That was a new expression. It made his heart beat faster in his chest. He was sure she could hear it pounding out of control, but then he realized he could hear hers beating fast as well.
He was considering what to say next when out of the blue, she asked, "Will you kiss me?"
"No," he said immediately. Possibly too quickly.
"No?" she replied and shook her head in surprise. She was trying to figure out what to say next but he interrupted.
"You are terrified of my touch. I won't touch you. If you would like a kiss, you must kiss me," his eyes twinkled a bit at her expression. This was not the response she had expected.
"All right," she said boldly. She brought her wings back over the railing and moved away from the balcony to stand up properly and face him. He did the same. He tucked his wings tightly behind him and put his hands into his pockets to signal neither his hands nor his wings would not be wandering. She took the two steps closer to him, standing close. It was the distance that they would dance, if he would put his hand on her waist he could lead her into a waltz from this stance. But he didn't. He tilted his head down for her to reach him and stopped, waiting for her to meet him. She came closer, then he scented the bloom of panic again. He didn't move, waiting for her to decide. She sighed and put her forehead to his. After another breath she touched her nose to his and held his touch for a moment. One breath. Two breaths. She pulled back and looked at him, the scent of fear filling his nose.
"You know that wasn't a kiss, right?" he said with a wry smile.
"Fuck you," she said half-jokingly.
"That's up to you," he said with a bigger grin. She stood there considering him. She gathered herself and the fear scent dissipated on the wind. After a moment or two he asked gently, "Want to try again?" She smiled at the invitation and stepped closer again. She raised her hand to lay it on his chest but stopped.
"May I?" she asked, a bit playfully.
"Yes," he said with a smile. She laid her hand gently on his chest to steady herself. Possibly to prepare herself to push off, he thought. Nevertheless, he tilted his head toward her. She tilted up to meet him. After a brief hesitation, she laid her lips lightly on his. He responded. She kissed him with a bit more pressure, and he returned the movement. She held his lips for a long moment and he inhaled her scent. Fear was prominent but now there were more scents that he expected from a female he was kissing. He would need to shift in a moment to keep from touching her inadvertently much lower, but was afraid if he moved the moment would be lost. She continued kissing him lightly and opened her lips slightly to him. He did the same and touched his tongue to hers. The scent of fear bloomed again and she abruptly stepped back. Now he would need to shift. He casually removed his hands from his pockets and clasped them in front of him. She noticed but said nothing.
"I won't hurt you," he said. She nodded absently. "Why are you afraid of me? You didn't seem afraid at all when the others were telling you those awful stories." He hated bringing up those thoughts now, but he needed to get to the bottom of this.
"I'm not afraid of you," she said.
"Bullshit." he said bluntly. She turned toward the city, which was now fully lit with lights. The twinkling fae lights below mirrored the stars twinkling above in the clear skies. It was a beautiful view. She clearly loved it. He let it sink into her for a moment and waited for the fear-scent to dissipate again. He stated his demand gently but firmly. It was the only demand he ever intended to make of her. "I know better than anyone that people have secrets. Most aren't even bad or dangerous, it's just that people have the thoughts they are comfortable sharing and those that they aren't. If you don't want to tell me something, you don't have to - especially as we have just met. But don't lie to me. First of all, I can tell. Second, if, by some miracle, I can't tell its a lie, I will likely find out. Not because I'd spy on you, but because I pay attention." He let the words settle between them. Again she was unfazed. There was no challenge in her body language or scent.
Finally, she spoke. "You misunderstand." She took a deep breath. "I'm not afraid of you hurting me. Well, maybe a bit anxious of what may pass between us - but that isn't the fear you are scenting. I'm terrified of a cage." She looked at him and continued. "You speak of choices and you appear to genuinely mean it. Your actions back it up. I believe you in my head, but I've been avoiding and escaping cages of one sort or another since I was six. It is difficult to imagine I could be mated to someone and not trapped by them." She was speaking quickly and breathing hard, but the fear-scent was gone. This was her fighting stance. She was ready to spar with him. Azriel considered for a moment what a physical spar in the training ring with her would be like. He hoped he would get the chance someday, but for the moment he needed to choose the path of disarmament.
"I was caged." She blinked. "From birth. My piece of shit sire took me and my mother to the house of his wife. He made my mother a slave and kept me in a physical cage until I was ten. As I got bigger it was too small for me to stand up, too small for me to stretch my wings to their full extent. No place for me to run or fly. When they did let me out, it was as a bait for his other children to play with. Like a living ball for them to kick and throw and do…whatever." He held up his hands for her to see, indicating where the scars came from. Tears welled in her eyes. The expression melted him.
He felt like they were finally connecting. He continued, "I know that feeling of being trapped. Physically. I recognize the expression on females who are similarly trapped, although in a different sort of cage. My mother was one of those. She was a slave in the house and was essentially in a cage just as strong as mine, although there were no physical barriers. I would never put you or anyone else in a cage. Rhys, Cass, and I have devoted his entire rule to breaking the barriers that hold people, especially females, in cages. He outlawed wing-clipping. Cass and I enforce it. He outlawed various predatory practices in the city that created poverty and cheated his people. Cass and I enforce them. I report a new method in which people are being cheated or hurt, Rhys outlaws it. Cass and I enforce it."
He waited for her reply. She held out her hand toward his. "May I?" she asked as she reached to take his left hand. He laid his hand in hers. She rested his hand in her right and with her left index finger she traced the folds of the scars along his thumb and back of his hand. He could tell she was considering the scars on his hand as intently as the words he had spoken. "Do you have feeling through the scars?" she asked.
"Some," he answered. "Most of the thicker, whiter spots are numb, but the darker valleys in between generally have feeling. Some are very sensitive, as if the nerves grew back in bundles." He hadn't shared that with anyone other than Rhys and Cass. Then again, no one else had asked. She turned his hand over in his. His siphon lay flat in her palm. She traced the edges of his palm and fingertips.
"There was less burning here in your palm and at the tips of your fingers," she observed. He said nothing. She wasn't expecting a response. "Your hands were closed in fists. The flammable liquid seeped in, and it was hot, but the flames didn't burn here so the flesh melted differently." Again he didn't speak. He didn't think she was expecting a reply. It was by far the most intimate few moments they had shared so far. She closed her fingers around his and held his hand in both of hers. She took a deep breath and said to him, "I'd like to try again."
He grinned and indicated she could kiss him if she wished. But she asked anyway, "May I?" He grinned broader.
"Yes. You may," he smiled. She folded his hand up close to her chest and held it near to where the arrow had pierced her not 24 hours ago. She leaned up to him. He tilted his head down. She kissed him lightly on the lips. Short, but bolder than before. A brief flare of fear-scent emanated from her, but mixed with more pleasing - and pleased - scents. She withdrew and smiled at him, still holding his hand, as if it were giving her courage.
"I can do this," she said. "I'll meet you here tomorrow morning?" she asked. His heart soared. He could barely breathe. He nodded yes. She stepped back from him and let go of his hand. "I'll see you tomorrow" she said and walked into the house. Grinning so broadly his face hurt and trying not to whoop like an adolescent, he leapt into the air and flew to the River House.
As he flew home and considered tomorrow, he was so distracted he didn't notice the siphon on his left hand was completely dark.