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Chapter Text

“That’s my necklace.”

The conversation around the table came to an abrupt stop at Elain’s quiet declaration. Cassian’s fork hovered in the air mere inches from his open mouth, Rhysand lifted his gaze from where he was burping Nyx, and Azriel’s shadows seemed to freeze atop his shoulders.

Elain simply looked at Gwyn as she lifted her goblet towards her lips and took a small sip of wine. Gwyn, who had been chatting with Lucien about Valkyrie lore, seemed to be at a loss for words. It was the first time Elain had spoken to Gwyn, in fact it was the first time Elain had spoken to anyone since the dinner had started.

It was Nesta who spoke first.

“I thought you said the necklace was a gift from Clotho, Gwyn?”

Gwyn’s cheeks flushed red as the Inner Circle, Lucien Vanserra, and her Valkyrie sisters stared at her. Despite making great strides in leaving the library, Gwyn was still not used to the attention of lots of people.

Clearing her throat, Gwyn reached for her own goblet of water as she spoke.

“Clotho gave me the necklace the day after solstice, stating that it was given by a friend who wished to remain anonymous.” Gwyn seemed to shrink into her seat a bit more. “I’ve never received a gift before, the Priestesses at Sangravah deemed gift-giving frivolous-- when I received this necklace, I assumed that the anonymity was simply in the nature of gift-giving.”

Gwyn lifted her head towards Nesta and looked embarrassed. “Is anonymity not normal for giving and receiving gifts?”

Nesta shook her head, and opened her mouth to say something else when Emerie spoke, “No, Gwyn, gift giving is not usually anonymous, unless it’s between a suitor and their intended.”

At her words, Elain and Azriel tensed as Gwyn’s eyes widened like saucers.

Emerie continued, “At least for Illyrians, when an individual wants to court someone, traditionally the first gift is given anonymously, signaling to the receiver of the gift that someone intends to court them. Within a few days of the anonymous gift, the suitor will make their intentions known to the recipient of the gift, who will then agree to traditional courtship.”

Mor broke out into a fit of giggles at this. “Is this why you were so mad when I found you in my apartment with all those gifts?” Emerie turned bright red as Mor continued, “Oh beloved, I didn’t realize it was so important to you, I’m sorry I teased you.” Mor leaned over her chair to kiss Emerie’s cheek as she whispered, “I loved the gifts, and I officially accept your declaration of courtship.”

Emerie’s flush deepened, but instead of being embarrassed she looked thoroughly pleased with herself.

After rolling her eyes at Mor and Emerie, Nesta turned back to Gwyn. “So the necklace was a gift of courtship? Are you currently being courted?” Nesta leaned so close to Gwyn that they were almost nose to nose. “Gwyneth Berdara, do you have someone special that you are keeping secret from your sisters?!”

Gwyn’s embarrassed flush began traveling down her neck as she stammered out assurances that she wasn’t seeing anyone. Lucien took pity on her and gently touched her shoulder. “Gwyn, it’s a beautiful necklace that looks lovely on you. Gifts don’t always come with ulterior motives. Perhaps this person wasn’t thinking of courtship at all, maybe they just saw something beautiful and wanted to give it to you.”

Elain’s lips pushed together in displeasure as Lucien flashed his a smirk that was eerily similar to a fox and teased, “Why just hearing you say you’ve never received a gift before is so damned depressing it makes me want to buy you something.”

Azriel, who had remained quiet throughout the entire conversation, was staring daggers at Lucien, or more importantly, Lucien’s hand where it was resting on Gwyn’s bare shoulder.

If anything, Feyre looked more confused. “I don’t understand, if the necklace wasn’t a courting gift, why was it given anonymously? And more importantly, why did someone steal one of Elain’s necklaces and give it to Gwyn?”

Elain seemed to wince at this, as Gwyn reached around her neck for the offending piece of jewelry. “Elain, I had no idea this was your necklace, I didn’t realize it was stolen, I’m so terribly sorry.” But just as Gwyn got the clasp undone, Elain spoke.

“It wasn’t stolen,” Elain said lowly, her voice akin to a whisper.

Next to Gwyn, Lucien tensed.

“I returned the necklace.”

The rest of the table seemed to relax at this. “Well that settled it then,” Cassian remarked. “Elain after you returned the necklace someone else must have bought it and given it to Gwynnie here,” he smirked, winking over at Gwyn, “Now we just have to hunt down this secret admirer of yours.”

Lucien, looking back and forth between Azriel and Elain, sighed deeply. “That’s not what she meant. Elain didn’t return it to the jeweler. She returned the necklace to her illyrian suitor.”

Rhysand’s gaze turned murderous from his seat at the end of the table.

Lucien’s voice sounded sad and resigned as he said, “Elain returned the necklace to Azriel.”

Chapter Text

For a few moments, the table was silent.

It was Gwyn who broke through the awkwardness by turning to Azriel. “So you were the anonymous gift-giver?”

Azriel, by the looks of it, was trying to turn invisible with the help of his shadows. At Gwyn’s inquiry, the shadows ceased their attempts at camouflage, and returned to their perch atop Azriel’s shoulders. Azriel murmured what sounded suspiciously akin to ‘traitors’ before turning his attention to Gwyn.

A man of few words, he simply looked at Gwyn and stated, “Yes”.

Cold hazel eyes locked with inquiring teal. Gwyn didn’t seem annoyed by Azriel’s short answer, if anything, she looked confused.

“Why? I mean, obviously you're not courting me, so why give me a necklace anonymously?” Gwyn looked at the beautiful necklace sitting in her hand. The one she had cherished so deeply, the first gift she had ever received. “Why gift me a necklace originally given to another female?”

Azriel looked pained, as if he himself didn’t know the answer to these questions. His eyebrows drew together as he tried to answer Gwyn. “I didn’t know.”

One of Gwyn’s eyebrows raised, clearly unimpressed with his answer. “You didn’t know you instructed Clotho to give the necklace to me?”

Cassian snorted and then tried to cover it up with a cough as Azriel glared at his brother.

“I didn’t know about Illyrian courting. I hadn’t realized,” Azriel’s jaw worked as he struggled to explain, “I was going to return the necklace to the jeweler. I kept the damned thing in my pocket all day after Solstice with every intention of returning it to the shop-” With a sly look towards Cassian, Azriel teased, “Or perhaps throwing a fit and tossing it into the Sidra.”

Cassian sat up quickly, “Hey that’s-”

“But,” Azriel continued, smoothly cutting off Cassian's remark, “Neither option felt right. I told Clotho to give you the necklace. When she asked if she should tell you that it was from me, I told her I didn’t want you to know.” One of Azriel’s scarred hands lifted as he rubbed the back of his neck nervously. “The necklace was just meant to be a kind gesture, something to make you smile.”

Gwyn’s eyes seemed to soften as she looked down at the necklace, at least until Azriel opened his mouth again.

“I even told Clotho that if there was another priestess that might appreciate it, she could give it to them. I just didn’t want the necklace in my possession anymore.” Azriel shadows skittered anxiously around his shoulders as if they could sense what he was about to say next. “Clotho agreed to give it to you and say that the necklace was from a friend, her words not mine.”

The whole table seemed to wince simultaneously.

Gwyn’s eyes flashed as her mind repeated Azriel’s words over and over. "Friend, her words not mine."

“I see.” The red-headed Valkyrie remarked cooly.

Drawing a shaky breath, Gwyn forced a smile. “Thank you for the necklace Azriel. It was the first gift I ever received and it has brought me joy.”

“That being said, knowing the history of this necklace I am no longer comfortable with keeping it.” Looking over at Elain, Gwyn held her hand out, the necklace gleaming in the light. “Would you like this back? After all, it was you who said just a few minutes ago that this was your necklace.”

Elain’s face heated in embarrassment. Her eyes flitted back and forth between Gwyn, Lucien, and the necklace.

“Don’t hesitate on my account,” Lucien said quietly. “It’s not as if the two of you have ever let my presence stop you.”

“Lucien-” Feyre began.

“No, Feyre.” Lucien said, sounding exhausted. “I cannot do this anymore.”

Looking up at Elain, Lucien took a deep breath. “I free you. If you want to be with Azriel, do so with the knowledge that I will not invoke the blood duel.” His eyes wandered across the table to Rhysand, who was still glaring daggers at Azriel. Azriel was pretending not to notice.

“Rhysand, I am sure you have warned Azriel to stay away from Elain, out of fear of insulting me and losing me as Emissary. But Elain is her own person, she should be free to pursue what she wants,” Lucien then hesitated, and amended his statement. “She should be free to pursue who she wants. It is clear that she has no interest in me, nor our mating bond. That is not something that you can control, even as High Lord, though I do appreciate you trying to spare my feelings.”

Looking across the table at his mate, at the beautiful, steadfast female he had come to admire and respect from afar, Lucien spoke gently. “I will no longer darken your doorstep Elain. I only wanted to get to know you, though I know now that my role in your turning into Fae has made any relationship between us, friendship or otherwise, impossible. I am only sorry that it took me this long to realize that truth.”

Lucien grabbed and drained his goblet, as though knowing what he was going to say would be terribly painful. “I am afraid I must ask you one final request. I cannot break the mating bond. I refuse to spit in the face of the Mother, who has so kindly offered someone as unworthy as myself another opportunity for happiness. I will not be the one to break this mating bond.”

Reaching into his bag laying by his feet, Lucien pulled out three leatherbound notebooks. He slowly slid them across the table to Elain. “These are three journals from three different fae, all within the last five centuries who rejected their mating bond. They each discuss why they rejected the bond, the exact words to speak to reject the bond permanently, and the physical and emotional effects of breaking the bond. The effects are described as incredibly painful, but only last about a year or so.” Clearing his throat, Lucien said softly, “I have journals from two of the fae who were rejected. I know what to expect, I have prepared myself.”

Tears slipped down Elain’s cheeks as she looked at Lucien. “How long have you been carrying these around?” Elain demanded, her voice shaking with anger. “How long have you been ready to just give up?”

Lucien’s one eye widened in confusion at Elain’s reaction. But it was Feyre who spoke.

“That is enough Elain. I will not hear another word out of you.” The High Lady of the Night Court slowly got to her feet, her eyes full of barely contained fury. “This dinner is over. Lucien, please stay where you are, Elain and Azriel wait in the hallway. Everyone else, leave.”

Chapter Text

Mor took Nyx from Rhysand, quietly promising to put him to bed and then leave the manor. After taking the babe, Emerie and Mor disappeared from the room, shutting the door quietly behind them. The only three in the room were Feyre, Rhysand, and Lucien.

Rhysand and Feyre's eyes turned unfocused as they silently communicated via their bond, while Lucien waited patiently. After a minute or so, Rhysand turned to Lucien. “Lucien, I owe you an apology. I knew about Azriel and Elain, and instead of telling you the truth I kept it from you and told Azriel to stay away from Elain. I should have told you.”

Before Rhysand had even finished speaking, Lucien was shaking his head. “Rhysand, I am more observant than you give me credit for. I have seen their longing glances and fleeting touches since the beginning. But even if I had not, I would not blame you for not telling me. You and Feyre have been nothing but kind and welcoming to me, even after all I have done.”

Lucien’s brows drew together in anger. “Allowing Tamlin to treat Feyre the way he did after Under the Mountain is my greatest regret.” Lucien’s head hung low as he said, “I know what it is to give excuse after excuse to a friend you hold dear because you can see that he is hurting, regardless of the fact that his actions hurt another person.”

Feyre’s eyes softened in a look of regret and understanding as Lucien continued, “I do not blame you for trying to protect both Azriel and myself. I wish that things had not turned out this way, but that is not dissimilar to how I feel about many things in my life.”

Feyre moved quickly towards Lucien, and the High Lady of the Night Court knelt down before her oldest fae friend. “Lucien, I forgave you ages ago. Tamlin took you in after your Father killed Jesminda, after Beron sent two of your brothers to kill you. He gave you position, a home, and friendship. I know you felt as though you owed him for his kindness, and that is why you acted the way you did.” She reached up and grasped his hands between her own. “You were the first person I befriended on this side of the wall. Besides my sisters, you have known me longer than any other person alive. It pains me to see you so unhappy.” Feyre’s hand lifted to brush his cheek, looking into both of his eyes, mechanical and real. “You deserve happiness. I wish that my sister could open her eyes to what is in front of her, to the male that would give her the happy life she desires.”

At the mention of Elain, Lucien’s eyes closed.

“Feyre,” Lucien began, his throat bobbing with unbidden emotion. Behind Feyre, Rhysand looked at his shoes, trying to give the pair a semblance of privacy. “Will you… will you stay with me? When she breaks the bond? I want her to be happy, but I fear what I will do in the moments immediately after the bond breaks.” Behind Feyre, Rhysand’s eyes flew open with concern as he realized the implication of Lucien’s words.

Feyre, unlike her mate, had not. “Of course Lucien,” she promised, “I will be there for as long as you need. I’ll take you to a remote cabin where no one will bother us and we can drink and cry and do whatever you need. You won’t be alone unless you wish to be.”

Rhysand muttered something about how the Valkyries, led by Nesta, could temporarily take over Lucien’s role as Emissary as their first diplomatic mission. But neither Feyre nor Lucien were truly listening.

Feyre, still kneeling on the carpet, looked up at her friend, at the male that loved so deeply with all of his heart, who was kind and loyal, with a quick tongue and a sharp temper. She recalled the way they had argued and antagonized each other when she first arrived at the Spring Court. Feyre had despised him for being fae, and Lucien had despised her for being human. Back then she could never have imagined how much she would grow to love him, as not only a friend but as her brother. Feyre loved Lucien the way she loved Elain and Nesta, the way she loved Cassian and Azriel, Mor and Amren. Even without his mating bond to Elain, Lucien would always be Feyre’s family.

“You won’t leave. I forbid it.” Feyre said calmly. Both Lucien and Rhysand looked at her with confusion.

“The night court,” Feyre clarified. “You are my family, with or without your mating bond to my sister. You are my dearest friend, and I will not see you leave me.”

Lucien’s eyes softened with understanding. “Feyre, I make Elain uncomfortable enough as it is-”

“No.” Feyre spoke with authority. “I don’t give a damn about Elain or her comfort right now. You are my friend and I am High Lady of the Night Court. If I want you here, you will be here. I give you leave to take as much time as you need to heal from the breaking of the bond. But you will remain as my Emissary. You will remain in the Night Court. You will remain in Velaris.”

Lucien opened his mouth once again to argue, but Feyre continued on.

“You always have a choice, Lucien. If you are truly unhappy in the Night Court you may leave. But you will always have a place here, and I want you to stay.” Feyre tried to change her voice from demanding to softer, more understanding. “You do not have to come to monthly dinners, you can come visit Nyx on days when Elain is out. I will not torment you with her presence. But I want my child to know my best friend. I want to spend time with you. I want both of us to be happy, together.”

Lucien’s lips pursed together, and he sighed in defeat. “I will try,” he finally said. “I cannot promise you more than that.” The High Lady seemed appeased by that answer.

Pulling Feyre to her feet, Lucien turned to Rhysand. “This has been an exhausting night. If you don’t mind, I will be leaving now to get rip-roaring drunk at the nearest tavern.” He turned back towards Feyre, “I will be at my apartment all week. When the time comes, you know where to find me.” At the couple's simultaneous nod, Lucien took a deep breath and strolled towards the door.

Opening it, he was met with Elain and Azriel, sitting on opposite sides of the drawing room, looking absolutely miserable. At the sound of the door opening, both Azriel and Elain’s gaze shot up, but Lucien was already walking towards the empty hall that would lead him to the front door. Lucien tried not to notice how tightly Elain was gripping the journals he had given her, as if she was afraid he would change his mind and take them from her.

Shaking himself for letting his attention drift toward his mate once more, Lucien ripped the front door open and began down the winding path that would lead him to the main street and eventually, a tavern. Lucien was so distracted that he failed to notice the female that had been lurking near the front door.

Teal blue eyes followed Lucien’s quick pace as Gwyn called out, “Need a drinking partner?”

Chapter Text

Lucien wasn’t sure how, but he had been sitting at the bar with the red-headed Valkyrie for the better part of an hour. After begrudgingly agreeing to needing a drinking partner, he and Gwyn had walked silently through the streets of Velaris before finding a small tavern. It was quaint, with only a few tables and a small band playing in the corner. Despite the late hour, there weren’t many customers, and it was relatively quiet. Lucien and Gwyn had sat in amenable silence for almost an hour when Gwyn finally spoke.

“How do you bear it?” Gwyn said, not unkindly. Her knuckles were white where she gripped her cup, one that she had yet to bring to her lips for even a sip. Her words were tinged with desperation. “Does it not burn you from the inside out?”

Lucien turned his head towards his companion, one eyebrow lifting slyly. “You forget that I am the youngest son of Beron, High Lord of the Autumn Court. I have fire coursing through my veins. For as long as I can remember, I have been burning from the inside out, slowly and painfully.”

Gwyn scowled at Lucien’s attempt at a joke. “I speak not of your fire-gifts, fox-boy. I speak of the agonizing jealousy and helplessness that comes from your mate loving another. I speak of the air being too thick to swallow, the feeling of panic clawing itself into your heart.” Gwyn’s words seemed to tumble out faster, one after the other. “I speak of self-hatred, the feeling of inadequacy coupled with desperation. The desire to change the past, in the hopes that the smallest change would alter the course of the future, to change the reality you are trapped in, one where they do not pick you, the reality that you are not enough for your mate.”

Lucien’s head snapped up. “How do… when-” at Gwyn’s shrug, Lucien tried to collect his thoughts. After a few beats of silence, he let out a small chuckle. “What a pair we make, Valkyrie. Two cauldron-cursed individuals whose mates are desperate for each other.”

Lucien’s eyes narrowed as he looked over at Gwyn. “Does he know? Does the shadowsinger know that you are mates?”

Gwyn’s shoulders seemed to hunch lower as she shook her head.

Lucien set down his cup, the third one he had drank thus far, and looked curiously at Gwyn. “Why haven’t you told him?”

Gwyn sighed, deeply. “The circumstances that I met Azriel were… less than ideal. He-” Gwyn looked over at Lucien, eyes glancing back and forth from his natural and mechanical eye. Seeming to find what she had been looking for, Gwyn lowered her voice. “I was a Priestess at Sangravah,” she said thickly, as though she had to force the words out. Lucien’s eyes widened at her words. “Azriel was the first to arrive. Many traumatic things had taken place that day. I… I don’t remember much of what transpired between us on that day. I just remember feeling safe after he arrived. There was too much happening for me to recognize that, at least for me, the bond had snapped.” Gwyn’s fingers lightly traced the rim of the cup.

“Then I was in the library for two years. I couldn’t go outside. I could barely speak to others. I took up work with a Priestess named Merrill because I thought it would help, but it wasn’t until I met Nesta that I started living again.” she swallowed roughly. “Training to become a Valkyrie breathed life back into me. It gave me purpose. It gave me new friends that turned into a new family.”

Lucien looked at Gwyn. Gently, he probed, “When did you realize?”

Gwyn’s neck and ears turned red. “Looking back, it should have been more obvious. It took me ages to warm up to Cassian, despite the fact that he is such a kind and good male, it was a while before I felt comfortable around him. There was nothing like that with Azriel. I felt… settled in his presence. Being around him was… calming. I was eager to learn how to protect myself and Azriel was a great tutor. After a while I even mustered up the courage to ask him for private dagger handling lessons.”

Lucien’s eyebrows shot up as Gwyn scowled, “Get your head out of the gutter, fox-boy. It was strictly weapons maneuvering. Azriel’s weapon of choice is a dagger, and I excel in close hand-to-hand combat. Dagger handling was the next logical step.”

“Yeah I’m sure it was something you desperately wanted to learn,” Lucien teased as Gwyn punched his shoulder. “Ow, ow, ow, easy mighty Valkyrie. Not all of us are dangerous warriors trained to physical and mental perfection.” Gwyn rolled her eyes at him, as Lucien’s grin grew.

“Anyway” Gwyn began, “I realized on solstice of last year. I had a nightmare, where I was back at Sangravah and Azriel never showed up, no one from the Night Court showed up. It had woken me, and I had gone to the training yard in the hopes of exhausting my body to the point where nightmares would not plague me. I spent hours up there, unable to relax, to shake the feeling of panic. Suddenly, my unease lifted and I felt at peace. When I turned around, there was Azriel. We couldn’t have spoken for more than a few minutes before he went to bed.” Gwyn’s teal eyes turned wistful, as if the memory was one that she treasured. “Everything changed that night on the terrace.” Gwyn continued, “We had talked and joked. It was… nice. It felt like the beginning of something… special. Like the start of something beautiful.”

“Before that night, Azriel had been an instructor, an acquaintance. I wouldn’t have called him a friend before that night either.”

Lucien winced, remembering the Shadowsingers harsh words from dinner.

“Even knowing about the bond, I wasn’t sure what to do. My twin sister died because of me. I’m a broken priestess, unworthy of her Invoking Stone.” Gwyn’s face hardened. “I’m not even a real Carynthian. Emerie had to carry me up most of the mountain. I’m not worthy of my Valkyrie sisters.” She laughed bitterly. “Azriel is the Spymaster of the most powerful High Lord that ever lived. We are not equals.”

Lucien opened his mouth to speak, but Gwyn held up her hand. “I speak not to garner sympathy, nor do I want fake assurances that my insecurities and beliefs regarding myself are wrong. That is not why I asked to come with you tonight.”

Lucien merely nodded. He had his own demons and insecurities, he was in no position to try to assuage Gwyn of her beliefs. Instead, he tried to lighten the mood. “The untouched cup of ale in your hand was pretty much a dead-giveaway that you weren’t here to drink with me. So why did you decide to join me in this seedy tavern?”

Gwyn swallowed roughly, and her eyes darted back and forth between her drink and Lucien. “I wanted to speak with you because I’m hoping you will allow me to read the journals of the three fae who rejected their bond as well as the journals of the two fae that were rejected.”

Lucien’s eyes widened in shock.

Gwyn’s eyes watered as she said, “I need to reject the bond before it snaps into place for Azriel. If I do it now, before it snaps into place with him, it won’t hurt him, and he’ll be free to be with Elain.”

____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

A few miles away, glistening along the coast of Velaris, another difficult conversation was taking place.

Rhysand and Feyre did not speak to Azriel and Elain in the dining room. Instead, the High Lord and Lady sat behind the large desk in Rhysand’s office as Elain and Azriel sat in the two chairs facing the desk.

The desk itself was empty, except for a small rose necklace, the beautiful pendant seemingly mocking the Shadowsinger and the Seer.

For a small eternity, no one spoke. It was Rhysand who broke the silence, with a cruel, mocking grin etched across his normally beautiful face. “Why so glum, you two? After all, this was the ending you both so desperately hoped for, is it not?”

Azriel’s shadows skittered behind their owners' wings as the High Lord of the Night Court’s rage radiated throughout the room. The Shadowsinger met Rhysand’s gaze defiantly.

Elain, on the other hand, kept her head bent, her eyes on her interlocked hands in her lap. She was valiantly trying to ignore Feyre’s ire.

But Rhysand was not finished. “Lucien has given his blessing. He has given you the freedom to follow your hearts. Hell, he gave you written instructions on how to break his heart and soul. Why aren’t you celebrating, brother?” His cool gaze flickered from Azriel to Elain. “Here is the freedom you so desperately searched for Elain. Do not look dismayed now.”

Elain winced, but Feyre’s face was a mask of cool indifference, tracking her sisters every move.

“Don’t be cruel, Rhysand” Azriel began, but his efforts died as Feyre turned her cool gaze to him.

“Do not speak of cruelty to my husband, Shadowsinger.” Azriel’s eyes widened fractionally as the High Lady of the Night Court addressed Azriel by his title. It was the only sign of surprise he showed. “Not when your actions have been more cruel than any words my husband could say.”

Feyre’s head tilted to the side, a predator seizing up its prey. “Does Rhysand not speak the truth? Is this not the outcome you both worked tirelessly for?” Feyre’s eyes landed on her older sister. “Do you think all of us blind, Elain? We know of your secret rendezvous when you visit the marketplace or volunteer to help in other gardens around Velaris.”

Elain’s eyes snapped open and over to Azriel, who similarly looked shocked.

“You two have not been subtle,” Feyre continued. “Longing glances, accidentally brushing hands, we are not fools.”

Elain stood up, her hands shaking with anger. “What I do is my business. You had no right spying on me-”

Feyre’s hands slammed on the table. “It is my business when you hurt my friend and lie to me.”

Feyre’s voice took on an edge of desperation. “I do not understand Elain. You have always been kind and compassionate, deeply caring and understanding.”

Elain’s eyes watered as Feyre looked at her imploringly, “Yet you have caused unimaginable pain and suffering to my dearest friend. You barely look at him, you will not speak to him, you are aloof and-”

Tears began flowing freely as Elain began screaming. “I OWE HIM NOTHING”

“You are absolutely correct.” Feyre snarled right back. “You owe him nothing. You do not have to speak to him, you do not have to talk to him, you do not have to acknowledge his presence. But I have asked you for two years now. Two years, Elain I have asked you repeatedly if you wish to get to know Lucien, or if you wish to break the bond. I have offered you countless resources and my unending support.”

Azriel looked over at Elain in surprise. He had not known that Feyre had offered to support Elain should she wish to break the bond.

Feyre’s eyes were bright with emotion. “Yet you refuse to do either. You refuse to make a choice. You do not reject Lucien, instead content to let him wither away in hope of a future with you. You will not free him by rejecting him, nor will you let him get to know you.” Feyre’s eyes turned cold. “It is cruel. Lucien sees your relationship with Azriel blooming, yet despite the pain that it causes him, he continues to come because he so desperately wants to know you.”

Elain opened her mouth to speak, but Feyre once again cut her off.

“You cannot have both. You cannot pursue a relationship with Azriel whilst keeping Lucien tucked away as a backup plan. It is cruel and no longer will I allow it.”

“That is not what I am doing,” Elain began, though she sounded unsure, “I am not leading Lucien on, he is not a contingency.”

“Isn’t he?” Feyre began. “For two years you have snuck around with Azriel whilst refusing to reject Lucien. He deserves to be happy. You have made it clear that you want to be with Azriel, not Lucien. It is time you take responsibility and free Lucien.”

As the anger faded from Feyre, only exhaustion and disappointment remained. “Do you even understand how good of a person he is, Elain?”

Elain remained silent as Feyre continued.

“He yearns for the smallest kernels of knowledge regarding you. After learning about your love for gardening, he traveled to Dawn, Day, Summer, Winter, and even Spring court. At each of the courts he met with those well versed in gardening and flowers. He asked each of them for their favorite plant as well as the most beautiful plant. He purchased seeds of each from each court.”

Feyre pointed a finger out towards the window, where Elain’s beautiful garden lay beyond.

“Those seeds that I gave you Elain, that grew into the beautiful garden you treasure so deeply? They came from Lucien.”

Elain’s eyes widened, but Feyre continued.

“He knew it would make you uncomfortable to receive a gift from him. But he wanted you to have something of beauty. So he asked me to give them to you and say that they were from me. Lucien didn’t want recognition for his gift, or attention from you.”

Feyre took a deep breath.

“He just wanted to make you happy. That is all that he cares about, is your happiness. That is why he gave you those damned journals tonight, because he thinks you will be happier with Azriel than with him. He thinks the only reason you haven’t rejected the bond is because you are afraid to hurt him.”

Feyre squared her shoulders.

“That is why I am so angry, Elain. Because Lucien thinks of nothing but you, of your happiness. You have been uncharacteristically selfish. No longer. You have five days to make a choice. If you choose to break the bond, you must alert me beforehand. Is that understood?” Feyre demanded, her eyes taking in all of Elain, from her tear-stained face, to her wide eyes, to her shaking hands.

When Elain didn’t respond, Feyre asked again. “Elain, have I made myself clear?”

Elain’s eyes narrowed, but she didn’t deign to respond, instead grabbing the journals from where they had fallen to the floor and stalking out of the room.

It was quiet for a few beats, until a door slammed in the upstairs corridor.

Rhysand’s amused voice cut across the room, to where Azriel was slinking towards the exit.

“And where do you think you are going?”

Chapter Text

“I’m sorry, you want to WHAT?” Lucien’s shout garnered the attention of the few patrons scattered throughout the tavern.

“Lower your voice,” Gwyn hissed. “What is the matter with you?”

Lucien’s face was slack with incredulity. “I’m sorry, what's the matter with me?” he asked with a snarl. “You are talking about rejecting a bond without even consulting your mate. You speak of rejecting the most sacred gift from the Mother,” Lucien sputtered, “You, a priestess! You of all people know how sacred the mating bond is!”

Gwyn’s eyes were narrowed and her hands were clenched tightly around the cup she still held in her hands. “Do not speak to me of the Mother, Lucien. I am well aware of what I am asking you. This is not a decision I take lightly.”

Gwyn took a deep breath, before continuing. “How is what I am doing any different than what you are doing? You are putting yourself through agony and torment so that your mate will be happy. The bond has not snapped into place yet for Azriel. If I reject it now, he will not feel anything. It will not hurt him, nor will it ever snap into place for him.”

Her eyes turned sad as one hand reached up to touch her neck where the necklace had laid earlier that evening. “Elain is his chosen, not me. I wish for him to be happy. She will make him happy.”

Lucien’s head shook back and forth in disagreement. “This is nothing like my situation. For better or for worse, Elain has known about our mating bond since the moment I felt it snap into place.”

Lucien’s voice became discouraged as he said, “Elain knows exactly what we are to one another. I have made my intentions known. She has chosen to pursue another path. I have not withheld any information from her.” With a pointed look to Gwyn, “Elain knows what she is choosing by rejecting me. Your actions would rob him the freedom of choice. Azriel does not know that he has an alternative for happiness.”

Gwyn scoffed, “You do not fool me, Lucien. You just want me to tell Azriel in the hopes that he won’t choose Elain so that she may choose you instead.”

Lucien’s barstool slammed loudly to the floor as Lucien stood up, flames dancing in his one eye. “You dishonor me, Valkyrie. If you told Azriel, and he did choose you, it would cause Elain a great deal of pain, which is the last thing I would ever want. I say this not out of selfishness, but because it is right. Azriel, despite pursuing my mate, is an honorable man. He deserves your honesty. He deserves the right to choose his own future.”

Gwyn’s eyes were widened in surprise and perhaps a touch of respect. “I spoke out of turn, I’m sorry Lucien, that was a low accusation.” Gwyn’s voice turned regretful as she said, “This is hard for both of us. I’m sorry for what I said, please sit back down.”

As the flames died down in his eye, Lucien righted his barstool and gingerly sat back down. “Even if I wanted to help you- which I don’t- I can’t. Elain has the three journals detailing how to reject one's mate.”

Lucien’s throat bobbed in trepidation as he said, “Perhaps you can ask to see them once she is done using them.”

Gwyn reached out and squeezed Lucien’s shoulder lightly. “For what it is worth, I am truly sorry. It is clear how much you love her.”

Instead of answering, Lucien simply lifted his hand to the bartender, signaling for another drink.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

“We have not finished our conversation,” drawled Rhysand. “It’s rude to leave before someone is done talking.”

Azriel took a deep breath, and sat back down in the chair, his gaze flitting back and forth between his High Lord and High Lady.

“The last time that we spoke regarding Elain, I warned you that there would be consequences if you did not stop pursuing her.” Rhysand lifted a single eyebrow, his hands lacing together from where they sat on his lap. “You continued to pursue her, thus here we are.”

Azriel’s crossed his arms together, ready to accept whatever punishment Rhysand doled out.

“I considered sending you to the Spring Court, to work directly with Lucien to try and help Tamlin pull the Spring Court back together.” Azriel sat up to argue but was silenced by Rhysand. “But I felt as though that was cruel to do to Lucien. I will not punish him for your actions.”

Feyre spoke next. “We considered sending you to the Illyrian Mountains for a few months, to work alongside Devlon and help tamper the unrest.” Her head tilted as though sizing the Shadowsinger up. Azriel forced himself not to squirm under her gaze. “But we knew you would simply accept the punishment, and not reflect on the consequences of your actions.” Feyre continued, before looking at her husband.

Rhysand smiled cooly, the dark, frightening smirk of a predator with trapped prey. “Since Lucien will be unable to fulfill his duties as Emissary to the Human Lands due to your and Elain’s actions, you will be responsible for training his replacement in Emissarial duties as well as spywork.” Azriel looked back and forth between Feyre and Rhysand, unable to understand what they were implying.

“Nesta has spoken highly of her Valkyrie sisters.” Feyre began, as Azriel’s eyes widened in horror. “Ever since the Blood Rite, the three Valkyrie’s have been itching to prove themselves, to take on real missions for the Night Court.”

Without realizing it, Azriel slowly began to rise from his chair.

“Unfortunately, Emerie will be unable to pass for human, due to her wings,” Rhysand continued for Feyre, “And Nesta and Cassian are busy working as Emissaries to the Autumn Court.” Rhysand paused, pulling an invisible piece of lint off his jacket before continuing. “I cannot burden their already heavy load by adding the responsibility of the human lands.” Rhysand’s hands re-laced together as he looked at Azriel, whose scarred hands were now shaking with anger where he stood in front of the desk. “Therefore, Gwyneth Berdara is the perfect solution. Trained by you, she will officially take over Lucien’s role as Emissary to the human lands. Unofficially, she will be gathering intel on Koschei.”

“Absolutely not,” Azriel snarled. “You wish to send Gwyn to the human lands? You know how they treat fae there! It is bad enough that you wish to send her there as emissary, but to also spy upon a death god?” Azriel’s hands were shaking so bad he had to ball them into fists. “I will not allow it.”

“You forget yourself, Azriel” Feyre spoke, eyebrows delicately lifted. “Gwyn is a Carynthian and a Valkyrie. She is more than capable of handling the human lands and spying on Koschei from afar.”

“Why do you care, Azriel?” Rhysand asked, his eyes glittering with something Azriel couldn’t discern. “After all, you don’t even consider Gwyn a friend? Those were Clotho’s words, not yours, right?”

“Of course I consider-” Azriel cut off before he blanched. Horror seemed to creep into his face as he looked at Rhysand. “I didn’t mean it like that,” Azriel assured, his eyes darting back and forth between Feyre and Rhysand. “Of course I consider Gwyn a friend, I just didn’t want Elain to-”

“You were coddling her.” Feyre said, heaving a big sigh. “You didn’t want to hurt Elain’s feelings, but in doing so you did hurt Gwyn’s.” Azriel’s eyes turned regretful as Feyre said, “I do not blame you for that, Azriel. We all coddle Elain, even Nesta and I. We treat her as a fragile, breakable person, rather than the mature female that she is. Hell, she stabbed the King of Hybern through the neck, and yet we still walk on eggshells around her.” Feyre paused contemplatively, "Though if I were you, I would apologize to Gwyn. I’m sure her feelings were hurt.”

“Regardless of hurt feelings, you will meet with Gwyn and train her this week to take over Lucien’s role as emissary, as well as a spy.” Rhysand said.

“Can I not take her place?” Azriel pleaded, “I know this is to be my punishment. But please do not make me send Gwyn to that terrible place, where she is so close to Koschei. I can’t do it, I won’t.”

Rhysand’s brows lifted at Azriels’ pleas. He did not think his brother had ever begged or pleaded in his life. “I am doing you a favor, Azriel. You wish to be with Elain, do you not?”

Azriel did not respond, merely looked down at his feet.

“If Gwyn takes over Lucien’s role as Emissary, you will have free time to be with the woman you choose, the woman you love.” Again Azriel did not say anything, merely stared at the ground. Above him, Feyre and Rhysand exchanged glances.

“If Elain rejects the bond, she will need tremendous support. It is said to be extremely painful and difficult. She will need you with her, not off spying.” Rhysand’s voice became kinder. “You knew this going in, Azriel. Elain wishes for a quiet, peaceful life with her partner. You cannot be off all the time doing spy work if you wish to be with her.”

Again, Azriel said nothing.

Finally, Feyre spoke. “Tomorrow morning I will send for Gwyn, Azriel. I will tell her of the mission, and reveal to her how dangerous Koschei is. I will not force her to go if she does not want to. But if she is willing, you must train her. Is that understood?”

Azriel looked up gratefully and simply nodded.

Rhysand dismissed Azriel, with a promise to update him tomorrow morning when Gwyn made a decision.

_____________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Lucien drank until the bar closed, mere hours before sunrise. As he stumbled out of the bar, Gwyn held his arm, trying to steady the heavily intoxicated male.

After probing Lucien for his address, Gwyn and Lucien stumbled their way through downtown Velaris before finally arriving at Lucien’s apartment. Gwyn opened the door and led Lucien to his bed, muttering about crashing on the couch since she had no way to get back up to the House of Wind.

As Lucien sat on the edge of the bed, he saw Gwyn fidgeting and twitching out of the corner of his eye. Slurring slightly, Lucien spoke. “Spit it out. I can see both of you twitching and fidgeting over there.” Gwyn smiled as Lucien lifted a shaky hand and pointed somewhere off to her left, where he was no doubt seeing her double.

Gwyn’s smile dropped as she looked at the floor, nervous about asking. Finally she spoke.

“You gave Elain three journals, from three fae who had rejected their mates. You said that you also had journals, from two of the rejected fae. Why don’t you have a journal from the third fae that was rejected?”

Lucien stilled from where he was trying to pull off his boot. He seemed to sober up slightly as he said, “Caught onto that, huh?”

At Gwyn’s silence, Lucien continued. “The third fae ended their life almost immediately after being rejected by their mate,” Lucien whispered, his voice cracking slightly. “The rejection isn’t just a physical one, it is an emotional and spiritual rejection. It is as though your very soul is being cast aside. It is why rejecting one's mate is so seldom done. It can have devastating consequences.”

Chapter Text

Gwyn woke up the next morning to something digging uncomfortably into her back. After rolling over on Lucien’s couch, Gwyn untangled herself from the blankets she was bundled in and pulled out a book trapped between the cushions. Flipping the slightly bent book over, Gwyn glanced at the title: “A Beginner’s Guide to Gardening.” The book was well-worn and as Gwyn paged through it she saw little notes scribbled in the margins, in other places words were underlined or circled.

As Gwyn paged through, a note fell out from between the pages and fluttered to the floor. In Lucien’s elegant scrawl was, “Elain mentioned a plant called lavender to Nuala. Not found on Prythian in any court. Ask Feyre if lavender is from the human lands, perhaps the continent?”

Feeling as though she was intruding, Gwyn picked up the note, set it between two pages, and gently set the book down on the coffee table. Walking to the kitchen, Gwyn poured two cups of water, one for Lucien and one for herself, and walked towards the bedroom.

After setting one of the cups on the table next to Lucien’s bed, Gwyn walked over to the window. As she pulled back the blinds, sunlight filled the room, exposing how late both of them had slept in. “Time to wake up, fox-boy,” Gwyn said, trying to rouse her friend, “No use in laying in bed all day.”

“Fuck off,” Lucien’s muffled voice called out from where he was hiding under the blankets. “I have every reason to hide under my covers all day.”

Gwyn’s lips lifted in amusement. “Very well. I left water on the table next to your bed. I have to get back to the House of Wind.” Gwyn began walking out of the bedroom, pausing only to hover in the doorway before turning her head to look at Lucien’s hidden form. She could see a hint of tangled red hair peeking out from the covers. “Thank you for listening to me last night. I enjoyed your company. I’ll make sure to lock the door on my way out.”

“Yes, yes, we’re both cauldron-damned and misery loves company. You are the best drinking partner in the world despite not actually drinking. Blah, blah, blah, let me get my beauty sleep. I’m a growing boy.” Lucien yapped.

“You are a child,” Gwyn muttered, smiling despite herself as she closed the door to Lucien’s bed behind her. After drinking the cup of water she had poured for herself and shrugging on her shoes, Gwyn made for the door, cursing herself for sleeping in so late. As she yanked open the door, Gwyn was almost hit in the face by Elain, whose hand was raised as if to knock.

“Elain?” Gwyn asked, her eyes wide. Taking a step forward and clicking the door behind her shut, Gwyn looked at the Seer, her eyes wide with shock, a mirror to Gwyn.

“What are you doing here?” Gwyn asked, blurting out the first thing that came to mind.

Elain did not answer, her jaw was still slackened with shock. Her eyes raked over Gwyn’s form, from the bags under her eyes, to her messy copper hair, to the outfit Gwyn was wearing, the very same dress Gwyn had worn to dinner last night.

Elain’s eyes flitted back and forth from Lucien’s door to Gwyn. Finally, she spoke.

“I suppose I could ask you the same question, Valkyrie.” Elain said coolly.

For a moment Gwyn considered explaining that nothing happened, that Gwyn had slept on the couch and before that she and Lucien had bonded over their shared heartbreak. Deciding that was a terrible idea, Gwyn simply said, “I’ve gotta go, I have training this afternoon.” With a nod to Elain, whose arms were still crossed in anger, Gwyn walked down the hall towards the stairs, and then out towards Velaris.

For a few minutes, Elain simply stood outside of Lucien’s apartment trying to gauge her emotions. With a jolt, Elain realized she was furious. Her throat was tight with jealousy, her hands were shaking uncontrollably, and she had the strangest urge to hunt down the red-haired Valkyrie and throttle her.

The small, rational part of Elain’s brain was insisting that she was a dirty hypocrite for being jealous, but the larger, irrational part of Elain’s brain was fuming. Without thinking it through, Elain began banging on the door to Lucien’s apartment, loud enough for perhaps the whole of Velaris to hear.

After a few moments, there was a loud clanging from within the apartment. Then a voice began yelling.

“Cauldron-damn you Gwyn, we barely got any sleep last night. Why are you waking me up again?”

Lucien’s rant ended as he yanked open the door, wearing nothing but a pair of loose sleep pants that hung low on his waist. His hair was tangled and his eyes were closed from where his hands were attempting to rub away his exhaustion.

Elain’s lips parted slightly as her eyes drank up the sight of Lucien’s bare chest, from his lean-toned muscles, to his slim waist, to the smattering of red hair below his belly-button, trailing downwards before disappearing behind his pants.

As Lucien’s eyes adjusted to the bright light of the hallway, he looked shocked as he took in who was standing in front of him.

“Elain?” Lucien croaked.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________

Gwyn had been halfway to the House of Wind when she received a polite knock on the wall of her mind. Never having experienced the influence of a daemati, Gwyn almost tripped over her own feet before her training kicked in.

Unsure what was happening, Gwyn spoke aloud. “Um, hello?”

Nearby a vendor selling jewelry looked at Gwyn like she was crazy. Perhaps she was.

The familiar sound of Rhysand’s chuckle sounded within Gwyn’s mind. “You are not crazy Gwyn. I am merely communicating with you telepathically, one of my many abilities.” Gwyn’s eyes widened at the sound of her High Lord within her head.

“You’ll have to excuse me Gwyn, but when I asked Cassian to bring you from the House of Wind to my office, he said you hadn’t returned home last night, and I wasn’t sure how else to find you. I hope I’m not intruding.”

“Not at all!” Gwyn stammered, turning away from the vendor and beginning to walk towards Rhysand and Feyre’s townhouse. “I can be at your office in less than fifteen minutes.”

“Wonderful,” Rhysand spoke into her mind. “Please let yourself in, Feyre and I await you.”

Shaking herself slightly to rid herself of the strange sensation of mind-speaking to her High Lord, Gwyn set off for the townhouse.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________

Elain had simply marched past Lucien and into his kitchen before turning with her hands on her hips and demanding why ‘the valkyrie’ was at his apartment. After closing his apartment door, Lucien cautiously followed Elain into the kitchen, careful to leave an appropriate amount of distance between them.

“Gwyn” Lucien emphasized, “Was here because we talked last night.” He cocked his head mockingly towards Elain. “I can see why you might be confused, but unlike you, there are those that actually do enjoy talking to me.”

Elain didn’t acknowledge Lucien’s jab. “What did you talk about?” She demanded instead, crossing her arms.

“I don’t see how that’s any of your business,” Lucien said coolly.

“Seriously?” Elain pressed. “Just tell me.”

Lucien let out a chuckle that held no amusement. “You are truly something else Elain,” He said, rolling his eyes at her behavior.

“And what exactly is that supposed to mean?” Elain asked, her tone deceptively calm.

“I mean,” Lucien drawled, “You are like Nyx. No interest in a toy until someone else picks it up.”

Elain jaw dropped at the blatant insult. “Are you comparing me to a child?” She yelled in outrage.

Lucien tapped one finger against his chin in contemplation. “You’re absolutely right,” Lucien said, with a serious expression. “That comparison is incredibly insulting to Nyx.”

“UGH” Elain screamed, smacking her hands against Lucien’s bare chest, “You are impossible!” she snarled angrily.

“And what exactly do you think you are to me, Elain?” Lucien tossed back, his anger matching hers. “You aren’t exactly a walk in the park, despite your love of flowers.”

“Azriel thinks I’m a walk in the park,” Elain said, the words flying out of her mouth before she could think better of them. “In fact, everyone thinks I’m a walk in the park. The only one who doesn’t, is you!”

Hurt flashed in Lucien’s eyes, but before Elain had time to regret the words, Lucien spit out, “Well then it’s a good thing you’re breaking the bond and shacking up with him sweetheart, because I won’t coddle you the way he does.”

Just like that, Elain’s regret evaporated. “CODDLE?” She screeched, “He does not coddle me! He listens to me and understands me, he takes care of me-”

A loud yawn interrupted her rant. Behind Lucien’s raised hand, two of his eyebrows were lifted in a mocking manner. “Oh I’m sorry, you were just boring me to death with the details of your lackluster dalliance.”

Elain clenched her fists together to refrain from reaching up and choking the life out of Lucien. “Lackluster?” Her voice was shrill. “There is nothing dull about what Azriel and I have!”

“Hit a nerve there, did I?” Lucien drawled, his mouth curving into a smirk. “You know, I couldn’t help but notice that when you described how Azriel treats you, you forgot to mention love.”

“You-” Elain seethed, but Lucien once again cut her off with disapproving clicks of his tongue.

“If you want to be with someone that coddles you and lets you walk all over them, be my guest sweetheart,” Lucien said, walking out of the kitchen and into his bedroom. “It’s your choice.”

For a long moment, Elain just stood there in his kitchen, fists clenched in anger, her chest heaving with exertion. Elain couldn’t remember the last time someone had gotten under her skin so badly. Lucien somehow knew just the things to say to make Elain feel off balance, off kilter. It made Elain feel strange, a feeling somewhere between adrenaline and arousal.

It was terrifying. It was intoxicating.

“Did you come all this way to scream at me, or is there a reason for your unannounced visit,” Lucien asked as he walked back into the kitchen, pulling on a loose white shirt. The neckline was deep, the material incredibly thin and see-through. The shirt was almost as obscene as when he had worn nothing at all. Part of Elain wished he had forgone the garment entirely.

“Elain?” Lucien asked, drawing her attention back to the present.

A flush covered Elain’s cheeks as she realized her thoughts had strayed far beyond what was appropriate.

Clearing her throat, Elain began. “You’re right. I didn’t come over here to fight. I thought that in light of recent events, we could sit down and talk. I have a few things I wanted to discuss.”

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________

Gwyn had stepped perhaps two feet into Feyre and Rhysand’s townhouse when Azriel materialized out of the shadows.

“Why are you wearing the same clothes from last night?” Azriel asked, his eyes taking in the details of Gwyn, “Did Mor and Cassian not take all of you back to the House of Wind after dinner?”

“They offered,” Gwyn began, breezing past Azriel and into the hallway. “But I had things to attend to outside of the House of Wind.”

“Things? What kind of things?” Azriel asked, falling into step behind Gwyn.

“Nightly adventures,” Gwyn offered up, lifting her hand to try to hide her yawn. Despite Lucien’s comfortable couch, Gwyn was restless last night, unable to sleep despite exhaustion weighing down her bones.

“Nightly adventures?” Azriel repeated, his nose scrunching a bit as he took a step closer to Gwyn. “Never mind, it’s none of my business. I’m here because I wanted to apol-” Azriel took a step back, nostrils flaring. “Why do you smell of Lucien?” Azriel demanded, his hazel eyes flashing.

“None of your business.” Gwyn smiled insincerely, “And anyway, I am not in the habit of sharing my whereabouts with those who do not consider themselves my friend.” Gwyn snarked, taking in Azriel’s shocked face. “Now if you will excuse me, the High Lord and High Lady are waiting to speak to me.” Gwyn didn’t glance back to see Azriel standing in the hallway, speechless.

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________

“Koschei?” Gwyn hedged, her words tinged with uncertainty. “That is a name unfamiliar to me.”

“He is an Old God,” Feyre began, “Incredibly powerful, but he is confined to the lake within which he resides.”

“You would not engage with him, nor get close enough for him to know you are there. This mission is spying from afar,” Rhysand assured Gwyn. “He has kept quiet since Vassa returned to his lake. While we work with Jurian to free her, I feel better knowing that someone is monitoring his movements.”

Gwyn nodded in understanding. “I would be watching from a distance, cataloging who visited, if anyone entered or emerged from Koschei’s lake.”

“Exactly,” Feyre said. “You would meet with Jurian officially to discuss the politics of the human lands. Unofficially, you will act as a way of communication between us and Jurian to discuss how to free Vassa and fight Koschei. You would also report to Julian on what you see at the lake.”

Gwyn seemed to mull over the offer from Feyre and Rhysand, contemplating the different angles and risks. From behind Rhysand, a shadow moved slightly, catching her attention.

With a glance at Rhysand, Feyre once again told Gwyn, “You do not have to take this mission. There are others we can send. We only thought of offering the mission to you first, before anyone else.”

Gwyn dragged her eyes away from the unmoving shadow playing tricks on her mind before speaking clearly. “I will take this mission. What are the next steps, when will I leave?”

Rhysand smiled kindly at Gwyn before handing her a small stack of paper. “This is all the research and information we have on Koschei. I’d like you to begin reading this today. Tomorrow morning you meet with Azriel who will prepare you for the spying portion of your mission. Tomorrow afternoon you will meet with Lucien who will prepare you for your emissarial role.”

“And when will I leave for the human lands?” Gwyn asked.

Rhysand seemed to falter. Next to him, Feyre’s lips pushed together in displeasure.

“Your departure time has not yet been determined,” Rhys ventured, one hand lifting to scratch at the back of his neck. “It depends on when Lucien is…” Rhys trailed off, unable to find the words.

“When Lucien becomes unavailable you will be sent off,” Feyre finished for her husband. “We will let you know immediately when the time comes.”

“Thank you, High Lord, High Lady,” Gwyn said, bowing at the pair. “I will not disappoint you.”

Feyre smiled softly, rising from her chair. “Please Gwyn, I have told you numerous times now to call me Feyre.” Gwyn nodded softly as Feyre snapped her fingers. “That reminds me, don’t listen to him if Azriel gives you a tough time regarding this mission, he’s just being overbearing.”

“Azriel?” Gwyn asked, “Why would Azriel be worried about me taking this mission?

“He’s worried about you being on your own,” Rhysand answered. “He isn’t used to sending others in his place. Azriel would prefer to do all the spywork himself if he could.” Rhys finished, rolling his eyes at the last part.

“Oh, well, if you share Azriel’s worries about me being on my own, I could always take Balthazar with me?” Gwyn offered, her head tilted in consideration.

Feyre’s brow furrowed. “Is that the male from the Blood Rite? He helped Nesta and Emerie, correct?” At Gwyn’s nod, Feyre turned to Rhysand.

“I met him briefly at Nesta and Cassian’s mating ceremony,” Rhysand mused. “He seems like a decent male. If you think he is skilled enough to keep up with you, I see no reason for you not to ask him.” At Gwyn's nod, Rhysand stated, “I’ll send word to Lord Devlon asking for Balthazar to come to Velaris.” Rhys offered. “Thank you for the suggestion Gwyn.”

Gwyn smiled at her High Lord and High Lady, before exiting their office. Waiting outside was Azriel. Perched on his shoulder was a shadow, seemingly wriggling right next to his ear.

Gwyn realized a split-second too late that it wasn’t her imagination in Rhysand’s office, Azriel had sent a shadow to spy on her meeting with the High Lord and High Lady.

“Balthazar?” Azriel questioned, his hazel eyes narrowed.

Chapter Text

Elain was sitting in a comfortable chair, facing Lucien from where he was sitting on the couch. For a few moments, neither of them said anything. 

“Feyre told me that the seeds she gave me for my garden were actually from you,” Elain offered, one eyebrow raised delicately. “She said you specifically requested she not tell me that the seeds were from you.” 

Lucien looked entirely unrepentant. “Your sister is a dirty little snitch,” he said, rolling his eyes,  “But yes, I did give Feyre the seeds and ask her to lie about where they came from.” 

“Why?” Elain asked, her brows drawing together. 

“I would’ve thought it obvious,” Lucien admitted. “You couldn’t stand to be around me. Anytime I enter a room, you leave it. You barely opened my solstice gifts, and when you did, it was as though you were choking on the words to thank me.” Lucien’s hands clenched into fists in his lap. “I knew how much you loved to garden. I knew Feyre and Rhysand were moving into the new house, and that you would join them. I thought you would enjoy tending to a garden that you had grown entirely yourself, so I indirectly gave you the seeds.” 

Elain had deflated at his words, the hurt in his voice as he recounted how she had treated him. 

“You make it sound as though you got a few seeds from the market, Lucien.” Elain said, fiddling with her hands in her lap. “You traveled throughout Prythian and got me the most beautiful and coveted seeds from different courts.

Lucien muttered something about killing Feyre with his bare hands. “It wasn’t that big of a deal, Elain. I’m an emissary, I’m used to traveling. I simply picked them up on my travels.” Lucien lied, angry with Feyre for exposing his actions. “I’m sure your beloved Azriel does more romantic things than buy you seeds.” 

They both seemed to remember the necklace at the same time. Elain’s cheeks turned red with embarrassment and Lucien coughed awkwardly, unsure of what to say. 

“Is that all you wanted to discuss?” Lucien said, trying to change the subject. “I highly doubt you came all this way just to ask why I lied about the seeds.” He said, his gaze narrowing on Elain. “Out with it.”

“Out with what?” Elain said a bit too quickly, her slightly squeaky voice betraying her. 

“Out with the true reason you are here.” Lucien said, unimpressed. 

Elain bit her lip, her eyes darting around nervously. Wringing her hands together in her lap, Elain looked to Lucien. “I wanted to apologize for hurting you and explain my actions.” 

Lucien’s lips parted slightly, the only sign of his surprise. 

“It was brought to my attention by Feyre that I have treated you unfairly. That my relationship with Azriel is hurting you, causing you a great deal of pain.” Lucien’s hands tightened into fists, but he said nothing, so Elain continued. “It was never my intent to hurt you in any way, Lucien. You are a good male. I’m sorry for any pain I have caused you.” 

Lucien looked as though he might be sick. “You're not sorry Elain,” Lucien said, shaking his head slightly. “You’re only sorry you got caught.” He laughed quietly, the hollow sound ringing throughout the room. “You said it yourself, you didn’t realize how your actions were hurting me, it was Feyre who had to tell you.” 

Elain opened her mouth to defend herself, but Lucien wasn’t finished. 

“Everyone believes that you are this sweet, simpering sister with no backbone who would never do anything wrong. But I see through you. I see you. You are a female with thoughts, opinions, desires- you make mistakes like everyone else but because your family treats you like a child, you are never forced to take responsibility for your actions.” He looked at Elain, sneering slightly. “I bet you were shocked when Feyre called you out for your actions. I bet you told her it wasn’t her business and when she continued to push, you shut down and then fled.” 

Angry that Lucien’s guesses were spot on, Elain jumped up from where she was sitting and pointed a finger angrily at Lucien, yelling “That’s not fair-” 

Lucien’s gaze held her immobile. “You do not want to speak of fairness to me, little flower,” Lucien said, his voice deceptively calm. “Sit down. You said you wanted to apologize and explain your actions. You have given a half-hearted apology forced from your throat by your sister.” Elain’s scowl deepened, but Lucien simply continued. “Hurry up and explain your actions if you so wish, for I grow tired of our bickering.” 

Elain huffed out a breath, trying to curb the immature urge to stomp her foot like a child. Sitting back down in the chair, Elain struggled with where to begin. 

“Any decision I have ever made for myself has been taken away or ridiculed.” She began, her hands shaking slightly. “Growing up, my mother favored Nesta, my father favored Feyre. I wasn’t ambitious enough for my mother, but I was too much of a lady for my father to feel a connection to me. Because of this, I was left to my own devices for most of my childhood. I found comfort in gardening, which disappointed my parents again for different reasons. My mother thought it unladylike for me to get my hands dirty, my father thought it was boring. I was overlooked by both of them.” Elain’s voice shook. “When my mother died, and my family lost our fortune, I was once again overlooked. Nesta was too angry at my Father to pay attention to me, Feyre was too busy hunting and trying to keep us alive to speak to me, and I was once again left alone.” Elain wiped a stray tear from her eye, embarrassed. “I was once again useless. Neither Feyre nor Nesta asked me to help, they just assumed I was too weak. Rather than try to discover who I was, or what I wanted, I simply let myself become what they already thought of me. Weak, childish, useless Elain whose only interest was her garden.” 

The tears began falling more freely, and wordlessly Lucien offered Elain a handkerchief from the pocket of his pants. As she wiped her tears with it, Elain took comfort in the fact that it smelled deeply of Lucien, of fire and smoke, sunshine and crunchy leaves. He smelled like sunshine on a crisp fall day. 

“When-” Elain wasn’t sure if she could bring herself to say his name. “When he came and took Feyre in the middle of the night, I fell under his spell. I believed Feyre had gone to a distant relative's house, that we were truly saved.” Elain shook her head softly. “I may not be as smart as Nesta, whose sharp mind was able to see through the magic. But even I knew that something wasn’t right.” Her hands unconsciously twisted Lucien’s handkerchief tightly. “In that new house, even with riches and a new garden, I didn't feel safe. The starvation, the poverty, the fear of my old life lingered. So I tried to find safety.” 

Lucien’s eyes glimmered with understanding. “Your betrothed,” he said softly. 

More tears slipped out of Elain’s eyes. “At the time, I thought it was love. Looking back, it seems so obvious. I chose a man who lived in a prison, with iron gates surrounding the estate, guards constantly defending the land and the people, even vicious dogs trained to kill attackers.” She said, shaking her head slightly. “Deep down, I must have known that something was wrong. I felt so scared all the time, the only time I felt even a bit safer was locked away in Grayson’s estate.” Elain swallowed thickly, her ring finger twitching slightly, as if it remembered the engagement ring worn long ago. “Grayson was a good man. I loved the safety he provided, the future he promised. Perhaps with time, I could have come to love him for who he was, not what he offered me.” 

Elain’s gaze turned cold. “But I was never given the chance. Hybern stole Nesta and I away in the middle of the night. I was leered at in my nightgown, guards whispered the things they would do to me when they thought I was asleep.” Elain’s chin wobbled. “All of my nightmares and worst fears about never being truly safe had come true. I was forced into the cauldron, my humanity stolen away, my chosen betrothed stolen away, the future I had chosen for myself, all stolen away.” Elain lifted her gaze up to Lucien. “When I came out of the cauldron, the first thing I felt towards you was gratitude. I remember you covering me with your jacket. I remember you holding me in your arms. I-” Elain seemed to hesitate. “I remember finally feeling safe. Not the fleeting fantasy of safety like I had with Grayson, but a true feeling of safety, of home. I felt like you would never let anything bad ever happen to me again.” 

Lucien’s face was torn between agony and regret. 

“But then you said that I was your mate,” Elain said softly. “It was as though the very universe was laughing at me. The only person I had ever felt truly safe around, thrust upon me, without me having any choice in the matter.” 

Elain curled her arms around herself. 

“I deserve to have a choice. I deserve to have my own say. I deserve to choose who I want to be with, what I want my life to be like.” 

Lucien closed his eyes as if he could shield himself from the truth she would speak next. 

“So I cut you off. I cut our bond off. I mourned my human life, mourned the choices I would never get to make, the human children I would never have, the fact that I would never grow old, the fact that I would never again be human.” 

Elain’s eyes glimmered with regret. “I began associating you with my feelings of loss. You served as a reminder of the life that had been stolen from me, the choices I would never get to make.” 

Lucien’s throat bobbed. 

“It was unfair to you, I know it was. But I was so angry, and after being catatonic for so long my sisters- everyone needed me to be quiet, reliable Elain. I didn’t have the same option as Nesta, to rage and scream and fuck and hate my way through my emotions. I could only bottle the emotions up and endure.” Elain’s hands shook. “And I would do so again for my sisters. Nesta needed me to no longer be at the precipice of breaking down so that she could work through her own trauma, and so I became that for her. I took all of my discomfort and anger and pushed it towards how I felt about you, and left it at that.”  

A tear slid down Lucien’s cheek as Elain spoke his name. 

“Azriel was… unexpected. He was a quiet, calm presence. He did not look at me as though I was a child, he simply sat with me and allowed me to exist. I could breathe in his presence. He did not walk on eggshells around me, simply because he didn’t do much at all around me. He didn’t talk, or question, or leer. He simply… was. And I- I found it again. Like a small kernel of what I felt when you held me in your arms at Hybern. That safety. Azriel is so dangerous, so deadly, and his shadows alert him before threats arrive, that I felt safe with him.”

Elain’s eyes darted up to Lucien before returning to the floor, as if she knew how much her next words would hurt him. 

“And he was my choice. There is no magical bond tying me forever to Azriel, no higher power determining that we were suited for one another. Pursuing a relationship with Azriel was a choice that I made. Every brush of our hands, every glance, every kiss, every embrace, felt like I was taking back control of my fate, like I was regaining autonomy.”

Lucien’s face was unreadable. 

Elain sighed deeply, as if she was unsure whether her words would help or hurt Lucien. 

“It is… different with Azriel. He doesn’t make my heart beat wildly in my chest when our gazes lock. I don’t feel like the world tilts on its axis when I brush hands with him, like it does when I do with you. He doesn’t get under my skin and push me the way you do. Even arguing with you earlier, I felt exhilarated and overwhelmed and out of control.” 

Elain brushed a lock of hair behind her ear, trying to catch Lucien’s gaze. But Lucien’s eyesight was fixed on a spot somewhere behind Elain, as though he was looking straight through her. Though his face was devoid of emotion, agony rippled in his eye. 

Lucien’s voice was little more than a whisper as he said, “Thank you for sharing this with me. I’m sure you know how to find your way out. Please excuse me.” 

Elain simply blinked dumbly at him. “That’s it? You aren’t going to say anything?” 

Lucien’s gaze did not move. “What is there to say, Elain? You have made your decision. You have chosen not to pursue this mating bond. You have chosen Azriel. I will not beg and plead with you to change your mind. You came here to apologize and explain your actions. You have done so. Now please, leave me to my thoughts.” 

Elain twisted the handkerchief tighter in her hands. “I- I have not made a decision yet,” she said softly. “I stand at a crossroads, with two paths in front of me. I have always viewed you” Elain hesitated, “I have always viewed the mating bond as something thrust upon me, another choice I did not have. But I see now that I was wrong. I have a choice. I can choose to reject the mating bond and be with Azriel. Or I can choose to be with you, to accept the mating bond. Being with you is a choice I can make for myself, not something that will be forced upon me.” 

Shock flared in Lucien’s eyes. “What are you asking of me, Elain? I will not bare my heart to you once more only to get it crushed. I will not, I will not do it.” Lucien drew an unsteady breath, the sound rattling. 

Elain’s throat bobbed. Quietly, she spoke. “I know I am being cruel, asking this of you. But I have been honest with you today. I have laid everything out in the open, why I have acted the way I have, my deepest fears, the safety I feel with you, the way you get under my skin like no other. Will you truly not do the same? Will you not share with me how you feel, what you desire?” 

Lucien simply dropped his gaze to his lap, unwilling to speak. 

After a moment, Elain got to her feet. Her voice did not waver as she looked down at Lucien. “Feyre used to tell me stories of Lucien, Emissary and Courtier of the Spring Court. She said that you were devastatingly handsome, with a sharp mind and an even quicker tongue. That you were sarcastic and funny, flirtatious and full of life. She said that you were her best friend. That life had been nothing but cruel and awful to you, yet you still sought out the best in people, the best in yourself. You say that you see through me, but it goes both ways Lucien. I see a male with a large heart, desperate for happiness but too afraid it will get ripped away to fight for it.” Elain seemed to hesitate before whispering. “Too afraid to fight for me , for us .” 

Lucien’s gaze did not lift. 

“Tell me how you feel,” Elain said, her voice full of emotion. “I know I have shut you out. I regret that now more than ever.” Tears slid down her face. “Be frank with me, tell me how you feel before you lose me forever. Do not miss this opportunity because you fear getting hurt.” 

Lucien said nothing, his body taut with tension. 

A silent refusal, Elain realized. She had shut him out so completely, hurt him so thoroughly, that he would not be vulnerable with her again. 

“Very well,” Elain said, standing up slowly. She took a long look at Lucien and began walking towards the exit. 

Her hand had just touched the door knob when Lucien spoke. 

“Do you think I don’t want to fight for you Elain?” He asked, standing up from the couch and walking slowly towards her. “Last night at dinner you asked when I gave up, when I decided to stop fighting for you. The answer is never. I will never, ever give up on you Elain.”

Lucien seemed to hesitate before jumping off the precipice.

“I love you. I love everything about you. I love the way you lift your face up to the sky to soak in every bit of sun. I love that when you bake, somehow you always get a bit of flour on your nose. I have loved you every second, every day, every moment we were together and every moment we were apart. You are the last person I think about before I fall asleep and the first person I think about when I wake up in the morning. I want to share a quiet life with you, one where I may bask in your presence, content with just being near you.”

Stopping a foot in front of Elain, gently grabbing her shoulder to turn her to face him.

“I want to etch the sound of your laughter into my heart, I want to feel your heartbeat against my chest. I want to hold you in my arms. Just once,” Lucien rasped, “That would be enough for me.”

Lucien’s smile was sad, as he brought two fingers up to brush a lock of Elain’s hair behind her ear. “But it isn’t about me, and what I want. It’s about you. it will always be about you.” Lucien’s hand dropped from where he had touched her hair to clutch desperately at his chest, fingers digging into his jacket where his heart lay beneath. The agony was palpable on his face. “I would rather rip out my heart than hurt you, upset you, or make you uncomfortable. I am not giving up on you, Elain. I will never give up on you. I could never give up on you.” 

Tears streamed down Elain’s face as the bond seemed to glow brighter in both their chests. 

“You can break the bond a thousand times, curse my name trice that amount, and I will still love you.” Lucien said softly. “My heart beats for you. My soul yearns for you. I want, more than anything in the world, for you to be happy.”  

Tears began falling from Lucien’s one eye as he felt the bond humming between them, heightened by their emotions. 

“Do you know what my mother taught me, Elain, when I was a young boy?” 

Unable to speak, Elain merely shook her head no. 

“She taught me that true love, real love, unconditional love, is the capacity to love someone not only when they love you, but also to love them when they do not love you back. That is how I love you Elain. I will love you even when you do not love me back. I will love you when you reject the bond, I will love you when you choose to spend your life with Azriel, I will love you until it kills me. You may hate me for it, you may despise me for it, but I will always love you.” 

Elain tried to speak, but the words caught in her chest. 

Lifting Elain’s hand up once more, Lucien kissed her knuckles gently. “I know this is overwhelming. But it is your choice. It will always be your choice. Talk to Azriel. Talk to yourself. Figure out what you want, regardless of how it will affect everyone else. Figure out what makes you happy, Elain, choose it, and then never look back.” 

He smiled sadly down at her. “Even if what you choose is not me, my words will remain true.” 

Gwyn didn’t even look at Azriel as she breezed past him, walking towards the front yard of Feyre and Rhysand’s riverfront house. She had ignored his comment about Balthazar, which only seemed to piss him off more. Gwyn could hear Azriel curse behind her as he began following her through the house. 

“Gwyn? You aren’t even going to answer me?” Azriel seethed behind her, his voice laced with irritation. 

Gwyn pushed the front door open. On the grass a few feet away was Cassian, waiting to fly her back to the House of Wind. Gwyn had asked Rhysand to call Cassian so that she would not have to ride with Azriel. Luckily Cassian was already on his way to the riverfront house to see his favorite nephew, Nyx. 

“Seriously Gwyn? The silent treatment? What are we, five years old?” 

Gwyn stopped suddenly, her abrupt halt causing Azriel to almost run into her. Her back ramrod straight, Gwyn slowly turned to look at Azriel. 

“ You are calling me a child?” Gwyn spat, “ You gave me a necklace that another female had returned to you, you said in front of all our friends and your family that you didn’t even consider me a friend, you demanded to know where I was last night, you spied on my meeting with the High Lord and High Lady, and you didn’t think I could handle this mission.” Each ‘ you’ was emphasized by Gwyn poking his chest roughly with her finger. 

“If anyone is the child here, Shadowsinger, it is you.” Gwyn’s eyes shone with unshed tears. “Not only did you hurt me but you did so in front of everyone we know. You humiliated me,” she said, blinking rapidly to dispel her unshed tears. “I tried to pretend like it didn’t bother me, but it did.” 

Azriel’s shadows were darting back and forth between Gwyn and Azriel, as if unsure who to comfort. A few feet away, Cassian seemed similarly torn, his gaze darting back and forth between the Shadowsinger and the Valkyrie. 

Azriel’s hands were clenched in fists. “I didn’t mean what I said-” 

Gwyn laughed hollowly. “But you said it.” She looked up towards the sky, her eyes closing as she tried to summon patience. 

“Do you know that I thought I would never have a male friend, ever?” Gwyn said, softly. “There were times in the library where I thought I would never emerge. I thought I would never see the sky again. I thought I would never be able to tolerate another male’s presence without being terrified. I felt as though my trauma was too severe, too damaging to ever overcome.” 

The tears finally began falling. “And then I met Nesta. And she was a bitch. But she pushed me, she encouraged me, and she became my friend. It is because of her and because of me that I decided to train.” Gwyn angrily wiped away the tears, furious at letting her emotions rule over her. “I met Emerie. I met Cassian. You joined us in training. Slowly, so- so slowly I began to open up. I befriended Nesta. I befriended Emerie. I befriended Cassian.” 

Regret flashed in Azriel’s eyes. 

“I even fooled myself into thinking that I befriended you.” Gwyn laughed at herself. “I was an idiot to think that you were anything more than an instructor, an acquaintance.”

“You’re wrong,” Azriel said, his voice thundering. “I do like you. You are my friend. Out of all the Valkyries, you’re my favorite. Hell, maybe out of all my friends you’re my favorite.” 

A few feet away Cassian made an affronted noise. Neither Gwyn nor Azriel turned to look at him. 

“I look forward to training everyday just to see your smile, to hear your contagious laughter. The way you stare down obstacles as if they have personally offended you never fails to make me smile.” As his word’s caught up with him, Azriel seemed to realize the vulnerability of his words, his gaze flitting to Cassian then back to Gwyn. 

Clearing his throat, Azriel continued. “What I said last night was wrong. I do consider you my friend- you are my friend. I let my fear of upsetting Elain drive me to say something that I did not mean. It was a terrible thing to say, especially in front of everyone else.”  

Azriel looked at Gwyn who was studiously avoiding his gaze, her arms still crossed in a defensive stance. The tears on her cheeks had yet to dry. Azriel’s hands itched to reach up and brush them away. To grab her face and force her to look into his eyes. To read the sincerity locked in his gaze. 

Instead, Azriel merely flexed his hands, once, twice. 

“I know you don’t want to hear my apology right now, but here it is anyway. Gwyn, I am so deeply sorry. My words and actions were inexcusable.” 

He lowered his voice, stepping closer to Gwyn. “You have been my friend since that day in training when you discovered Cassian and I had known Valkyries and let out that ungodly excited squealing noise. It was so high pitched I’m surprised my ears picked up on it.” 

Azriel could have sworn her lips twitched upwards, but still, Gwyn did not look at him. 

“Perhaps you have been my friend from the moment I stepped into the ring with Cassian and began training all of you. I’m sorry that my words and actions have made you doubt me. I don’t often admit to my mistakes, but this-” Azriel gestured between the two of them, “Is something I intend to remedy. I intend to fix the damage I have caused.” 

His shadows seemed to still, as if in preparation for Azriel’s next words. “I vow it.” 

Gwyn hadn’t responded to Azriel’s declaration. Merely looked up at him with hopeful, yet distrusting eyes. He had hurt her, and mere words would not fix the damage he had caused. 

As Cassian flew back to the House of Wind, with Gwyn in his arms, Azriel tried to determine the best way to repair his relationship with Gwyn. Unsure of how to do that and full of regret for his actions, Azriel decided to do something more productive, like picking a fight with his High Lord and High Lady, whose decisions he had not soon forgotten. 

They seemed to be waiting for him in the office where they had spoken to Gwyn, as if they knew he would return, ready to argue.

“You specifically said that Emerie wasn’t fit for the mission because she has wings, but now you’re sending fucking Balthazar with Gwyn?” Azriel accused, his voice low with anger. “It makes no fucking sense.” 

“Did I?” Rhysand drawled, unfazed, as he pulled an invisible piece of lint off his jacket. “That doesn’t sound like me at all.” 

“No it doesn’t,” agreed Feyre from where she sat next to her husband. “Rhysand is powerful enough to conceal certain fae features, including wings. It doesn’t make much sense that we would write off Emerie for a mission if there was such a simple solution, now does it Azriel?” Feyre asked, her eyes gleaming with mischief. 

“You two are un-fucking-believable” Azriel said, pointing his finger back and forth between the pair. If anything, his actions seemed to amuse Feyre and Rhysand more. 

“Once I figure out what the both of you are up to, there’ll be hell to pay,” Azriel swore, lowering his finger. “Just as soon as I-” 

But both Feyre and Rhysand’s heads had already whipped towards the door. Azriel smelled her jasmine scent along with the salt of her tears before Elain opened the door. She had been crying. 

“I-” Elain faltered, realizing that Feyre was not alone in the office. 

“Are you okay Elain?” Feyre asked softly. 

Elain swallowed heavily. “I-” Her eyes darted to Rhysand, then to Azriel. She looked back at Feyre. “I didn’t mean to interrupt. When you are finished talking with Azriel, could we talk?” 

Chapter Text

Elain hadn’t had to wait long before Feyre joined her in her bedroom. Unlike every other room of the riverfront estate, Elain’s bedroom was painted an array of soft yellows and oranges. On one wall was the sun in all its blazing glory, courtesy of Feyre. When Elain had shyly requested Feyre paint the sun, a strange look had crossed her sister's face, but Feyre hadn’t offered an explanation and Elain hadn’t asked. Instead, every morning Elain woke up and brushed her hand against the beautiful painting, taking solace in the sun. 

“Do you want me to get Nesta?” Feyre offered, after she and Elain had sat in a few moments of silence. 

Elain’s bit down on her instinctive no , not wanting to bother her older sister. But the truth was that Elain wanted both Feyre and Nesta there. She wanted the comfort only her family could provide. 

Nodding slightly, Elain looked down to her lap, to the object she still held tightly in her hands. Lucien’s handkerchief. Elain had been so overwhelmed during the end of their conversation that she had forgotten to return it to him, instead she had carried it with her throughout her entire walk from his apartment to the riverfront estate. 

So many thoughts were racing through her head. 

I will never, ever give up on you Elain.  

I will love you even when you do not love me back. 

Figure out what you want, regardless of how it will affect everyone else. Figure out what makes you happy, Elain, choose it, and then never look back.

Elain didn’t know how to choose. Her entire life, choices had been made for her. The choices that Elain had made were either ridiculed or taken away. Her gardening, her desire to be a wife and a mother, her desire for a small quiet life had all been ridiculed. Elain had chosen Graysen, had chosen to offer her help in scrying for the Dread Trove, had chosen to kiss Azriel on solstice, all decisions she had made that were taken away or belittled by others. 

Lucien had been the first person to not only tell her to choose, but to promise to honor whatever choice she made. 

Even if what you choose is not me, my words will remain true. 

Elain heard Nesta walk into the room, felt her sit quietly on the bed beside Elain. Dropping the handkerchief, Elain reached out both of her hands, her right gripping Feyre’s tattooed hand, her wedding ring glistening in the soft light of the room. Elain’s left hand reached out and grabbed Nesta’s hand, the friendship bracelet tied around her wrist. Elain looked to her lap where Lucien’s handkerchief lay. Then her eyes lifted to the drawer of her desk where a small handwritten note lay. Elain had kept that note since her first solstice in the Night Court. Azriel’s handwriting was slanted, his scrawl messy. 

Thank you for the headache powder. 

- Azriel

Also stashed away within her desk were the three journals Elain had received from Lucien, detailing how to break the bond. The very sight of them made her sick, so last night she had locked them away in her desk. 

Elain considered the choice she would have to make. She remembered Feyre’s words from the night before. You have five days to make a choice. 

But sitting here, with her sisters next to her, Elain decided to avoid the inevitable a little longer. Despite the fact that it couldn’t have been later than five or six o’clock in the afternoon, Elain lifted her head to her sisters. 

“Will you stay with me?” She asked quietly. 

Neither Nesta nor Feyre said anything, they simply climbed into bed with Elain squished in the middle. Just as they had in that old shack, just as they had during the war with Hybern, the three sisters slept through the night, content with holding one another. 

To Azriel’s great displeasure, Balthazar had agreed to the mission with Gwyn. The next morning, Azriel found himself training both Gwyn and Balthazar, the two cracking jokes and constantly chatting even during warm-up and weapons maneuvering. 

When Azriel’s shadow eavesdropped on Gwyn’s conversation with Rhysand and Feyre, Rhys had mentioned meeting Balthazar at Cassian and Nesta’s mating ceremony. Azriel cursed himself for not noticing that Gwyn and Balthazar had become fast friends.  

Determined to bring focus back to training and cut the chatter, Azriel ordered the two to spar just as Cassian emerged from the House. Walking over to Azriel, Cassian watched silently as Gwyn and Balthazar walked over to the weapons station. Gwyn chose two small weighted daggers while Balthazar only took one, admitting that his strength lay in traditional sword fighting or archery.

Gwyn, who had yet to master the Illyrian Bow, excitedly asked if he would give her pointers after their training. Balthazar’s mouth twisted into a mischievous grin, teasing that he would give Gwyn more than just pointers if she’d only ask politely . 

As Gwyn blushed bright red, Cassian glanced at his brother. Though his face was expressionless, murder shone in Azriel’s hazel eyes. Azriel tried not to think about why Balthazar's flirting with Gwyn upset him so much. 

“Begin” was all the Spymaster said. 

Within an instant Gwyn’s demeanor changed. Gone was the relaxed female content to make jokes with Balthazar and blush at his innuendos. Instead, a fierce warrior stood in her place, a sight to behold. Gwyn was lithe and quick, her eyes seizing up her adversary, blessed with the uncanny ability to predict the moves of her opponent before they so much as twitched. 

But Balthazar was a worthy contender, an Illyrian soldier who had trained for decades before being allowed to partake in the Blood Rite. For a few minutes, the two danced around each other, exchanging blows, trying to goad the other into making a mistake. 

After receiving a well-placed kick to the chest from Gwyn, Balthazar’s eyes narrowed on the female in front of him, his free hand rising to ghost over his aching ribs. Across from him, Gwyn twirled her knives in her hands, her body betraying no sign that she was tired, or even slightly winded. 

From outside the circle, Azriels arms were crossed, his shadows moving back and forth, betraying his frustration. 

“C’mon Berdara,” Cassian called out, his voice teasing. “Quit playing with your food.” 

A moment later Azriel spoke. “Finish it,” He instructed, his narrow eyes on Gwyn.  

Balthazar didn’t dare move his eyes towards Azriel to see what the Shadowsinger was talking about. Thus far, he and Gwyn had been evenly matched in their sparring, despite the fact that Balthazar wasn’t as good at hand to hand combat as he was sword fighting. 

In front of him, Gwyn twirled the knife in her grasp, swinging towards Balthazar with her right hand. Instinctively raising his empty hand to grab at her wrist to stop her blow, Balthazar realized a second too late that Gwyn was left-handed. Turning in his grip, she twisted her body so that her back was to his chest, and using both hands she yanked him forward- in one smooth motion Gwyn had hauled him over her shoulder and body slammed him into the ground below. 

The wind thoroughly knocked out of him, Balthazar could only gasp like a fish out of water as Gwyn held a knife to his throat, one of her knees resting on his chest, thoroughly pinning him. Somewhere in the background, Cassian was making a loud whooping cheer. 

Finally catching his breath, Balthazar spoke. “You were humoring me,” he wheezed, “How long ago could you have ended the fight?” Instead of looking pissed off that Gwyn had bested him, Balthazar only looked impressed, perhaps a bit put-out.  

Laughing slightly, Gwyn pulled back, offering Balthazar a hand to stand up. “Probably a few minutes ago,” she admitted, pulling him up. “You're a good fighter, but it’s clear that you're more used to traditional illyrian sword fighting than hand to hand combat.” 

Azriel declared practice over, his eyes narrowing on where Balthazar stood, too close to Gwyn for his liking. Gwyn simply shrugged in agreement, and walked across the room over to the water station table, while Balthazar wandered over towards Azriel and Cassian, asking the latter for feedback on his sparring. 

As Cassian began telling Balthazar what he could’ve done differently, Azriel simply watched Gwyn at the watering table. She was a sight to behold. A strong warrior, but also a beautiful female. Even from across the training yard, Azriel could see the freckles decorating her otherwise unmarred skin. Her face was serious, no sign of her beautiful smile or contagious laughter. Azriel found he missed it. She had entered the training yard not a minute before practice began, robbing Azriel of the opportunity to talk to her.

Azriel found himself missing that the most. Before he had messed up so terribly, Gwyn would take every opportunity to speak to Azriel. She would ask him bizarre questions like if he dreamed in black and white or in color, if he had a favorite shadow, and what type of desert he liked least (he dreams in black and white, his favorite shadow is the one that constantly watches Gwyn (though he hadn't mentioned that) and the desert he likes the least are macaroons). It was bizarre. Azriel couldn't remember ever talking to someone that much, even his family. Most people avoided talking to Azriel. Even his conversations with Elain were short, the thrill of being caught extinguishing any opportunity for true discussion. But talking to Gwyn was easy. Now that it was gone, Azriel felt the loss like a gaping hole in his chest. 

“So… how long have you and Gwyn been a thing?” Balthazar asked casually, his question yanking Azriel from his thoughts. 

Both Cassian and Azriel whipped their heads around to look at Balthazar. 

“What did you say?” Azriel demanded, convinced he’d misheard. 

Cassian eyes bounced back and forth between Balthazar and Azriel, as though contemplating whether or not he should jump in between the two Illyrians to protect Balthazar from Azriel’s wrath. 

Balthazar didn’t seem to notice Azriel’s tone. 

“I’m not an idiot,” Balthazar said, shrugging slightly. “Your eyes are constantly tracking her, and even when you aren’t looking at her, your shadows are.” 

Caught red-handed, Azriel's favorite shadow that had been watching Gwyn whipped around in embarrassment. 

Balthazar looked from the shadow to Azriel, back to the shadow, then back to Azriel. When neither seemed inclined to speak, Balthazar continued. 

“If it’s supposed to be some big secret, you guys aren’t very good at hiding it,” Balthazar said, trying not to offend Azriel. “You watch her almost as much as she watches you.” 

Azriel’s wide eyes looked to Cassian for confirmation. Cassian, the wretch, just shrugged his shoulders, his lips pressed together in an attempt to hide his laughter.

“I’m confused,” Balthazar said, reaching up to scratch at his neck. “Are you guys not together?” 

Cassian’s eyes darted between Azriel and Balthazar. Finally he answered, “No, they are not.” 

Balthazar looked to Azriel for confirmation. 

“You are mistaken,” Azriel grit out, his eyes promising murder. “Gwyn doesn’t see me like that.” 

Balthazar made a disbelieving noise. 

“Some Spymaster you are,” Balthazar said, crossing his arms. “Anyone with eyes can see that Gwyn likes you, almost as much as you like her--”

Cassian began laughing at the constipated look on Azriel’s face. 

“--You don’t even see what’s in front of you.” Balthazar finished. “Perhaps I should talk to Rhysand about being made Spymaster instead, since your skills of perception are so poor.” 

Cassian roared with laughter, only to receive a quick kick to the shins from Azriel. Swearing loudly, Cassian stepped out of kicking-range. 

“You know not of what you speak-” Azriel began, halting as he spotted Gwyn crossing the training area, walking toward the three men. 

“Hello Gwynnie,” Cassian said with glee, glancing at Azriel. “We were just- OW” 

Cassian, it seemed, was in fact still within Azriel’s kicking range. 

Gwyn didn’t so much as blink. “I brought water,” she said brightly, holding four cups of water in her two hands. She handed one cup to Balthazar, one to Cassian, before offering one to Azriel. 

Azriel’s fingers had just brushed the cup when it fell to the floor.

“Oh,” Gwyn said, her eyes widening in surprise. “I’m so clumsy. Here, you can have mine. I’ll grab another.” 

Azriel reached for the fourth and final water cup that Gwyn was holding, when she suddenly turned the cup to the side, slowly pouring the water onto Azriel’s boots. 

Cassian and Balthazar’s mouths dropped open. 

Gwyn only smiled sweetly at him as the water slowly trickled out of the cup. 

“Oops,” was all she said. 

Azriel’s eyes narrowed, but he said nothing. The only sound in the training yard was the water hitting the floor. 

When the cup was empty, Gwyn stretched her hand out farther, offering him the now empty cup. Heaving a sigh, Azriel took the cup without complaint. 

Cassian and Balthazar exchanged a look that seemed to say, should we do something?

“Gwyn?” A voice called from down the hall. “It’s time for emissary lessons-” Lucien Vanserra’s voice cut off as he turned the corner, spotting the four warriors. 

Balthazar stood a bit straighter as Lucien walked towards them.  

“Hello, Gwyn,” Lucien grinned as he began walking towards them. Stopping between Cassian and the Valkyrie, Lucien’s eyes spotted the large puddle Azriel was standing in. Looking from the empty cup in Azriel’s hand to the puddle on the floor, Lucien raised an eyebrow. 

“Did you… did you miss your mouth?” Lucien asked carefully, the corner of his lips lifting slightly. 

“Something like that,” Azriel muttered. 

Lucien’s eyebrows lifted, but ultimately he turned towards Gwyn. “I’m here to pick you up for emissary lessons,” Lucien said, pulling something out of his pocket. “And to return something I’m sure you missed dearly.” 

“My bracelet!” Gwyn gasped, her face lighting up. “I was looking for it last night, I couldn’t figure out where I must have dropped it, thank you so much!” 

Lucien waved her off with a lazy hand. “I found it on the floor of my bedroom after you left yesterday morning,” Lucien said, “It must’ve fallen off.” 

Cassian made a small noise in the back of his throat, while Balthazar looked as though he’d finally figured out a particularly difficult puzzle. 

The cup in Azriel's hand was crushed in his tight grip.

“Balthazar, you’re just there for backup, I don’t believe you will be joining us in emissary lessons, correct?” Gwyn inquired, looking at her friend. 

“I’ll only be backup, there to observe, not partake.” Balthazar agreed, glancing at Cassian. “I’m supposed to be shadowing you and Nesta when you meet Eris Vanserra today, correct?” 

Cassian nodded in agreement, saying that they’d be leaving within the hour. 

Lucien had winced at the name of his eldest brother, and wished Balthazar and Cassian both luck before walking out of the training yard with Gwyn at his side. 

“Is that why you and Gwyn aren’t together?” Balthazar asked curiously. 

Azriel’s answering snarl echoed across the courtyard.

Chapter Text

The sun warmed her back on the little hill where Elain was sitting quietly. Her Father’s headstone was a familiar sight that brought Elain comfort. She needed all the familiarity and comfort she could get for the impossible task ahead of her. 

When she had woken up that morning, squished between her sisters, for a moment Elain had thought that everything had been a dream. Perhaps she would open her eyes and they would be back in that run down shack, their Father asleep in the other room on his cot by the fire, and any minute Feyre would crawl out of bed to go hunting. 

But then Elain had opened her eyes to see Feyre’s painting of the sun. 

Despite her sister’s adamant assurances that they would be impartial if Elain wanted to talk, Elain had insisted that she needed to be alone with her thoughts. Nesta had begrudgingly agreed, saying that she and Cassian were taking Balthazar (a name Elain vaguely recognized) to their meeting with Eris Vanserra in the early afternoon, and that she had a few errands to run beforehand. Feyre, who was teaching a morning art class, agreed to leave Elain to her own devices. 

Elain had walked throughout Velaris, taking in the sights of the beautiful city as she contemplated the life-altering choice she had to make. Sitting on the soft grass in front of her Father’s headstone, Elain reached into the pocket of her dress to pull out two smooth stones, one a deep blue so dark it almost looked black and the other a beautiful amber, glowing like firelight in the sun. 

Taking a deep breath, Elain began contemplating the choice in front of her.

Balthazar was quickly growing on Cassian. He was a good fighter, a decent male, and the speed at which he got under Azriel’s skin earlier that morning in the training ring was a sight to behold. 

Even before Cassian, Nesta, and Balthazar winnowed to Spring to meet with Eris at the Autumn border, Cassian had planned to befriend the Illyrian, if only to piss Azriel off. 

Now though, Cassian was ready to demand that Rhysand offer Balthazar a permanent position in Velaris. Cassian had a feeling that showing Rhysand his memory would be more than enough to sway the High Lord. 

Both Cassian and Nesta were getting a sick sense of satisfaction watching Eris Vanserra squirm because of an Illyrian brute.  

“Nothing to report on my end- stop that,” Eris snapped, taking a step away from Balthazar. Flames were glowing in his eyes as he snarled, “Do not touch me.” 

But the Illyrian continued circling Eris, the way a predator circled injured prey. From the moment Eris had winnowed in, Balthazar’s eyes had lit up with mischief and lust. Clearly Rhysand’s instructions to, “stay quiet and merely observe” had been forgotten.

For the first time in his life perhaps, Eris had met someone that was entirely indifferent to the threat he posed. Balthazar seemed content in simply pissing Eris off, uncaring of the fact that Eris could fry the Illyrian with a snap of his fingers. If anything, it seemed Balthazar was purposefully goading Eris.

“You can do the touching if you want,” Balthazar teased, his eyes slowly drinking in every inch of Eris. “But if I’m being honest with you Princess, you strike me more as the type to lay there and let others worship you.” 

Cassian’s jaw dropped as Eris’s cheeks turned red. He glanced over at Nesta who was similarly shocked. 

“Do not call me that,” Eris growled, trying to regain control of the situation. “I am a prince ,” he emphasized. “Not a princess- I said do not touch me ,” Eris snarled, swatting at Balthazar’s hand from where the Illyrian had reached up to touch at the red hair curling at the nape of his neck. Balthazar’s fingertips had ‘accidentally’ grazed the sensitive skin of Eris’ nape. 

To Eris’ horror, Balthazar’s grin only deepened at the goosebumps that had emerged on Eris’s neck, proof that the Illyrian’s touch had affected the future High Lord of Autumn. 

Eris took a step away from Balthazar and pointed a shaky finger towards Nesta. 

“Control your dogs,” he demanded, glancing at Balthazar. “And next time, do not bring that one.” Without another word, Eris winnowed away. 

Cassian and Nesta were speechless, gaping at Balthazar as though the Illyrian had grown a second head. Balthazar, who was still looking at where Eris had been standing mere moments ago, lifted his gaze to Nesta and Cassian. 

“He’s a lot cuter than you said he’d be.” Balthazar mused. 

Azriel had been standing at the punching block for hours. His knuckles hurt from where he had repeatedly hit the padded block of wood, but Azriel paid no heed to the pain. 

Instead, he could hear Lucien’s voice echoing in his head. 

I found it on the floor of my bedroom after you left yesterday morning. 

Punch. 

I found it on the floor of my bedroom after you left yesterday morning. 

Punch. 

I found it on the floor of my bedroom after you left yesterday morning. 

Punch. 

I found it on the floor of my bedroom after you left yesterday morning. 

Punch. 

Azriel had stayed in the training yard long after Gwyn and Lucien walked away, long after Nesta showed up to leave with Cassian and Balthazar for Spring, long after the puddle of spilled water had dried up- though Azriel’s shoes and socks were still damp. Exhaustion weighed on his bones, but unlike normally, it was not enough to block the tide of Azriel’s emotions. 

He could feel the darkness calling to him. As though he was standing on the edge of a very large, very dark precipice. Gravity was pulling him closer to the edge. It was inevitable that he would fall into that despair. Determined not to be with anyone when he was pulled in, Azriel took to the skies. 

Tucked away in the northernmost part of the Illyrian Mountains once stood a small village. Though most of the buildings had been burned to nothing when Azriel took his revenge, one building remained. Higher up on the mountain looking down at the rest stood a modest house. It was a dreary looking building, perhaps a bit plain, but the sight of it alone turned Azriel’s blood to ice within his veins. For beneath the plain and dreary exterior, Azriel knew of the horrors that lay within. 

Specifically a dungeon, buried underground where no light ever touched. A dungeon that Azriel had been subjected to for the first twelve years of his life. 

A dungeon full of memories. A dungeon of his nightmares. 

Stepping through the threshold, Azriel walked through the abandoned building. The inside was barren. No furniture, decorations, nor any other signs of life remained, though it made no difference to Azriel. He had not been allowed outside the dungeon, he had never witnessed what the inside of the house looked like when it was full of life. 

The door to the basement was ajar. Azriel had to crouch to get under the frame of the door, each step down into the cold earth like a blow to his chest. Stepping off the final stair, Azriel walked across the basement towards the metal door. Lifting a scarred hand, Azriel dragged the door to the dungeon open before stepping inside. 

Elain had sat on that hillside for hours, contemplating the two wonderful males in her life. One that Elain had accepted and welcomed, the other one whom she had ignored and neglected. 

Azriel and Lucien. Lucien and Azriel. 

Elain had more experience with Azriel. They had shared heated glances, stolen kisses, and on one memorable occasion, Azriel had found her walking in downtown Velaris on her way to help with a neighbor's garden. Elain recalled her basket of gardening supplies spilling onto the ground as Azriel pulled her into the alleyway, his shadows concealing them when Azriel fell to his knees, worshiping Elain with his fingers and tongue. 

Even thinking about it now made Elain shudder. 

Yet, her relationship with Azriel was incomplete. They never talked, never went on dates. Azriel and Elain didn’t discuss their past, they had never once talked about the future. Elain didn’t know if Azriel loved her, she didn’t know if she loved Azriel. They just simply didn’t know each other well enough to make those declarations. 

They were intrinsically different. Elain was sunshine, Azriel was darkness. Elain was light, Azriel was shadow. They were opposites in everything. Elain wanted a quiet, happy life filled with children and laughter, far from politics and responsibility. Azriel was a high-ranking member of the most dangerous court in Prythian, content working for Rhysand as a spymaster, doing terrible things to keep Velaris safe. 

Elain could understand it, respected it, but she didn’t want to know about it. Didn’t want to hear about the actions Azriel had committed, the blood on his hands. Elain had seen enough violence to last a lifetime. She wanted a life free of violence. Could she truly share a future, share a life with Azriel if she didn’t want to know about the work he did when he was away? 

Would that be fair to Azriel? Everyone deserves to be with someone who fully saw and accepted them, without limitations. She couldn’t be that person for Azriel. It would be selfish of her to hold onto Azriel for her own happiness, while forcing him to hide aspects of his true self. 

With a swallow, Elain looked down at the deep blue stone. It seemed to dim, despite the glow of the sun. 

The dungeon smelled like Azriel’s nightmares. Or perhaps Azriel’s nightmares smelled of the dungeon. 

Blood and oil and fire accosted Azriel’s nostrils, the stench suffocating. Azriel wasn’t sure if the smell was real or if it was memory.

Either way, it was unbearable. Azriel’s shadows skittered, displeased with returning to their birthplace. Oftentimes Azriel wondered if like him, the shadows had been born in this dungeon. If, like Azriel, they loathed this place. 

Walking to the furthermost wall, Azriel slowly slid downwards, until he sat on the cold, unforgiving ground. The concrete wall felt like frozen ice on his sensitive wings, yet Azriel welcomed the pain. It grounded him. If Azriel drifted too far, he wouldn’t be able to distinguish past from present in this dungeon. 

So instead, Azriel pressed harder into the wall, the cold making his jaw clench. Like in the training yard, the darkness once again called to Azriel. The precipice was closer now, mere inches from his feet. Instead of fighting against it, Azriel leaned into the despair, into the darkness. Azriel welcomed the pain like an old friend, felt its cold caress like that of a lover. 

Closing his eyes, Azriel pictured falling into that precipice. 

Elain turned her gaze from the dark stone towards the amber stone. In the afternoon sun, it seemed to glow like pure fire. 

Elain contemplated her mate.

Her mate, who had suffered so much in his life. Her mate, who was abused by so many. Beron, his brothers, Amarantha, Tamlin, Ianthe. They had all tried to destroy him. Her mate, who had been physically disfigured, sexually assaulted, beaten, broken, and abandoned, yet was still kind and patient and understanding. 

Like Elain, Lucien had lost his first love. Like Elain, Lucien was overlooked by his siblings and parents, undervalued or forgotten. Like Elain, Lucien struggled with a sense of belonging, a sense of identity. Like Elain, Lucien could see that which other people could not. Lucien’s mechanical eye held a special magic, able to see past glamors, spells, and enchantments. Elain’s seer abilities granted her similar gifts, able to see pieces of the past, present, and future intertwined. 

Her mate, like Elain, yearned for acceptance, for family, for happiness. 

They were mirrors, Elain realized. Not just equals in power, but mirrors in life. Elain’s pain was something Lucien could empathize with and understand. It was why he had given her space after she was turned into fae, because he believed she needed time and space to heal without a male breathing down her neck. It was why he had stayed away even though his instincts must’ve screamed mine, my mate, over and over again. He gave Elain space to heal, but once she had, he had refused to coddle her or let her walk all over him. Lucien saw past Elain’s sweet and docile mask to the true Elain, the one with opinions and thoughts and a temper. 

Her mate, who pushed her, challenged her, and excited her. 

Her mate, who made Elain feel human again, made her feel alive. 

Lucien, her mate, who was willing to free Elain from their mating bond if he believed it would bring her happiness. 

He was willing to endure rejection if it was what Elain wanted. 

Her choice. It had always been her choice.  

Elain’s hand shook slightly as she picked up the amber stone, slipping it into her pocket. The stone was warm to the touch, soothing like the sun's rays. 

Azriel was drowning in memories. 

Mor’s tearful confession that she could never return Azriel’s affections, that she preferred females. That she was sorry to have wasted five centuries of Azriel’s life, that she knew the entire time how he yearned for her love. That she had never told Azriel the truth, because she was selfishly content with the way things were. 

Five centuries worth of seeing Mor climb into bed with every male that hadn’t been Azriel. 

Five centuries worth of choking on the feeling of unworthiness. 

Five centuries of trying to understand, of looking in the mirror and trying to figure out what Mor saw and disliked. 

For five centuries Mor had known how deeply Azriel cared for her, had known how much it hurt him to see her choose others over him. She knew how much her actions hurt Azriel, but she hadn’t wanted things to change. She chose her own comfort over Azriel’s emotions. It gutted him. 

Elain’s face dripping with tears as she demanded, “How long have you been carrying these around? How long have you been ready to just give up?” It was clear to everyone that Elain was horrified that Lucien was ready to free her from the mating bond. The secret glances, fleeting touches, stolen kisses and secret rendezvous that Elain and Azriel had shared, weren’t worth throwing away a mating bond. 

Azriel had fooled himself. Had tricked himself into believing that he was better for Elain than Lucien. After all, Azriel had figured out that Elain was a seer, Azriel had rescued Elain from Hybern’s camp, Azriel had given Elain Truthteller to kill the King of Hybern with. 

It was Azriel who Elain smiled at and was comfortable around. 

But it was also Azriel who had refused to look at the situation realistically. 

The only reason Azriel knew Elain was a Seer was because when he became a Shadowsinger, Azriel became obsessed with all manner of magical abilities. He had done extensive research during his early years of working for Rhysand on Shadowsingers, Lightsingers, Seers, Daemati and more, making him able to recognize what Elain was. It wasn’t because he was better suited for Elain than Lucien, Azriel just simply had more information. 

When Azriel rescued Elain from Hybern’s camp with Feyre, the only reason Lucien hadn’t is because he was on another continent searching for the missing human Queen Vassa to help them defeat Hybern. 

When Azriel gave Elain Truthteller, it was only possible because Lucien hadn’t yet shown up to the battle. Lucien had been arriving with Elain’s Father and Vassa, bringing reinforcements that saved all their lives. 

The reason Elain was comfortable around Azriel and not Lucien wasn’t because they were meant to be together, it was because Elain despised the mating bond and Azriel represented her freedom of choice. 

All of Azriel’s ‘evidence’ that he and Elain belonged together was weak, and Azriel knew it. 

But the cauldron had blessed three sisters, had mated them to his two brothers. Azriel yearned for happiness, and had believed that Elain was the road to his own. 

In his pursuit for happiness and therefore Elain, Azriel had deeply hurt Gwyn. 

“Clotho agreed to give it to you and say that the necklace was from a friend, her words not mine.” Gwyn’s face slid into an empty mask, her eyes dulling at his words. “I see. Thank you for the necklace Azriel. It was the first gift I ever received and it has brought me joy.” Gwyn tried to smile, despite the misery and disappointment in her eyes.    

“I am not in the habit of sharing my whereabouts with those who do not consider themselves my friend.”

“You gave me the necklace that another female had returned to you, you said in front of all our friends and your family that you didn’t even consider me a friend, you demanded to know where I was last night, you spied on my meeting with the High Lord and High Lady, and you didn’t think I could handle this mission.” 

“Not only did you hurt me but you did so in front of everyone we know. You humiliated me. I tried to pretend like it didn’t bother me, but it did.” 

“Do you know that I thought I would never have a male friend, ever? There were times in the library where I thought I would never emerge. I thought I would never see the sky again. I thought I would never be able to tolerate another male’s presence without being terrified. I felt as though my trauma was too severe, too damaging to ever overcome. And then I met Nesta. And she was a bitch. But she pushed me, she encouraged me, and she became my friend. It is because of her and because of me that I decided to train. I met Emerie. I met Cassian. You joined us in training. Slowly, so- so slowly I began to open up. I befriended Nesta. I befriended Emerie. I befriended Cassian. I even fooled myself into thinking that I befriended you. I was an idiot to think that you were anything more than an instructor, an acquaintance.”

Gwyn had crept up on Azriel. 

At first, he paid no extra attention to the Priestess. Azriel had been there on the worst day of her life in Sangravah, and he was sure she wanted nothing to do with him. 

So Azriel decided to maintain a strictly professional policy. He was at the House of Wind to train the Priestesses, not befriend them, and to chaperone Nesta and Cassian. 

Azriel failed on both accounts. 

He grew to care about all the Valkyries, especially Nesta, Gwyn and Emerie. At first, it was just nice to see Nesta grow out of her despair and create lasting friendships. 

Slowly, it became more. Azriel began looking forward to training, to seeing Gwyn, to hearing her laughter. She was so full of life, so enthralled with the world around her, so excited to learn and become more , Azriel recognized that hunger within Gwyn. It was the same hunger within himself. 

Azriel began researching different training techniques to trip up and challenge Gwyn specifically. Azriel wanted to make her a better fighter and a more skilled warrior, but he also wanted to see Gwyn’s nose scrunch up in a way that meant she was unsure of how to overcome the obstacle in her path. Azriel had been thrilled when Gwyn had asked for private dagger handling sessions, if only so he could spend more time alone with the priestess. 

When Nesta, Emerie, and Gwyn had been taken by the Illyrians and entered into the Blood Rite against their will, Azriel had seriously considered going against Feyre and Rhysand’s order and breaking them out anyway, the consequences be damned. He had pretended to keep a level head for Cassian, who knew his mate was in mortal danger, but Azriel was terrified for his friends. Was terrified for Gwyn. 

Azriel had been a fool. Had almost ruined his friendship with Gwyn for Elain. 

Azriel had been so in love with the idea of Elain, the happiness he imagined she could bring him, that he neglected the woman in front of him that brought Azriel happiness everyday.

Balthazar had seen it, and had called him out on it immediately. 

“So… how long have you and Gwyn been a thing?”

“You watch her almost as much as she watches you.”

“Some Spymaster you are. Anyone with eyes can see that Gwyn likes you, almost as much as you like her. You don’t even see what’s in front of you.” 

Azriel had always assumed that his role in Sangravah would eliminate him from ever being able to have any sort of relationship with Gwyn, platonic or otherwise. But she had befriended him, and if she had befriended him, perhaps one day she would be willing to explore a deeper relationship with Azriel.

But perhaps he was already too late. 

“I found it on the floor of my bedroom after you left yesterday morning.”

After Gwyn and Lucien had left, Balthazar had asked Azriel, 

“Is that why you and Gwyn aren’t together?”

But the truth was, Gwyn and Azriel weren’t together because Azriel had been an idiot. Had been blind to the female in front of him, the female that brought him so much joy. 

His friend. 

His friend that asked Azriel questions others were perhaps too afraid to. 

“Do you sing?” 

His friend that wasn’t afraid to tease him, to challenge him. 

Gwyn’s chin lifted in challenge. “We look forward to proving you wrong.”  

Gwyn threw a withering stare over her shoulder. “See you tomorrow, Shadowsinger” 

His friend that was bold enough to call Azriel on his shit, to pour water on him when she was displeased with him. 

“If anyone is the child here, Shadowsinger, it is you.” 

His friend that, if he was worthy, would perhaps some day be more.

The darkness slowly receded around Azriel, as if pleased by the progress he had made. All at once, his senses were flooded. Azriel’s wings were screaming at the freezing temperature of the wall. His legs hurt from where they were folded underneath him. Azriel’s knuckles ached from where he had taken his aggression out in the training yard only hours before. 

With a pained grunt, Azriel braced a hand against the ice-cold wall and stood up on shaky legs and began walking out of the dungeon and toward Velaris.  

He needed to speak to his brothers. 

Chapter Text

Gwyn and Lucien had spent the entirety of the afternoon going over Emissarial duties, Court Etiquette, and what to expect within the human land. Lucien had spent extra time telling Gwyn all about both Jurian and Vassa, and how to handle them together and separately. He instructed Gwyn very carefully on how to avoid discussing Amarantha or Jurian’s past relationships with Miriam and Clythia. Vassa, Lucien had said, was even more temperamental than Jurian. He told Gwyn not to mention her Kingdom, Koschei, or the other human Queens. Their betrayal was still a gaping wound in Vassa’s heart, one that Gwyn would be wise to avoid mentioning. 

He also told Gwyn of their burgeoning relationship, how Jurian and Vassa spent half their time arguing and the other half of their time fucking. He instructed Gwyn to knock before entering any room, even the kitchen. Lucien winced as he recalled the time he foolishly assumed it would be safe to walk into the kitchen without knocking, only to get an eyeful of his two friends naked on the kitchen table. Lucien refused to eat at that table for a month. Gwyn had laughed and told him it wouldn't be much different than living with Cassian and Nesta in the House of Wind.  

Around dinner time, the two emerged from one of the offices in the House of Wind they had been holed up in all afternoon, and instead went to sit on the open balcony that overlooked Velaris. 

The House of Wind summoned two chairs and a table near the edge. The two lapsed into silence as Gwyn sat back in her chair and closed her eyes, enjoying the feel of the wind across her face. Lucien, looking out at the beautiful view of Velaris, asked the House politely for food and was served immediately. Lucien had just lifted his cup of wine to his lips when Gwyn said, 

“I forgot to tell you that I ran into Elain outside your apartment when I left the other morning.” 

Lucien didn’t seem upset or shocked by this fact, instead merely nodding his head for Gwyn to continue. Gwyn bit her lip. “She was shocked when she saw me come out of your apartment, wearing the same dress as the night before. Then I went to Rhysand and Feyre’s house to discuss this mission, and Azriel noticed as well.” 

Lucien’s smirk was downright diabolical. “It probably didn’t help that I mentioned finding your bracelet in my bedroom either…” 

Gwyn’s mouth dropped open. “You bastard!” She said, grabbing the bread roll from his plate and chucking it at his head. Lucien dodged with ease, laughing loudly. “I knew you were up to no good. Why on earth did you do that?” 

Lucien shrugged. “Besides for the fun of it?” 

Gwyn leveled a withering stare at him. Lucien shrank back a bit. 

“Fine,” He said, rolling his eyes. “Why not let them think we spent the night together? It’s fun seeing them both upset, despite having no ground to stand on.” He muttered something that sounded like ‘dirty hypocrites’ under his breath.

“Azriel seemed upset?” Gwyn asked a bit too quickly, sitting up straighter in her chair. “Did he make a weird face? How could you tell he was any different than his usual brooding self?”

Lucien’s expression was unimpressed. “Seriously Gwyn, pull yourself together.”  

She scowled at him, but withheld her questions. He was right, just because Lucien thought Azriel seemed jealous didn’t mean he was, and it definitely didn’t erase the fact that he was still openly pursuing Elain, or the way that he had treated Gwyn. Gwyn looked at her nails as she recalled his heartfelt apology, the way he vowed to fix his mistake. 

“Wait,” Gwyn said, slouching back in her chair with a knowing look. “You said it’s fun seeing them both upset.” Lucien grinned. 

“Did you speak to Elain?” Gwyn asked curiously. “And if so, what happened?” 

Lucien’s smile was borderline maniacal. Stretching out in his chair, Lucien’s arms came up to rest behind his head, his hands intertwined behind his neck. 

“She was slamming on my door and grilling me with questions not ten minutes after you left,” He said, sounding pleased. “Demanding to know what you were doing at my place and what we talked about.” 

Lucien’s expression turned exasperated. “If I had known all I had to do to get her to notice me was show another female attention I would’ve done it ages ago.” 

Gwyn rolled her eyes. “That sounds healthy.” 

Lucien slanted her a look. “Not all of us get to spend each and every day with our mate in a sweaty arena training. I’ll use any and all the tricks up my sleeve to spend more time with Elain, including stooping so low as to make her jealous.” 

Gwyn rolled her eyes again, but then sobered up. “I’m serious Lucien. Both our mates think something happened between us. Don’t you think we should clarify that we’re just friends?” 

Lucien lifted an eyebrow delicately. “Friends? I would never lower myself to be friends with the likes of you-ouch ouch ouch you brute, keep your pointy boots away from my helpless shins.” Despite his sharp tone Lucien was smiling as he pushed his chair farther away from the table to avoid Gwyn’s kicks, but at the look on her face, his expression sombered. 

Gently, Lucien said, “It’s up to you. I personally don’t see why we should tell them.” 

Gwyn frowned, but Lucien continued. “If they ask, obviously we tell the truth, but for now, what harm is there in letting them think that we are enjoying ourselves? Are they not doing the same?” 

Lucien gave Gwyn a knowing look. “If anything, it’ll open Azriel’s eyes up to the fact that you are available and ready for a relationship like that.” 

Gwyn chewed on her bottom lip, considering his proposal. “Well I suppose as long as we aren’t lying. But what if they do consider being with us, and choose not to say anything because they think the two of us are together?” 

Lucien avoided Gwyn’s gaze. “That won’t be a problem on my end,” he said, picking at the table with his thumb. “IkindasortatoldElainI’dnevergiveuponher.” He mumbled quickly. 

Gwyn scooted forward in her chair. “Sorry, I didn’t catch that last part. Louder and slower please.” 

Lucien heaved a great sigh, before looking up at the ceiling. “I kind of, sort of, told Elain I would never give up on her. Like ever.”   

Gwyn’s jaw dropped, before her hand came up to facepalm her forehead. All she could mutter was, “Oh Lucien.”  

There was another small stretch of silence before- 

“I also told her I loved her.” 

“BY THE CAULDRON-” 

Elain had spent all day sitting by her Father’s grave, considering the implications of the choice she had made. Eventually, she decided the best course of action was to wait to speak with Lucien. 

As much as she wanted to run to her mate and tell him she had chosen him, that she couldn’t wait to start their life together, she knew she owed Azriel an explanation. She cared deeply about Azriel, and he had treated her with nothing but respect and kindness. Elain knew her decision would devastate him. She could only hope that they would still be friends after this. 

By the time Elain got back to the River House, the sun had set and the stars were lighting up the sky, shining brightly on Velaris. Although Nyx was asleep, Elain knew neither Rhysand nor Feyre would be, so she wandered to Rhysand’s office to speak to either her sister or her sister’s husband. When she knocked on the door, only one voice answered her. 

“Come in,” Rhysand’s voice called out. 

Entering the room, Elain looked around for Feyre. 

“She’s up at the House of Wind,” Rhysand said with a roll of his eyes. “Something about Cassian wanting to gossip about Balthazar. Is there something I can help you with?” 

Elain wrinkled her nose, trying to remember who this Balthazar character was. The name was familiar, but she couldn’t picture a face. Shrugging slightly, Elain sat in one of the plush chairs facing the desk. “I wanted to know if you knew where Azriel was.”  

Rhysand’s eyes seemed to dim, his lips thinning. “I see.” 

It was Elain’s turn to roll her eyes. “You know, for someone who preaches equality and champions autonomy, you sure don’t act like it.” 

Rhysand tilted his head slowly, the resemblance of a cat almost eerie. “I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, dear Elain.” 

Elain crossed her arms over her chest. “Well let’s see. You’ve been High Lord of the Night Court for centuries, yet wing-clipping is still rampant in Illyria. Those females are treated terribly by the males, and yet you do nothing to stop it.” 

Rhysand opened his mouth to defend himself, but Elain held up a hand. “I’m not finished. You allow those horrible people to exist in the Court of Nightmares, they have power because you allow them to. You force Mor to go there and interact with her Father, even though the atrocities he committed against her are horrific.” Elain held her hands out in front of her, counting off her complaints. “You lied to Feyre about the baby killing her, letting her sit in ignorance for months. And don’t even get me started on your treatment of Nesta. You and everyone else rightfully condemn Tamlin for locking Feyre up in that house, yet you did the same thing to Nesta at the House of Wind.” 

Rhysand doesn’t say anything, merely tilts his head to the side, gesturing lazily with his hand for Elain to continue. 

Inhaling sharply, Elain says, “You say that you would’ve let Feyre marry Tamlin if it made her happy, yet you forbid Azriel and I to be together, forcing the mating bond down my throat.” She narrows her eyes at her brother-in-law. “It’s hypocritical and ridiculous. So don’t sneer at me when I ask to speak with Azriel, because I can do whatever I want, regardless of the mating bond or not.” 

For a moment, neither of them speak. Elain’s heart beats heavily in her chest, her nerves alight. Part of her can’t believe she spoke to him that way. 

Briefly, Lucien’s face flashes in Elain’s mind. She can hear his voice saying,  

Everyone believes that you are this sweet, simpering sister with no backbone who would never do anything wrong. But I see through you. I see you.

Rhysand inhales sharply, rousing Elain from her thoughts. To her surprise, Rhysand smiles genuinely at her.  

“It’s good to finally see the real you, Elain.” He says kindly. Standing up from his desk, he walks over to the bar cart on the far side of the room. Leaning over slightly, the High Lord of the Night Court pours two generously full glasses, before walking back over to her. Handing one to Elain, he moves to the chair not behind his desk, but to the one next to Elain. Grabbing the back of the chair, Rhysand pulls it until it is facing Elain. Then he speaks. 

“You’re right.” 

Elain blinks dumbly. 

“Not about everything, of course, but about some things. I’ve been struggling for centuries to try to create change in Illyria. Illyrians are an old people, slow to change and quick to violence if they feel forced. Cassian and I have been working together to ban wing-clipping for decades, but there are still cases that slip through the cracks.” He raises his glass and takes a large drink. Swallowing thickly, he says. “But it’s not enough.” 

Breathing deeply, he says, “Another night I’d like for your opinion on Illyria, your advice on what to do.” Elain opens her mouth to respond, but Rhysand lifts his hand to silence her. “But not tonight. For now, I’d like to address your other concerns.” 

Rhysand waits until Elain nods her head, before saying, “I do allow the members of the Court of Nightmares to exist almost independently from myself, so long as they abide by my laws.” Rhysand’s jaw clenches. “They’re all bastards, every single one of them. But they are old. Powerful. When I came to power, I was too young and inexperienced to take them all out. Now, even though it irks me to my very core, I keep them around because of the political service they provide. They are of more use to me alive than dead. They know how to play the game of politics.” Rhysand takes another long sip of his liquor before saying, “As you know Beron and Eris once had a proposed alliance. That is not unique only to Beron. To kill every member of the Court of Nightmares would be a literal political nightmare. The fae that reside within that mountain have connections in all the courts, all throughout Prythian, extending past Prythian and even to the continent.”

Elain gaped a bit. She had no idea just how complicated the political situation within the Night Court was. How precarious the balance. Steeling herself, Elain asked, “And Mor?” 

Eyes flashing with anger, Rhysand says stiffly, “Mor is my cousin, the closest living family I have left. Do not think that I did not offer to kill Keir the moment I discovered what he had done to her. She was the one who requested I refrain from killing him. I agreed, with the condition that his life belongs to her now. When she so chooses, Mor will be free to kill her Father. When and how is entirely up to her.” 

Elain slouched a bit in her chair. She hadn’t known that Rhysand had wanted to kill Mor’s Father, nor that Mor had requested Rhysand not do so. She also didn’t know that Mor had Rhysand’s permission to kill Keir. 

“As for lying to Feyre about her pregnancy, I did so because it was what I was instructed to do by Madja. She has been my healer for decades, and I trust her completely. When I lied to Feyre, it was with every intention of finding a solution to the problem. I never anticipated that she would die. I didn’t accept it. I didn’t feel bad for lying to her, because I believed that by the time she would've found out I would have found a solution.” His shoulders slumped a bit. “Upon reflection, it was wrong. But Madja said not to stress Feyre out, that it would hurt the baby. And-” Rhysand seemed to deflate. “I didn’t want her to sink into the guilt I felt. Our foolish bargain meant that all three of us would die, leaving the Night Court without a leader. I felt so much guilt for leaving my friends and my family and my Court, all because I selfishly couldn’t live without Feyre.” 

Rhysand’s finger played with the rim of the glass. “I know how much Feyre cares for our people. I know how much she loves the members of our court. I know how much she loves you and Nesta.” Looking up at Elain, Rhysand said imploringly. “I know your feelings towards mates and mating bonds are different than mine and Feyre’s. But I couldn’t let Feyre drown in the guilt I knew she would feel. I couldn’t do that to my mate.” 

Elain swallowed uncomfortably. Rather than correct Rhysand, Elain simply said, “And Nesta?” 

Rhysand muttered something that sounded like “By the Mother” and took another large sip of his drink. “Your bitch sister was the bane of my existence. She was self destructive and cruel, lashing out at everyone and hurting those she cared about the most. She was spending my money and drinking and whoring her way through her trauma.” 

Elain’s jaw dropped at the clear hostility in Rhysand’s tone. She pointed a finger at him, “Don’t you dare-” 

Rhysand cut her off completely. “She was just like me.” 

Once again, Elain was speechless. 

Taking a deep breath, Rhysand said, “When my Mother and sister were brutally murdered by Tamlin, his brothers and Father, I went on a rampage. My Father and I traveled to the Spring Court where we avenged my Mother and sister by murdering Tamlin’s entire family. When he found out what we had done, he killed my Father.” Rhys swallowed thickly. “I was orphaned in the span of one day. I had lost my baby sister, my mother, and my father in twenty-four hours. Afterwards, I was a mess. I neglected my duties, I lashed out at Mor, Cassian, and Azriel. I fought, I fucked, I killed, I gambled, and I drank. I did everything and anything to distract myself from the pain in my soul.” 

Rhysand sighed heavily. 

“This went on for about a decade, before Mor, Cassian, and Azriel finally put their foot down. They sat me down one night and told me that if I didn’t get my shit together, they were all going to resign from their positions.” 

Elain gaped at him. 

“I was shocked out of my stupor. Terrified of losing my only remaining family, I got my act together.” He grimaced slightly. “The next decade wasn’t pretty. There were plenty of fights, I said horrible things that I regret to this day. But eventually, I began healing. I stopped lashing out and started appreciating the people that I had.” Looking down at his hands, Rhysand said, “I try to be someone that my family, both living and not, can be proud of.” 

Looking Elain dead in the eye, Rhysand said. “That’s why I did what I did to Nesta. I didn’t try to shock her out of her grief, but rather shock her out of her coping mechanisms. Her grief and suffering were so tangible, so self destructive, that I couldn’t give her a decade. Hell, I could barely give her a year.” Rhysand swallowed thickly. “I can understand the parallel that you would draw to Tamlin’s treatment of Feyre and my treatment of Nesta. But in my mind, they are different. Nesta’s behavior was slowly killing her. Her power was eating her up from the inside. I sent her somewhere where she would be surrounded by people that wanted to help her, to show her positive outlets for her grief.” Rhysand seemed to wince a bit, “Though this may not be true for you, mates are legendary for knowing how to help one another. For being able to reach one another when no one else is able to. I believed that if anyone could help Nesta, if anyone could support her on her journey, it would be her mate, Cassian.” 

Elain looked down at the glass in her hand, and sloshed the liquid around. She thought of her time immediately after being dumped in the cauldron, of Lucien coming to visit her in the library at the House of Wind. She remembered Feyre speaking to Lucien, and almost immediately after being moved to the townhouse. She recalled Feyre instructing Azriel to take her to the garden, to get fresh air. She wondered how much of that was Lucien’s suggestion. 

“I know you may resent my meddling with you and Azriel-” Rhysand says, once again pulling Elain from her thoughts. “But you have to understand that before anything else I am a High Lord. My duty is to my Court and my people, before it is to myself.” 

Elain lifted an eyebrow in question. 

“You have to look at it from a political perspective Elain,” Rhysand said. “Lucien has ties to multiple courts, Spring Court, Autumn Court, D-” Rhys cuts off quickly, before hastily saying “The Human Lands, with Queen Vassa and Jurian. If he discovered Azriel was pursuing you, even if you initiated it, he would be well within his right to declare the Blood Duel.” 

Elain’s eyebrows pull together in concern. “Blood duel?” 

Breathing deeply, Rhysand says, “It’s an old Autumn Court tradition. A battle to the death that is so brutal that it is only declared in extreme cases. A prime example of enacting the blood duel is in defense of one’s mate.” 

Elain swallowed thickly. “And you think Lucien is capable of doing so?” 

Rhysand shook his head. “No. Lucien has been very respectful of you and your space. I don’t think he would demand the Blood Duel.”

Elain let out a breath of relief. She didn’t believe Lucien was capable of it either. 

“That being said,” Rhysand went on, “The pull of the mating bond is incredibly intense. When I discovered the two of you about to kiss on the night of solstice, Lucien was just down the hall. What would’ve happened if he had stumbled upon the two of you? Emotions run high, people make bad decisions. If Lucien let his emotions and instincts overcome him and challenged Azriel to the Blood Duel, Azriel would tear Lucien apart. I would have had the wrath of both Autumn and Spring Courts, as well as Vassa and Jurian. When I ordered the two of you to stay away from one another, it wasn’t because I don’t respect your decisions and right to decide for yourself. I had to think of my Court and my people first and foremost.” 

Elain nodded, bringing her hand up to rub at her temple. So many truths revealed in one day. It was overwhelming. 

“And…” Rhysand said, refusing to meet Elain’s gaze. “Part of me was incredibly sympathetic to Lucien’s plight. I know how painful it is to see your mate love another. I wanted to spare Lucien that suffering.” 

Elain took a deep breath. “Thank you for your honesty, Rhysand. I appreciate how much you have opened up with me tonight.” 

Rhysand flashed her a rare, genuine smile. “Of course Elain. You’re my designated Archeron friend, so I anticipate we’ll have a lot more talks like this in the future.” 

Elain looked down at the drink in her hand, and wondered if it was strong enough that she was inebriated off of a few sips. “I’m sorry,” She said, “Did you just say I’m your designated Archeron friend?” 

“Yup,” Rhysand said, popping the ‘p’ sound, “Cassian and Feyre are best friends ” Rhysand said putting air quotes on best friends, “And Nesta and Azriel have a special bond of mutual understanding and frigidness, therefore, it’s long overdue that you and I become close as well.” 

Elain couldn’t fight the giggle that spilled from her lips. “Very well, Rhysand-” She said, reaching out her hand. “To the start of a great friendship.” 

Rhysand’s answering smile was as bright as the stars in the sky. 

The hour was early by the time Azriel returned to Velaris. Instead of going to the Riverfront house to speak to Rhysand and Cassian like he originally intended, Azriel flew toward the House of Wind, hoping to get at least an hour of sleep. No one was awake for him to speak to anyway. 

It was probably for the best, for Azriel still didn’t know what he would say to Rhysand and Cassian, had no idea how to open himself up to his brothers and tell them all of his fears, his insecurities. Azriel didn’t know how to ask for advice regarding Gwyn. 

Gwyn.  

She was at the forefront of his mind, the thought that kept bouncing around his head. He could feel her absence like a gaping hole in his chest, as though his very soul was hurting from their separation. 

It was an odd feeling, like a piece of string tied around his rib, the dull ache worsening whenever he thought of her. And he thought of her constantly. 

Believing that it must be a physical manifestation of his guilt, Azriel entered the House of Wind, planning what he would do tomorrow. What he would say to his brothers, what he would say to Elain. 

Elain. 

Azriel was already dreading their conversation. How would he explain that his feelings had changed, that he realized the person that made him happiest was not Elain, and was instead Gwyn? How would he apologize for trying to pull her away from Lucien, away from her mate? 

Groaning softly to himself, Azriel trudged into his room before falling flat on his bed. Leathers and all, Azriel fell into a deep slumber, the stress of the day catching up with him at last.