Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The Memorial At Sangravah.
5 months after Under the Mountain.

Azriel could smell death before landing. Tucking in his wings, he stretched his hands hoping to shake the sensation of them being coated in blood. The feel of it caked in the ridges of his scars all but disappeared as he centered himself. The violence and brutality of that night, what he came upon—it still called to his rage. He didn’t leave two alive. He didn’t leave one alive.
Too fucking bad he thought to himself.
The headless bodies of innocent females littering the halls and rooms as he made his way deeper into the temple, his shadows whispering which direction the kitchen was in—then her cries, it all came back in flashes. Azriel had witnessed violence in his 500 plus years, he had committed violence, but not like that. Never like that. What he heard and witnessed as he entered the kitchen…her on that table, what the General did to her, laughed as he ordered it to be continued.

Shaking the memory from his head, Azriel sent out his Shadows and they began the investigation.

He would have to tell Rhys there was no new information. The Priestesses didn’t know what they could have returned for. This was a memorial, set up by the survivors—the graves didn’t even have proper markers yet. They may never have them.

His shadows cried out—he understood, he wanted to as well. Why return after getting the foot? Was digging up the body of one of the victims a message? It was the one grave that had been desecrated, the slender frame of the Priestess was pulled from her resting place. Her wrap cut open. Like all the others she was beheaded, but that did nothing to take away from the beauty of the long onyx hair that crowned her still pretty face as he laid the body back where it belonged. Azriel gently placed her arms across her chest, resting them over her heart. He noted that wrapped around her lithe wrists laid a beautiful collection of bracelets of multiple colors and patterns, charms and trinkets.
She was loved by someone.

House of Wind
2 years later.
4 days after Solstice.

“Do you know when he will be back?” Nesta asked the same thing the last three mornings. “Soon.” he answered. Again.
Same as yesterday.
Same as the day before.

Fucking Cassian, damn him for deserting him like this. His brother knew something was up between Rhys and himself, he knew Cassian sensed the tension during the Snowball fight. The tightness in their tones as they sat in the sauna. He would never leave Cass like this Mating bond chafing a bit he thought to himself as he clapped his hands and called that training has begun. 

He watched as Nesta walked away to set up the Symphonia. The music helped. It calmed him and his shadows. Nesta doesn’t deserve him being like this. None of them do. But she is getting anyway. They all were. All except Gwyn. Azriel found it was near impossible for him to treat her the same after Solstice. He had a hard time treating her like everyone else even before Solstice. If she asked for something he couldn’t help but say yes. Dagger lessons? Sure. Steel blade introduction? Absolutely. Flying a beam up here, securing it to the ring? You got it—even finding himself in a Notions Shop, surrounded by ancient females, to get the exact ribbon she said was needed. In true Gwyn form she gave him detailed specifications, right down to the weights and widths of the silk.

Maybe it was the way her eyes participated in every conversation they had that caused him to give her whatever it was she asked for? He didn’t know. He did know that when she found him in the house of wind’s dining room two days after Cassian removed Nesta from the city after telling Feyre the baby could kill her, she presented him with plans for the beam that the ribbon would be tied to. Plans any Master Carpenter would be proud of.

It was the way she seemed to cajole him into it by explaining that one needed to be very strong in order to do this job.
It pushed him to want to show her how easy it would be for him.

"Good evening. May I have a moment of your time?" Azriel found that before he said yes, Gwyn entered the dining room and was standing next to him at the table. She rolled out a drawing of what looked to be some sort of post. He sat back to give her more room.

"Good evening, Priestess. Can you tell me what this is?" In the quiet of the room the wrists of her robe sleeves brushed over the wood of the table and papers reminding him of rustling leaves, her delicate bespeckled hands and long fingers seemed to glide in and out of the bell the sleeves reminded him of. His shadows whispered something about soothing sounds and sleeping as they fell to rest around his feet.

"You had said you recalled that Valkyries completed their training when they could cut a silk ribbon in two." She placed the tip of her thumb in between her lips, nibbling on her thumbnail as she waited for his answer. Her eyes moving from the plans to him.

"Yes. I recall."

She removed her thumb from her mouth. Azriel marked this as a quirk. 

"I researched it. Not that I did not believe you." She held up her hands, palms forward. Gwyn had many tells when it came to honesty, she continued in the hushed tones she spoke in.

"But I felt we needed to be absolutely positive about this since we are creating something new." She nodded at him. He found himself nodding back in agreement because he felt she offered him no other option.

She continued "You were right. They did have this as the final task." Azriel felt good about her double checking him. He would refrain from telling her of course he was right.

"Show me what you have drawn up here, Berdara." He motioned to the table.

She took a deep breath as she tucked one side of her hair behind one of her ears. There was a lone freckle on the outer part of the tip. Leaning closer to the table and closer to him than she had been since that night, he thought he picked up a delicate scent from her.

“You see here and here?” He examined her hand-drawn instructions for the beam, her idea to secure it to the wall using brackets and the common plumbing fixtures she wanted to use to secure the ribbon.

Her forehead was creased as she looked to him, his shadows whispered that she felt foolish-

"I know this is much to ask. A job like this requires strength and building knowledge. If you wish for me to wait until Cassian returns to do this, I will” He did not miss the tiny up turn of her mouth as she said this. She may have felt foolish for all of 2 seconds, but she certainly knew where to strike to get what she wanted.

“You doubt my strength and ability to do what you’ve requested, Priestess?” He was learning that the Priestess had a way of making some requests sound like a dare.
“Oh no—” She began to roll up the instructions “I think you are very strong as well as capable of doing whatever you put your mind to.”

Azriel put his open hand out to her for the instructions “Consider it done then, Berdara.”
“Wonderful! Oh—you’ll need to get the ribbon as well. Don’t fret though. I wrote what is needed. You can simply hand this to the Clerk at the Shop and they will take care of it.”

Training had come to an end for the day. Azriel secured the last of the weapons, his mind wandering to thoughts of Elain as his shadows whispered about Gwyn. Something about her asking Clotho, it didn't matter—He caught her eye just as she made her way to the archway, she gave him a small smile. He thought about how he liked the way even her smaller smiles reached her eyes.

“Hey, Az?” Nesta called as she was walking towards him “–I hope you don’t mind but I invited Emerie and Gwyn to sleepover tonight.”

“This is your home, Nesta. You don’t need to ask me if you can have company.”

“I appreciate that, but I wanted you to know in case you preferred I not have them over.”

“Why would it matter what I want?”

She gave him a sigh that reeked of fatigue—“Because this is your home too, Az. And I realize something has been on your mind since Solstice and want to respect your space.”

High Lord approaching —oh, we are alerting me now–thought we stopped doing that since Solstice? No reply from them. They were just fine sounding like a bee hive earlier as they hummed along with Gwyn as she hummed along to the music.

His brother landed.

Nesta and Emerie busied themselves with clean-up, putting ample space between them.

“Hello, Az”
“Morning”
“Cassian still hasn’t returned?”
“No.”
“You’ve got this under control?”
“Yes”
“How long will you be speaking to me in one word sentences?”
“Is there something you need from me, High Lord ?” He slid into his mask, the ice moving into his veins.
“Don’t be like that, Az.” His brother looked hurt by his use of his title.

–Azriel reminded himself that Rhys had more on his plate than he did. He had more to worry about than Azriel’s feelings towards Elain, he had a babe on the way and the complications with the wings to think about. That his reactions to situations always took more into account than what Azriel saw or knew. He allowed a sigh to escape as he looked over the pit. Sleep was still rare, even with him working himself into exhaustion–it was making all of this even harder. He felt like he couldn’t think straight.
“I don’t know how else I am supposed to be.” He was always able to release the valve slightly with Rhys, his brother never pushed for more than Azriel willingly gave.

Rhys placed his hand on his shoulder–it was a comfort that Azriel knew he didn’t deserve. “Az–you don’t think I understand?” Pain and consideration etched across his brother’s face. “I understand and if you think for a second that my decisions are based on anything other than protecting my family—even from themselves, you–you are wrong.”

Nesta had kept her distance from his brother and himself. He wasn’t sure for whose benefit. Rhys motioned to Emerie that they were to leave and Nesta walked over with her.

“Hello Rhysand” a civil nod exchanged between the two “—Would it be possible for you to bring Emerie back this evening? We are going to have a girls night.”

“Will Gwyn be joining you?” Azriel caught a spark of amusement in Rhys’ eyes. There was always a hint of partiality in the way Rhys treated Gwyn. He suspected it had to do with what she went through. Her arrival being so soon after his return from Under the Mountain. A shared history of a violence, a shared history of loss.

“Of course. The three of us will be here” Nesta crossed her arms in a defensive stance.

“Alright then, I will bring Emerie back at 7PM” Rhys nodded a farewell. Secured Emerie in his arms and he shot into the sky.

“We will try to be quiet, Azriel.” Nesta said, gently patting his shoulder as she made her way down the stairs and into the house.

Azriel had gone over the morning’s conversation in head far too many times. He did the same with the conversation in his brother’s study on Solstice—it didn’t stop him from thinking that the Cauldron could be wrong, that Elain was given to Lucien by mistake and that she was meant to be his—maybe it was a spell? A punishment or some other magic that interfered with the bond. He would have to find out if there had ever been such a case before. It is the only way this makes sense, why he was being left out, why the third sister was not given to the third brother–That cold rage began to writhe just as his shadows darted out towards the doorway to the Library under the house. His shadows didn’t pull back when he commanded them to, she was still behind the door as he heard her whispering.

“This must mean he is not far behind” She came from behind the door, bag slung over her shoulder. Gently closing the door behind herself, they stood feet apart.

“Good evening, Berdara.”

Her hair was a deeper auburn in the faelights that lined the red rock walls of the wide hallway. She tucked one side of the dark copper curtain behind her small pointed ear. There were 3 golden hoops in the lobe, he caught a glint of gold from the other ear. The one with the freckle. Nothing on her neck. He wondered if she even wore it. Maybe Clotho never gave it to her? He did notice she never wore jewelry to training. That had to be for safety reasons. The Priestess was smart.
She also may have the shiniest hair he had ever seen. 

“Hello, Shadow singer. It is a pleasant evening.”

She smiled at him, and the thought of her and the necklace pulled up a memory of a tapestry he had seen in the great hall of a human King during The War 500 years earlier. A red haired maiden by the bank of a river placing a necklace on herself. He supposed she was a Goddess to the humans–dressed in a robe that looked similar to the robes she wore, unbound hair as long as the Priestess’. He always thought the female was a classical representation of beauty that crossed all cultures, it did not go unnoticed to him that Gwyn looked like many of the females in the paintings or tapestries he had seen over his lifetime.

“I apologize in advance if we disturb you tonight. I am unsure how sleepovers with friends work, but I have been told they can be quite loud.” The Priestess had a way of checking on the comfort of others that Azriel was not wholly accustomed to receiving, it was she– even during their private training sessions that would check on him to make sure he was comfortable with proceeding.

“You have earned a night of fun, Berdara. I hope you three enjoy yourselves.”

“Thank you.” This was accompanied with the same big smile she gave him on Solstice. It made her eyes dance.

Though it felt as if it took weeks for her to return his smile, he liked how easy she was giving them to him now. They stared at each other for a moment. “I must go, Merrill kept me later than usual and Nesta and Emerie have surely started without me.”

He dipped his head to her and watched as she walked down the hall, appearing to glide on air–the skirts of her robes softly cresting at her feet. As she disappeared into the private library doors the first of many squeals followed shortly thereafter. He was hungry now, the prior mood he was working himself into had vanished as he continued towards the dining room, hoping the house would provide a snack.

A few hours later Azriel wondered if the giggling and squeals would ever come to an end. His shadows danced with every squeal that sounded like Gwyn, he commanded them to stop attempting to sneak into the library and report on them, her in particular. As the night went on he was tempted to use the ear blobs gifted to him by Elain—Elain, he felt heated—those wants and needs again ran through him–his shadows whispering sleep–sleep now —He placed the blobs in his ears, picked up the paperwork he needed to finish and before he knew it—sleep had come for him.

His brother lingered in the archway, his gaze fixed on the three as Gwyn sized up the ribbon. Azriel quietly came to stand beside him, his shadows perching themselves on his shoulders for a better view. 

“You’ve got this” Nesta said as Gwyn positioned herself at the beam. He allowed himself to take in her long lines, the fluidity in her practice movements. Nesta was a dancer, but he learned that Gwyn could move like wind and water. As Emerie said something about a miniature Pegasus he thought he caught a smile almost break Gwyn’s concentration. Nesta laughed. A real one that rang of happiness. He felt Cassian's eyes on him–but he couldn’t take his eyes off the Priestess.

“The miniature Pegasus was an illusion. And is now back in his make-believe meadow.” Nesta teased as she looked at Emerie--Emerie teased back—“He loved Gwyn the most. Despite your efforts to woo him.”

Gwyn shifted and Azriel felt his heart skip a beat as he heard her say “I am the rock against which the surf crashes” lifting her blade into the air “Nothing can break me.”

The spark he felt in his chest on Solstice returned as he watched her entire body twist and spin into a perfect backhand. Just as he had taught her–He felt a shift–a stillness in himself, his shadows and the world. His shadows billowed and then started to whisper all at once. Saying things about Valkyries, power, time and destiny.

Gwyn had become the first Valkyrie in 500 years. The ribbon, which she perfectly sliced—fluttered to the ground as her sword came to rest at her thigh—and then he saw it—a colorful patterned bracelet that wasn’t on her slender wrist yesterday. It had a small charm attached to it. They each wore one.

Just like those on the wrist of the body he reburied at Sangravah.

Chapter Text

Azriel entered the river house knowing it was late enough to avoid Elain. His brother moved past him, Cassian had said he wanted to get the meeting over fast so they could focus on setting up the Course.

Azriel looked to the top of the stairs and thought how easily it could have been Lucien standing there and not his brother. Fuck — How stupid could he be? As much as he wanted Elain, as much as her returning the necklace to him after his forced rejection did nothing to stop the wants and late night needs… did he want to go to war over her? He hadn’t thought passed fucking her and his brother calling him out on this–Rhys, being so like himself— Gods he is a piece of shit and this proved why Elain was too good for him, and that is why she was given to someone else. What he does for the Court, his blackened scarred hands, how he put her safety and security at risk that night, the ways he pleasured himself to thoughts of her—he stood where they stood, thoughts of her so close to him, his hand in her soft hair, her scent.

“Hey, you coming?” Cass called from the doorway of Rhys’s study. He pulled himself together, his shadows curling around his shoulders–Rhys may have been right about Azriel needing to fuck someone—it had been too long. Months. More than months, if he had it right. He turned and walked to the study.

“Did you pay him yet, Cass?” Rhys asked as he handed over a small coin purse to Azriel from across his desk.

“Of course–he gloated about it too.” Cassian answered as he threw himself in an armchair. Azriel chuckled to himself, betting on Gwyn was easy. He knew she would be the first to cut the ribbon. He knew.

“You two shouldn’t have bet against the Priestess.” Shrugging, giving a winner’s smirk.

“Oh?” Rhys raised an eyebrow “Is there some sort of inside knowledge you have about Gwyn?”

“No–but anyone could see she was determined to be the first. Had to be the first. She likes to be the best. She likes to win.”

“Interesting–” Rhys said while looking over to Cassian “doesn’t sound like anyone we know, right Cass?” Cassian rolled his entire head and then his eyes in Azriel’s direction.

“Fuck off, Rhys” Azriel, kicking at Cassian’s leg laughed along with his brothers, but it did sound like him and it felt good to laugh.

“There is another matter.” He needed to tell Rhys about the bracelets.

“About the Valkyries?” Azriel nodded, Rhys sat back in his chair.

“Gwyn in particular. Those bracelets they have–”
Cassian interrupted him “Rhys, you've got to see these bracelets. Nesta said Gwyn taught them how to make them at ‘Girls Night’ as she called it. Gwyn’s was made by Nesta and it is downright awful but you’d never know it by how Gwyn treasures it like it is made of spun gold.”

Cass was right, Gwyn did treat the mess of knots like it was a prize. It reminded him of what was taken from her. Azriel continued “The attack on the Memorial at Sangravah, the body I reburied, on the female’s wrist were multiple stacks of those bracelets.”

“You think they were made by Gwyn?” Rhys, leaning forward and began to play with the edging of papers on his desk.
“I think it was her sister.”

Azriel watched as his brother took in this information.

“We need to find out what it was that they were looking for, Az. What made them go back there and why it was her body that they dug up.” Azriel nodded in agreement, Rhys added “I don’t want you overthinking how you left no one alive, Az.”

But he would, because he still didn’t understand it himself. 

His brother continued “Let’s see if we can trace how she ended up at Sangravah and work backwards from there. Clotho has said that there were discrepancies in how the records were kept in that Temple.”

Azriel watched as his brother wrote a note for himself—"We know Gwyn has some sort of abilities that are slowly surfacing. Probably held off due to the trauma she endured." Rhys tapped his fingers on his desk “Clotho is still investigating if it was the words, the music, Gwyn's voice or a combination of all three that helped Nesta find the Harp."

Azriel remembered how Cassian reported Nesta saying Gwyn’s singing helped her find the Harp. He thought it odd that Rhys had no prior knowledge of Gwyn having any powers outside of Healing that the other Priestesses have. It was understood that much like the Illyrians, the Priestesses must use stones to harness and control their powers. If she had powers outside of this and those powers—before he could stop himself, before he could understand fully why dread had crept into him as he thought about what may happen if someone was looking for Gwyn, Azriel spoke-“Can we keep this as quiet as possible, Rhys?” Azriel wasn’t sure what look was on his brother’s face after he said this, but he knew what he was asking made perfect sense, he didn't want others knowing about Gwyn or her whereabouts.

“Of course, Azriel–" A look passed between his brothers "You should know that Gwyn will always have my protection. It is a promise I made to her that I intend to keep.”

There was nothing else to say, if the High Lord of The Night Court promised to keep Gwyn safe, Azriel would do whatever it took to keep her safe as well. Cassian did not need to say what he would do for Gwyn, Azriel was aware of how she had him wrapped around her finger already.

Cassian stood “Well–now that we discussed that, Az and I have an obstacle course to put together. Tomorrow morning is going to be fun.” And with that, Cassian and Az left the river house and took off for home.

They had the Qualifier set up in under 3 hours. “Looks great, Az” Cassian called from the other end of the course.

“It does, Cass.” Rubbing his hands together to fight off the cold, his shadows chuckling at the thought of Gwyn’s face and how she would react to this new challenge. Carrying that image to bed, Azriel slept for the few hours before dawn.

Gwyn settled in at her desk in her dorm and thought about the last few months–she did it–she was the first to cut the ribbon. A warm sense of belonging filled her as she pulled her journal out and began writing an entry. This was one of the first exercises the Healing Priestess had insisted she do. Gwyn needed to be present in her life, to map out her thoughts, what she was feeling and what was happening. She had been told it would enable her to see how far she had come. Over time Gwyn grew to enjoy it, often writing to Catrin in some of the entries instead of a daily list of happenings. Tonight would be one of those, a letter to her lost half.

Dearest Catrin,

I haven’t had a moment this week to tell you of all that has happened this Solstice Season. I will remedy this in this entry.

I gifted them my addendum at the end of the History of the Valkyries. I believe they both needed to see how important they are to what we are building. How our stories are worth being told to future generations. A few nights later Nesta invited Emerie and myself to a sleepover and it was wonderful. It has been so long since I experienced such a sense of sisterhood. I taught them how to make our bracelets and it felt like you were there with me. With us. You would love them as much as I do.

The newest book I am reading is so romantic, Catrin! There are two males and a female in this story. Both males are extremely handsome, dashing and charming. One is a warrior, while the other is more of an envoy. I am sure there is some sort of love triangle being set up. We shall see! I do find that reading what Cassian has called "smut" has helped me understand some things about myself. That I may be capable of wanting to be touched and loved, even if I have yet to kiss a male.

Yes, yes I am sure you would appreciate an update about him. I will give you one.

At 2 am on Solstice he arrived in the pit as I practiced cutting the ribbon alone—I will not speculate what occurred, but he was agitated. I quickly apologized for being up there so late, you are right–I should stop doing so. I have the right to be wherever I earn my place, but his eyes looked sorrowful. I also did not want him to feel he needed to stay and converse with me, but he did. He stayed and spoke with me.

It is so odd to think of how he found me, Catrin. With you so near. That night the Shadows darkened the room entirely, this night they reminded me of a parrot sitting upon the shoulders of a Sea Captain! They seemed so curious, I was too—he asked about the evening service which you know has been healing for me and it made me wonder if he sang as well. They do call him a Shadowsinger after all, I was embarrassed to find that I was taking this in the literal sense. He must think me rather silly at times, BUT–he does sing!

He asked me to try cutting the ribbon again, probably to stop me from asking him to sing and though I would have preferred not to in front of him, I did. He corrected my technique, I was holding my wrist wrong and this was causing me to turn the blade just before the strike. He came closer to me, Catrin. Took out his own blade and showed me how to correctly maintain my wrist. He smells delicious (of course I am blushing as I write this) but there were other scents on him I did not recognize.

I made him laugh by blaming Cassian and his making eyes at Nesta for my bad technique. A real laugh, Cat. I know I’ve told you of the butterflies and other sensations I feel around him, but that laugh and his smile made it feel as if my heart threw itself against the inner wall of my chest in an attempt to leap to him. You don’t think I am foolish? I feel foolish about this, how could one such as him ever want one such as me? And this makes what happened next a puzzle I may not wish to solve.

That evening Clotho asked to speak with me after service. I had thought Merrill was being awful, as per usual and complaining about my work. However…this was not the case. Clotho handed me a small black velvet box that she said was left for me by a friend. It smelled of him and in the box was a dainty chain with a small stained glass rose charm. This smelled of a female I do not know but it was the scent on him in the pit. Clotho would give me no further information on who the friend is. Catrin, this is when I need you the most. You understood these things so much better than myself, I have no experience with these feelings. How to navigate them. I suppose I could speak with Nesta, she does remind me of you in so many ways, but I am unsure if speaking these feelings and thoughts out loud is what I want to do. Why would he gift me something and not want me to know it is from him? Why does it smell of another female? I fear it has something to do with why there was such anger and sadness from him. Cat, he has been kind and patient towards me. If I make a request for help in training or with a task he seems to find the time to do so. I do not believe we are friends—yet, I feel we could be one day. I suppose I should remain focused on my training and continue to keep these feelings and thoughts to myself. Azriel is a good male, honorable, like Cassian. I am sure there is a female that is beautiful and smart and everything he could ever want, and so I will allow this to be nothing more than a fancy.

But to end on a better note-I did it. Before anyone else. I am a VALKYRIE! I cut the ribbon! The first in centuries, Catrin. I do this in memory of you. I miss you. Every day.

Gwyn

She tucked the Journal away in the draw, alongside the black velvet box, the ribbon and a lock of her sister’s hair. She then turned in, excited about what was to come in the morning for them as Valkyries.

As Cassian explained the next phase of training as the Priestesses huddled in the doorway, Azriel watched Gwyn push her way through the murmuring crowd and circle the obstacle course.

When he was young and they were training for the Blood Rite in the mountains of Illyria, he had watched a mountain lioness stalk an elk three times her size. This is what the Priestess was doing, she was prowling. It was the only way to describe it as she scanned the course for information—and Gods, he was enjoying watching her movements.

Had he ever noticed how the leathers she wore had formed to her body? No -- It wasn’t that they formed to her, she had begun to fill them in. The shape of her long legs, the curve of her calves, thighs, hips—how her waist dipped in. He continued to look her over, examining how she had developed over the last few weeks -- even in the defused light of a drab winter morning she was more than pretty, she may be the most naturally beautiful female he had ever seen.

Cassian cleared his throat—his brother’s stare told him to pay attention and so he began the day.

“You’ll work in groups of three” Azriel clapped his hands to get them to fall into formation. Nesta, Emerie and Gwyn in front, as usual and of course it was Gwyn that stepped forward and spoke for them — they were a group of 15 now and here she was acting as senior officer without being told. He did not think she meant to take such a leadership role, believing Nesta’s personality better suited for it–but Gwyn had a boldness that caught him off guard, constantly.

“What do we get if we finish the course?”

Sweet Valkyrie wants a prize his shadows whispered as they began to dance around him. Yes–she could be sweet, but sweet was not what they were working towards here. He would push her in the way he knew would drive her to be the best. That is what she deserved.

“Since there’s no chance in hell any of you will finish the course, we didn’t bother to get a prize.”

The other females began to boo him. But she– she narrowed her eyes at him, lifted her pretty chin and said in a tone that was all defiance “We look forward to proving you wrong.”


They spent the next few hours leaning against the wall watching as the three made it just past the halfway point. Limping and bleeding, they left the course with looks of defeat that turned into determination.

Emerie swore to wipe their smug looks off, something about them having perfect faces may have been said as well, which made Cassian laugh and then shrug in agreement. Nesta silently limped to the water station as Gwyn called them sadistic monsters.

This was all worth it. Just to see these three females so enraged. 

“I don’t think I have ever watched anything as entertaining as those three.” Cass said to him, his brother’s eyes hungerly on Nesta as she poured three waters.

He had to agree. “They are a tight unit. They seem to be aware of each other's strengths and weaknesses and do their best to fill in for each other. You can’t teach that. It has to come on its own.”

Azriel watched as Gwyn unwrapped her hands while muttering under her breath. —priestess needs us— no she doesn’t, you’ll creep her out–his shadows had never gotten over how they found her, choosing to keep tabs on her when they were not asked to do so—but after Solstice, with the singing and seeking her out, he had to maintain a professional distance. 

“They remind me a lot of us, Az. Rhys, you, me–when we were young.” Cassian was right, they were a lot like they were when they were young.

“Except they don’t beat the shit out of each other for clothing and kicks, Cass.” 

Azriel turned just as Gwyn began walking his way. She locked her big teal eyes onto his—scorn, pure scorn rolling off her and at him—she maintained eye contact the entire time as she closed the distance between them. He found he couldn’t look away. He kept his arms crossed as she approached, she really had no fear of him, did she?

She didn’t.

"See you tomorrow, Shadowsinger ” Was all she tossed at him. Gods, she was pure confidence and he couldn’t help but find her amusing. There was something bewitching about her when provoked, he thought to himself as he watched her reach the archway— his shadows crawling along the floor in an attempt to follow her. Turning to find Nesta staring at him with a grin.
“You have no idea what you just started.” Azriel tilted his head, examining Nesta. Wait--What he just started? Does she not see how Gwyn antagonizes him? “Remember how Gwyn was with the ribbon?” She winked at him, and clapped his shoulder “You’re the new ribbon, Az.”

Nesta and Emerie, giggling to each other, followed Gwyn down the stairs. 

Azriel refused to meet Cassian’s gaze. He knew his brother had something to say and was waiting to make sure none of the females were in the stairs.

“I think you may be in trouble, Az.” Cassian pushed off the wall. 

Azriel gave him nothing—he had a feeling Cassian would be furious if he knew about him leaving the necklace for Gwyn. He would probably be furious if he knew about what happened with Elain.

“Let’s spar” was all he offered his brother as he walked towards an open training ring. Removing his leathers, the wool tunic underneath providing enough warmth and protection against the cold and the beating he knew his brother should give him. He took his position as Cassian walked towards him with a shit eating grin that let him know his brother was aware of more than he let on.

“I’d like nothing more than to punch your pretty face right now, Az—get ready.”

Azriel welcomed it.

It was well past midnight and Azriel was in a foul mood. Annoyed that the order to stay away from the Crown kept him further from the Queen than he believes is necessary–making his job more difficult than it needs to be, allowing for failure points that could stop needed information to keep the Courts protected—He came in to land at the house and something from behind a section of the Course caught his eye.

It was The Priestess. 
Out of her robes, in her leather pants and a light colored tunic. Pen and pad in hand, jotting down notes and drawing out sections as she crawled under and over the course.

“This little sneak” He said to himself. Shadows snickering, rippling towards her as he landed harder than necessary, loudly clearing his throat—She froze in place as he walked over to her. Azriel could see that she was cold, that damned tunic hid nothing—a vision of his hands up that tunic and on her breasts with her lips and teeth nipping at his neck flashed through his mind.

He quickly thought of the Attor and cutting into it as hot shame moved through him for thinking of Gwyn like that.

Better. That's better. Blood. Guts. Torture. Better. 

“You said you would see me tomorrow, Priestess. This isn’t tomorrow.” He crossed his arms over his chest and allowed the ice to seep into his veins, better than thinking about running his nose along the column of her neck, biting her right in that sweet spot — What the fuck is wrong with him?

“Good evening, Shadowsinger.” She stood to her full height and stared right at him.
Was she challenging him? Closing her notepad, she secured it behind her back with both hands, her arms held taut.

Fuck this, Azriel thought to himself—this position, with her arms looking like they were tied behind her, her breasts pushing forward, those nipples begging for his mouth—He pulled deeply through his nostrils as he pinched his nose, he could maintain control.

“What exactly do you think you are doing, Berdara ?” Azriel would keep his eyes on her face. He put his hand out for the notepad. He wasn’t going to allow her to leave with cheat notes and he was not going to look below her creamy slender neck.

“This is purely for research purposes, Shadowsinger.” She shook the pad at him as she said this. Other parts of her shook as well —Scamp, that is what she was. An absolute scamp.

“Some would call this cheating.” He might as well have accused her of stealing a book with the face of indignation she gave him. Good. She was insulted. 

“Cheating? No. This would fall under the definition of reconnaissance.” She tucked her pencil onto the top of her pointy ear. The one with the freckle. He cocked an eyebrow at her. 

Under different circumstances he would be proud of her line of thinking. He bet she had a full argument laid out as to why she should be allowed to leave with whatever it is she had in that notebook—She was clever and he—dammit—he was the one in charge here and she wasn’t. Regardless of being the first Valkyrie, regardless of how attractive he was finding her at the moment and regardless of how much he wanted to hear her reasoning.
Focus, idiot.
His shadows snickered. 

“Is that so?” He asked her as she boldly moved closer to him. He narrowed his eyes at her —she knew what she was doing— He would simply refuse to take a step back. They had briefly discussed how they enjoyed reading the same spy series, she absolutely knew how that the Spymaster was caught by a female honeypot double agent.
And just like in that plotline, he was baiting him. Gwyneth Berdara, the Priestess was a shocking minx. 

“It is assuredly so. I do not recall being informed of rules that forbade me from exploring the course.” She swung her hair over her shoulder and looked him dead in the eye.

She was correct–they hadn’t laid out rules like that. Because he didn’t think they would need to AND he didn’t think if he caught her up here poking around that she would...did she always smell this good?
-- yes his shadows whispered-- closer-- no, we are close enough he answered. They drifted to her anyway. He would stop breathing until this was over. 

“The purpose of said course is for you to be able to beat it as a unit without prior aid, Valkyrie.” He caught her with the use of the newly earned accolade. He watched as she pulled her plump lower lip into her slight overbite to keep from smiling. How had he not noticed these things about her until tonight? How sweet that overbite was? How soft and pink her lips are?

She released her lip, slowly—“Oh, Shadowsinger ” She tilted her head and looked at him from the tops of her eyes. "I would argue that building a strategy based on observations and gathered information does not fall under the definition of prior aid.” The way she said his title, with that hint of disregard for his position and the authority he commanded–the mirth lacing those eyes–how her lip was a deeper pink--he wanted to pull her to him and demand she be respectful of him.
Maybe even teach her.
Cauldron boil him. He pinched the bridge of his nose again. 

“Or prior knowledge of said course, Valkyrie.” speaking through his teeth-he kept his hand out to her.

Azriel saw a flicker in her eyes and then the smirk was back on her pretty mouth, his tone had the opposite effect on her then intended— She knew she lost this argument and she didn't care. Her having to comply with the unspoken command to hand over her notepad made her nostrils flare. She didn't take his tone as a warning, he simply pissed her off—fuck, he searched his memory for any other female that reacted to him like she did—she handed him the notepad and before he lost control of himself, giving into the urge to take her in his arms and show her how she should behave — he ordered her to leave.

“Off to bed with you, Priestess.” he pointed to the doorway as if she was an errant child.

“Fine. But know that I do not wish you a good evening, Shadowsinger.” turning in a huff, she let everything that could sway on her sway as she slowly walked away. He rubbed his hands across his face trying to erase the image of her long hair swinging above her sweet ass as it moved back and forth just under the tunic. He sent a shadow to follow her down, it reported when she was safely behind the door to the Library.

--safely for you--he was glad his shadows found this funny. It wasn't. This again is proof that his brother was right about him needing to fuck someone.

No way was he going to allow himself to see Gwyn as anything other than a Priestess who earned his respect. What was wrong with him anyway? She deserved that. Plus she obviously disliked him on some level, why else would she continue to find ways to provoke him? He opened that part of him where he kept his thoughts of her and placed the image of her in that fucking tunic into it. Closing her behind the wall and when his shadow returned, he entered the house.

Chapter Text

       


Azriel had to wait patiently for Cassian to stop laughing. He omitted the fact that Gwyn was clearly attempting to get over on him. He also left out that her charms almost worked. The more Azriel thought about, the more he was sure Gwyn was messing with him on purpose. He had a feeling she knew it was him that left the necklace, and that would explain why she was behaving this way towards him.

Azriel flipped through the notepad as he waited for Cassian to get dressed and found that he was thoroughly impressed by her. She even had some of it code, she would make a fantastic spy. With her brains and beauty, she'd be an asset to the Court. He was also glad Cassian found her this amusing, it made him feel slightly better about how he found her amusing.
He was finding her more than amusing, if he was to be honest. 

Once up in the Pit, they set to work. 

“We will have to do this every night, Az. That Gwyn is ridiculously intelligent, she’ll sense a pattern and beat us at our own game.” Cassian was removing a section from the middle and reattaching it to the end. 

“I know. Thankfully we can swap out entire sections. Having all those different qualifiers, from different years will keep her from figuring it out.”

“I cannot believe she was up here basically spying! A PRIESTESS!” Cassian laughed again and then added “We better not tell Nesta. I don’t want her thinking she can come up here to do research either.”

Dearest Catrin,

You must think me a horrid sister having allowed more than two weeks to go by without a true update. We have been busy. The next phase of training has been the hardest yet.

        Merrill is still a hideous female, but the work she does is so important and I am learning so much. I have taken some time to look into Illyrian history hoping to come across something that can change the way they view females. I would like to do this for Cassian, who has become so much like–I don’t know, Catrin-If I knew what a father was like I would have liked him to be like Cassian, but if we were to have had a brother…I would also want Cassian. Nesta is very lucky in who the Mother has sent as her mate. They are both blessed.

       I have yet to finish the last novel. The envoy may have his heart broken. The female is being seduced by the warrior. And they introduced another female. Emerie said this is a three book series...I may not have started it if I had known I would have to read so many books to find out what happens. I do not care for stories in which someone's heart has to be broken in order for someone else to find their happy ending.


      I know what you are waiting for...you should sit. 

     After the last letter an Obstacle Course was set up to challenge our work as teams. You know how much I enjoy puzzles and tests of agility, but you also know how much I detest not knowing what to expect. You will be proud and slightly shocked at what I am about to admit–I was terribly bold!
I went up to the pit to examine the course and he caught me. I did come prepared, Cat—I went up in a now tighter set of leather pants (I know!) and a tunic more suitable for fall. I did not bind. OH! What you must think of me, Cat. My face heats when I think of the way his eyes roamed and how my thoughts wandered to him having his hands on me while I kissed his neck. I have this unending need to touch and taste him. I think this is a sign that though I will continue to feel fractures, I am no longer as broken as I once was. I can feel that way, Catrin. I can want a male, and though someone such as him would never reciprocate what I feel, at least I know that when ready, I can attempt to move forward.

I miss you. Every day. 

Gwyn

As the weeks went on when not taking on the Course, they worked on formations. Azriel enjoyed phalanx work. He particularly enjoyed how Gwyn seemed to make it personal. Maybe her getting whatever anger she held for him out was a good exercise for her? He didn't know. Nor did he mind. Being close to her was nice. Even if she was aggressive about it. 

Gwyn had created a booklet of maneuvers she expected the other Valkyries to memorize. The nights Cass and him found the three in the Library going over military strategies seemed to pay off. They had assigned positions according to height, weight and speed–and Gwyn would call out commands while employing enveloping, frontal attacks and flank attacks. But it was when she targeted him—getting at him from below or above, or sometimes being quick enough to get him from behind that he enjoyed the most. Her shield work was phenomenal. A few weeks in and they were all doing phenomenal.

“I haven’t seen shield work like this in centuries. They will be formidable on the battlefield, if they ever choose to fight.” Cassian’s pride in them came through with every word he spoke.

“This is what you have dreamed of doing in Illyria, Cass. This is proof that it can work.” Azriel hoped his brother understood what he accomplished here with training them, what these females accomplished.

“If I can get them to respect the work we have done here, we can change things for the females in the camps.” Azriel wanted this for his brother. Even if he felt the way he did about Illyrians, it didn't mean his brother shouldn't try to make improvements. 

He was happy for his brother. Finding his mate, even if Nesta seemed to ignore the bond. She was a female strong enough for him, fearless in so many ways. Rhys was right when he said Nesta was an Illyrian at heart. She had become his friend, a sister. He was still envious of Rhys and Cassian. But he was obeying his brother's order to stay away from Elain. At least until after the babe was born. He did not want to be an added burden, if he still felt as strongly for Elain when the babe arrived, he would have to have a talk with Rhys. For now, being around the Valkyries kept him busy.

Being around Gwyn–well, that was something altogether different. 

With two months of training on the course, and the two teams gaining on them Gwyn had enough. As the others made their way to the stairs and down to the library, the trio made their way to the other side of the pit to stretch, the music from the Symphonia helping to keep their conversations from being overheard.

“Nesta–I am not coming in second.” Gwyn wiped her forehead with the back of her hand.  

“Do you really think we would let that happen, Gwyn?” Emerie tugged at her braid.

“All I am saying, Em, is that I am not living down there with them being able to brag that they beat me.”

“We will be the first, Gwyn. I won’t let you come in second.” Nesta knew a few of the Priestesses had crushes on Azriel. She also knew it annoyed Gwyn. To the point where she had began to threaten violence in response to it. 

"What would be the big deal if we did come in second?" Emerie asked as she offered to stretch Gwyn's hamstring. 

"For one, we are not second place females, Em. Two-I am getting tired of listening to them at dinner when they all swoon over Azriel." 

Nesta and Emerie exchanged knowing smiles. "What?" Gwyn ask as she moved from lying on her back to standing in one fluid motion. She measured their faces "No. NO, no, no-You two better stop that right now." She pointed at them, hoping that her face was making it clear that Azriel was a topic she did not wish to discuss. 

“What do you think they are talking about over there?” Cassian asked 

Azriel crossed his arms as he watched Gwyn point at her two teammates. "Gwyn’s probably telling them they have to come in first or she will murder them.”

Their laughter caused the three to look their way. Azriel sighed as he though how close they had come. "They almost did it today, Cass"

“I think it is time, Az. I have a feeling it is tomorrow for them. I am going to head to Windhaven and speak with Devlon.”

Azriel nodded in agreement. Nothing would make him happier than watching that bastard see their precious Qualifier beat by three females. Three Valkyries. Three Valkyries these two bastards trained. 

“I will speak with Clotho this evening. Tomorrow morning we will speak with Gwyn. I don’t want her worried all night.” Azriel felt Cassian’s eyes boring a hole through his head. "What?” 

“Nothing." his brother shrugged, "I guess it is nice that you are concerned about her worrying all night.”

“I don’t want her to overthink it. Or to lose sleep over unknown males being at her home, Cassian.”
 
“I got it. I think it is very thoughtful of you, Az.” Cassian slid some of the wood weapons into their holders. 

“It's Gwyn, Cass.” 

“Say no more, Az”

Early the next morning Azriel entered the library to find Clotho already stationed at her desk. She was prepared with her pen for their far too early in the morning conversation. 

"Good morning, Clotho. Thank you for arranging the morning for us." 

Good Morning, Shadowsinger. Are you here for Gwyn?

“Yes, we need to speak to her before going up to the pit.”

It was very thoughtful of you to wait till this morning to tell her about today.

“We didn’t want her to unnecessarily worry.” 

Gwyn will not forget the care that was taken to assure her comfort, Shadowsinger.

He nodded in understanding to Clotho just as his shadows began to dance up the wall—Gwyn appeared at the doorway that led to the private living quarters of the Priestesses. 

“Good morning, Clotho.” She gave the High Priestess a small curtsy as she closed the door behind her.

“Shadowsinger—” She spoke softly, her large eyes on him. Questioning why he was there. 

“Priestess” He nodded, taking the sight of her in.

She looked so soft in the morning, he thought to himself. Her hair was still down, slightly mussed. Her already full lips still swollen from sleep. She had her leather Cuirass in her hands. She quickly slipped it on, covering that light colored tunic that hugged every part of her. Azriel noticed it did nothing to hide her wrap. His eyes didn't know where to rest. Every part of her called out to him to look. Her hair. Her long neck. Her collar bones. The lines of her shoulders. He needed to look anywhere else but at her and he couldn’t.

She bent forward and back, quickly and began pulling her hair up and into a high ponytail. The tunic rode up as she did this, revealing mere inches of her bare skin above the lacing of her leathers—Gods, kill him now—the movement of her hair swinging back and forth as she secured it—her scent was everywhere. He raised his eyes back to her face and her eyes were waiting for his. She smirked at him as she began fastening her leathers. 

Cassian cleared his throat behind him. Shit. He really hoped he wasn’t there long. Bad enough that she caught him looking her over. 

“Good morning, Gwyn.”

“Good morning, Cassian.” His brother got a genuine smile. 

“Am I in trouble? I promise I have not ventured up there for a peek since this one–” she pointed at Azriel “accused me of cheating.”

Azriel couldn’t hide his amusement, she was annoyed about this for two months. He was somewhat delighted at this. A sweet revenge for how she made him feel that night.

“You are in no trouble, Valkyrie. We can discuss what cheating technically is another time. But I—Cassian–we wanted you to know that we invited some males today to observe while you three run the course.” this could have come out smoother but Azriel was finding it difficult to speak this morning. To her. It was difficult for him to speak to her. 

Cassian continued “Yes, they will remain on the upper parapet. They will never be in the ring with you.”

Her eyes went wide. Cassian rested his giant hands on her shoulders, patting her arms. “I, we—will be there the entire time. They will never be close enough to touch you.” With that his brother wished her good luck, turned and jogged up the stairs having to prepare to greet Devlon and the other War Lords. 

Gwyn looked to him–her eyes, more green than blue in the faelights of the library, searched his face. 

“As long as I am near no harm will come to you.” It was a promise he wanted to keep, for her. Even if he failed her the first time, even if she hated him for it. He wanted to touch her, to brush his hand along her arm, to reassure her the way Cassian is able to. But unless she initiated touch, he would not. All he could offer her was company.
“Are you ready to show some males how good females are?” He motioned for her to head up the stairs before him.

“Pfftt—we will show them how good Valkyries are, Shadowsinger.” She grabbed the banister and began the walk up.

Quickly realizing his folly, Azriel decided he would guiltily enjoyed the view from behind her for the next couple of flights up. It was a lovely view. 

He kept to the finish as they moved quickly through each section. He paced...waiting for her to be the first to appear. Cassian followed along the perimeter of the course. Occasionally he would hear Nesta or Gwyn give an order, Emerie using her unmatched physical strength to help when brains failed to produce the outcome they wanted.

Briefly Cassian and him shared a laugh when a string of curse words so filthy could be heard coming from one of the sections "Priestess! Was that you?" was all his brother could say as he laughed so hard he choked on his own air..."Cassian! You are NOT going to tell me that HE didn't do this on purpose!"

Azriel knew he was said "he" in that sentence and he knew exactly what he did on purpose. He felt an odd thump against his ribs when he caught her eyes through the slats. 

She was the first to make it out. The way she ran right to him—her eyes aflame, holding out her battered hand with her pretty face, bloody and dirty smiling up at him–he wished he did have a prize for her. To see her this happy, that joy in her eyes, the return of the heat in his chest. But with Devlon and the other War Lords watching-he would never allow them to know how important these females were to Cassian, to him. 

“Well?” her breaths were heavy. Azriel watched the rise of her chest in her leathers. She was so proud of herself. He was proud of her too.

“You already have your prize.” He knew what she really wanted. To hear she was as good as any male. He told her the simple truth. “You just passed the Blood Rite Qualifier. Congratulations.”

They would deal with the aftermath of Devlon and Illyria another time, today these three females again made history. And right now her eyes were all he wanted to think about.

Chapter Text

It had been more than three months since he had been to a family event of any kind. No dinners at the house. No stolen glances from across rooms. No lingering in sitting rooms. No brushing of hands. None of the quiet companionship that he had with Elain last year. He spent most of his time with Cassian, at the House, with the Valkyries.

Tonight was Starfall. She would be there. As would her mate. And Mor.

Azriel kept to his shadows, as always–Mor had arrived, as did Varian and Amren. Elain looked beautiful. They briefly exchanged greetings. Helion and Lucien were discussing Court politics, Elain staying close to a very pregnant Feyre. He would keep a comfortable distance, avoid a chance stolen moment. The bond was still there. He regretted what he said about Lucien, who was loyal to the Court. Loyal to Feyre. Deserved more than being in the position he was in, with an uninterested mate.


Cassian arrived with Nesta, in her leathers from conquering the stairs—Cassian made his way over to Mor and himself, Azriel watched as Nesta carefully approached Amren. 

“How are the Valkyries coming along?” Mor asked as she sipped her red wine.

“Did Azriel tell you they passed the Blood Qualifier?” Cassian's large hand came to rest on Azriel's shoulder as he said this. 

“What? No! Amazing. Who would have thought that Nesta and her new little friends would be capable of such a feat?” Mor seemed genuinely impressed. 

“The three of them are an excellent team.” Azriel said as he swirled his drink.

“The three being?” Mor asked. 

“Well, Nesta, of course. Emerie, she owns the shop in Windhaven. And Gwyneth Berdara.” Azriel warned his shadows that now was not the time to decide to join the conversation. If they wanted to disappear around Mor, they needed to stay disappeared. 

“The Priestess from Sangravah?” Gasped Mor. She grabbed his hand, a physical touch that rarely to never happened between the two. 

“Azriel has said Gwyn has a talent for daggers. He gives her private lessons.” His brother did have a big mouth.

“Oh—is that so, Azriel?” Mor squeezed his hand as she let go, smiling at him as she did. 

He shrugged “Gwyn is highly intelligent. She’s clever. And yes, she excels at daggers.” adding “She was the first to cut the ribbon.” Gwyn's accomplishments needed to be told. 

“I really do need to come train with them one of these days. I would love to see how much they are like the original Valkyries.”

“Very much” Offered Cassian as he pulled his drink through his teeth “But–they made a decision to blend the old ways with Illyrian teachings. It is something new, old, different.”

Mor eyed him, “Az, do you think they could really be successful in something like the Blood Rite? We know how you feel about it.”

He shuddered at the thought of the three in the Rite. But offered, “They are well trained. They work as a team. You’ve got to see Gwyn’s shield work, Nesta is amazing with swords. Emerie has great strength.” did he think they could be successful in something like the Rite? If based solely on Gwyn's need to win, they could do it. They would survive and win. 

“Mor–the three of them are amazing to watch. I am so proud of them.” Cassian’s pride in the work he did was well earned.
Azriel watched as his brother’s eyes found Nesta, and he saw that Cassian truly had found his home.
He resisted looking for Elain. He set a boundary in his own mind, after the babe he would speak with her. He would stick with it. 




Finding himself in a conversation with Lucien and Rhys about Spring, Autumn and the Human lands. Though they were cordial, he couldn't help but wonder if the male knew about Solstice. Lucien, above all else, was a gentlemale. He would not cause a scene at a gathering such as this and when Elain approached with her arm looped in Helion's, her laughter floated towards them and the dimming faelights giving her a soft glow, he felt Lucien stiffen at her approach and Azriel felt sick for a moment thinking what he would do in Lucien's position. 

"Hello, Azriel" Azriel nodded a greeting to Helion. At least with Elain here, Helion would behave. 

"Elain" Azriel gave her a small smile. She returned it, not fully making eye contact as she did. 

Elain's eyes shifted from Azriel to Lucien. "Lord Helion was telling me about his Pegasus. He thinks I should take a trip to Day to see them." 

"Day is a beautiful Court, Elain. You would enjoy it there." Lucien was right, Day is beautiful. And Elain would love it there.

Azriel thought this was the perfect time for Lucien to offer to take her, but before he could Feyre called to her sister. Waving her over to introduce her to some dignitaries.
"If you'll excuse me. I must go see what my sister needs." 

The males watched her walk away. Helion turned to Lucien "Your mate is a very beautiful female. She is also incredibly naive." 

"Gods...I can only imagine what you said to her." Lucien finished the rest of his drink in one swallow. 

"Not what you think, Lucien. She isn't the type to toy with in that way." Helion looked at Azriel while he said this. He didn't care for the look coming from the High Lord, but he would take it instead of his advances. 

Helion asked, "I hear we have Valkyries again?" This was a better topic

"Yes. Nesta is one of them." The High Lord, ever impressed with Nesta, did not seem surprised. 

"There is also a Priestess and an Illyrian, correct?" Lucien shifted to stand next to Helion when he asked this and their combined scents hit Azriel. They shared a smell, but he was unsure which one. 

Azriel answered Helion's question, "Yes. That is the unit Nesta is a part of. We have 4 other working units. All fellow Priestesses. Though none are as good as Nesta's unit." 

The lights began to dim, the city rolled into darkness. Azriel excused himself, seeking a corner to watch from and he found he thought of Gwyn and wondered if her eyes were large enough to reflect the stars as they fell. Was she proud of what she accomplished? He hoped she was. He looked over to Elain, who had returned to the two males and was laughing at something Helion had said, probably inappropriate, though Lucien was laughing too.

His brother cleared his throat, "Did you know that some of the Priestesses sneak up to watch on the other balconies?” Rhys, standing next to him, kept his eyes on the night sky.

“Is that so?” Azriel leaned against wall and crossed his arms. 

“Yes. I have been told there is one in particular that likes to spend time outside at night when no one else is around.” His brother gave him a devilish grin.

His shadows seemed ready to seek her out at this news. “Who told you of such a thing?”

“I happen to be friends with a very special Priestess.” Rhys said with a shrug.

“She told you.” he didn’t know they had this kind of relationship.

Rhys leaned close, whispering. “Yes. She said the quiet at night helps her think.”

Azriel only grunted in reply as he looked to where Elain and Lucien stood besides each other. The couple, standing apart while together. 

“He’s trying. He is a good male.” Rhys said as he looked in the same direction as Feyre made her way over.

“I hear congratulations are in order to your Valkyries for passing the Qualifier. What an accomplishment!” Feyre kissed his cheek. 

“It is. They worked very hard. Nesta worked very hard.”

“I am very interested in meeting the Priestess and Illyrian. Rhys has told me a lot about them, unfortunately we have not been able to get together yet.”

“Feyre darling, you would adore Gwyn.”

“She has Cass wrapped around her finger.” The brothers laughed because it was true.

Feyre looked to him, “What about you, Az?” 

“I greatly admire them. Gwyn has overcome much.”

“Rhys told me you were the first one in at Sangravah.”

Azriel did not want to talk about that night. How he found her. What he did. “Yes” was all he offered. 

“It must feel good being able to help her in this way, Az. You should feel as proud as Cassian.” He felt his brother’s hand on his shoulder.

Azriel was proud of her. Proud of how far she had come. How much she had learned. “I am proud of her." his shadows reported that they could bring him to Gwyn. "If you two don’t mind—” He excused himself before they could say they did mind, and made his way into the house. 


Following the directions of his shadows he found her on the secluded balcony that was off the private library. She was in her robes with a blanket spread on the tiles, pillows around her, leaning back on her arms, her long legs stretched before her.

His shadows moved to her. 
“Oh, hello.” She greeted them, holding one of her hands out as if she was expecting them to sit in her palm.

“Good Evening, Priestess” he stopped at the edge of the blanket.

“Good Evening, Shadowsinger.” She looked up to him and he was right about the stars reflecting in her large eyes.

“I didn’t think anyone would mind me being here tonight. The others watch from a balcony off the main stairs. But is can become crowded.”

“This has become your home in a way, Priestess.” She smiled at this.

“Thank you. Sit.” She patted the blanket next to her. And so—he sat.


Soon they were both laying down, side by side, watching as the stars fell. She would gasp quietly when a large one flew over. Or if one cut through the sky faster than the others. Pointing to groups that crossed together, wondering aloud if they were a family. Azriel found he had stopped watching the sky and instead watched her.

“I worry that I missed Catrin” she whispered to the air. A single tear falling from her eye, making its way towards her little ear. She caught it with her hand as a shadow broke to caress her face.

"I’m sorry, Gwyn.” he had nothing else to offer. He wanted to tell her how sorry he was for not being there fast enough. For not stopping what happened to her, to her sister.

She sat up quickly and looked at him "What are you sorry for, Shadowsinger? You were there in time to stop them from doing more to me." she laid back down as quickly, "What if you never came? After me, they would have found the girls. It happened as it did because that was what the Mother decided." 

Azriel had never thought of it in such a way. 

The Priestess sighed, “I will return to the outside world one day, Shadowsinger. I will live a full life for my sister.”

“I believe you will.” and he did. Something about Gwyn made him believe she would do great things. He rolled on his side, he wanted to watch her pretty face.

Gwyn turned to turned on her side, facing him, she propped herself up on one arm. “Can I tell you a secret?”

He smiled, “You know I keep them for a living?”

“Yes, Spymaster. I know. But mine will be different because I give it to you freely. You won’t even have to use your knife on me.” He laughed at this. If she only knew.

She lowered her voice, closed her eyes and told him her secret. “I sometimes question the Mother and the Cauldron. That if my mother was able to find her mate, fall in love and never participated in the Great Rite, my life would have been different. I would have a family and not feel so alone.” She opened her eyes and held his. He could tell she thought he would judge her, that she felt shame for feeling this way. She was a Priestess, her identity was tied to her beliefs. 

How could he tell her she is not alone in questioning fate? How could he tell her that he feels the same? “Gwyn, I think when you are confused about this life and what the Cauldron and Mother decide, it is normal to question.”

The wind picked up and blew some of her hair into her face. She reached up and tucked most of it behind her ears, but a stubborn group of strands flipped the wrong way. Azriel, with centuries of self-control and self-denial, reached out and straightened them from the root. Running them through his fingers as he smoothed them out and tucked them behind her ear. The one with the freckle. She closed her eyes as he did this, licking her lips and leaning into his hand. He was a fool for this because no other female’s hair would ever feel as silky as hers did at that moment. No females skin would fell as warm against his hand. 

She rolled unto her back again. Her steady breaths lifted her chest, her breasts. There was silence for a few minutes and he began thinking he must have made her uncomfortable with his touch. But she would have said something, Gwyn, of all the females he knows, would tell him if he had crossed a line. He was never so relieved as when she broke the silence. 

“Have you ever heard the story of the Orphan and the Stars?”

“I don't think so”

She began the tale as if she was reading him a bedtime story. Something that rarely happened in Azriel's childhood. He watched as her hands moved through the air, seeming to draw out the pictures in her mind. Azriel could see the story as she told it. An Orphan had only her clothing and a loaf of bread. As she walked through the countryside she would come upon children in more need than she, so, she gave away a little of what she had to each of them. First her bread, then her hat, her scarf, gloves, coat. When the Orphan girl had nothing left, no food and only a thin shift, the stars began to fall from the sky, turning into gold coins. The Orphan found herself in a new gown of the finest silks and linens and surrounded by riches for her good deeds.
The Gods had rewarded her for her selflessness. 

Her voice was so soothing. He felt he could drift off to sleep listening to her tell him stories. She was yawning, and again turned on her side to face him.  Their breathing had synced and all as his eyes looked into hers, they felt so heavy. 

His chest was warm. He was surrounded by softness and light. He was in a glen, running waters with spices, a slight hint of figs, and lotus on the currents floating by him. Gwyn was there, her feet in the water as she held her hand out to him. She called to him. A smile on her face, his heart felt her. 

“Shadowsinger” he felt a soft shake and someone whispering his name. 

“Shadowsinger.” someone was pushing against him.

“Shadowsinger” He was outside. She was in his arms. They were still on the balcony. It was not dawn yet.

“I’m sorry.” She spoke so softly “It appears that we have fallen asleep for a spell.” Pulling out of his arms she swiftly stood. 

“Gwyn—” She stopped him. “No. You were an absolute gentlemale. It was I that clung to you for warmth while we slept.” She gave him a shy smile. “You had your wings wrapped around us.”

He sat up and ran his hands through his hair as she smoothed herself out. He couldn’t believe he slept so soundly. He had dreamt.

There was that silence between them, but his Shadows sensed no discomfort from her. He looked up at her and she looked like moonlight. Was she glowing?
He rose to stand before her. His wings were stiff, he gently opened them.

“I am sorry if I caused you pain by sleeping on them” She almost reached out to touch them, pulling back quickly as she seemed to catch herself. 

“Don’t be. I am sorry we fell asleep. I don’t know how it happened. You were telling me a story and that’s the last thing I remember.”

She seemed to need to find other places to look that were not his face, “You aren’t upset that you missed the rest of Starfall with your friends?”

“You are my friend, Gwyn.” Her eyes finally found his. Azriel thought he had seen all her smiles. He had not. This was the biggest one and it featured all her teeth. So much so that she bashfully covered half her face with the sleeve of her robe.

“Well—I bid you a good night. Or morn. Your pick, Shadowsinger. I will see you in the pit” Before he could wish her a proper goodbye she was through the doors, out of the house and then safely behind the door to her library. 



Walking back to his room, thinkin of how she felt in his arms, h was so distracted by the scent of her on him that he didn’t see Cassian coming out of his room. Azriel stood at his door. Still. His brother at his. Also still. Then Cassian walked over and sniffed him. A flash of something crossing his face—“It’s not what you think.” he held his hands up, palms facing his brother in a sign of innocence. “We fell asleep on the balcony off the library watching Starfall.”

Cassian grunted. “That’s where you disappeared to?—Rhys wants us at the house this afternoon” Azriel nodded as he entered his room to clean-up before the day. 

Chapter Text

Gwyn prayed to the Mother that she would avoid everyone and anyone on her way to her room. His scent was all over her. Her hands were filled with cedar. Her hair smelled of night kissed air. She had slept near a male. Not just any male. Oh Mother! The Spymaster of the Night Court. Lord Shadowsinger himself. Azriel. Azriel …Azriel– who had left her a Solstice gift that smelled like him and a female she did not know. 

There was an ache in her that she recognized. Those novels she has been reading-Gods, how embarrassing. To be near a male such as him. She would wash, and soak her robe. The last thing she needed was the other Acolytes that swoon over him catching his scent as she moved through the shelves. Did her scent change? She believed she had it under control when she woke to his smell and pressed against his body.

Oh. Mother. His. Body. His handsome face. He looked so beautiful sleeping. He was pretty. So, so pretty. His arms. Around her. She had dreamt. 

She thought of vomiting and stepped on worms. Smelly kitchen garbage, and dirty dishes. The nappies of babies after being introduced to a new food.

Merrill. She thought of Merrill and how she called her a Nymph.

He was probably as embarrassed as she was and she would never want him to feel that way. His comfort and happiness was important to her. She wanted him at ease. To be at ease with her. To know he was as safe with her as she felt with him. After training she would apologize.
She bathed and prepared for the day. Grabbing oats and berries on her way to morning services, Gwyn would see him after training. Apologize and they would move on from this. 

Thankfully when she entered the pit it was already abuzz with training. Grabbing her shield and short sword, she slipped into formation—catching his eye as she hid her smile behind her shield. He blushed and so did she.

“Berdara, your footwork is off today” hollered Cassian as he had them run a shortened course at the end of two hours of formations. “Maybe you slept wrong?” Mother, he was teasing her? How did he know? “My feet are just fine, General. And—I slept wonderfully. IF you must know.”

There. That would put that to rest.

“Is that so? Nothing like sleeping under the stars–am I right, Az?” She watched as Azriel sent his brother a look of absolute ice.

Gwyn felt Nesta’s stare. She would make Cassian pay for this. Azriel clapped his hands and called an end to training. The Priestesses shuffled for the stairs as Nesta made her way over to her. 

Grabbing her elbow, Nesta asked. “What is going on, Gwyn? Did something happen?”

“No. Yes–but no. I don’t want to discuss it here, Nes.” She tried to control her eyebrows and eyes but she knew they had a language all their own. 

Nesta, knowing their language pulled her to the far end of the pit, Emerie took position at her other side. Gwyn was trapped. 

“Spill." commanded Nesta "They won’t hear us from over here. The symphonia drowns us out.”

Wringing her hands she quickly told them what had happened.

“Gwyn. If you are upset I will speak with Azriel. I promise it will never happen again” She believed Nesta.

“Please don’t.”

“Were you uncomfortable?” Nesta held her arm at the elbow gently.

Gwyn felt her cheeks flush with heat as she though about what he felt like, smelled like. "It was the most restful sleep I have had since before I arrived here.”

Nesta and Emerie’s eyes shone with an unspoken understanding. They walked back to the other side of the pit just as Cassian ordered them to finish putting away their weapons. Gwyn collected the shields, making her way to the racks to place them in. A shadow darted out in front of her hand as she steadied an especially wobbly shield.

“That one seems to do as he pleases when it comes to you” He stood next to her as she secured it.

“Are they all males?” She wouldn’t say the Shadow was nuzzling her, but that is what it certainly appeared to be doing.

Azriel genuinely seemed perplexed, “Hm, I never thought to ask?”

Shrugging she said, “I would assume they are since you are a male.”

Standing a foot or so apart, Gwyn knew her braid was haphazardly hanging to the right of her head. She pulled the tie and began running her fingers through it, undoing the plait. There were moments she noticed Azriel had a far off look in his eyes, he was there but not. This was one of them. His eyes watching her fingers work her braid apart.

“Are we—” he began, but she stopped him. “We are fine, Shadowsinger.” She gave him a genuine smile hoping to assuage whatever anxiety he had over the night before.

“You aren’t upset with me? Uncomfortable?” he stepped a little closer to her. 

She did not move back, “Not at all. If it makes you feel better I will admit to having a bit of a reputation when it comes to being a notorious bed hog. Very hard to sleep with. I cling.”

“Is that so?” he smirked as he leaned against the support beam of the rack.

She nodded, “It is how we, my sister and myself ended up with the only pair of single beds before we came to the age of majority.”

Azriel leaned towards her, with his pretty gold hued eyes looking at her he said very matter of factly. “Illyrian beds are huge to accommodate our wings. There is always plenty of space.”
His wings rustled gently after this. As if controlling the urge to open them. Those wings, those eyes, the very last thing she needed to be doing at this moment was envisioning herself in his bed.

She blushed, and he also had a slight pink to his cheeks. They both looked to the ground and then back up.

Gwyn bit her lower lip, boldly stepping closer to him. Boldly resting her hand gently on his leathers she quietly said “It will be difficult enough for me to keep from rubbing last night in the faces of Ananke, Roslin and others next time they bicker about you. I will have to hold off on finding out if your bed is truly as spacious as you claim, Shadowsinger." 

Today Gwyn learned Azriel, The Spymaster and Shadowsinger of the Night Court has two dimples. One in his left cheek and another that hides in the crease of his smile on the right side just near his beautiful mouth. 
She knew he watched her as she walked away. She made every step worth his glances. 

Chapter Text

Azriel gently spun the model of the Universe in his brother’s office while waiting for Cassian to go over his meeting with Eris. His mind was occupied with thoughts of Gwyn. What she would like. She would like the model. She would like his brother's study too. Rhys should invite her to a family dinner. She would fit right in. Rhys already treats her like family according to him and his stupid need to tell him that they spend time together.

She would fit in his bed too and that was more important than if his brother talked to her. She could bring all her books. She would look beautiful on the side nearest the balcony. The light would hit her hair and she would glow again. She was glowing? --his shadows confirmed she was. He thought so. She wasn't angry with him and not uncomfortable. His chest felt warm again just thinking about how she felt in his arms.

“Az...Azriel? Az?” Rhys was calling him. Cassian punched his arm. 

Coming out of his daze he could only offer a “Yes?”

“Is there something on your mind that is more important than what is happening at the moment?” Of course not.
Though Gwyn coming to dinner is important and her in his bed would be very important.
He thought by the look on his brother’s face that he knew who he was thinking about.

Rhys' eyes and smirk told him he did. “Then you understand why the tighter radius for now when it comes to the Crown and its influence.” 

Right, the Queen. “I do. But it has created a blind for us. We aren’t sure exactly what she is up to and won’t be due to our inability to get close enough for real surveillance. I cannot convey how difficult it is to operate as a spy network without utilizing my spies.”

“Yes. I understand this. But your safety is important to the Court. We cannot risk you or any of your spies falling under her influence.”

“Understood.” he did want to push back on this, but found he could not formulate the proper reasons why. 

"Well, then this meeting is over. Have a good night, boys." with that, Rhys disappeared. 

Lost in his thoughts again as he came out of the study, Cassian was meeting Nesta in Velaris, his shadows whispering for him to go home. -home—priestess—home—yes, yes. She is home. We will see her later for dagger practice he assured them. 

“Hello, Azriel.” He stilled at the sound of her voice. She stood in the sitting room. The light from the windows bathing her in a soft glow. She was still so pretty.

“Hello, Elian.” 

She stood, smoothing out her skirts. “We have not truly spoken since Solstice.”

Azriel was unsure where to go or what to say, he only had the truth. “I have been very busy with my duties for the Court.” 

“Training my sister and her friends is included in those duties?"

“That is one of them.” he now found he did not want to have this conversation.

She crossed the room to him. Elain moved into his space so that they were as close as Solstice. He could smell her. Her scent. It had been three months. 

His fucking shadows disappeared. 

Her hair captured the faelights and gave off a golden aura, there were no faelights on the balcony. “I’ve missed seeing you at family dinners.”

Azriel had to remember his brother's order. He had to remember he promised himself that he would wait until after the baby was born. He had to be honest with her for now. She had to know why. She knew before. 

Her warm brown eyes searched his face for an emotion. “We both know why I have not been around, Elian.” he despised himself for needing to be cold. 

“What if I reject the bond, Azriel?” 

A greasy feeling hit Azriel’s stomach. “This is not something you should discuss with me. That is for you and your mate to decide.”

Elain took a step back. He was glad for the space.

“The priestess is very beautiful” Elain was wrapping a curl around one of her fingers. 

“She is one of many trainees.”

“That’s not how I understand it. I’ve heard you give her private lessons.”

Fucking Cassian, he thought to himself. 

Feyre called her from upstairs and Azriel was never happier for an out. "If you'll excuse me, my sister needs me." she said as she brushed herself against him on her way out. 
Standing in the same spot this all began in, Azriel only turned towards the front door to find Rhys standing before him. 

"Let's go back into my study" Azriel followed his brother. Preparing himself for what was to come. Rhys sat behind his desk and motioned for Azriel to sit in his armchair. He felt it was better to stand. 

“Rhys—I di-”
Rhys put his hand up to stop him “I know. I don’t know what to do here. I cannot ask Feyre to speak with her again, she felt terrible about Solstice. Felt responsible on some level by also questioning why you two weren’t mated.” a sigh of exacerbation escaped his brother. “Elain is playing a dangerous game, Az. We realized this after Solstice when we first spoke with her. It was as if she wanted to be caught, wanted the fight between you and Lucien as a way out of the bond instead of having to reject it herself.”

The idea that Elain would do that, that there wasn't mutual feeling there. That he was a means to an end…No—“I was just as at fault that night, Rhys. If not absolutely responsible.”

“Brother. You may have been wrong on your end, but she isn’t wholly innocent here. If I thought for a second that there was true love between you and her I would have done everything to make it possible for you to be together. We would have worked it out and Lucien would have to simply understand and I believe he is the type of male that would have, given his own history. But-there is no love there, is there?" 

He was not going to discuss his feelings toward Elain with Rhys, “I have obeyed the order to stay away from her.”

"I know, Az. And I appreciate that you have."

"Somethings have been put into a different perspective since Solstice." 

“Does that perspective involve a very pretty Priestess?” Azriel slipped into one of his masks.

He was not discussing the feelings he was feeling about Gwyn. "Gwyn is a friend.”

“Is that so?” Rhys drummed his desk with his fingers. 

“Yes.” his brother was waiting for more. More Azriel was not going to give. 

Nodding as he pursed his lips, Rhys said "Well, I hope that you continue to enjoy your friendship with her—You know she is special to me?”

“Yes. You've told me.”

“She was lost inside her pain for months, Azriel. When I met with her in the Library the first few months afterwards.” Azriel knew how hard that time was for his brother. Finally being away from Amarantha. Finding out his mate was with his enemy. 
He offered what he could about Gwyn. 
“The training has given her focus, Rhys. It has been good for her. For many of them that would have remained in the library for the rest of their lives.”

“Gwyn is unlike the rest of them, Az. You know this. I want you to remember this.”

“I know, Rhys." He did know. 

When it was clear this conversation would go no where else, his brother shifted it. "You'll be touching base with your spies later, right?" 

Azriel had never been more thankful for a conversation to end. "Yes, I should get going. I have something to take care at the house this evening before doing my rounds.” 
Rhys didn't need to know it was dagger lessons with Gwyn. 

His friend. 

He couldn't help but smile as she bounced up and down after with every throw, even his shadows seemed to be involved in her joy. She whirled around to the table, grabbing the new daggers that were more precise. 

“You weren’t kidding about putting the practice in, huh?” Azriel marveled at how good she had become at them. Bullseye after bullseye. Gwyn was happy with herself and how impressed he was with her. She rewarded him with smile after smile. 

“Am I as good as you, Shadowsinger? Maybe better?” the Priestess poked at his abdomen and he let her get away with it. 

“Woah—let's not get ahead of ourselves here. You are good. You are not as good as me.” Azriel fought the urge to tuck her hair behind her pointy little ears.

Tilting her head in the way she does, her hair shining like copper she teased, “To be fair, I don’t have a favorite dagger yet. I bet that is when I will be as good as you.”

“Talk to me when you sleep with one under your pillow, Berdara.” Azriel knew as soon as this fell from his mouth he would pay for it. 

With a big grin she asked, “Are you trying to get me to talk about how big your bed is again, Shadowsinger?” She put her hand on her hip, her smiles tonight were killing him. Azriel moved closer to her and she did not move away. It was the two of them, alone, in the pit. Like many times before, but tonight was different. Tonight felt playful. Tonight, he would tease her back. 

“It is a big bed, Priestess. With big pillows.” He held his hands apart to show her the size he was talking about and her blush crawled down her neck and under her shirt. 

Those teal eyes glowing with humor and, Gods, the Priestess was flirting with him--she moved closer, asking "Meant to accommodate your big Illyrian head?"

He wanted to kiss her. He really wanted to kiss her smart mouth. "I do not have a big head, Berdara. You take that back." he teased as he looked at her lips as she licked them, her breathing increasing as the air between them felt heavy. Heavy and he felt a pull to her, as if they were two of the planets in Rhys' model. 

—Lord Bloodshed— his shadows weren’t in the habit of announcing Cass? Seconds later his brother landed hard, falling to his knees.

“Az—she called in our bargain. I cannot see her for one week or until she speaks to me.” Cassian was speaking faster and louder than Azriel had ever witnessed from the male, tears streaming down his worried face. 

“What do you mean, Cass?” he approached him as one should a wounded mate. 

Cassian held his hand in hands, “We fought. I said some things I shouldn’t have. Gwyn—I said I was shackled to her.”

“Oh, Cassian.” Gwyn's gentle voice followed her gentle hands as she walked over to his brother. Azriel stood in awe as she approached him with all the care and caution the situation deserved. She took his brother’s shaking hands into hers and tenderly helped him to his feet. “Know this, Cassian—you have no reason to doubt Nesta’s love for you. I can speak on this because I know my sister. She may cling to what she can of her life before, but that means nothing when it comes to the love she has for you. Come–I will make us some tea and then we will figure this out.” 
Watching as the lithe female wrapped her arm around the waist of Illyria's most feared warrior, Azriel reached out to Rhys. 

Gwyn chewed her lower lip as they waited for the kettle to boil, even though she could simply ask the house for tea, it seemed to give her something to do. She poured Cassian a cup and walked it to him as he sat at the table.

She then turned to Azriel, slipping her hands into his and pulling him into the hall. They were so warm. Her hands. “My sister needs me. Do you think you can contact the High Lord and find out where she is?”

“I already did alerting him that Cassian is here. Let me find out where Nesta has gone.” He didn't let her hands go. 

Rhys
Is this about Nesta?
Yes, Gwyn has asked where Nesta is. 
Mor is taking her to Emerie’s in Windhaven. Should I arrange for her to take Gwyn?
Yes, but someone will need to fly them past the wards. Let me make sure Gwyn is comfortable with that. 
Understood. We will be there soon. 

“Mor is taking her to Emerie’s. She will come here to get you, but one of us will need to fly you past the wards. Will you be ok with me holding you? ”

Azriel expected her to say she preferred Rhys, that she would prefer taking the 10,000 steps. Instead she said, "I have no issue with you holding me, Azriel. Let me go pack a bag.”
She squeezed his hand before pulling hers away, turning to make her way to the stairs that led to the library.

Azriel went to sit with his brother—we can hold her—our priestess— yes, we can hold her, he silently answered-she called you Azriel--she did, Gwyn called me Azriel. 

Mor and Rhys arrived just as Gwyn returned to the kitchen with an overnight bag. Azriel could sense how nervous she was, but she was brave. Gwyn was brave.
“Mor–just tell me where you took her.” Cassian was going to lose his mind if left alone. 

Mor gave him a stern look and then said, "Fine. But you cannot go there until tomorrow. Give her the night, Cass.”

“I promise. I will wait the night. Rhys, you will bring me first thing in the morning?” Rhys nodded. 

“She is at Emerie’s.” Mor said. 


Once in the pit, Mor turned to Gwyn. “Are you ready? Azriel explained that he will fly us past the wards and then I will winnow us once we are past them?”

Nodding, Gwyn said, "Yes. Though I haven’t flown or winnowed since you brought me here. I am unsure how queasy I may become.”

“You’ll be fine, Gwyn. I promise the lift off will be soft.” he offered as he extended his hand to her. Mor was used to this. Being pulled into him. This would be new for Gwyn.

He pulled her close to him, softly telling her, “I’ll hold on to you. You give your hand to Mor.” she reached for Mor’s hand.

“Don’t drop me, Shadowsinger.” there was something about the way her fingers dug into his shirt. 

“Never, Priestess.” Azriel slipped his arm around her waist and found that his hand on her hip would would be his new favor thought, new favorite sensation. Pulling her in, he shot them into the sky and then came back down. She had buried her face in his neck for the three brief seconds her held her and he thought he felt her lips against his skin.
Taking in the lingering smell of her, Azriel turned to the house and back to Cassian and Rhys.

Hours later Azriel was restless. Something felt off. He left in the middle of the night to check with his spies again. He knew Cassian would make his way to Windhaven as early as possible to speak with Nesta. He knew things would work out on their own. He would do his rounds again and then head back home. The last stop of the morning would be just at the Autumn border. Which he still fucking hated. At least this time it is with a contact that lives on the Summer side.
He landed and walked to the meeting point, settled in amongst his shadows. Just after dawn his contact arrived and reported that Eris had been captured by the Queen, using the missing Autumn Soldiers.
Azriel quickly took off for home. Winnowing as soon as he reached the boarder of Day, immediately landing outside of the river house. 

Rhys
Azriel—where are you?
I am outside the house now.
Get to Windhaven as fast as you can—They took Nesta, Emerie and Gwyn last night.
What? Who? Where?
They forced them into the Blood Rite. Come to Emerie’s.

Chapter Text

Instead of winnowing directly into Emerie’s house, Azriel landed outside the front door right on the main street of Windhaven. He wanted to make a show of his arrival, his shadows begged him to be allowed to spread as far as they could—sending a message to everyone watching that even he was here because of what they had done. What they did to his friends.

He didn’t always enjoy intimidating others, but these pricks deserved it. He knew Emerie’s neighbors watched every move she made. There was no way they weren’t aware of them being taken and that not ONE of them thought to reach out to the High Lord—this would have to wait. He walked the perimeter of the house hoping to pick up scents as he made a mental list for himself.
Eris first- Greatest risk to the most people.
Nesta, Emerie, Gwyn- There are rules to the Rite. They cannot get them out. They have been trained by Cassian and himself, two Carynthians with 500 years of battle training.
Nesta is fierce.
Emerie is strong.
Gwyn is brilliant.

He entered the small house through the backdoor and was hit by the scent of fear still lingering up the stairs. Gwyn's fear. Fear he knows, a scent he has lived with for two years now. 

“Thank Gods you are here–” Worry marked every inch of his brother’s face as he approached Rhys and Feyre, she looked to have been crying. “Cassi–” He interrupted his brother–Azriel needed to control his emotions. 

But everything escape fast. “Eris has been taken by the Queen. I told you that there was a greater risk to not only our Court, but others because you two forbad me to do my job the way I needed to. It is my responsibility to keep this Court safe, and I will now have to rescue that piece of shit from Briallyn.”

Before Rhys could reply, Cassian announced that he was going after them. Shouting orders to each, as if this was a battlefield. 

There were laws. They all knew them.

“You know the laws, Cass.” Rhys stated. 

“Fuck the laws.”

“What laws?” Feyre, worry for her sister etched on her face. 

Fucking Rhys should have told his mate the laws. He watched as Rhys used the same dominance he used on him to force Cassian to recite the laws. Feyre, her belly full of babe—rubbing her face as the realization that her sister, Emerie and Gwyn had to stay in a fucking useless blood lust contest.

— priestess will not lose— his shadows said and he agreed, she won’t, he knows this— that piece of shit first —he laughed to his shadows for their ability to maintain focus when he was close to losing it. It didn’t make his anger at Rhys and Feyre lessen, but that would be for after this all. After this they would need to discuss how their choices helped create what they are dealing with now. 

Cass was pacing, his hands shaking—he had to figure out a way to get his brother to calm down before he tore apart Windhaven. Feyre stepped to his brother, taking his hands in hers and asked if he was listening to what he had said when he arrived. Of course he wasn’t, Cass is worried about Nesta. His mate.

Azriel had multiple emotions running through him at the same time. He did what he was good at, putting those walls up, taking control of what he could and icing out what he could not. He allowed his anger to be heard. They needed to know he was not happy about any of this.

“My spies got word that Eris has been captured by Briallyne. She sent his remaining soldiers after him while he was out hunting with his hounds. They grabbed him and somehow, they were all winnowed back to her palace. I’m guessing using Koschei’s power.”

“I don’t care.” He watched as Cassian made for the door. No way was he going to let Cassian leave.

“We have to get him out.”

“WE?” Cassian was in his face. He would not fight his brother over this. Rhys and Feyre stood next to him.

“We can’t go.” Feyre needed to say no more when it came to her.

Cassian pointed to Rhys “YOU can be in and out in an hour.”

“I can’t go.”

“Yes, you fucking can.”

“I can’t”

It was Amren that stopped the back and forth time wasting the conversation was becoming when she demanded “Why?”

“We made a bargain. —” Azriel watched as his brother and Feyre explained to Cassian, to Amren, to him what they had done.

“Romantic, idealistic fools.” Amren spit out, and for one, he agreed. 

Azriel couldn’t believe what he was hearing– “and if you die, Feyre…then Rhys dies”

The babe. His brother. His High Lady. 

For once Azriel was glad that Amren stepped in and made the rest of the decisions. They knew Eris had the Made dagger that could protect him on some level, this did not mean that there weren’t other ways to get Eris to talk–revealing how deeply embedded he was with Night, risking not just his court, but others.

Cassian summoned his armor, resigned to the mission at hand. “I trained Nesta well. Trained them all well. . . If anyone can survive the Blood Rite, it’s them.”

Tapping his siphons in response, Azriel knew they would survive. She would do more than survive. She would win. He knew it. 

There were so many scents. She wanted to vomit, her hair and neck hurt. The same pain she felt the one time her ear and neck had been tucked wrong when she fell asleep as a child curled in a pew, causing such a soreness that she almost wanted to cry. She opened her eyes and took in her surroundings.

Males. She was surrounded by males with their wings bound. She stood in one quick movement, almost falling over from the dizziness.

Shit. Shit. Shit. Breathe Gwyn. Breathe. You have to calm down. You are the rock. YOU are the ROCK. She said this over and over in her mind as she allowed her brain to catch up to her body. There was a rustling to her left, now her right…scanning the forest floor her mind formulated a clear path.

—May the Mother Bless Cassian and his stupid ladders on the floor, she thought as she lifted her night dress and took off silently through the field of bodies.

Clearing them from the corner of her eye she saw a dagger stuck into a trunk. She scanned the area again, making sure that there were no other males in her way, she quickly made her way over to the tree finding pile of weapons at the base. She would leave the dagger in the trunk, if some of them are involved in whatever is happening it will signal that someone was awake before them. And if they knew that three females had been forced into this and were told to hunt them, they would know to look for her.

She grabbed one sheathed dagger, a smaller one that she could throw if needed. A sica with a scabbard attached to a bandolier that could adjust.

The sun had risen and the light reaching her through the trees was hitting the charm on her bracelet causing it to reflect light back. She would need to cover it.

Hide. She needed to hide. In a place that gave her the advantage over these males.

Gwyn, up you go. Into the trees. She would stay in the trees. 

After spending the first night flying around like vultures, stopping and questioning merchants, and finally finding out that Eris was spotted entering the Castle, Azriel chose an area for him and Cassian to settle in. It could be another day. It could be ten before they are able to make their move. His shadows warned him of the heavy wards, he could feel the power through them.

“We’ll wait here until they leave the castle. Then trail them from the cloud cover.” They’d be sitting here, out of Rhys’ range, with no way of knowing what was happening with the Rite. Cassian’s grunt told him everything he needed to know, things he didn’t need to say.

Gwyn waited until the males moved through the area before climbing down. They were similar to a herd, she thought to herself. A herd of stupid horrible Illyrian males. She would get even with them all for this. Especially after hearing what some of them had to say about some bitch of a Queen offering them rewards for “taking out Nesta Archeron, the cripple and the half-breed nymph.” She knows why nymph was thrown in there—but she was not that same female from that kitchen. She is a Valkyrie. Trained by the General and the Shadowsinger. Her friends. The males she trusts. Males that care about her. Males that will make sure whomever is behind this paid for it. 

She pulled herself together as she stealthily landed below the huge tree she spent the night in.
Shoes. Clothes. Supplies. In that order.
Normally she hated the fact that she was taller than the average fae female, this meant she had slightly larger feet. But today she thanked the Mother for them. The first body she found had smaller feet than the other males–she noted a smaller wing size too. Chuckling to herself knowing that this was some sort of sign in this culture thanks to an extremely smutty Illyrian novel about a “Dom” and his “Sub”. It was one of Emerie’s picks. It was also the first book in which she read a romance between two females. Which was lovely, but just not for her. Though breasts are beautiful and she would love to have Azriel’s hands on hers— Gods, Gwyn …focus, you will get yourself killed letting your mind wander like this.

She stripped the male. And it looked to be true about the wing span. And feet. She hid him under the brush and covered her tracks. The charm was glowing again, she cut a piece of her night dress to wrap her wrist…it stopped glowing. She held it up in front of her, glow, down, no glow. Up. Down. Left, light glow. Right, weaker. Directly in front, strongest. 

North.

She shoved her night dress into the chest of the smelly leathers. She would quietly tail the herd of horrid males, she would move north–towards Ramiel.

Chapter Text

They took turns flying surveillance over the castle. Both Cassian and himself discussed how it looked more like an out of place fortress, no village or town surrounding it–no one in and out–it felt out of place. His shadows couldn’t update him on Eris’ condition, or that of anyone else inside the castle.

Cassian wanted to barge in, which is his way. Azriel reminded him of the wards, the risk. He seemed to calm down. Nothing they did would get Nesta, Emerie or Gwyn out of the Rite faster. He had thought about Amren possibly finding a loophole, if Gwyn was here he would have picked her brain about it. If Gwyn was here she would have figured out how to get herself out of the Rite. 

He offered his idea about Amren–”There’s no loophole. If I Interfere, we’re both dead.” His brother continued “And even if I did, Nesta would kill me if I jumped in to save her. She’d never forgive me for it.”

Cassian was right. The point of what they created, the training–it was all for these females to be able to save themselves.

She spent the next night in the trees. Scurrying down when the males would foolishly go relieve themselves in groups like a bunch of females at a party, grabbing food and whatever else she could from their makeshift campsites.

Last night she lost her night dress when she had to climb quickly up a tree after relieving herself. She wouldn’t do that again. She’d go right above them next time. Pee right on their heads. 

But the nights--the nights with the beasts. The screams and the terror. She wanted to feel badly for them, but she didn’t. They said terrible things about her, her sisters. The canopy gave her great coverage, she was able to move from tree to tree without so much as a noise. She was able to make her way to where the cave system was—where the beasts slept. She watched. She learned. She waited. She prayed to the Mother. 

Her bracelet was glowing and she thought she heard a faint melody…they must be near. They must be close to her. They came for her. Or she found them. It didn’t matter. She started moving back to where she knew the last camp was set up in a small clearing. That’s when she saw her night dress—these mother fu–They were setting a trap for her friends.

Oh no. Not today, horrible males, Gwyn told herself…not today. She made her way to the beast's cave. 

Maybe she should have thought this through better she said to herself after the 5th rock made contact with the beast's forehead? She didn’t remember ever being this fast, yeah sure she is limber and agile–she leapt over fallen trees, ducked under low lying branches–the snarling and heat from the beast was gaining on her. She just needed to get to the ridge, cut left, she told herself—her face stinging from all the cuts from the smaller branches.

She heard them as she began the climb up the ridge, mocking herself as she did “why would a priestess need thigh muscles” silly, Gwyn. Just plain silly she thought has the beast's breath was on her neck. 

“Fuck you. Fuck your family.” It was Emerie's voice! 

“I get first crack at the High Fae Bitch” Horrible male that needed to die voice. 

Almost there, the top was right there--CUT LEFT, she ordered herself as the beast followed the multiple scents at the bottom of the ridge. 

“RUN” She heard Nesta yell as the beast ran towards the males. 

“HERE!” She called to her sisters, no time for an inspection “Follow me” she waved her sword and then slid down the ridge, snow and dirt kicking up as they did–recovering and taking off towards a steam Gwyn had seen from above the trees.

Three more days and the Rite would be over, Azriel thought to himself.

Nesta probably has a body count, Emerie too. They are tough, both fearless and willing to take on whatever comes their way. Gwyn would be in the trees, if he had to guess what she would do. He pictured her, with her big teal eyes—sitting in the tree, like this, like they had been doing. Probably moving through them, her bigger than average feet not touching the forest floor unless she needed to. She was so fucking smart and for whatever reason, knowing this put him at ease. This entire time thinking about the three of them surviving, he never once worried that she wasn’t smart enough to make it out. Even his shadows didn’t seem worried, which for them and the way they behaved when it concerned her–was a good sign. He had to trust that she, that they would make it out.

“We’ve been sitting on our asses for four fucking days” Cassian on the other hand, he was slowly losing his mind. He continued sharpening Truth-Teller as they discussed the difference between them, Cassian was act now—always. He was wait–wait and see.

Neither of them dared to say what Cassian said next, neither wanting to be the first to say it. 

“You think she’s alive?” Azriel stopped his sharpening. The pain across his brother’s face, Cass always wore his heart on his sleeve. Azriel had heard that Mates could tell, he didn’t really know. . . He knew what he had witnessed mates acting like. His father, Rhys' father... but Cass and Rhys didn’t always act like other males when it came to their mates. Rhys sent Feyre into a Death God's cottage to retrieve her own wedding ring. Cass took Nesta into the Bog and the Prison. Perhaps Mates like them, like the one's of fables...maybe the love made it different?

“You’d know if she’d died.” He stopped sharpening. Tapped his brother’s heart “Right here—you’d know, Cass.” Azriel believed this because every time he thought of Gwyn--Cassian continued speaking. 
“There are plenty of other unspeakable things that could happening to her” Azriel didn’t allow his mind to go there “To Emerie and Gwyn”

Our Valkyrie—They began to whisper to him about murdering and maiming–dark—feelings so dark. Flashes of her being taken by random males, males he probably knew—that icy rage, his Siphons flared as he now worried about things happening to Gwyn.

“You—we—trained them well, Cassian. Trust in that. It’s all we can do.”

Azriel didn’t want his brother to look at him. Not right now. Not with what he was feeling. Flashes of other hands that were not his on her. He would push them down...down, down, down--behind the wall, where he kept the images of her freckled face and smiles.

Turning his head to keep Cass from seeing his eyes– “Someone’s leaving the Castle.”

Finally, he thought to himself—They could finally rescue this piece of shit, go home, wait for the Valkyries to return and this week will finally come to end.

Chapter Text

Last Night of the Rite.
Morning of Nyx’s Birth.

Eris was secure in Hewn City, he needed to get back to his brother. Eris said the plan was to use the Crown on Cassian, control him and bring him into the Blood Rite to kill Nesta and her friends. They had a few hours till dawn. He could go in at dawn. The moment the sun broke over the horizon, he would go in.

Azriel--there was a fear he had never heard before in his brother’s voice.
Rhys?
Feyre is bleeding
I am on my way



He arrived as Madja did. She immediately set to work. Mor and Elain paced the floor, Amren was on the way. He asked Rhys for a moment and explained what was happening with Eris and Cassian. The plan was for him and Mor to go in at the official end of the Rite. 

"Someone has passed through the wards, Azriel" Just as Rhys said this, his shadows began to swirl, pushing against the bedroom door -- seeking the windows to get out of Rhys and Feyre's room—Our priestess is here—be quiet, he scowled at them…this isn’t time for games — our Valkyrie is downstairs--go to her, go.

Rhys only nodded at Azriel as he winnowed downstairs, to the front door of the river house to find Emerie and Gwyn leaning against the frame. No Nesta. He pulled Gwyn into the house, placing his hands on her shoulders. She spoke quickly and excitedly. Her eyes bigger than he had ever seen them, filled with tears.

“Nesta is still there. They are going to kill her. She held the pass so Emerie could carry me out. Someone has to go help her.”

"You took the breaking?" He held her face in his hands, she nodded and he thought she was a stupidly brave female. 

Emerie, breathing heavy from exhaustion and looking like death said, “Gwyn almost bled to death. Took an arrow to the thigh for us to get across a bridge. But the stone healed us. We landed on the lawn.”

Gwyn nodding said, “Nesta knocked me out. I didn't want to leave her. I didn't want to go." 

“Let me look at you” was all he could get out. His full attention on Gwyn. She stood up to her full height. Bloodied, ripped leathers. Torn shirt. Shoes that seemed the right size for her bigger feet. She didn’t flinch as he ran his hands through her hair and down her arms, he wanted to pull her into him but so much was happening. He would settle for her smile and her filthy beautiful face. A face that he continued to picture since Solstice, a face he allowed to sneak into his thoughts while he spent 4 days in the canopy of a forest, waiting to rescue Eris. The face he prayed to the Mother for a safe return.

“I will take care of it. I promise. As soon as dawn breaks, Gwyn. I promise.” he cupped her cheeks and wiped her tears with his thumbs. Her exhaustion coming off her in waves. He felt the tension in her dissipate as he kept his hands on her, she had fisted her hands into the base of his leathers, holding on to him as they searched each other's faces.

The first rays of light came through the windows of the river house as the sun broke over the horizon. He promised her he would be back as soon as possible—the seer watches–- his shadows whispered as he released her, taking a step back and turning to see Mor walking towards him, ready to go as Elain stood at the base of the stairs.

Gwyn thought she looked like a softer, prettier version of Nesta. If that was even possible since Nesta is gorgeous. Smaller. Much smaller. Petite. Dainty. She felt like a giant, towering over her. Like a filthy, smelly giant.

She was the scent. The scent on the necklace he left with Clotho. It was everywhere in the house.

"My sister has gone into labor early. I will have Cerridwen and Nuala bring you something to eat and prepare some tea for you." Gwyn wanted to say thank you, she truly did...but she could only stare at her.

"Thank you. Thank you very much. I'm Emerie. This is Gwyn."

"I am Elain." Small smiles were exchanged between the three. 

She asked them to follow her, which they did. She brought them into a sitting room that was off a dining area overlooking the Sidra. Gwyn wanted to be out of these clothes and in a bath and then back in the library.

"Thank you, Elain." Gwyn said. "I will pray to the Mother for Feyre, Rhys and the babe. For you, and for Nesta." They looked at each other for a moment, both with tears in their eyes.

"Thank you, Gwyn. It would mean the world to my sister and Rhys to know that you were doing so."

       
     

Gwyn and Emerie held hands as they watched from the parlor window. Nesta handed Cassian what looked to be a biscuit from the tray served to them by the Wraiths. Their sister had accepted the Bond.

"I don't care what anyone says, Gwyn, I want what they have."

Gwyn gently squeezed Emerie's hand "Em, you are worth being loved as Nesta is. It will happen for you."

Emerie wrapped her strong arm around Gwyn's waist as she said "You as well, Gwyn. We all see it. We all watch how --" The unfinished thought was no match for Cassian as he barreled into the room, taking both females into his arms. 

"I need you to put us down, Cass-We cannot hug you back when you've got us in a body lock." Giggles and laughter were followed by tears of joy and love that left trails down their still filthy faces as Cassian spoke "Nesta said you've already got plans for revenge?" He gave them both a quick once over.

"I am renaming my working treatise on improving Illyrian Culture from ‘The Betterment of Illyrian Society for Females' to ‘Getting Even With Horrible Illyrian Males' the minute I get back to the library." Cassian's hearty laugh filling the air of the river house was a sound Gwyn would treasure for years to come.

Though Mor had offered to winnow Emerie back to Windhaven, the decision was made to bring her back to the house of wind until her home could be properly warded. Cassian would bring Nesta home first, return for Emerie. Rhys asked for Madja to examine Gwyn and then Azriel offered to bring her home.

"Come with me. I'll bring you to my room upstairs. You can bathe quickly, we can toss those clothes in the fire and then Madja can take a look at you. I am sure I have something suitable for a Priestess" Mor winked as she held out her hand and Gwyn gladly took it.

"She has NOTHING suitable for a Priestess, Gwyn. You'll be in a two piece outfit that is see through." Cassian wiggled his eyebrows causing Nesta to slap his arm. 
"That's alright, Cass. After dressing as a smelly Illyrian for a week — I can dress like the Morrigan for an hour or two."

Mor's room was spacious, beautifully laid out with rich jewel tones that made it feel cozier than it should. Gwyn didn't want to step past the threshold. She did leave the boots downstairs, but her feet were covered in dirt and blood. The water would surely sting.

"I'll start the bath. You can strip by the door. Leave the clothes there." Gwyn did as told while Mor disappeared into the bathing chamber. She stood there, in her pettipants and her wrap. The night they discussed what they were thankful for while sitting up in the trees, the small mercy of her undergarments was one of them. Nesta wore none. Emerie too. 

Mor returned and gasped at the sight of her "Oh, no Gwyn. You are far too attractive to be in these kinds of skivvies. Toss them out of the bathing chamber immediately. I am burning those as well." They both laughed. Gwyn made her way to the bathing chamber and again did as she was told.

She slowly lowered herself into the bath. There were so many bubbles. The waters soothing every ache and pain she felt. Mor had put in healing oils and salts. She left a soft wash cloth and bottles of very expensive looking body soaps and hair soaps. Gwyn was determined to clean quickly, dress and get on with the exam. She would just lay back and soak for a few minutes first.

There was a knock at the door–”Gwyn? Are you alright in there?”

“I’m sorry, Mor…I believe I fell asleep for a moment. I will be out quickly.”

“Take your time. There are some clothes for you on the bed. Elain chose some of Feyre’s old outfits for you, said you may be more comfortable in those.

"There is a robe for you to be examined in. I left it hung on the door. Just poke your head out, Madja is sitting in the hall having tea.”

Gwyn washed and rinsed. Washed again. Scrubbed her hair and rinsed. Scrubbed and rinsed again. She dried herself on the plushest towel ever and then wrapped her hair in another one. She took the robe and wrapped it around herself—she looked in the mirror and the robe made her look like a female on the cover of one of her romance novels. The robe was the shortest thing she had ever worn. Shorter still due to her height. She admired the muscles of her legs for a moment. The shape. How far she had come from that slim girl hiding in the stacks to the Valkyrie in the mirror. 

She made her way to the bedroom door, opened it expecting to see the Healer and was surprised to find both Madja and Azriel.

Azriel wasn’t sure what he was expecting Gwyn to open the door dressed in but one of Mor’s obscenely short bathrobes, even shorter on Gwyn — was not it. He spent the last 500 years thinking Mor had the best pair of legs he had ever laid his eyes on. He had late night thoughts about Elain’s small slim legs and how he would position them when he entered her.

But it would be Gwyn’s legs that would replace all those thoughts from here on out.

He wanted to die between her thighs. She could suffocate him if she wished. 

“Hi!” She squeaked out as she pulled the top of the robe closer together.

“I-I-I’m sorry–I wanted to check on you.” He made like he was checking the doorframe. Looking anywhere but at her. Her ‘hi’ was the most adorable hi he has ever received.

"Move over, Azriel. You’re blocking me from my Patient” Madja pushed past him and entered the room.

Gwyn shrugged and gave him a smile “I shan't be long, Shadowsinger. Whatever magic that mountain has healed me. I should be ready to go as soon as I’m cleared.”

“Azriel, go downstairs and wait like a good male. The girl is in good hands. I need to do my work without you pacing outside.”

He gave a sketch of a bow and turned to leave. Resisting the urge to show his sense of defeat, he would wait downstairs as told. His shadows remained at the doorway.

“Shoo -- You have to go too, I know you report everything back to him. You cannot stay.” He heard Gwyn whisper as she closed the door. His shadows did not resist showing their defeat as they moaned along the floor, rolling like reprimanded younglings. 


Now alone in the room with the healer, Gwyn prepared herself.  

“How have you been, Gwyneth?” Madja asked as she began the exam.

“Oh, I have been well. You know -- Researching, training, getting shot in the leg with an arrow during a death contest. What is new with you, Madja?”

Madja laughed, “You have always been one of my favorites.”

She checked Gwyn’s pulse and listened to her breathing. She asked to see her chest, palpating her ribs and then asked her to lay down and checked the rest.

"That scar healed nicely. You can barely see it.”

“It did.” She thought of how the second one took out his knife and dragged it between her breasts right before he began unbuckling his belt.

“Gwyn, are you taking the contraceptive tea?”

“No.” Confused by this question, she quickly sat up and asked “Should I be?”

“Well unless you and Azriel are looking to have children right away you should.”

She guffawed. Like a horse. Teeth and all. 

“The Shadowsinger doesn’t–I mean there is nothing–It is not like that, Madja.” Gwyn felt the heat. She must match the red tones in Mor's room. 

“If you say so.” Madja only shrugged. 

“I do. I mean, I know.” 

Madja took her hands into hers, the Fae was so old she had shrunk, her back hunched over but her eyes still possessed that sparkle of a youth “I’ve been around for a very long time. I have known Azriel for half that time. He is smitten.” She began repacking her kit “And you are as well, my dear.” She pulled Gwyn down to her and kissed her on her forehead. “I will let him know you will be down soon.”

Gwyn slipped into a pair of soft tights that belonged to Mor and a tunic that belonged to Feyre. Mor was kind enough to give her a brand new set of undergarments. If that is what you can call them. The wrap would be something she would need to get used to, well…because it isn’t a wrap at all and much more like a contraption that holds your breasts up and out. But the underwear were lovely. They hugged her bottom. She would have to venture into Velaris to buy more.

Azriel would have preferred to wait upstairs in the event that something was wrong. Not that he would be able to help, but if she needed him, he would have been right outside the door and not down in the family room. Rhys waited with him. They both stood as Madja entered the parlor. 

"She is dehydrated and suffered blood loss. Even with Ramiel's magic, she will need at least a week of rest. Which I advise for the other two as well." Rhys and Azriel nodded, Madja continued, "Those three achieved a great accomplishment, boys. After the week they must quickly resume whatever schedule you have them on, it is very important to have focus for recovery." 

"Is there anything we need to know? To do for them? Besides the training, of course." Azriel would need them to go over what they did during the Rite so that training could focus on whatever issues arose. 

"Follow Cassian's lead, Azriel. He will know what to do." His brother snickered. Azriel examined him. Madja, patting Azriel on his shoulder, shaking her head as she announced she was leaving

"They will be fine. The High Lady will be fine. The babe is healthy. This day has been longer than some weeks. I bid you a farewell." and with that, the ancient Healer left the river house. 

“It has been a long day and it isn't even noon, Az. Thank you for waiting to bring her home." 

"Of course, Rhys. I will return as soon as Gwyn is settled back in the Library." 

"You stay and rest. Whatever is next can wait until tomorrow or the next day. I am going upstairs to stare at my wife and son." 

Az pulled his brother in for an embrace "Congrats, Brother. Enjoy them." Rhys winnowed away just as Gwyn made it down the stairs. 

"I'm ready to be taken, Shadowsinger." Gwyn said with a yawn as she lazily walked to the front door. Azriel made a mental note to find out exactly what Mor had leant the Priestess to wear beneath her borrowed clothing.

They stepped out of the front door, into the late morning air. “I do not have proper shoes, Shadowsinger. I will have to walk barefoot to the wards. Wherever they may be.”

Azriel pointed to where they needed to be. 

“Did you want me to carry you to them, Priestess?” putting his hands out for her like a baby, she only laughed.

“Don’t be silly. Walking on grass is beneficial.” 

“Is that so?” eyebrow up, he waited for her answer.

“Yes. It is. It reduces stress and it can help you sleep.” Gwyn eyed him. 

“Maybe I should try it.”

“It is also known to help improve moods.” there was a tiny upturn of her lips. 

They had reached the first ward. 

“Are you saying I am moody?” surviving the Rite had made his Priestess very fresh. 

Gwyn turned to fully look at him, biting down on a laugh. “If you have to ask.” Gwyn's shrug was quickly followed by her throwing her arms around his neck.
It took ever bit of control to stop himself from pulling her against him, maybe getting a squeal and telling her how she is very fresh for a Priestess. 
 
“I’ve seen how Cassian holds Nesta.” She said seemingly worried he would think this was an embrace. She kicked up a leg to make it easier for him to grab behind her knees — he lifted her into his arms, “Take me home, Shadowsinger.” She commanded as she rested her head on his shoulder. 

"You are extremely bossy, Priestess." his voice was deeper than he intended. 

"Not bossy. Assertive." He shoot them into the air, getting his squeal. 






        

Chapter Text

       

Following Madja’s advice they were given a week to recover. Cassian needed to be warned off Nesta two days into that week, Nesta was then ordered to stay in bed.
Her response was something along the lines of “That’s the idea here.”

Emerie and Gwyn settled into a shared room at the house of wind so that Madja could monitor them. Emerie’s physical recovery was the fastest, Madja warned that lingering effects of her head injury could go on for weeks and months. The decision was made to have Emerie continue to stay at the house of wind until she was fully cleared. Gwyn had given them a scare on the third night when she walked into the dining room confused about where she was and complaining of severe body pains. Azriel had suggested a steak. Reaching out to Rhys for his butcher. He also thought maybe some peas. Nesta insisted Cassian or Mor get Madja. Who shortly after seeing Gwyn agreed that Azriel was correct, she needed a steak and peas.

“Can you get drunk on beef?” Nesta whacked Cassian’s arm.

“She does look drunk though, Nesta.” Azriel agreed as his shadows sat at the table with Gwyn. Emerie, sitting on the other side of Gwyn had taken to cutting the next piece for her.

“This is the most delicious steak I have ever had.” Gwyn, shoving  another piece in her mouth – a look of delirium across her freckled face.

“I cannot believe Rhys sent her over a cut that big. That has to be over 2lbs of beef.” Mor said in a tone of mild disgust.

“The High Lord must think I can handle a lot of meat, Morrigan.” Gwyn said, not a clue on how it sounds. 

Nesta snorted, hiding her smile behind her hand. It was Cassian’s turn to whack her arm.

“Gwyn, you should slow down. You haven’t really eaten in a week.” Emerie was busy cutting the next piece of meat for Gwyn as she said this. Gwyn was only eyeing Mor from across the table.

“Mor, where did you get the underwear you gave me? I love them. I need more.” she shoved another piece of steak in her mouth.

“Oh, do you? I will gladly send you over as many as you want. Did you like the tops too? I’ll just send sets. But I insist you throw out all those awful undergarments I saw you in last.” Mor’s delight in the idea of dressing Gwyn was all over her face.

Gwyn, chewing on both Mor’s order to throw out all her undergarments and another piece of meat only replied “You got it.”

Gwyn slept for a day and half after that. She was fully recovered a week later. Two weeks later she was ready to take on Azriel and Cassian and their list of corrections.

Dearest Catrin,

So much has happened since my last letter. I will begin by telling you I am absolutely fine. In Spite of being shot in the leg with an arrow.

The obstacle course? Really a Qualifier. The males that have been training me and my sisters? Invited other males to watch us beat the Qualifier. What did that accomplishment get us? WE were abducted and forced to compete in the Blood Rite. Yes, that Blood Rite. 
That’s how I was shot with an arrow. Am I angry at them you ask? No. I do not believe their intention was to cause other horrible males to see us as a threat to their culture.

Cat, I fell asleep in his arms. I woke up in his arms. I wish I could speak with you about this. I know you participated in the Rite, and that you had experience with males. And females according to Tamara, but I think she was just a gossip. The necklace, it is Nesta’s beautiful sister Elain’s scent.
Gods, Catrin, what should I do?
You are right. I will continue to remain friends with him. He is the Shadowsinger of the Night Court and I will be a Priestess. I am sure the Mother has chosen him a Mate that is somewhere, most likely Elain. Three brothers. Three Sisters. A perfect package.

I miss you. Every day.
Gwyn.

Gwyn loved spring. She loved summer too. She loved autumn — but she also loved winter. Did this make her indecisive? She didn’t think so. She ran through the 8 strikes again, hitting the practice post with her staff. 2 weeks after the Rite, in the pit after a night of fitful sleep — she pulled a staff from the racks and began going through movements in the same way they had with swords. She then found a book on weaponry and read about the use of the staff and spear. Cassian had incorporated the staff with their phalanx work. It felt right and she felt she was honing a new skill that allowed her to control how close an opponent could get to her.

Gwyn knew Hen Night was later that evening, the morning’s session would be the last for the next 10 days. Nesta and Cassian’s Mating Ceremony was in two days.

She was the first to arrive for morning training. Cassian the second.

“Good morning, Gwyn.” Cassian made his way over with his hand out, she gave him the staff. “Morning, Cass. Are you ready for the festivities this evening?” She couldn’t help but be happy for Cassian, he deserved all the love that he shared with Nesta.

“I am.” She caught a hint of mischief in the General’s eye “Though—you still telling Nes you might leave? — Gwyneth Berdara” he shook his head at her, feigning a look of disapproval, “I didn’t know you had such a sadistic streak in you.”

Gwyn couldn’t help but laugh, “This is what she gets for knocking me unconscious, Cass.” She watched as Cassian placed her spear back on the weapons rack.

“Besides, it would ruin the surprise you have for her, Cass. She would make a very similar request of me, I would of course need to deny my sister and she would surely know it is because you have asked first.”

“Az is right about you, Priestess. You are always three steps ahead.”

She shot him a look from the top of her eyes “You know this will only open the argument back up again, Cass! Why?”


It was 3 weeks earlier when they officially made what Gwyn referred to as “The List of Wrongs”, using it to address the mistakes made by them during the Rite that Cassian and Azriel said needed to be corrected. 


“I want it to be shown that I still reject much of this list, General.” Gwyn, standing in the middle of one of the rings, as she continued her movements with her new favorite weapon, the staff.

“You can reject this list all you want, Priestess—it doesn’t change that this is the list we will be using to correct the mistakes you” Cassian pointing at the Priestess “Nesta'' pointing to his Mate “And Emerie” finishing with the Illyrian “made.”

“You keep calling them ‘mistakes’, but our judgments were a reaction to a Rite unlike any other. We started without pants! WE HAD NO PANTS!” Gwyn looked to Emerie and Nesta, who nodded in agreement. 

"No shoes either and only Gwyn had on undergarments.” Added Nesta, her eyes darkening as she knew Cassian’s reaction to the lack of undergarments comment would lead to her being taken on his desk. “I will speak to you about your lack of undergarments later, Nes.”

Azriel, in an attempt to smooth over injured feelings, spoke next “Cassian and I agreed that we would review what you did correctly.”

Gwyn already knew what Azriel felt she did right, he called some of her decisions “perfect” and she could have sworn there was pain in his eyes when she told him of the first 2 nights she spent alone in the trees.

“Thank you, Shadowsinger.” She looked at him.

“Cassian isn’t wrong either, Priestess.” She wrinkled her nose at him.

“We do have a list of things we felt you three did either correctly or well, is there one for each of you. Would you like to see them?” Azriel’s shadows handed the lists to him from the void. He handed the lists to his brother. Cassian then handed each a piece of paper that contained two words.


You won.

The river house was overrun with fae moving through it, around it and in and out. There was a dance floor being laid out on the lawn, a tent being hitched— Elain finishing off the flowers, Feyre carrying Nyx in a wrap against her chest as she inspected linens and silverware. Even with the promise of not having a giant crowd—the guest list was still long enough to warrant a slightly larger reception than Nesta had originally asked for.

“The place looks amazing, Rhys. Nes is going to be so happy.” Rhys clapped his Cassian’s shoulder. “How can I ever stop thanking your mate for what she has given me?” He waved Cassian and Azriel towards the house. “Let’s go look over the final reports on the Rite so we can enjoy the week to come.”

Reports read, drinks poured — the Tailor on the way for finishing touches on their Ceremony clothes, the brothers enjoyed a bit of alone time as they discussed Illyria.

“Devlon stands by Ironcrest being solely behind the weapon caches left in the Rite. He said their weapons are all accounted for and as you read in the report, it does look as if Bellius and his friends, Kallon included, were the ones to place them where they would be found upon waking. Nesta and Gwyn happened to be lucky enough to wake earlier — something the Queen could not control.” Azriel could not question Illyrians in Ironcrest directly and having to rely on Devlon made him feel less secure about the information they were receiving.

“What about the Males that entered Emerie’s house?” Rhys wanted names. Names no one was willingly giving up. Azriel believed he recognized two of the scents, but without an actual confession, without placing them inside the house — in the bedrooms, he could not act on it.

“They refused to give names. Claimed they were following the laws of the Rite. That the three names appeared on the master list and that allowed them to be taken.” Azriel’s shadows went to rest on Cassian’s knee — which was bouncing up and down so violently that items on top of Rhys’ desk shook. Rhys looked to their brother “You’ve got 2 days til the Ceremony. What are your plans with the Illyrians after that? I want to be prepared.”

“You may not like what I have planned, Brother.” Cassian said with a smile.

“Try me.” Rhys demanded with a smirk.

Cassian laid out his plans.

Chapter Text

She was glowing. Her skin. Her hair. Her smile. Glowing. Radiating a light that was competing with the setting sun as it hit the stained glass walls of the small temple built by Rhys for Nesta.

Beautiful shining—sings for us she sings for us she sings for us— his shadows whispered. No, he chuckled—she sings for Nesta and Cassian. Azriel had never heard a voice like Gwyn’s. It was both wild and tamed. It took up all the space in the temple while wrapping itself around every part of those listening, and burying itself into the deeper parts of him.

Nesta, standing between himself and her Mate, softly whispered “Now you know why I went to those services so often.” The song was beautiful, sung in an old language. A handsome but unknown prince falls in love at first sight with a beautiful but cold princess. Any male wishing to marry her must solve three riddles, any man that fails—dies. When the prince declares that he will win her heart before she can figure out his name, she orders that none in her Kingdom may sleep until his name is revealed. “Cassian took me to the show at the amphitheater on our first true night out as Mates. I cried the entire time.” Nesta, shrugging, sighed and then whispered, “She really is beautiful, isn’t she? Inside and out. She is my sister. I love her.”

Gwyn began to close out the song, accompanied by a small chorus of Priestesses who braved leaving the Library for the day, his shadows joined. Singing a low faint melody back to her as she reached the last stanza, her eyes falling to his, her smile beaming. — bright lovely—priestess—yes, yes, he answered them — Gwyn is lovely. His shadows whispered about tears from the High Lady and Lord, Azriel, making the mistake of taking a look over to his brother, found Rhys’ eyes lined with silver as he watched Gwyn sing.

He laughed quietly to himself when Cassian, who according to Nesta was ‘crying like a big Illyrian baby’ dragged her away from him and over to Gwyn. “Gwyn! That was the most beautiful thing I’ve ever heard!” He lifted the Priestess with his free arm, embracing her as she wiped his tears from his face.

“You are a big Illyrian baby, Cass.” Gwyn teased. 

The Ceremony had been kept a more private affair with the Inner Court, Valkyries and a handful of other attendees. There was to be dinner and dancing on the lawn, followed with an afterparty at Rita’s.



“Let’s go have a quiet drink. Or two.” Rhys suggested to him as the females crowded around Gwyn, “It will give the females time to dress for the party and the Mates time to get rid of that ribbon."
The black ribbon that joined Nesta and Cassian together had been tied by himself, Rhys, Feyre, Elain, Emerie and Gwyn. Cassian and Nesta were meant to remain tied together until they consummate the bond. Even though they have never stopped. He has even witnessed it after a late night return from Hewn City.

With most of the guests arriving at Sunset, a drink in the cool air of Rhys’ study sounded great. Cassian, with his back to Nesta and the other females said “You definitely have time for at least one drink, Rhys. My Mate” pulling Nesta to him “tells me Emerie and Mor have plans to try to persuade Gwyn out of those robes” Cassian, now wiggling his eyebrows towards Azriel “and into a party dress.”
Nesta, smacking Cassian’s arm as she smiled up at him said “You would be very angry if another male spoke of, what did you call her the other day?" She dropped her voice to mimic Cassian "‘My baby sister’ like that”

“I think she looks fine in those robes,” Azriel shrugged, he then gave Cassian his angry eyes, as Gwyn had taken to calling them.

Rhys, chuckling at the good natured offense, “Feyre had veto power in the dress selection. After hen night, she wouldn’t stop talking about how lovely and beautiful Gwyn is” nudging Azriel with his elbow “She was worried we would see more of Gwyn than necessary if she let Mor choose the dress on her own.”

“Or she would end up with an ugly sweater.” laughed Cassian as he pulled Nesta towards the River House, the two disappearing into the darkened rooms. 


As Azriel walked towards one of the many patios that led into the River House he wondered if Gwyn would change and what she would look like in something other than the robes or leathers. He did think the robes were just as attractive as any other dress on Gwyn. He was starting to believe she would look good in anything. He held onto the image of her in the very short bathrobe, as brief as it was. He liked that robe. 
Today’s robes were the summer ones, tied to the side with intricate knots down a corded belt. The fabric reminded him of his favorite sleep clothes. The robe softly fell along her curves.

Azriel had recently woken from a dream in which he untied her robes, opening them and when he did light poured from her.
He didn’t sleep for the rest of the night. 

—Leather— yes, yes, we have seen her in her leathers. His shadows like the leathers.

                                                                           

Back in Mor’s bedroom Gwyn found herself sitting on the window seat overlooking the Sidra. The room was busy with changing from day dresses to party ones. Make-up going from barely there, to dark kohl eyes and ruby red lips. This was the Night Court fashion, something Gwyn was new to.

Amren, who Gwyn had mistaken for a child at first, was in a silken black two piece that showed off her lovely petite frame and matched her hair. Feyre wore a figure hugging gown that had a V cut in the front that was just deep as the V in the back. Mor, in a red dress that featured more cut-outs than dress. Emerie in a deep violet two piece pants set with red beading that oddly matched Mor’s dress. And Elain, who had been kind and sweet to Gwyn the last two days, was in a purple dress with ruffles and flower appliques that made her look as beautiful as her gardens.

As much as she enjoyed watching the other females dress, Gwyn was overjoyed to find a lovely spread of finger foods in the room after not eating since the morning. Sipping on a cool glass of white wine and enjoying a salty piece of cheese, she watched as the sun took its final bow giving way to a cooler evening in Velaris. It was a beautiful ceremony, she thought to herself, she was glad she came.

She was also glad she stopped teasing Nesta on Hen Night and let her know she was coming. Cassian was right, she was a bit of a sadist.

There was a gentle tap to her shoulder, “Gwyn, you are under no obligation to do so, but we got you a dress for the party and would be very glad to see you wear it” Feyre said, pulling her out of her thoughts.

“Yeah, I helped pick it out.” Mor said with a sly grin. Mor had sent multiple new undergarment sets to Gwyn in the weeks after the Rite. Some she was too shy to ever wear.

Feyre pulled out a dress of sapphire blue and presented it to Gwyn, she then waved Gwyn to a screen “Come on, I’ll help you into it. You do not have to wear it if you are uncomfortable. But at least try it on so Mor is happy” Mor nodded enthusiastically.

As Feyre helped her into the gown behind the screen, she spoke quietly to Gwyn “Elain and I may be sisters by birth to Nesta, but Emerie, you? You are her sisters by choice. She loves you.” Feyre said with a giggle filled with happy tears. “And I love you for how you have taught Nesta how to love” Gwyn couldn’t stop the tears that escaped. “I cannot imagine my life without my sisters, Gwyn. But your heart is so big that you still had room for the other sisters the Mother sent to you. You are Nesta’s something blue.”

love, purity and fidelity.

“There. All done” Feyre said as she turned Gwyn to face a mirror. Gwyn took a moment to look at herself before showing everyone else. The dress was nothing like her robes or leathers. Though it was technically more modest than what the other females were wearing with a silken bodice that hugged her ribs and rested at her natural waist. It was sleeveless. Something completely new to Gwyn. “The top is done in a design they call Anne of Autumn” Mor said, sneaking a peek. The heart shape of the bodice gave her cleavage a lovely frame. From the waist down the skirt was made of layers of a lightweight chiffon with a slit up her right thigh. Granting access to her dagger, a gift from Cassian and Nesta. Mor handed her a silver pair of kitten heeled sandals. "These should be just right for both the dress, your height and hopefully dancing".
Slipping them on her feet, Gwyn stood to her full height and had never felt so beautiful. She came out from behind the screen.

“Gwyn—you are beautiful” Nesta said as she entered the room, ribbonless.

“She ain’t kidding” Mor said in agreement, letting out a whistle. Amren purred like a cat. Emerie joked about having a hot sister. Feyre was beaming with pride for the choice, as Elain smiled sweetly.

Nesta and Gwyn spent a moment taking each other in. Nesta made a little twirling motion with her finger and Gwyn spun for her. She then demanded the same of Nesta, and she obliged. Nesta’s dress was backless, skin tight and silver, with strands of beading across the back that were done in the same pattern Gwyn had taught them to make on their bracelets. Gwyn felt tears in her eyes. “Oh, don’t you start that crying, Gwyn!” Nesta teased. “You didn’t think we wouldn’t find out what those patterns you taught us meant?"
“Nesta” Gwyn, overcome with emotions, wiped away her tears and embraced her sister “It is just beautiful. You. The dress. I love you so much."

It had been the tri-knot that Gwyn taught them the night at the house. A symbol of life, death and rebirth. A symbol of the Maiden, the Mother, the Crone.  A symbol of protection that wards off evil.

"Now sit" Mor demanded "I'm going to braid you in the style the Valkyries wore when they went to parties and then we are going to do your make-up." And with that, Gwyn watched Mor work magic with her otherwise pin straight locks.

                                             
Rhys handed Azriel a drink while they got comfortable in their respective chairs.

“Now that we are done with the investigation into who was behind the weapon drops, I think we shouldn’t back off the group that grabbed them, Az.” 

“Good. I want them to pay for what they put them through” He thought about Gwyn’s new file that she was working on. She titled it “How To Get Even With Horrible Illyrian Males” and when she first showed it to Cassian and him, they laughed for 5 mins straight.

“I know this is personal for Cassian. I need to know how personal this is for you, Az.” Rhys twirled his drink as he picked at lint that was not there.

“She is still just a friend. She will always be my friend.”

“That’s not what I am asking, Az.”

“It is personal for me because of what they did to her.”

A ribbonless Cassian entered the study. Sparing him a further line of questioning that involved Gwyn.

"It was a beautiful ceremony, Cass. Feyre explained the human traditions, it made for a nice blend. I wish you centuries of happiness” They lifted their glasses to Rhys’ toast.

“The rings were really important to her. Az, you did a great job helping pick those out. Thank you.” Cassian glanced down to his ring finger, admiring the symbol of Nesta’s love for him. She chose the same knot pattern that was on the Valkyries’ bracelets, the same pattern she had woven into her dress, the same pattern that was displayed throughout the decorations. Gwyn had presented him with his very own bracelet last night. Silver, Red and Black. Cassian felt like they were in a secret club. Him, Nesta, Emerie and Gwyn. It made him feel like the best male in all of Prythian.

“Think nothing of it, brother. You know how I feel about Nes” Unlike the others in the Inner Court, Azriel always saw Nesta for what she was and accepted it. He did this because for whatever reason, she saw him and accepted it. 

Rhys asked “So…about that glow? What do we think that is all about?” 

“You got me, brother. Ness had said Gwyn had a glow at the services. But I just thought she meant because she was so happy. That was a real glow.”

“It may give us a hint at where we should be looking for information on her family.” Azriel offered. He was not going to offer that this was the second time he had witnessed her glow. The first time belonged to him.

Rhys had a pensive look on his face. “Should we ask Lucien to also look into it?”

"Do they glow in the Autumn Court?" Cassian asked. Sincerely. 

“Rhys, those Priestesses in some of these Courts, some were, are--Ianthe wasn't the only one…” Rhys nodded in agreement—Azriel needed to say no more. “And, my spies in Autumn have said that there is nothing about a female youngling being at the Forest House.” This made Azriel angry. It also made him suspect that Eris knew something about Gwyn.

“Since they won the Rite there has been interest in them. Whoever she comes from won’t stay hidden long.” Rhys stood and walked to the window as her said “They will figure out she is the one that saved all the girls from Hybern, that she is the one that beat the Rite and they will want her for whatever power has not come to the surface yet.”

This was exactly what Azriel had worried about. She had changed after the Rite, which he understood–you are never the same, but Gwyn’s powers started to show and she wasn’t always sure what to do with them.

“I will protect her, Rhys.” His brother turned to him, a signature sly smile across his face—he said “Oh, Brother, I know you will.”

With the patio doors opened throughout the river house, the sweet scents of Elian’s gardens were carried into the house with every breeze. Cassian patiently waited for his Mate in the foyer, just at the foot of the stairs. Feyre and Rhys were already whispering into each other’s ears in the sitting room. Amren, sitting on Varian’s lap, looked as if she was ready to bite him. Lucien, leaning against the back of the chaise that Elain gracefully sat on made small talk with Varian. 

Mor and Emerie had made it to the base of the stairs just as Azriel came out from the study.

“Wait till you all see the pretty Priestess” Mor teased as she pat Azriel on his shoulder.
Cassian, looking up, let out a wolf whistle, Nesta jokingly hissed from mid-stairs…Azriel turned to see what the fuss was about and there she was.

Gwyn.

Breathe– His shadows were handling this far worse than he was. Billowing around his shoulders, as if flexing for her. Look who needs to take their own advice—he softly snickered to them. He had always thought Gwyn beautiful. Tall, legs for days. Beautiful in whatever she wore. Her robe or leathers. Beautiful because she was a friend.

But tonight, in this Night Court style dress, in this blue, she was divine. A Goddess.

Gwyn stopped at the top step. He could see she was stilling herself. She was so unlike who she was. Unlike the Gwyn from that night. He saw the change in her at Solstice, and she continued to become this Gwyn. Even after the Blood Rite, she fought to be this Gwyn.
She was taking deep steady breaths. As her lungs would fill, her chest would rise. Azriel watched as the tops of her breasts grew plump, pushing slightly up and out of the top of the dress. This dress, though beautiful on his beautiful friend, was not his friend.
He hated this dress.

The lift.
The release.
The lift.
The release.

– Yes. Keep breathing priestess–…Quiet … This is Gwyn. We cannot think about her like this.

He heard chuckles and felt the request to be let in. 

She is gorgeous. It is ok to appreciate her beauty just as much as you appreciate her other attributes Rhys said smoothly into his mind.

you and Cass should be ashamed of yourselves for objectifying Gwyneth the way you have been this evening. She deserves to be thought of not like that, Rhys Mirth lacing his reply.

I’m not the one staring at her…He pushed him out.

For a moment he thought of what he was wearing and if it was enough for how beautiful she looked. They had opted for black dress linen tunics and pants, Cassian had wanted to keep it simple in light of the over the top opulence of everything else. Azriel was fine with this choice, it allowed for them to wear their siphons and some well placed weapons.

She started down the stairs and upon seeing him, that charming irreverence worked its way across her face. Beginning with her smile and climbing up to her eyes. Sometimes he felt like he was her entertainment. That Gwyn was keeping a tally on how many times she could get him to almost smile, to fully smile, to laugh. To best him in sparring, which was new for both of them or to beat him at daggers. There was no true rival for Gwyn but Gwyn…except when Gwyn turned her competitiveness on him, Azriel enjoyed every second of that. Incessantly amusing, is what he told Cassian she is. He smiled to himself thinking about it. Always finding new ways she could challenge him.

He bet she had a list.
She was fond of lists. 

Hitting the ground floor, she made her way to him.

“Good Evening, Shadowsinger.” She held out her hand to him and gave a mock curtsy.
   
“Good Evening, Priestess.” He kissed her hand and gave her a small bow.

“You look dashing.” He was expecting her to have the dark kohl eyes of the other females and found only her lips were stained a deep wine color. Thank the Gods they left her freckles alone. Her hair was in soft waves down her back with a series of braids intricately woven around her crown. 

“You look quite lovely.” She blushed for him. He thought of her teasing him about not coming only the night before.

“I will be here at 4 to bring you down to the River House, Berdara.” He began unwrapping his hands.

“What if I am kidnapped and thrown into another death challenge, Shadowsinger?” She began rolling the ends for him.

“It is not going to happen, Priestess” He noticed her cheeks were slightly sunkissed.

“Acolyte. I haven’t taken my vows yet.” She smiled up at him.

“Acolyte indicates you are a follower. You are no follower, Priestess” There were new freckles. He would have to count again.

“I am no Priestess, Shadowsinger” She handed him the rolled up wraps.

“You are a pest. That begins with the same letter. Close enough” He would add these to the collection of wraps she rolled for him. 

"And you are another four letter word that begins with an s and ends with a t, but I don’t call you that.” She's a brat. 

His shadows perched on his shoulders, dancing as she gave them a smile…Occasionally they gave off a sense of bliss in her presence, something he was still getting used to. He extended his arm to her.

“Why thank you, Shadowsinger. Ever the gentlemale” she teased while taking his arm. They began making their way through the house and into the garden.

Chapter Text

Gwyn took in the size of the crowd gathering on the lawn as she clung to the Shadowsinger’s arm. “Please let me know if I cause you discomfort, Shadowsinger. My apprehension towards unknown males was not cured by my immersive experience of the Blood Rite.”

Azriel couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped, the way she phrased things provided never-ending entertainment. “Gwyn, you truly have a way with words. But you should know you are the safest you will ever be. Between the wards, the guards—Rhys would never allow something like that to happen to you again. Cassian has already told you he has plans to make them pay for what they did, and I won’t let anything happen to you. The minute you are uncomfortable, we are gone.”

“Thank you. But—there are a lot of males here.” Her already large eyes had grown enormous. 

“You are under no obligation to speak to any of them.” She noted that he had a small smile on his lips.

“Are you saying I can ignore the lads, Shadowsinger?” The smile grew. She held her dress in her hands as he pointed for her to avoid a patch of stones in the lawn.

“You can—But I doubt they will ignore you this evening.” She couldn’t hide her blush.




“Gwyn!” called Emerie as she sat next to Mor. “We saved a seat for you!" Taking one of the two remaining chairs, Azriel pulled out the other for Gwyn and then made himself comfortable in the last chair. Nesta with Cassian spreading his giant frame to his left, across the table sat The High Lord and Lady in the center, Armen and Varian to their left, Elain and Lucien to their right. Dinner and a big band was what Nesta had asked for and that was what she was getting.

“Excuse me, Az” Nesta leaned into his space “—Gwyn, a server going to come around and take drink orders. Don’t feel as if it is necessary to stick to water on my account. You should have a glass of wine or something. Right, Az?” Nesta winked at him and then leaned back into her own chair.

Gwyn, who decided she would lean over Azriel in the same way Nesta had, answered —“Nesta, I already enjoyed a glass of wine upstairs while you were getting your ribbon undone.” he felt her giggle in his stomach “I told you that I would have a drink in honor of you and Cassian and I intend to stick to that.”

Gwyn’s scent filled his air. And that stupid dress was pulling tight in all the right, maybe wrong places when she leaned forward—He raised his eyes from her and caught Elain staring at them from across the table. He gave her a slight smile. She returned one.

Much of the reception followed the human wedding traditions. Cocktails and finger foods, then the first dance and Rhys’ Toast followed by a traditional Illyrian meal of roasted meats, vegetables and potatoes. Gwyn was asked to give a toast in honor of the Mates. She made her way to the head of the table so that she could look directly and the Mates.

“Come here, Em.” She waved Emerie up to her. They held hands. “I’m so nervous, but being here for Nesta and Cassian was important to me. Letting them know how much they mean to Emerie, to our Valkyries is equally important”

Gwyn pulled out a piece of paper that she had magically tucked somewhere in that bodice, drawing laughs and one or two hoots from the other tables. Cassian growled and there were no more hoots.

“Here goes nothing” She said, with a shrug and smile that was so winsome Azriel’s shadows warned him that scents were changing at some of the tables— as long as they behave— he whispered to them, urging them to relax.

“I am sure like many of you here, my first impression of Nesta was that she was a real bitch.” Another round of laughs as Gwyn gave Nesta a toothy grin. “She actually told me to get out of her sight. So I told my fellow acolytes that Nesta was hired to put away all the books for us.” More laughs “She was NOT happy with the overflowing carts that became her responsibility. In fact, she tattled on me to Clotho.” Gwyn pointed to the High Priestess sitting with a handful of Valkyries at a neighboring table. “Nesta — ” looking at her friend from the tops of her teal eyes, “You cannot ask to speak to the manager in our realm.”

Cassian roared. Azriel found himself laughing. Everyone was laughing. Mor moved behind him into Gwyn’s empty seat, rubbed his arm, he rested his hand on hers. She let him.

Gwyn continued “Anyone that knows me will tell you that if I am determined to do something, I will do it. I was determined to have Nesta as a friend. What I didn’t know was that she would be more than a friend, that she would become my sister” Azriel watched as Cassian gripped Nesta’s hand in his, sharing a glance as her eyes lined with silver. “I spent two years without an anchor. I was drifting through the days, pouring myself into work, hiding from the world. It was Nesta’s friendship that helped pull me out of that darkness. It was Nesta’s encouragement that pushed me to sign my name on that sheet and venture out into the training pit. I would never have formally met Cassian, whom I had known prior as a good and honorable male if not for Nesta.” She gave him a soft and loving smile. Cassian, who everyone knew adored Gwyn, returned it.

“Cassian immediately told me I was better than Nesta, at everything she had been working on. Sorry Ness, this is true.” more laughs “And right then knew I found not only a sister, but a brother” Azriel noted a slight tremble in Cassian’s lower lip, She smiled at Emerie. “Emerie soon joined us. We went from 2 to 3. We became a unit.”
She looked directly at Cassian now “I don’t know if you will ever fully understand what you mean to me. To Emerie. To Nesta. To have a male as powerful as you give so much of yourself. You made sure we understood that we are strong and capable,” Gwyn’s voice hitched, “You believed in us. You had faith in us. We would not be the Valkyries we are today if it not for you. We built something together. That something gave Emerie” Gwyn wrapping her arm around Emerie’s waist, Emerie placing hers around Gwyn’s shoulders “and me, the family we were searching for. You love our sister in the way she deserves. Even when she feels she does not deserve it.” there was absolute silence from the other tables “Cassian, I pray that I can find a male as wonderful as you someday. Nesta…though I still haven’t fully forgiven you” the laughter returned “I promise to face whatever comes our way together.”

She bent to lift her glass. 

“To Nesta and Cassian”

May the Mother be with you and bless you.
May you see your youngling’s younglings.
May you be poor in misfortunes and rich in blessings.
May you know nothing but happiness from this day forward.

A round of applause and cheers followed as Gwyn motioned to the attendees to let her close out the speech. “I love you both, so much” her voice cracked, she looked at Azriel…he saw that irreverence in her eyes return, “Even more than Azriel does.” and with that the roaring laughter and calls of cheers saved Azriel from having to hide his blush. As she returned to her chair, sans piece of paper, his mind briefly wandered to the places in the bodice that it could have been hidden in.

Gwyn returned to her seat very glad she had resisted the urge to vomit, laughing to herself and how 2 short months ago she would have. But surviving the Rite and winning it shifted her perspective as to what she wanted. Yes, the Blood Rite was a slight setback. Yes she was still living in the Library — where else would she be living? But, she refused to be broken again. She could defend herself now. Others, too. She could save herself. She had a family again. And she had a friendship with Azriel that she didn't expect.

Did she ever think she would be sitting at a table next to him, her in a fancy dress with him looking like a devastatingly handsome warrior from her favorite novel? No. She stole a glance at him as the conversation at the table turned to discussing politics and the goals for Illyria. Drifting in her thoughts…his voice —Mother his voice. Why did it reverberate into her bones the way it did? Did it have to do with their pliancy? Was this the same for every female or just her? Is there a book in the library that touches on this subject? She would have to find out. There was a male main character in one of novels Nesta gave her that was described as having a ‘thick and sensual’ voice. He had done wicked things to the female main character and supposedly his voice enhanced those wicked things. She believes she would like to have wicked things done to her, too. Preferably by Azriel. She looked around the table and blushed when she realized the High Lord was smirking at her.

She rolled her eyes and he laughed.

She sat forward in her chair and began paying more attention to the conversation. So often Gwyn would try to discuss what she was working on with the other Acolytes in the library but many were uninterested in the topics she was interested in. 

"I agree. They are slow to change. Resistant in many ways. And the laws we have passed aren’t properly enforced." Rhys said in agreement with Cassian’s statement about the issues in Illyria. 

"We have tried for decades to move them forward and they continue to find new roadblocks that keep the females from training." Cassian's frustration was evident in his tone. “Nothing would make me happier than bringing the Valkyries up there to show them just how good females can be.”

"Just what we need after we offended them by being forced into their Death Rite and having the nerve to win it. They would accuse us of being witches and set up a bonfire the first night we arrived." Nesta said, scoffing at the backwards culture her Mate came from. Emerie only nodded in agreement.

“They wouldn’t burn us—would they?” Gwyn wasn’t sure if Nesta was simply being funny.

"I'd like to see them try." a promise of violence from Azriel as he leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table as he fiddled with the stem of a leaf from the centerpiece. His shadows rising from their resting place at their feet curling onto Gwyn’s lap. 

“We should train females in Windhaven. Females training females would give them one less thing to complain about.” Emerie looked at Nesta and then Gwyn. The unspoken communication between the three had only become stronger after the Rite. With Azriel and Cassian often finding many of their discussions now took place through eye contact and nods. Emerie waited patiently for her sisters to come to their decision, with Nesta speaking for them. “We agree. It should be us.” Azriel noted Cassian’s pride, again in his three.

Gwyn made her own decision too. She would search Illyrian history for something that would help Cassian make the changes he has worked for. It was the least she could do for the male that has given her so much. She would do it for him.

There was dancing. Not the pleasure hall kind that he was looking forward to later in the night, but the traditional dances of Illyria and Prythian. Azriel leaned comfortably against the bar, a spot he was able to clock the movements of everyone that was invited. From Helion to Thesan to Tarquin, to some of the younger Illryians that Cassian felt could help if — no—when the uprising happened. His eyes drifted to Gwyn. Who he was unbelievably impressed with. She was still sitting at their table, her chair turned to face the dance floor. She bounced her long right leg that she had slung over her left to the music. He found it amusing that she seemed locked in a scrimmage with the skirt thanks to the well placed slit. It, like the enemy the rest of the dress was, kept opening with every few bounces. Allowing that gorgeous leg of hers to be seen from hip to ankle. A simple win would be for her to switch legs, but he wouldn’t interfere with this battle. His shadows stirred -- he comes to take our priestess-- They had been quiet up till now. Content, like him, to simply be near Gwyn or watching her. He clocked the younger Illyrian approaching the table. 

“Hello Balthazar!” Emerie waved him over to where Gwyn sat. She pulled Gwyn out of her chair. “You’ve never met Gwyn, have you? Gwyn this is Balthazar, Balt, Gwyn”

Gwyn offered a small smile.

“It is an honor to meet you, Gwyn” He took Gwyn’s hand into his own, dipping his head.

“It is a pleasure to meet you. Thank you for aiding my sisters during the Rite. It was admirable.” 

Away go away— Azriel snickered at his shadow’s possessive behavior towards Gwyn. He began walking back over to the table. 

“Brave? No. Diplomatic? Yes.” There was a laugh from others at or around the table.  

“Gwyn, you are the brave one. Figuring out how the beasts operate after spending 2 days in the trees, tracking all those males and using the beast to attack them? A stroke of brilliance.”

Wants to dance with Priestess—  This fucking male, was all Azriel could think to himself as he listened to him talk to his friend. Hadn't he told Gwyn how brilliant that was too? Because she is brilliant. Brilliant and funny and beautiful. Fuck. He didn't. stupid-- Fuck off he grumbled at his shadows. 

“Forgive my rudeness.” She motioned to Azriel as he arrived to her side. “Balthazar, this the Spymaster of the Night Court.”

“We’ve met,” Azriel nodded at Balthazar. Azriel noted how Gwyn drifted closer to him. She sat back in her chair, that leg sneaking out of that slit…she looked up at the two of them, one on either side of her…and as Azriel lifted his drink to his lips, she started.

“Azriel was NOT as impressed as you are over my taming of the beasts. Cassian and him compiled an entire list of things we did wrong and are still correcting us.”

She was baiting him. He loved this game.

Azriel had long ago decided Gwyn’s charming way of using her entire body when speaking was one of his favorite things about her. Her eyes being the first. This admiration was even deeper tonight due to the added splendor of her newly uncovered skin. She was going over the list of corrections, counting them off using her fingers with her pretty face looking up at him. Azriel couldn’t help but notice that those freckles he needed to recount continued down her slender neck. Cascading down her shoulders to her long toned arms and over her chest. Which had an exquisite bounce to it. Azriel allowed his eyes to rest, momentarily, on the swells of Gwyn’s breasts as he found himself committing the position of each new freckle he noticed to memory. When he lifted his eyes up, he caught Baltazar doing the same thing. Azriel’s wings twitched and then spread, slightly. Balthazar bowed his head as he tightened his own, quickly excusing himself from their side of the table, making his way over to greet Rhys. Azriel turned his chair to face the dance floor too. She was looking down at her hands. He bet she was going over what she said and wondering if she talked too much. She did talk a lot. But he could listen to her all day. 

Leaning over he quietly said “I never said I wasn’t impressed with you, Gwyn.” She met his gaze, those teal eyes looking directly into his. Unmooring him for a moment. Her face flushed, and he saw the gooseflesh on her arms spread across her lovely decolletage. There was a delicate change to her scent. The spices of her had deepened. Gods, what he would give — Balthazar, who had returned, cleared his throat and asked Gwyn if she would do him the honor of joining him on the dance floor.

Azriel had to give it to this young male. He had balls.



Gwyn has never been asked to dance before. Balthazar was handsome. He was young, like her. She looked at Azriel for a moment, hoping he would say something. Anything. When he didn’t, she accepted the request and made her way to the dance floor.



As Gwyn walked to the dance floor, Nesta stalked off it. Mouthing at him “You are an idiot.” as she did.

“Gwyn is my friend.” he said as she sat in Gwyn's now vacant seat. 

“Oh. Is that what you two are? Just friends, Az?” asking while rolling her eyes. 

“Yes."

Gwyn counted her small mercies again when the band began to play a song in duple time. It would be a traditional hop step dance that she loved. Fond memories of Catrin and her, giggling and dancing to music played at Sangravah. Balthazar was a wonderful partner, not stepping on her toes once as he spun her around the dance floor, following all the other couples as they kept formation. She found herself smiling when he lifted her in the air at the appropriate part. Giggling at the weightless feeling. At the end of the dance he offered to escort her back to her table.

“I cannot believe you said yes.” He said, slightly out of breath but with a handsome grin across his face.

“Why?” Gwyn immediately thought that he knew, he knew what had happened to her and she would have to explain why she still lives in the Library.

“I thought you would have politely told me no,” Balthazar said with a slight shrug, “You know, being that you are the Shadowsinger’s date.”

Gwyn smiled at the assumption, “I am absolutely not the Shadowsinger’s date. He prefers women like the Morrigan or Feyre’s beautiful sister Elain.”

Balthazar stopped her at the edge of the dance floor —“Gwyn–if I may be so bold. You are a very beautiful female.” she gave him a doubtful look, he continued “You see that table over there?” He pointed to a table on the other side of the dance floor, she nodded, “That has some of the most eligible males in all of Prythian sitting at it or near it. I won being able to ask you for the first dance.”

A nervous laugh escaped her “Is that so?” This was amusing. If not terrifying. She wondered what Azriel would think.

“Yes. We drew straws. And we were all willing to take the risk.” Gwyn couldn’t help but smile “It could have gone either way, you see? The winner may have found himself in one of the Spymaster’s dungeons or here on the dance floor with you” He spun her. She laughed. “The High Lord of Summer Court had the next winning straw, by the way” 

Goodness, she thought to herself. "Before I return you to your table, may I ask to see you again? I will gladly meet you in Velaris if that is what you wish." Gwyn chewed on her lip as she looked to the table, hoping to catch Azriel's eye but all she saw was him and Elain sitting one chair apart, watching the dance floor as they chatted quietly. 

"Yes. I would like that." Gwyn had never seen a male as happy as Balthazar looked at that moment. "Yes? You mean it? When? I mean--what is a good day for you?" She thought about it for a moment- "Midweek works for me. You can ask Cassian where and what time to pick me up. I look forward to it. If you will excuse me, I must return to my table." She left him there, on the dance floor with a smile from ear to ear. 

As they sat a chair apart, Azriel and Elain pretended to make small talk. 

"Will you come see me tonight? Lucien will be staying at his apartment" Azriel nodded. He knew this was wrong. It would always be wrong. 

"In the garden, not the house." Azriel only nodded again as Elain stood from the chair and left. 

Once alone again he caught a server’s eye and signaled for another round as his shadows turned deadly.

-We should kill the males. They are all at one table. It will be easy—his shadows have gone mad. He wasn't sure why they were demanding such violence at his brother's wedding but they needed to calm down. 
I am not killing Baltazar, he silently told them...He will take our priestess -- Azriel looked to find Gwyn now dancing with Tarquin... and I am not killing the High Lord of Summer Court.

It can look like a boating accident.

One song turned into another and Gwyn found that she very much enjoyed dancing. Gwyn enjoyed dancing with Balthazar. She also enjoyed dancing with Tarquin, who she found very charming. But she really enjoyed dancing with Nesta and Emerie, and when the other females joined in she felt like a normal female on the dance floor. She felt free. She felt her sister. 

A break in the music brought everyone back to the table.

“How were those dances with all those Males, Gwyn?” Emerie, fanned herself as Mor poured them two glasses of chilled white wine.

“Oh. They were lovely. Balthazar asked me to dinner.” She replied as she took her seat. Emerie raised her eyebrows. “Then Tarquin asked me to dinner.”

“A High Lord , Gwyn? The most eligible bachelor here? They really do grow-up fast, don’t they, Rhys?” Mor called across the table, Rhysand’s wicked grin saying more than needed. 

Gwyn decided she needed a whiskey as she lifted her chin slightly signaling that they should look across the dance floor. “That table of males apparently has some sort of competition going on that involves me and I am not letting any one of them win.” She was fanning herself with her hand, all the dancing made her hot.

Nesta gave Azriel a look. He just shrugged.

We should win her— We could, he thought to himself. 

“They also thought I was here with you.” she was pointing at him now, his eyes meeting hers. “Balthazar and Tarquin both asked if I was your date first before asking me to dinner.” She thanked the server as he handed her a drink. 

“You aren’t Azriel’s date?” Elian’s large brown eyes shifted from him, to Gwyn and then back down to the table. Azriel knew this would eventually happen. He knew the day would come that he would find himself and Elain in this very situation.
Gwyn spoke before he could. “No. Azriel was kind enough to offer himself as an escort to me this evening.” And as if she sensed his discomfort she masterfully shifted the conversation to her newly acquired dating life. “Would it be appropriate to say yes to both of them?” Her question was for the table. The other females, including Elain who seemed relieved by Gwyn’s answer, started speaking all at once. 

“A female as lovely as you should say yes to as many dinners as you wish, Gwyneth.” She blushed as Lucien’s metallic eyes shifted to rest on her. On Hen night Gwyn learned Elain had a mate. She also discovered that Nesta had an extreme dislike towards him. Meeting him early in the day, she could not understand why. He was incredibly handsome, witty and charming. Gwyn was starting to believe that Elain may have deeper feelings for Azriel than she previously thought, why else would she seemingly reject a male such as Lucien? 

"Thank you, Lucien. That is very kind of you to say. I did agree to see Balthazar midweek." Azriel choked on his drink as a vision of him smashing his glass into the side of Balthazar's head briefly flashed in his mind. He did not miss Gwyn's look. He did not miss Elain's look. He did not miss Rhys' look. 

"Our Gwyn going on her first date? Nes, I won't be here to make sure she comes home for curfew?" Nesta rubbing Cassian's massive arm said "We can come home for the one night if that is going to make you feel better."

Cassian kissed her, deeply "That would make me feel better." They rubbed their noses. 

"Ewwww...stop being gross." Gwyn said as she laughed uncontrollably. Happy that Cassian would even think of coming home one night to oversee her first real date. 

Azriel stole another glance at Gwyn. He would make sure to be there too. Now he understood his shadows murder plans. But--He wanted her happy. Her joy made him happy. The thought of her being happy made him happy. And if this made her happy, he would support her. 

Soon the Mates would have their ceremonial exchange of food. The band called for the last dances, and the discussion on who was going where afterwards was just beginning just as Azriel heard “Well, hello Nesta, Cassian, Azriel and Mor.”
Helion made his way over “If it isn’t my fantasies all at one table!” There was a round of greetings and then Lucien stood to ask Elain if she wished to take a walk on the grounds. They went off, arm in arm. Elain only glancing at Azriel as she did. 

Helion looked at Mor “Mor, my love. Is this your lovely Valkyrie friend?” Mor, introduced Emerie, who flared her nostrils and twitched her wings at Helion. “down girl” Helion said with a laugh. “I would promise not to get in-between the two of you, but I doubt very much I would mind it.” he winked.

Helion then turned his attention to Gwyn.

Azriel, not sure how brazen or inappropriate Helion would be towards Gwyn, called out to Rhys’ mind.

“I may hurt him if he makes her uncomfortable”

"Do you see the way he is looking at her?”

"It doesn’t matter. She is…”

What, Az? She is what?”

“She is. She’s...”


Rhys stood to introduce Gwyn to Helion "Helion, may I present Gwyneth Berdara." She stood and gave the High Lord a small curtsy "Hello, Gwyn. I am Helion. High Lord of Day.” He gave her a deep bow. “I have been told of your bravery, your wit, charm and grace. I was not told of your breathtaking beauty” He took her hand into his and gently kissed it.

Gwyn, beaming at the compliment, smiled at the handsome male and replied  “I am unsure of whom you have been speaking with, Lord Helion. But I must insist they are not to be trusted if this is the information they are relaying to you.” Helion’s laugh shook the table. Gwyn’s irreverence was an absolute gift.

Helion turned his full attention to Azriel “May I ask Gwyn for a dance?”

Azriel, bemused by Helion asking him for permission, turned to Gwyn “Berdara, would you like to dance with the High Lord of Day?”

Gwyn turned to Azriel and said “Please tell the High Lord I would be honored. Thank you, Shadowsinger.”

Helion stood back to give Gwyn room to leave the table. Gwyn pushed back her chair, turning to the dance floor. She stopped suddenly, and bent forward ever so slightly to untangle her skirts from the dagger strapped to her thigh. She then lifted her right leg unto the spindle of Azriel’s chair. Just the toe of her shoe resting there, causing the definition of her leg to come out. He felt a tremor as he willed himself not to caress her shapely calf, not to run his hand up to her thigh. With his hands flat on his thighs, shaking...Azriel fought the want to drag his nose across every inch of her exposed skin as her scent surrounded him. Flashes of him following that with small bites and licks. He couldn't even breathe, her smell would kill him. He had to control himself. He started counting. He forced his eyes to look forward and down, but they resisted and they were back on her as she was bending towards him, tendrils of her warm copper hair escaping the carefully pinned up braids, cascading down her shoulders, framing her gorgeous face…bringing his stupid eyes right to the fold between those luscious breasts where the tips of her silken hair had to be tickling her.

Elain. He had feelings for Elain he reminded himself.  

He made the mistake of answering a featherlight scratch...It was Feyre in his mind now. “Az, I think you are drooling”

“Not you too.” He immediately pushed her out.


“I give my oath that Gwyn will be returned to you in the same condition I found her, Azriel” Helion said as he led Gwyn to the dance floor.

“That was so odd” Nesta said “I cannot believe he didn’t say anything dirty to her.” Cassian nodded in agreement and then said “I want to know who has been talking about our Gwyn.” 

“He does seem to be taken in by her,” Rhys added. “Maybe it is because he knows what she has been through?”

Mor said “You know, he isn’t as terrible as people make him out to be. We all know why he is the way he is.” She sighed, looked at Emerie, something passing between them. 

A year ago Mor defending Helion would have put Azriel in a mood. But tonight, it didn’t. What she said made sense. As he watched Gwyn throw her head back in laughter at something Helion said, his face lighting up at her reaction. Azriel couldn't help but want to be the reason she laughed like that. 

“My guess is that he has a thing for gingers” Said Varian. “She is technically one, even if that is a darker hue” The table nodded in agreement to this.

“Az, are your shadows picking up on him being a big perv to her?” Nesta slapped Cassian’s arm “What? Nessssss— he could be over there offering her rides on his Pegasus. And she would say yes, we all know she loves a Pegasus. And knowing him he doesn’t mean the horse, cause that sick bastard probably named his cock Pegasus. Gwyn is still very innocent. You all know this!”

“You know, Cass…You forget the smut that she reads. Gwyn may not have real life experience with sex outside of what happened to her. But she certainly knows what she would like one day with a male she trusts and loves, and hopefully loves her back. Gwyn has said she isn’t what happened to her. She deserves to be more than what happened to her.” She turned to Azriel “And YOU should have asked her to dance, Az. Before she says yes to dinner with any more of those dopes over there” pointing across the room to the group of males Balthazar was now sitting with. 

“Azriel” Amren was all business. “You need to find out why she glows.”

“Feyre glows.” Rhys offered with a shrug. “Of course it is whenever she is really happy. Which is whenever I-- well, you all know.” He kissed Feyre's hand. 

Amren smirked at Azriel as she said over her glass “Well that is one way to find out.” Azriel only glared at her.

“Do we think it is from Day, that glow?” Mor asked

"You think Gwyn has ties to Helion’s court?” Cassian asked, never getting the answer earlier.

“Maybe there is a reason why Helion is being the way he is towards her?” Rhys said


There was a sensation of heat from behind the table….and Eris appeared.

“Oh God, not you.” Nesta said. "Who invited you?"

“That’s no way to speak to an ally, Lady Bloodshed. I would expect better manners from you.”

“Why are you here, Eris?” Azriel asked

“I actually received an invitation from my friend the General.” Eris picked invisible lint from his finely tailored deep green linen suit. A gold button down shirt beneath, collar open. His hair slicked back in a low ponytail allowing for a perfect view of his handsome face. 

“Eris, sit, have a drink.” Rhys commanded.

Eris, finding a seat as far away from Azriel as he could, made himself comfortable next to Rhys.

“Who is that dancing with Helion?” 

“What’s it to you?” Azriel couldn't help himself. 

“I am simply curious about a lovely young female at your brother's Mating Ceremony”

Mor, speaking directly to Eris, something she almost never did “That is Gwyn. The Valkyrie. That is who is dancing with Helion”

“The one who won the Blood Rite?”

“Yes” Mor hissed.

Azriel watched as Eris’ kept his eyes glued to Gwyn. He didn't appreciate the slight smile to his lips. Azriel wanted to wipe it from his face.

“Is there a reason you are interested in our Gwyn, Eris?” Rhys asked.

“She’s from Autumn Court, is she not?”

“She may be. We aren't sure.” Rhys looked at his nails as if the question meant nothing. 

“Interesting…” was all Eris said in answer. 

Azriel's shadows reported that Eris' eyes never left Gwyn as Helion escorted her back to the table. “I return the delightful Gwyn to you, Azriel, as promised. Gwyn, my love, you have an open invitation to my court. Including my libraries. And yes, you can ride my Pegasus'' Unable to contain her excitement, Gwyn hugged Azriel’s arm and let out one of her squeals. The feel of her soft body against him caused heat to course through him. 

“She’s with you?” Eris asked Azriel with a look of utter disdain.

His shadows darkened. He had hoped to get through one night without having to deal with Court drama like this. The icy rage began to move in and then he felt Gwyn's hand on his. Calm. He felt an instant calm. 

“Who I am with is none of your business.” Gwyn answered Eris directly. A look of pure annoyance on her face. A new look for her, a look Azriel hoped he would never be on the end of.

“It was a simple inquiry” shrugged the heir to Autumn. 

“No. Your aim was to insult” spat out the Priestess. 

Eris gave her a once over, “I do not know you, so I am curious” 

Azriel watched as Gwyn returned the same exact look, “Are you? I don’t think so. Which goes back to how I began this conversation. We are not your business”

“So you are with him ?” Eris pointed from Gwyn to Azriel. He did nothing to hide the snarl on his face. 

"Why do you say it like that?” She crossed her arms. 

“Because it is clear to me that you have high fae lineage from my Court. Which means, as a female, we have a claim to you.” He waved his hand in the air as if this was a known fact. 

Gwyn uncrossed her arms and leaned forward on the table, “No male has claim to me. And I would never belong to a court like yours.” 

"If you lay with low born savages you won’t." He looked right at her. 

“That’s enough, Eris.” Azriel growled. Completely ignoring him, the two continued.

Motioned to him with her hands open, demonstrating that she was talking about him. “Better than laying with a high born bastard."  

“You should try me on for size.” Eris smirked. 

“I doubt your size would satisfy me.” Gwyn returned it. 

“Ouch” Mumbled Cassian. Mor snorted. Nesta cackled.

“Oh” Eris now looking at Rhys said, “I like her. Shame that she would taint herself by allowing a savage brut with sullied hands to touch her.”

“Pardon me? You know what? Eris—That’s your name, right?” she dismissed him with a wave that indicated she didn’t care as she stood from her chair. “Azriel is the finest male I have ever met. He is braver and more noble than you could ever hope to be. He is intelligent, patient and a good friend. I feel terrible that you, with all your high fae blood, could never live up to who this savage is.”

“Awww," Eris feigned a pout. "Did I strike a nerve, Gwyneth ? Are you in love with the Spymaster of the Night Court?”

Tilting her head and gave a winner's smile Gwyn asked, “Are you?”  

Silence spread across the table. The look on Gwyn’s face was the same as when she won the course. Azriel wished he had a prize for her, and he found she grabbed his hand, pulling him up from his seat as she stood from hers. “Come on, Azriel. Take me for a walk. ”

Azriel, never one to leave a battle, knew this wasn’t his hill. It was hers and she just stuck her flag in the peak. He made sure Eris caught his smirk. The takedown was the best he had ever witnessed, but she wasn’t done. She stopped, turning her back to him and taking a step back towards the table bending forward she commanded Eris to look at her. 

“One more thing.” She seethed “Azriel’s sullied hands, as you call them? They saved my life. And if you ever attempt to claim me for your court, I will disembowel you. Like he taught me to do with those hands." 

Gwyn upended 500 years of Azriel being the defender in one exchange with Eris. Azriel could feel a surge coming off her. Her ears turned red. The sides of her neck, also red. The lovely area of her chest those freckles lived on, also red. Azriel realized he had never seen Gwyn so angry. She was furious and there was a pulse emanating from her. He looked across the table to his brother who only gave a slight nod. 

Azriel looked directly at Eris. He wanted to make sure he was watching as he reached out and grabbed a handful of the back of her skirt. He pulled her against him. She was shaking with rage. Rage over how Eris spoke about him to her. He wrapped his arms around her, with one palm laying flat across her chest, the other over her stomach. He could feel her heart racing.

“I’ve got you. Hold on to me.” he whispered softly in her ear as he again smirked at Eris, he would deal with the smug asshole another day. Gwyn’s hands came up to hold his forearms and he shadow-walked them to the tree line at the edge of the wards. 

“Well. That was exciting” Eris announced as Lucien returned to the table.

“What was exciting?” Lucien asked as he returned from his rather long walk, without Elain. 

“Your brother thought he was going to bait Azriel into another fight and didn’t anticipate Gwyn.” Nesta stated as she checked her nails.  

“Nesta, I was not baiting anyone. You make it sound like I was the aggressor. She is the one that threatened to gut me”

“She what?” Lucien’s metal eye whirling around the table. 

“It was quite the show, Lucien. Our Gwyn is not one to be trifled with. Now. Why are you really here, Eris?” Demanded Rhys.

Chapter Text

Gwyn pushed off him immediately. Waves of energy flowing off her. His shadows moved to surround them, not knowing what to expect. She walked into the trees. Arms wrapped around herself. With her back to him she spoke. “That’s what he said to me, Azriel. Right after he killed my sister. He said he claimed me. And then he—”
It was the first sob from her that may have broken his heart in two. In three long strides he was before her again, he pulled her into his arms. Holding her against him as the heat from her swept through his body. “I’ve got you, Gwyn.” was all he could think to say as she wept. He ran his hands up and down her back. His shadows joined in. “I’ve got you. You are safe. No one will ever hurt you like that again.”

He reached out to his brother.
Rhys.
Az, is she alright?
He needs to leave. Now. Or I am going to fucking kill him.
He has information.
I don’t give a shit what he has. He said the same thing to her that Hybern’s General did right before he raped her. I promised him once I would be the one to end him. I am going to call in that promise tonight if I return and he is still there.

There was silence.

         
Nesta was fuming. She knew what those words meant to her sister. “You are a real piece of shit, Eris. You are fucking lucky Azriel is busy consoling Gwyn and not here beating your smug face into the ground.”

“Cassian, that’s some mouth on your Mate” Eris was doubling down on his stupidity tonight and Cassian couldn’t understand it.

Cassian also knew what those words meant. Gwyn told him her story shortly after she had won the Rite, had told him exactly what she had overcome— He moved with the speed and grace of a man a quarter of his size. Eris, now pinned to the floor with Cassian’s face inches from his—“She is like a little sister to me and you made her cry by repeating what the piece of shit that raped her said. I should fucking kill you, but Azriel earned the right to do it.” Rage in his eyes. “You are going to apologize to her and let her know that no harm will come to her from Autumn Court. Ever. You will do that and you better hope that Azriel forgives you. She will, because she is the best of us. But he won’t.”

They were on the other side of the property. Away from the river, away from the great lawn. It was cooler here, amongst the trees. In the darkness that surrounded them. He continued to whisper that she was safe with him. She wrapped her arms around his waist, mimicking his hand movements up and down his back as if he was the one that needed reassurance.

He wasn’t looking to release her anytime soon.

“Thank you, Azriel.” She murmured and he felt her heart begin to return to its resting rate.

He laughed, “I should be thanking you. I cannot remember a time anyone that was not Cass or Rhys defended me.”

She spoke into his chest. “I defend my friends.” The words echoed into his sternum. Azriel kissed the top of her head. She pushed off him slightly and looked up at him. Azriel lifted his hand to cup her cheek. Wiping her tears away with his thumb on one side, the backs of his fingers on the other. Her eyes fluttered closed.

Azriel had kissed many females. Many. He spent far too many thinking about kissing Mor. He spent the last year thinking about kissing Elain. But something told him if he kissed Gwyn, if he allowed his lips to touch hers—nothing would ever be the same.

He instead kissed her forehead.

Rhys’ ordered Cassian to release Eris. Cassian did, allowing Eris to stand, brushing himself off. Straightening out his jacket.

“I had no idea. I am sorry.” There was naked sincerity across Eris’ face.

“Sorry isn’t going to be enough to save you, Eris.” Nesta spit out.

“I think it is best if you leave with me now, Brother. We can discuss whatever information you have with Rhysand in the morning.” Lucien collected himself, downed the last of his drink. “Rhysand, Feyre–It was lovely. Nesta, Cassian, I do wish you 500 happy years.” He nodded to the others at the table. “Come on, Eris. You can tell me what you know and I will try to help you feel better about being an asshole to one of the loveliest females I have ever met.”

Gwyn opened her eyes as she tucked her velvety lower lip into that overbite again.
Here she goes--he whispered to his shadows as he looked in to those pools of blue and saw the dare. A dare for him to jump in.
He couldn’t help himself, she was still in his arms and when he lowered his face, not to kiss—He had to know what she smelled like, to have a taste. The unspoken request had her tilting her head back for him. He pressed his palm against her elegant neck, his thumb just beneath her chin, he pushed up gently– a sweet sound escaped her soft full lips as he breathed her in. Her breasts were pressed against his chest but all he felt was his heart trying to get to hers. He found his way to the crook of her neck, running his nose along the pathways that kept her gentle rhythms. He let his lips touch the soft skin beneath her freckled ear and all he could do was shudder her name -Gwyn- against her faintly glowing skin. His hands began to shake as he fought against the want to nip and lick her. To bite where her neck and shoulder met. His other hand dug into her waist, pulling her nearer to him.

She had her hands in his hair, their scents mingled, she whispered his name like a prayer as she ran her lips along his jaw, reaching his ear she said, “I wanted to dance with you tonight” brushing her lips along his earlobe, she released him, taking a step back.

Crossing her arms. Fighting stance assumed.

“Why didn’t you ask me?” He noted the accusatory tone as if she saw through all his layers of protection. The loss of her against him was a punishment. 

“You were busy being asked on dates.” It was more clipped than he would have liked, but she deserved to know he disapproved.

She only shrugged at him, a slight dismissive movement. “I still have open ones on my calendar.”

This was a taunt. He only flared his nostrils. His wings fluttered.

“I have never been courted, Shadowsinger.” Another shrug. He resented her use of his communication.

“Is that what you want, Priestess? To be courted?” Shit. . . He didn’t want anyone courting her. She began making her way through the trees, back towards the house. Had she decided this conversation is over?

“Answer me.” He demanded. More forceful than he intended. She didn’t balk. She kept walking.

“I am alive again, Azriel. And I am going to continue to find out what is outside of the library.” She blew an agitated breath out to clear the untamed tendrils of her hair that were falling around her magnificently beautiful face. Her equally long strides, her dress in handfuls, shoes hanging from a crooked finger. She moved them back towards the others faster than he truly wanted.

“And courting different males will help make you feel more alive?” He needed her to help him through this, through the idea that other males were good enough for her.

“What else would you have me do, Shadowsinger? Shall I stay safely ensconced in the library until someone decides they are brave enough to come and ask me to be with them?” She shook her head, a soft scoff fell from her pursed mouth “I’ve figured out what I want, Azriel. But I am not waiting for it to happen for me.”

He reached for her, catching her arm. “What is it that you want?” They stood close to the gardens. Too close to where he was supposed to be soon. Too close to Elain. She narrowed her eyes at him, and he knew she was reading things he had hidden. She stripped him, every time. 

“We should go back. I don’t want to miss Nesta feeding Cassian the cake. I am sure Eris is gone by now.” She resumed walking. She was right. They should go back. He had someplace to be, with someone much less frustrating. He would see her back and then excuse himself.

Gwyn had never been to Rita’s. She hadn’t fully prepared for how loud it was. She wasn’t prepared for the crowd they needed to move through to get to a section reserved for them. Cassian and Nesta hit the dance floor immediately, dancing close enough to make Gwyn blush while she watched. She also didn’t expect Amren to cling to Varian in the way that she did. Reminding her of a small tree bear that she read about, known for how they cling.

She thought of Starfall and him.

“We are going to order shots, Gwyn. Would you like one?” Mor’s gorgeous grin lit up their darkened corner.

“What kind?” She was curious about what flavors she needed to prepare for.

“It is called a White Bear. After the Winter Court. It is delicious. Peppermint and chocolate.” It did sound delightful. She quickly nodded. She was excited to have come. Even if he did not. Even if he quickly excused himself once they were back at the table, promising to meet everyone later.  Feyre and Rhys arrived soon after them, wanting to check on Nyx first. Whom she had yet to meet, but wanted to. Desperately. She missed younglings.

“Ready Gwyn?” Emerie handed her a tiny glass filled with what looked like chilled water but smelled like Solstice. Gods, him. Again. She closed her eyes as Mor toasted to a night of memories. Gwyn was going to make some tonight. She tipped back the drink and found herself letting out a howl that started in her belly. She thought Mor’s eyes were going to pop out of her head.

“Gwyn …I had a feeling there was a party girl in there. Let’s dance.”

The music was unlike anything she ever heard before. It had a slow but fast beat, drums, piano, strings with vocalists telling a story over the rhythm. If she could break the lyrics down, many of them were about males and females that caused each other problems.

“This is what they listen to in Summer Court. Nesta loves it because you can dance like you are having sex with your clothes on.” Emerie kissed Mor after saying this.

And that is exactly what it looked like as she let her eyes glide across the dance floor. Couples dancing close enough for it to look just like that. She backed up slowly. Finding a wall to keep her back to while she allowed her body to feel the music. It was hard to resist. The urge to have her hands in the air, her shoulders found a beat–her hips followed, her feet joined in. She closed her eyes and let the music guide her.

He made promises to meet up at Rita’s, but not before he claimed he needed to meet a contact in Velaris first—He made his way to a newer area of the gardens. Not part of the original design she had shown him on that Solstice. The Solstice that shifted the way he thought of her. Going from a young female he thought of as a sister to a female he thought of in the dead of night, when no one would know.

The hedges were high, planted in rows that allowed for hidden alcoves with benches and other design elements. She had told him to enter in one section, one left, three rights and another left. He found the bench and waited.

Fucking Gwyn infuriated him tonight. She’s alive now? What does that even mean? She knows what she wants? What does she want? Males? Tarquin, fine. He is a High Lord. He would give her a life like none other. She would want for nothing. Of course he didn't like the idea of her being somewhere else, in another Court. Away from here. From him. But fine. If that made her happy--But Balthazar? Hell no. She won’t live in the shitholes of Illyria. She belonged in a big house, with fine things. Besides—it would only be a matter of time before Balthazar became what every other Illyrian male did, a male who thought a female was his property. He would probably put his hands on her when she sassed him. She had a fresh mouth. She was far too quick witted for what they preferred their females be like.

Seer approaches— He stood as she came into view. Faelights lined the base of the hedges surrounding her in a light that reminded him of a soft sunset. His shadows moved to under the hedges.

“Hello, Azriel.” She came right to him.

“Hello, Elain.” He gave her a small smile. 

“Let’s sit. Cerridwen is with Nyx. We should be undisturbed.” She sat on the bench. Crossing her ankles. Her feet off the ground. The benches were sized for Rhys, Cassian and himself. Not a small fae like her. She folded her hands into her lap. He sat next to her.


Two weeks before this night they found themselves in a different section of the garden. He was visiting Nyx. It was a warm spring day. He took his nephew for a walk through the garden, holding him in his arms.

“Azriel, please give me a moment of your time” She floated amongst the flowers.
“Of course, Elain”
“I wanted to apologize for my behavior the last time we spoke.”
“It is unnecessary”
“No. It is. I would have enjoyed kissing you. I would still like to kiss you. But I understand you don’t want that to happen until I make my decision about Lucien.”
“Elain—”
“Is it the Priestess?” She moved closer to him, she ran her fingers through Nyx’ hair as she looked up to him. She was beautiful. And he still wanted to kiss her, he still thought about her on nights he could not resist. It was still wrong. All of it, wrong. His reasons–And her motives—Azriel wasn’t sure how he felt about that.
“Gwyn has nothing to do with this.”
“She doesn’t?” Azriel wasn’t sure what she meant by this.
He had things he wanted to say to her. But he was not prepared. He was not ready to discuss what he wanted here and now.
“I think it is best if I go, Elain. Excuse me, I’m going to find Rhys to give him Nyx.”
“I can take him.” His shadows whispered a warning—- As he handed Elain Nyx, she stood on her toes and gently brushed her lips across his. He couldn’t pull away until he knew the baby was safely in her arms. She pressed her full mouth onto his as she masterfully maneuvered the baby onto her shoulder.

He took a full step back. He wasn’t expecting what she did. What he did know was that there was a mix of sensations and feelings, one of them being in the pit of stomach that reminded him of how he felt when he had no control as a child. She turned to walk back into the house and that is when he saw his brother. Standing in the doorway of one of the parlors. Rhys waited until Elain entered the house through another set of doors. She must not have seen him. His brother walked over to him.

“She kissed me.” Rhys stood next to him. Taking a deep breath.

“I watched. I know what happened.”

“I have continued to respect your order, Rhys.” His brother only slid his hands into his pockets.

“How do you really feel about her, Az?”

“I care for her.”

“Do you see yourself with her a year from now? Five? Ten? Two hundred?”

“I don’t think that far ahead.” His shadows began to swirl.

“I used to dream about Feyre. Even before I knew who she was. Did you know that?” He didn’t. But he barely slept. He always envied Rhys’ ability to do so. Though the little sleep he did get, the short dreams he did have—.

“When I realized who she truly was to me–well, you know. I was willing to live without her if that was what she would have wanted.”
“She doesn’t want Lucien.”

Rhys shook his head. “She doesn’t know what she wants.”
It stung. What his brother said. Azriel needed to be wanted and if Elain still wanted him, it meant he was worth something.

“You are still willing to stand in the way of what may be our happiness is what I am understanding.” He didn’t hide the anger he was beginning to feel again.

“What happens if and when your mate shows up? If you are in love with Elain, if this is more than she you wanting to fuck her–" His brother sighed, "I want you to think about what Cassian and myself waited for, and what males we know that cannot be with their mates are like. Really think about it, Az. You deserve more than what you are willing to settle for because you think you have been shorted by the Cauldron.”

“I am leaving Night Court. I will be leaving with Lucien before the end of the Summer.” She wouldn’t look at him. Rubbing her thumb along the heel of her palm. She continued. “I would very much like to arrange one night together before I leave. One night for a goodbye.”

Of all the things Azriel was expecting this was not it. He immediately agreed.

“Yes.” She smiled at him. He shifted towards her, taking her small face into his hands, he kissed her the way he wanted on Solstice.

Chapter Text

How many shots would this be? She wasn’t really sure, Mor had said something about being alright as long as you have one good eye—Gwyn could still see with both. She followed Cassian’s advice to have a water in between every drink. He truly did look after her. She was going to miss him for the days they would be gone doing the Frenzy. Doing the frenzy —she laughed to herself. They do the frenzy every day.

She was still safely against her wall. It was hers now. A perfect spot to dance without a male pushing himself against her without permission.

She did need to pee though. Because she had a lot of shots. Which led to many waters. She knew where the water closet was. She had been mapping out how she would walk there, along the perimeter. No one would notice her since so many people were dancing like they were doing the frenzy –what a goofball, she made it just in time. Only one female ahead.

They kissed for a little. They were sweet kisses. Tender. She did sit on his lap. Perched, more like a small bird. He kept his hands on her waist. She ended it when whatever her pre-planned amount of time had passed.

“When will I see you again?” She was breathless, he was not. He realized how inexperienced she truly was. How overwhelming it must be for her.

“I will get a message to you when I can meet. Would that be alright, Azriel?” He nodded that it would be.

“I must go. I hope you enjoy the rest of the night.” She kissed him again, chaste. And then left the maze to return to the house. He sat for a moment. Waiting for his shadows to talk to him again, collecting himself before leaving.

He sat in the silence.

Tarquin was waiting at the edge of the hallway that led to the facilities. If she thought Balthazar was handsome, this male was absurdly so. His eye color was almost an exact match to hers and now she understood why some stared at her the way they did.

“Hello” His smile made her smile. 

“Hello” She pulled at some of her hair, twirling it around her finger.

“I noticed you dancing by yourself. Would you like to dance with me instead? ” She blushed.

“Would it be in the same manner of dancing that the others are? I have very little experience with this type of dancing.” He took her hand, she didn’t pull it back.

“We do not have to dance like anyone else. We can enjoy the music, move together and I will be a perfect gentlemale while doing it.” She nodded a yes, and he walked them through the crowd to a small space they could make their own. Close to her wall.

The Cauldron hated him. There was no other answer but this. The day he had. The female—-Females, plural, he was now dealing with. He finally kissed Elain…they kissed and it was just nice. She was sweet and receptive. Followed his lead. But it was nice. Nothing more. Nothing less. 

He landed in an area near Rita’s. He was ready to enjoy the rest of the night. Work off some steam.

He greeted who he knew at the door. They told him which section everyone was in. He walked to the bar first to get a much needed drink. Glad to see his favorite behind the wood.

“Hey Az. Glad to see you could make it. They are pretty tanked back there. You know, Mor has been in charge.”

“Hey Orla. Good to see you. I anticipated them already being drunk when I got here.”

“The usual for you?”

“Yes. Thank you.”

He sipped for a few minutes. Then he downed it. Shaking the glass at Orla, she poured him another. He downed that one. She set him up again. By round 4 she handed him the bottle and he felt ready to go deal with whomever it was that was surviving Mor’s barrage. He walked to where they would be, the crowd moving as his shadows pushed in front of him. Scanning the dance floor he caught Nesta and Cassian, Mor and Emerie, a few other couples he recognized.

And then he followed where his shadows headed and he saw her. The High Lord of Summer had his hands on her hips, her hands resting on his upper arms. She was smiling and laughing and fucking smiling at him.

His shadows barreled back to him as his wings flared. They tucked themselves under them as he got control of himself.

“AZ!” Mor yelled as she made her way over to him. Arms thrown around him, pulling him to where their tables are. He couldn’t see her from here. He told his shadows to go watch her. No. Yes—go to where she is. No. They stayed under his wings.

Rhys and Feyre sat nestled in a corner. Cassian slammed into him. Drunker than that one time he woke up wearing Solstice decorations. Emerie and Mor were certainly no better. Gwyn must be as drunk, if not more. That would be the only logical reason she had allowed Tarquin to put his hands on her.

He poured himself another drink and sat next to Rhys.

“Az. You finally made it. You’ve missed a fun night so far.” Rhys clinked his glass against his and he followed his brother’s eyes directly to where Gwyn was.

“How many dances?”

“Two. She has been dancing. Mostly alone or with Mor and Emerie. Tarquin took a while to muster the courage to ask her.” He then nodded towards Amren–Who was smirking over her glass at him.

“She probably talked him into it.” He shot her a look that indicated his displeasure.

Rhys shrugged “I don’t think he needed to be talked into it. I think he truly likes her.” He nodded back towards Gwyn.

Drunk Cassian sat to his other side. He was semi-trapped.

“You, my brother, are making a big mistake. The biggest in your 500 years if you don’t go over there and ask her to dance with you.” Cassian’s big meathook hand slammed down on the back of his neck. He squeezed.

“She looks fine from over here.” He shook him off.

“She is FINE. She is gorgeous and everyone here but YOU knows it.” Cauldron boil him.

“My Mate is right, Az. But I told you to ask her hours ago. You didn’t. Because you have your head up your ass.” He narrowed his eyes at Nesta who only smirked at him in return.

“Tarquin is thinking of asking her to leave with him, according to Varian.” Feyre, being the busy body she is. He looked to Rhys for backup. “Don’t look at me. I’m just minding my own business over here.”

He looked over to her. Watching as Tarquin’s hands made their way up the sides of her waist as she followed his dance instructions. A growl began to build in his throat. He then heard his shadows practice one.

Mor walked over and had her mouth open—he put his hand up  “If I go over and cut in for one song, will you all let me drink in peace?”

He watched as they all looked to each other and nodded or murmured “yes” or “sure”. Rhys only shrugged. 

He stood and began to make his way over to her.


Gwyn felt him before she saw him. Felt his eyes on her. She stopped looking at her feet, stopped laughing as Tarquin corrected the way she moved her hips. Insisting that if she was going to come see him in Summer, that she needed to learn how to do it the right way.

He didn’t have to move through the crowd. It parted for him. These people didn’t even do that for Cassian. Him? They moved out of his way like the sea in that story she read with the female who has smaller wings. Their eyes locked and he was standing over them.

“Good evening Tarquin. May I cut in?” He never even looked at him.

“Of course, Shadowsinger. Come find me when you are finished, Gwyn.” He squeezed her hand before passing it to Azriel’s.

“Yes. I will.” She smiled at him.

He waited until Tarquin was gone. He moved closer to her. The faelights all but went out as the music changed to what he preferred to dance in the dark to. There were beams of light moving over their heads. There was no way they could see them from the table now.

The song playing was one of his favorites. Deep slow base. The kind he plays when alone in some of the rooms he has arranged in the past.

“You want to dance with males, Gwyn?” He asked as he moved into her space completely. 

She stood to her full height, “I have been, Shadowsinger.”  

He moved even closer. Sliding one hand to her hip, he pulled her against him. Grabbing a handful of the fabric of her dress. Near the slit. His other hand wrapped around the side of her ribcage. He pushed his thigh in between her legs. Not once did she pull away from him. Shaking, he could feel her shaking, but she didn’t pull away. He walked her backwards towards a darker corner. He could smell her arousal. He wanted her to smell and feel his, what she fucking did to him. What Elain didn’t do to him.

He wanted her hands on him like she had her hands on Tarquin.

“Put your hands on me like you had them on him” He commanded in a low growl. She slowly slid them up his arms. He began to move against her with the music—she moved against him. He buried his face in her neck. She moved her hands into his hair. The music was too loud for him to hear the sweet sounds he knew she was making but he could feel them as he nipped at her shoulder. Ran his teeth along her neck. This is what he thought he would feel with Elain. He felt none of this. It was all in his head. It is Gwyn. Gwyn that made him come undone.
The Priestess.
The Valkyrie.
The Carynthian.

She stilled. Moved her face to find his. Moved her hands to cup his cheeks. Made him look at her. He felt her breath across his lips. Mother—if she kissed him, his heart began to race as she brought her mouth to his ear and asked “Can you hear me? Shake your head yes if you can.”

He did as he was told.

“Good boy--You fucking stink of her. Get your hands off me.” She pushed him. She pushed him with enough strength that he almost fell backwards. She stood before him, eyes aflame. Her nostrils flaring. And then she walked away. Into the crowd.

He followed her. Trying to catch up but it was too dark and the crowd was thicker than before. When he made it to the table she was nowhere to be seen. Rhys was still there. Cassian, Mor. She had left with Tarquin.

I would have told you that was a bad idea with you smelling of another female. But I think you like learning things the hard way, brother.

You knew? Azriel held his head in hands.

Yes. I scented Elain all over you. Did you think she wouldn’t?

Azriel didn’t know what he was thinking. He was thinking he fucked this all up.

Where did she go? Tarquin can’t fly. How is she going to get home?

Who said he is taking her to the house of wind?

Rhys poured him another drink. Azriel took it. The rest of the night was nothing but a blur.

Chapter Text

He woke feeling like he ate dirt. Naked and on his stomach, his room a wreck. Groaning, he tried to piece together the rest of the night. At some point it was himself and Rhys. Rhys pouring him drinks. Here. At the house of wind. Because he was too drunk to fly home alone and—Fuck, Rhys knew.

He needed to find her and talk to her. To say he is sorry. To explain.

He found Cassian and Nesta in the dining room preparing to leave. Poured himself a cup of tea and made himself a plate of food. Nesta’s gaze was burning a hole into him. “Morning, Az” he only offered a grunt in reply to his brother’s overly happy greeting. Cassian began going over the next few days with him.

“We are leaving Velaris in about an hour. Rhys would prefer we wait until I return to discuss Eris–No seeking him out while I am gone.” Cassian’s stern face offered only a warning. “There is no training until we return as well. Everyone deserves time off. This includes you, Az. You should go easy on yourself over the next 10 days. Rhys has plenty for you to do, focus on that.”

Azriel only nodded. He slipped into his mask, he would stay there. “And—She isn’t in the library. So don’t bother going down there to look for her.” His brother’s look of disappointment in him soured the food in his stomach.

“Where is she?” He asked too fast. He shouldn’t have asked at all. He has no right to know where she is.

“The Townhouse with Mor and Emerie.” Cassian said as he kissed the top of Nesta’s head. “We are heading there soon. Mor is winnowing us to Day from there. Rhys wants everyone there for the send-off.” his brother said something about sandals as he left the dining room. Leaving him alone with Nesta.

Nesta. The sister to both the females.

Nesta. With her all knowing eyes. She put her hand over his scarred one, letting him know she understood. 

“She is smart enough to never speak to me again.” The thought of her never speaking to him again felt like a knife slowly being pushed into his gut. Would she? Is she the type of female that would never speak to him again? Her face on the dance floor flashed through his mind. How can she make him feel so calm, make him want to crawl into her and make him feel so lost at the same time?

“You hurt her, Az.” She sipped her tea. “What were you even thinking?” He wasn’t. He wasn’t thinking. He rubbed his scarred hands across his face. Even his shadows were upset with him. Something happened when she allowed him to have access to her neck, when whatever elixir it is that runs through her veins spoke to him—called to him. She is why everything felt so muted with Elain.

“And, Elain? You know I am no fan of Lucien, but, Az —” Nesta’s eyes softened. “I know my sisters. I know Elain. Better than anyone else does. You do not truly know my sister and you are chasing a female that does not exist.”

Azriel shook his head, Nesta had no idea how he felt about Elain. He thought about the sweet kisses she gave him. That spark, it would still come. They just needed time. She continued to look at him, and continued to try to read his mask.

“You and Cass asked us how we seemed to be handling our post Rite recovery so well. Do you remember that?” He nodded. The three of them returned to training with an unparalleled way of communicating, they openly joked about almost dying, their camaraderie–which was so much like him and his brothers, deepened. “Gwyn arranged for us to sit with her Healing Priestess. We started as a group and then I started to see her privately.” She sipped her tea again “I feel you could benefit from meeting with her or someone similar to her, Az. Is that something you would be open to doing?”

“What would I need that for?”

“To work on yourself, Az.”

Lucien returned from the river house to find his brother on the terrace of his apartment. He called for tea, and sat across from him.

“Father didn’t send you?” Lucien was seeking confirmation. Eris only shook his head.
“No. I came to see for myself after Keir drunkenly discussed the Valkyries in Hewn.” Eris rested his long limber leg on his knee, playing with the cuff of his finely tailored slacks.

“What did he say?” Lucien knew Keir’s reputation, knew how he viewed females.

“Oh…the usual. Nesta Archeron mated beneath her. Tainted line and all that. He mocked the female Illyrian. He is convinced she is the type that prefers the company of other females. But, the redheaded Priestess—well, she was the topic he seemed most interested in knowing more about.”

Lucien sipped his tea. “You’ve seen her now, and?”
“You told me yourself that you felt it from her immediately. That you knew the second she walked into the room. Are you now going to deny it?”
“It cannot be denied, Eris. She looks so much–”
“Don’t fucking say it.” Lucien watched as his brother stilled his shaking hand.

“Then why provoke her? Rhysand said you intentionally provoked her.” He had rarely seen the High Lord so angry. Angry enough for Lucien to believe Rhysand knew, he knew.

Eris let out a deep sigh “I don’t know what I thought that would do.” He ran his fingers through his rich red hair. “Maybe I was hoping she would display something and Rhysand would react and then we wouldn’t need to do anything.”

Lucien focused his mechanical eye on his brother, “Would you like to hear why I think you behaved the way you did?” Eris only glared “Of course this is purely based on what I was told by Feyre and Rhysand this morning, take it as you will—but, I think your response was based on seeing the way she and the Shadowsinger behave towards each other. It must be a threat to whatever plans you are crafting in your head.”

Eris stood and walked to the edge of the terrace, hands gripping the railing “I have no plans crafted in my head—Until yesterday, I never thought I. . . They would never tell me where they put her— Mother didn’t even know. Our father’s behavior, what he would have done to her, what he is capable of after what was done to you—to Jesminda.” Eris strode back to his chair “I know you tried to track her down while we were under the mountain.”

“I did.” Lucien angled his now empty tea cup on the edge of his armrest “Even traveled to Sangravah. They claimed a child fitting that description never made it to the temple.”
Eris scoffed– “We both know now how much of a lie that was. What the likes of Ianthe had been up to.” Lucien shuddered at the mention of her name. Eris only gave him a look of apology.

“I know she wasn’t born out of what you had, but that doesn’t mean I loved her any less. Salacia was addictive, hard to resist—I did not mind being seduced by her one bit. When she disappeared I thought nothing of it. It seemed like years later when Mother—well, we both know what happened.” The brothers sat in silence for a few minutes.

“Maybe it will work in our favor, whatever it is that is going on between the Shadowsinger and her. If father realizes who she is, and does try anything–he would have to get through him first. I wouldn’t mind if they took each other out. Less work for me.” Eris seemed pleased with himself

“Don’t you want her to know?” Lucien watched as a range of emotions he had never known his eldest brother capable of having moved across his face within seconds.

“I do not. Which is why I said such a vile thing to her. At least they will assume I am simply seeking the attention of a beautiful female they happen to have in their court.”
Eris stood, looking to his youngest brother “Please keep an eye on her.” Lucien felt no need to say he would as he watched Eris winnow away.

Mor’s extremely off-key singing and the aroma of crispy bacon danced around Emerie as she entered the guest room Gwyn slept in. “Wakey, wakey.” Emerie sang while carrying a steaming cup of tea that smelled divine. Gwyn sat herself up.

“Thanks, Em” she moaned as she took her first sip “How are you two this chipper?” Emerie only lifted a single eyebrow. “Ugh. I forget.” Gwyn mocked vomiting.
She placed the tea on the nearer night stand, stretching her arms and then ran her fingers through her sore hair. There had to be magic in the braids, they put up a real fight when she tried to undo them. She rubbed tender sections with the pads of her fingers. They still smelled of him.

“Are you alright?” Emerie finger combed her hair with her.

“I will be.” Emerie’s sweet smile never failed to make Gwyn’s heart swell. “Mor makes a mean breakfast. Come down when you are ready.”


The townhouse was a beautiful home. Comfortable, inviting and thankfully not such a long walk from Rita’s. She would need to send Tarquin a proper thank you note for how kind he was. For not leaving her on the dance floor. Standing only feet away from them and winnowing her away immediately. For being so understanding. For escorting her here.

“Good morning, Valkyrie.” Mor gave her a big kiss as she entered the kitchen “You good? We only have one rule in this house—there is no crying over males.” The three shared a laugh.

“At least we have the next 10 days off, you won’t need to see him.” Gwyn bit into a juicy piece of bacon as Emerie reminded her of this. The thought of not seeing him for ten days made her chest ache.

“I still have my duties at the library to attend to. I will be returning to the house either way.” She spoke quietly, they would see through it.

“The invitation is still open, Gwyn. Clotho would never deny you. And I will gladly handle Merrill. Athelwood is wonderful in early summer.” Mor set a plate of fluffy eggs in front of her. “I have a stable of horses. If you have never ridden away your problems on the back of a broody mare, you’re missing out–”

“I do not believe Em is broody at all, Mor.” Emerie flung a fork full of those fluffy eggs her way as Mor let out a rapturous laugh.

“This is why you are adored, Gwyn.” Mor kissed Emerie and they continued to eat their breakfast and discuss plans for the day.

“Rhys offered to take you back to the library whenever you are ready.” Mor was doing that mind thing with Rhys.

“Would it be permissible for me to stay longer than one night here?” She steadied her trembling hand.

“You can stay here for as long as you like, Gwyn. We aren’t leaving for a few more days. You should stay another night, or all the nights.” Mor fed Emerie a fork full of fluffy eggs off her plate. Gwyn looked at the two of them as they made eyes at each other. She wanted what they had, she wanted what Nesta and Cassian had and she would not settle for anything less. Mor’s eyes lit up as Gwyn nodded yes “Oh! This means we can go shopping and have a fashion show!” Emerie’s shoulders shook as she giggled at Mor’s excitement. “Yes, Mor—we can have a fashion show.”

She bathed and left her hair down, resting her overly tight scalp. She went through the selection of summer dresses Mor laid out for her. She was taller than Mor. Taller and a lot less. . . showy. Yes, showy would be a much more suitable word to use for a female that embraced all of herself in the way Mor did. Gwyn had always leaned away from how some of the other Priestesses dressed. Catrin enjoyed wearing the lighter robes, with fabrics that clung and allowed her to display her figure. Catrin also participated in the Rite. More than once. She was so much braver, seeking adventures and pushing back on the Temples. She had told Gwyn that she had the right to wait. To wait until she felt ready. Choice. Catrin wanted the promise of choice for her and would often debate the visiting High Priestesses at Sangravah on the subject. Gwyn still had choices. Even after what happened she had choices. She could have chosen to stay in bed all day and overthink, or this—Get dressed, get out, get on.

She stepped into the dress and managed to get the criss crossed back to do what it was supposed to purely thanks to being as limber as she is. This was the most conservative of all the sundressed in Mor’s closet here. A deep green fabric with an adorable ginger kitten pattern. Some playing with yarn, others batting at butterflies. It seemed so out of character for Mor, but she swore it was one of her favorites.

“Plus, those kitties will play off your glorious hair.”

She tied the back, like Mor said it should be, checked in the mirror—the skirt rested just above her ankles, the waist was a thick band that buttoned in the back, the top was pulled over her breasts, with two bands of fabric that crossed and then looped through the waist ending with them tied together. The neckline was square. It reminded her of an apron, a virtually backless, sideless apron–but it covered what was important to be covered and it was hot today.

She thought Cassian’s head was going to burst when she walked into the main parlor to say goodbye. “Mor–you should buy Gwyn a sweater while out today.” Nesta rolled her eyes and told her she looked adorable. “Just like these ginger kittens.” teasing as she poked at one. Rhys, Feyre and Nyx, along with Elain had all come to see them off. Azriel was the last to arrive.

He only stood by the mantle. She felt his eyes roam over her as his shadows poked at the fabric, mimicking Nesta. When she braved looking at him, his eyes were now on Elian.

Cassian announced they were ready to go. Everyone piled out to the front of the townhouse, small but fragrant gardens lined either side of the stone path to the gate. Gwyn admired the arbor full of ready to eat grapes that provided shade. She stood on the last of the 6 steps into the home, she wanted to give the family moments alone. But after Cassian hugged his brothers, Feyre and Elain, he made his way back to her. The sight of him in sandals and pants shortened to sit above his knees made her burst into laughter. He only grinned as he made his way to her. She would miss him very much.

“Your date has been pushed back until we return, Gwyneth. Balthazar needs to focus on preparing the cabin and training center while I am gone. I have given him permission to write to you, if you find that agreeable. When we come back, we will go out together. You look beautiful in this sundress.” He kissed the top of her head as he pinched her chin, he whispered to her and she nodded in understanding. Tears welling in her eyes as Nesta came in for another hug.

“Go you two. I will miss you both.” And with that, Mor winnowed them away.


Azriel watched as Gwyn waited on the steps for Mor to return. The sunlight was filtering through the leaves, casting shadows and light upon parts of her face, her hair, her skin. She had beautiful skin. Hair. Eyes. Everything about her was beautiful. He did not need his shadows telling him she was uncomfortable, that didn’t stop them. He wanted to go over to her–but she wouldn’t even look at him. It was fine, he thought to himself. Better she learn who he really is.

Mor returned. “Are we ready?” Emerie looked to Gwyn, who nodded.

“This looks like trouble to me, Az–” Rhys elbowed him and for a split second Gwyn and him made eye contact. He fought the urge to put his arms around her and tell her he was sorry.

“Hopefully, Rhys.” Mor said with a wink.

“Where are you three off too?” Feyre asked as Elain waved goodbye, saying she needed to meet with the restoration group across town.

“Shopping, eating, day drinking. Showing Gwyn off.” Mor linked her arm through Gwyn’s and walked them onto the street. “Tootles!” she called as she dragged Gwyn with her.

This was really happening, Gwyn thought to herself as Mor kept her moving through the streets rattling off all the places they were going to shop and eat in. She was really just doing this? No baby steps? No taking little trips closer and closer until she could handle it as she had originally planned?

Yes. She was in Velaris. She would spend the day in Velaris. And not think about him at all. Even after seeing him. Even with what Cassian had whispered, with it bouncing around her head. Besides, Tarquin had offered to meet for dinner…all she needed to do was send a note saying yes.

She would say yes.

Gwyn thought of when she and Catrin were small, even with their innate knowledge of water their mother stressed that not all was as gentle and safe as the rivers and lakes they knew. The rains had been especially heavy one season and the river had swelled to dangerous levels causing the usually safe rai to rise like never before. Their mother pushed them both in what had become the very very very deep end, filled with debris—and Gwyn, not equipped with the webbing and other traits of her sister, had to fight her way to the shore. She thought of this and thought of how many times she had clawed her way out of the deep end. Velaris was just another deep end.

Azriel waited for his brother to come back into the parlor. He poured Rhys and himself a drink, remained standing as his shadows whispered adjectives like awkward and humiliating while also telling him the priestess felt discomfort. He felt like a piece of shit as it was, he asked them not to pile on—knowing that was coming with Rhys. His brother appeared in the archway separating the parlor from the dining room.

“Let’s go to my old study, better to talk in there while Feyre feeds Nyx.”
He followed.

“I gave an order forbidding you from pursuing her, which I understand you followed. I understand it is her, but I never said you could have rendezvous in my garden if it was her asking for them.” Rhys flared his nostrils as he sat behind his old desk, kicking his feet up and tilting his chair back.

“I told you I care for her. She cares for me.” Azriel kept the cold rage in check since the tone his brother was taking was not like that on Solstice.

He watched his brother rub his face with his hands. “YOU— you are coming between a Mating Bond, Azriel—do you not see that?”

“See what? That she doesn’t want him? I see it.”

His brother straightened himself out and then put his head in his hands and began circling his fingers on his forehead. Like Azriel was giving him a headache and not the other way around.

“What exactly happened between you and Elain” Azriel knew Rhys would force an answer out of him, so he told him the truth “We kissed. That was it.”

“Was it life changing? Do you feel like a different male now that it happened? Did it feel like the answer to all the questions you have ever had?” Azriel eyed his brother, not knowing where he was going with this.

“She is very innocent. You know that.” He wasn’t about to tell his brother that it wasn’t any of those things.

“What happened between you and Gwyn?” Azriel only shrugged. He didn’t want to discuss Gwyn. He didn’t understand what was happening with Gwyn.

“The shrug isn’t going to cut it. You need to use your words, Az.”

“I was holding her when she cried and I don’t know—she did something to me.”

His brother now sat with half his face on his hand, his fingers hiding a grin. Azriel didn’t think any of this was funny.

“I don’t know why you are smirking. The Priestess has antagonized me in the past, she competes against me, targets me. She makes it impossible for me to avoid her by making it so easy to be around her even when she frustrates me. She also has a way of getting me to do things for her. ”

“Like what, Az?”

“The post for the ribbon.” He started to count off like Gwyn would.

“And?”

“Any time she asks for private training sessions.”

“And?”

“Whenever she asks me to do anything, Rhys.” Azriel threw his scarred hands up, annoyed that his brother is pushing this, he was at loss as to why he never said no to her.

“I need you to touch base with your spies in Autumn. Find out what Eris was snooping around Gwyn for.” Azriel was glad for the semi-change of subject.

“Lucien didn’t tell you?” Another reason he disliked him. Lucien withheld things from them. All the time.

“He asked if I could show him what happened, which I did. He offered no information, only said he would speak with Eris.” Rhys picked a real piece of lint from his tunic.

“You can’t trust him. He knows something and isn’t telling us.” He had to get his brother to understand that Lucien was not the nice male everyone thinks he is.

“You think he knows something about Gwyn?”

“Of course I do. You do too.” Rhys gave him nothing.

“Clotho is almost done with the report I asked for. You will bring it to me when it is ready.” Azriel nodded.

“Good. Now–I want you to think about what I warned you of happening should you decide to continue to think with your dick when it comes to Elain.” Azriel allowed his cold rage to rise, Rhys immediately met it with his darkness– “If Gwyn is harmed because you chose to make an unwise decision, Azriel, I am going to be very angry.”

He heard water, there was sunlight—figs, lilacs and embers. She must be near. He smiles. The lush flora cushions his wings as he watches the light filter though the leaves, playing with his shadows and creating patterns on his eyelids when he closes them. The glen. Her sweet smoky voice floats over to him in the canopy created by the trees.

“Komorebi, Azriel. That is what it is called.” He knows she is looking at him.

“I do not believe that is a real world, Priestess. You are making it up.” He pushes himself up so he can look at her. She is beautiful and all he wants is to be with her.

“I promise it is a real word to describe the feeling that light filtering through the trees gives you.” She smiles at him over her shoulder, her back is to him, the now transparent shift clings to her skin as she stands in the water— like a goddess.

“Come swim with me, Azriel.” her hand out, he stands and walks to her, reaching to pull her body against his. . .but she is made of smoke and shadows—he cannot get a hold “Gwyn, come here.” She only smiles, her teal eyes disappearing. . . “Gwyn —” he wakes tangled in his sheets, sweat beading on his chest as his shadows stand at the foot of his bed, waiting.

She has been gone for 9 days.

Azriel enters the library and finds Clotho at her desk. His shadows moan —she is still not home— as he makes his way over to the High Priestess.

“Good morning, Clotho.”

Good morning, Shadowsinger. The final report is here. I personally oversaw it. What it contains will be known by our eyes only. The High Lord said you know where to bring it.

“I do. Thank you.”

Here is the other report you asked for. As requested, she was not involved in that research and as she is the best we have in the library, take that as you will. 

“Understood. I appreciate this as well.”

Your eyes are sad again, Shadowsinger.

“I’m just tired.” He was tired. Gwyn was invading his dreams. His eyes drifted to the doorway that led to the dorms.

Gwyn has still not returned. She is very much missed.

Azriel only nodded before giving a small bow. Instead of turning to go up the stairs to the house, Azriel made his way down to the 3rd level. He walked down a corridor that was hidden behind an overstuffed bookcase, finding the last door on the left. He knocked and heard a voice “Enter”, and so he did.

A small fae female in a tunic the same color as the robes worn by the Priestesses watered potted plants that took up most of the room. She turned, and just like Madja, she had a face that showed her age. She smiled, and he felt at ease.

“Come in, Shadowsinger. I do not bite.” He chuckled at this, closing the door behind himself.

“Hello, Akeso.” She smiled as she motioned to a chair that had cutouts for his wings. He realized it wasn’t only Gwyn and Nesta that had been here, Rhys had been here too.

“Before you attempt to run, I am bound by an oath to reveal nothing we speak of here. I cannot even report to the High Lord what is discussed. This is a place of safety and security. I do not provide a cure, I only help you in the process of healing. I will take you sitting as a sign you understand and wish to proceed.”

Azriel’s shadows had already made themselves at home in front of the small pot belly stove that had an apple red kettle sitting on it. He guessed they were staying, and so he sat.

“Wonderful. Let’s begin.”

He did feel lighter as he watched Elain in the garden from the window of Rhys’ study. Amren read aloud portions of the report. “Divination, summoning—She may be a super tracker; given a person, creature or item to find and she is able to either summon them or find a location. This better explains how she helped Nesta find the harp. She can scry without the need of bones. Clotho indicates here that there has only been one incident involving a misplaced book in which she could not find it and asked for assistance. She believes Gwyn’s fear of failure, along with the pressure that Merrill has her under caused her to block the location.” Amren passed the pages to Azriel as she finished them.

“Her singing can create pathways and may be able to do more if properly trained. Clotho was able to reconnect with the High Priestess of Sangravah when the mother arrived. She has since left the Priestesshood–Clotho will not divulge her current location. According to this Priestess–The grandmother seduced a high fae male in Autumn. The mother was turned over to someone in the Forest House when weaned. Gwyn’s mother was picked up in Autumn territory a few years later by another unnamed Priestess. She was then quietly moved through other temples, eventually landing in Sangravah.” Rhys read the next part silently to himself, then out loud.

“It says here that there is a belief the grandmother was not a river nymph, but one of the Nereids—” Rhys looked to Amren and then to Azriel.

“What’s the difference?” Azriel honestly didn’t know.

“The difference is that they can move from both salt to fresh waters, they have different powers and they are descended from an actual God.” Amren stated.

“Wait, what?” Azriel’s shadows began to whisper but he could not focus on what they were saying.

“Yes—the girl may be the direct descendant of a Primordial, making her a demi-goddess. They have not been heard from since the Age of Legends.” The small creature was annoyed that she had to leave her home this morning and demanded if there were to be a meeting with Gwyn it was to take place at her apartment. Rhys said yes. If only to keep the peace.

“Who would be the God?” Azriel asked as Rhysand went to his bookcase, pulled a large book out, bringing it to his desk.

“You may know him as Lir, Aegir, Nerus, Okeanes. Most just call him the Old Man of the Sea. He goes by many names. Shape shifts to evade." Amren only shrugged, guessing at the names Illyrians have for the God of the Sea.

“Is she a siren? She sings? Don’t they lure victims. She has that glow too, is that what Lightsingers do? You said the grandmother seduced the male?” This could be the answer. Cassian said Lightsingers lure, if Gwyn had summoning powers and was not a river nymph–that could explain what he feels around her. She has powers she used them—on him. Gwyn is a seductress. She had used her wiles on him before, like with the course. It was all starting to make sense.

“No. Sirens were evil bird like creatures that enticed sailors to ram their ships on the rocks. Lightsingers, though shapeshifters, kill for fun. We aren’t even sure how they lure their victims since they have not been seen or heard from in many many years. Plus, nothing I know of ever indicated they live in water. They just happen to have been banished to the bog. Nereids sing as well, they are known for their beautiful voices. It was part of how they praised the Primordials. But, unlike those ceatures they are the friends of sailors, travelers and the wayward. They help find lost items, can bring a ship to safety, guide a ship to dock, help a person find their home and are thought to be the mothers of many a Legend.” As Amren explained the differences between the creatures and Fae, Rhys flipped through the rather large book, stopping at a page with a painting depicting a story Azriel recognized. Rhys’ mother told them of a young male that was abducted by Nymphs. He had always thought she told the story as a warning about certain kinds of females, but now he wonders if there was more to it.

“The high fae male probably said he was seduced. You know how Autumn feels about lesser fae, Az.” Rhys gave him a look that Azriel felt was unwarranted.

“We should wait for Cassian. He has a history with creatures from that age.” Azriel said as he read more of the pages Amren passed to him. Yes, Cassian would know what to do.

“We should not discuss this with the girl until we know more information on her paternal line.” Azriel looked to his brother, who immediately spoke “Amren—of course we are discussing this with her. She has the right to know.” Rhys only shook his head.

“She does not have the right to know everything in this report. You must redact certain portions. Like the part where she may be a demi-Goddess—the girl does need to know that until we know for sure.” Amren stood to leave. “Varian is waiting for me. She returns tomorrow. I only know this because Tarquin is also here.” The look that she gave Azriel reminded him that he once thought of stabbing her with Truth Teller.

“Our Gwyn snagged herself a High Lord?” Rhys said while leaning against his desk.

“He is smitten.” Amren said “But then again, I think most males are when they get around her.” She again smirked at Azriel as she left.

“We will wait for Cass and Nesta to return tomorrow, Az. Have Cassian read the report, he may have input that we don’t.” Azriel mumbled a thank you as he prepared to leave. “I do have a job for you in Hewn.” He watched as his brother put on his coat “We will go together.”

Azriel knew whenever Rhys accompanied him to Hewn it was for reasons that would never be spoken aloud. That lightness he felt early all but disappeared as they walked to the wards, winnowing to Hewn together.

Chapter Text

Azriel landed on the balcony outside of the dining room at the house of wind. The night in Hewn was long, he cleaned up and rested as best he could before heading home. He was happy to see Cassian and Nesta sitting at the table having a late breakfast.


“Come here, brother” Cassian pulled him in for a big hug as Nesta stood waiting her turn.

“How was Day?” he asked, wanting to know if spending more than a few nights with Helion would cause Cassian to want to rip his head from his body.

“It was great. Helion is less annoying with Mated couples.” Nesta only shrugged. Azriel noted they both looked tanned, rested. Happy.

“The last few days at the Cabin were great too. Nice to be so secluded.” Cassian gave him a big, if not wholly inappropriate smile.

His shadows rippled towards the doorway—and there she was, Gwyn. He could hear his heart beating as she stopped from coming into the room. She was in another sundress. Tiny straps over her toned shoulders, the fabric was a braecan of blues that reminded him of what some of the war lords wore. Her hair in two long braids down the front of her dress. Cassian leapt from his chair and Gwyn met him halfway, a huge smile on her face as his brother lifted her off the floor.

“I got something for you.” He said as he put her back down.

“For me?” Her eyes lit up as his brother handed her a box. Azriel felt that same spark from Solstice as he finally saw it in real life, how her eyes truly lit– the joy. She hadn’t even opened it yet, she was excited over a box.

“He is very worried you won’t like it, Gwyn. He thought of you the second he spotted it in one of the shops near the beaches in Day. No one else got something, only you.” Nesta held her hand out for the wrapping. Which Gwyn took off with great care. Gwyn sat to pull the top off, moving tissue paper to the side as she stopped to look at his brother, an adorable pout forming on her mouth. She pulled what looked like a portrait frame out of the box. It was filled with colorful sand, tans with layers of blues that matched her eyes in a liquid that moved the sands into swirls and patterns as she rocked it. “Oh Cass….” was all she said as she gently shifted it to the left and then the right.
“Do you like it?”

“I love it. I will treasure it always. Always.” Her eyes were larger again as she followed the sands “You thought of me when you bought this—you thought of me.” She kissed his brother’s cheek and Az could see how much she meant to him. He will be devastated when he reads the report.

“I have something for you, Cass” Gwyn said as she left the dining room. Azriel heard a small grunt and she reappeared with a tome almost as tall as her. She walked it over to the table. He made his way over to help her, surprised when she let him, their hands brushed as they set it down. He pulled his hands back quickly. She kept her gaze off him.
“What is this, Priestess?” His brother asked.

“It is a book of Illyrian Songs and Sagas I am translating.” She gave Cassian a goofy grin. His brother moved closer, positioning himself between him and Gwyn.

“How many languages do you know, Priestess?” Azriel would speak to her as if nothing happened. He could do this.

“I speak eight, Spymaster. I can translate most found in the library. They almost all have common roots. Old Illryian is actually quite beautiful compared to what is spoken today.” Spymaster?—ouch.

“Yes, yes–we know our common tongue is the language of brutes.” She furrowed her eyebrows at his brother and Azriel recognized it as the face she makes when she thinks she hurt someone’s feelings.

“Oh, Cassian, that is not what I am saying.” He watched as she placed her hands on Cassian’s forearms. “There is a lyrical quality to the old tongue that is lost to time.” She then opened to a page and said “Here, you know this melody.”

Azriel listened as Gwyn hummed a tune from his childhood. “Wait, my mother sang that song to me.” She smiled at him and then she quickly looked down and the smile was gone.

“Bet you didn’t know it was this old and that the original lyrics said that a babe who refuses to sleep will be fed to a dragon.” She laughed her charming laugh and Azriel’s stomach swooped.

“That is terrifying,” said Nesta.

“It is very common in old lyrics,” Laughing again. He missed the sound of her laughter. 

“What made you look for this?” He moved to the other side of her–he needed to be near her. Even if she hated him. Even if she was using her powers. He needed to be near her. 

“I know that training females in Illyria is important to Cassian. Maybe to you as well,” giving him a small nod “—So, I wanted to see if I could find some history, folklore, song, sagas that involved females that could possibly help modify the way Illyrian males currently view females. And I found this.”

“You looked for this for me, Gwyn?” Cassian held his hand over his heart as he asked her “I did, Cassian. The work you—we have been doing is so important.”

He watched as his brother wrapped an arm around Gwyn and she fell into him. Azriel envied his brother for very few things, but this—how easily she let him hold her, he hated him for it.

“I cannot believe you did this for me!”

“Let me tell you what else is in here.” She straightened out “Are you ready?” She carefully opened to a page marked with a piece of sticky paper “This is a Saga about the daughter of a War Lord that helps unite the different clans. She is believed to have been an integral part in helping Enalius hold the pass.”

Cassian and Azriel exchanged looks—this had to be impossible. No Illyrian females had ever been a part of a great battle or war. Not their history.

“This cannot be true, Gwyn. Females are not allowed to fight.” Azriel moved his fingers along the lines, attempting to sound out the old language.

“I promise what I have translated so far says it is true—how you feel about females is not an anomaly. It was once a part of your culture.” Gwyn released a deep breath she didn’t realize she was holding.

"Go figure our little brain trust would have found something like this while we were away, Nes." Gwyn felt better with Cassian back. “I found it before the mating ceremony. I needed to translate it.”

“Well, tell me what it says.” Cassian crossed his big arms and waited.

"Her name was Aife and she went from camp to camp training other females to take up arms and fight for their lands, their children and their males. She did so by reminding them that even with the differences between the camps, they were all Illyrians and that in itself was something worth fighting for. She even achieved the rank of Captain.” Gwyn again looked to Cassian, who hung on her every word “She had an entire aerial unit under her command during the Battle that helped Enalius hold the pass."

"I did not know this" Cassian softly said "Did you know about this?" He asked Azriel.

"She was successful, I take it?" All of Azriel’s attention was on her.

"She was. The poem explains how without her, even with Enalius' bravery, what was Illyria would have been decimated. After reading that poem, I would like nothing more than to be able to show those horrible males up in those mountains that there wouldn't be an Illyria if it were not for the females like her." She smiled at her brother. She even smiled, a little, at Azriel. His shadows nuzzled her. She let them.

Cassian asked for a few minutes to change before they headed to Amren’s. Nesta announced she needed a nice hot bath. They sat alone for the first time in what felt like weeks.

“You look nice.” He could tell her she looked nice. He didn’t believe she was doing anything on purpose to him.

“Thank you.” She looked anywhere but at him.

“I can fly you now if you don’t want to wait for Cassian.” She continued to look at her hands, the table, the walls.

“I know where Amren’s house is. I can walk there on my own.” She stood and moved to the patio. Stubborn. She was so stubborn. She would walk. He followed her out.

“The High Lord is concerned you may lose your way, or I would let you walk. You don’t know Velaris all that well yet, Priestess.”

“Mor showed me where Amren lives when we went shopping. She is by the Lingerie Shop.” He watched a blush creep over Gwyn’s cheeks as his shadows twirled around her braids.

Priestess still likes us –easy for his shadows to say, they weren’t the ones that smelled of Elain and made her angry. They also didn’t seem to understand all their singing back and forth was because of her powers. He had tried to explain, but they just started singing again the moment they saw her.

“I can wait for Cassian to take me.” He knew as much as she loved his brother, she preferred flying with him.

“And I do not need to be flown back. I have plans later this afternoon.” He caught her fighting a smirk.

“I have no interest in holding you up, Priestess. I also have plans.” He did not have plans outside of meetings with Rhys and Cassian.

“I am glad you have plans.” She shot over her shoulder at him.

“I am glad you have plans.” He quickly shot back. Fool. Stupid fool. All he truly wanted to do was apologize to her. Apologize and ask her to stop being angry at him. Apologize and ask her to stop using whatever magic it is she is using on him.

Cassian returned and Azriel could not see the smile his brother received, but he knew by his stupid grin that it was probably the one that met her eyes. The one that makes his own stupid heart skip a beat. The one she hasn’t given him since the Ceremony.

“Ready to go, Gwyn?” Cassian put his arms out as she giggled, placing hers around his neck–doing that leg jump thing that means they don’t have to bend over. She quickly pulled her skirt to cover her legs as she shot Azriel a mean look. “Rhys will meet us there, Az” Cassian said as they shot into the sky.

Minutes later they landed outside Amren’s place.

“Good Morning, High Lord!” He got a big genuine smile too, the one that Azriel noted makes Rhys smile like a fool–which he never does, more proof of Gwyn’s powers. Making the High Lord of Night Court act like that.

Gwyn straightened herself out as Cassian put her down. She was hoping that this meeting would not take long, she was meeting Tarquin for lunch. She took in the building that the small fae known as Amren lived in.

“Good Morning, Gwyn. You are probably wondering why we are here—Amren lives on the 3rd floor.” Rhys opened the front door, motioning to the spiraling stairs that would take them up. Rhys continued “She is my #2. Which means that whatever I need to discuss anything that deals with the safety of my court, or the people in it, I prefer her to be present.”

Gwyn couldn’t help but feel that she must have done something. Why else would they be meeting here, away from the river house? “Have I done something?” she felt her hands begin to shake as they passed the 2nd landing. She looked back for Cassian, who only offered her a smile. She had to be alright if he was here. She refused to look at Azriel.

“I told you, Gwyn. You have not.” They reached the 3rd landing and Rhys stopped in front of a large door “Gwyn–you will be ok.” He smiled at her but she did not feel ok. He opened the door and she stepped inside.

It was one large room with two very large windows on opposite sides. Not neat, not exactly a mess. A big bed, a table and chairs, small couches, some bureaus. Multiple vanities, racks of clothing and shoes lining the walls. Jewelry—everywhere. Sitting in the middle of the room like a statue in the center of a fountain was Amren.

It was hot and Gwyn felt too tall for the room. She could only imagine how the three males felt.

“Come in, Rhysand. Azriel. Cassian. Bring the girl closer.” The High Lord rolled his eyes as if they were in this together. She did not feel in this together. She felt very much trapped. She wanted to flee, to take off down the stairs and into the streets. She would walk up the stairs back to the library if she needed to. She began to plan out her steps–a quick pivot and run—when she heard the door shut and lock. A shadowy tendril slinked over to her and wrapped itself around one of her braids. At least they were loyal.

Rhys placed a chair a few feet from Amren and asked her to sit. He handed what looked like a report to Cassian, who sat in a chair nearer an open window and began to read.

“We have some questions for you, girl. Once we get answers, we can talk.” Amren sipped from a glass of wine that seemed larger than her head. It was not even noon. Gwyn was not one to judge, but she was judging.

“My first question is have you always glowed while singing?” Gwyn clocked Rhys moving to the right of her, she heard his footsteps to her left.

“Is the Shadowsinger here to use Truth Teller on me should I fail to answer adequately?” Gwyn glared in his direction. Just another betrayal by someone she had thought was her friend.

Gwyn has a touch of hostility towards you, Az.
I know.

“We all know Azriel could never physically harm you, girl.” She caught Amren’s eyes glaze over–they were doing that mind thing.

“My name is Gwyn, Amren. It is all I have left of who I was when I had a mother and a sister. Please call me Gwyn.” She sat and placed her hands in her lap.

Azriel bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing. No matter what she is, he would always be proud of her boldness. 

Armen, to her credit, simply nodded “Well, Gwyn, have you?”

“Catrin, my sister, was afraid of the dark when we were younger. I would sing her to sleep and when I did, I would glow." She maintained eye contact with Amren.

Armen shook her head as she and Rhys silently spoke to each other, again. “Did your sister glow?”

“No. At least I do not believe she did. I never witnessed her doing so.”

She answers like a well prepped client, Az.
I think we all know she is brilliant, Rhys.

Azriel wanted to focus on what Rhys and Amren were asking but all he could focus on was the sundress and the two braids thing she had going on. The braids were making him feel all sorts of ways. 

“Gwyn, was there a time when you didn’t glow?” Rhys asked. Gwyn knew he knew the answers to these questions already. There had to be a reason he wanted them to know. 

“When I first got here” Azriel watched as Gwyn began wrapping her hands into the skirt of the sundress. Pressing them in between her thighs. She seemed to try to make herself smaller. He drifted closer to her. 

“When I first got here everything was so dark. I was dark on the inside.” He had never known. He had asked after her. Once a month. For the two years. When Cassian had asked about the Priestess from Sangravah and Azriel told him her name, Cassian seemed shocked that he would even know that. But of course he would. He never truly stopped thinking about her.

“What changed?” The question was out before he could stop it. She turned to look at him and there was pain in her eyes, how she looked at him—he wanted to be back to where they were the morning after starfall. When she woke in his arms. When it wasn’t some sort of unknown tricky on her part.

“I started working as a researcher. Then Clotho asked me to join the Choir and help her with the music. That’s when I felt like the darkness was leaving.” She kept her eyes on him.

Armen cleared her throat “What can you tell us about the first time Nesta came to see you sing?”

Azriel watched as she consciously stopped a smile “When Nesta came to see me I was so happy. For the first time since I lost my sister there was someone I loved that had come to see me sing and that was when the light truly returned.” Gwyn looked around the room “Is this about her finding the Harp when I sang? I’m not a freak. I am not some half-breed with a hidden monster beneath my skin that enchants people so I can eat them or murder them for sport.”

She knew. Azriel realized she knew. On some level, Gwyn knew. He followed Cassian as he crossed the room to Gwyn. Kissing her on top of her head as he pulled a chair and placed it next to her. He sat, finished report in one hand—he offered the other to her and she took it.

“No one said you were, Gwyn.” Rhys made his way over “You think I would allow something that would hurt members of my Court to live under my family home?”

Azriel watched as Rhys moved to stand next to Amren, Gwyn only smiled at his brother as she said “You had Bryaxis down there for centuries.”

Cassian shuddered.

“And you were one of his favorites.” Rhys pulled a chair over and sat.

“I wouldn’t say that—but, he did say he liked my singing.” She smiled. A big one. His stupid shadows sighed.

“Yes. He did.” Rhys chuckled “I was shocked you agreed to keep him company when I asked.” Azriel froze at this news. Cassian as well. For good reason. Gwyn, his Gwyn down there with a monster? Not yours—you hurt her –please be quiet. They were downright pests when it came to her.  

“We already enjoyed talking before you even asked.” She gave a small shrug as she pet Cassian’s arm.

“Won’t be the first grump you’ve charmed, Gwyn.” He didn’t miss the look his brother gave him.

“You two behave like siblings, do you know that?” Amren stood from her chair, walked to the hearth placed a kettle over the small fire.

“Do you know what summoning or divination is, Gwyn?” Amren asked as she began setting up tea service.

“We had a man come to Sangravah once that used two sticks to find the best place to dig the new well.”

“So you understand.” Rhys said matter of factly.

“Yes.” She nodded. In theory she did.

“Clotho says you have a knack for finding lost items.”

“I don’t know if that is true, High Lord. I had a very difficult time finding a misplaced book and turned to Nesta for help, which she did. This is what caused the incident with Merrill.” She remembers Merrill being even angrier after she was spoken to by Clotho on Rhysand’s behalf.

“You tracked the beasts during the blood rite.” Azriel also pulled a chair over and sat.

“That was just patience and luck.” She rolled her eyes at him.

“You helped find the harp.” Amren set the tray of tea on a small table Rhys floated to sit between them. “Once Nesta asked you to help find the Trove, you did.”

“We believe you have the power of divination, Gwyn. Which is part of the magic of some fae. Did you know that?” Rhys refused a cup. Gwyn took one, blowing on it.

“I do.” Azriel could see her brain working, she had slipped the tip of her thumb in between her teeth–“And you already have a seer.”

“We do. But what you can do and what we believe Elain can do are two different things.” Rhys had yet to explain what the difference was to Azriel.

“I think I just got lucky a handful of times. I have no real magic, no powers.” Gwyn shook her head. “May I ask a few questions now?” Gwyn took a moment to calm herself. She wanted to know why she was being questioned like this. What had changed. She needed to ask the right questions in order to get the right answers.

Azriel could have told Rhys and Amren this was coming. That she would expect answers for her answers.

“Of course, Gwyn. We will do our best to answer.” Rhys said in a reassuring way.

“I prefer you give me the answers, not do your best.” Gwyn wanted to know what they learned.

“Mind yourself, Girl–” Gwyn only cocked her head at Amren, Azriel stifled another laugh.

“What new information about me caused you to now ask these questions?” She knew whatever was in that report, the report that made Cassian come sit with her for support had information on her.

“What makes you believe we have new information?” She gave Rhys a blank look.

“Because I have been downstairs for closer to three years. Something happened that triggered you investigating me. I will assume that the harp was the catalyst. Please tell me. I have the right to know about my family, do I not?” 

Rhys sighed— “We may have been able to track down your maternal line. We are not 100% sure on everything, but it looks like you are from a long line of Nereids.”

Rhys handed her the report. Azriel watched as her eyes scanned page after page. The blues darkened as she took in the information. When she was finished, she looked in a state of shock as she stood to leave. She thanked them and then walked out of Amren’s apartment—

“Is she going to be alright? Should I follow her?” Cassian asked from the apartment door.

Azriel found himself winnowing the three flights down to catch Gwyn before she disappeared into the crowds of Velaris. He waited at the front door.


“Good Gods, Shadowsinger. You almost scared me to death.” She clutched her chest at the sight of  him. She was pale, trembling. He wanted to pull her into his arms, to hold her against him. The air between them felt thick and ready to combust.

“Can we speak for a moment?” He pointed to the shoreline of the river. She nodded and began walking over. He watched as she played with the ends of one of her braids. They stopped at the water.

“You are angry with me.”

“Why would I be angry with you?” She asked as she found a stone and skipped it across the surface. 

“You are, I know you are. I would like you not to be.” For Azriel it was really that simple.

“I apologize that I cannot allow you to dictate the state of my emotions.”

She was the most frustrating female he has ever met. "That is not what I am trying to do, Priestess.” Irony, he thought. She was surely controlling his.

“What is it that you are trying to do?” The sundress had pockets that she slipped her hands into. The way her two braids rested over her breasts, which were unbound and sitting under the top of her dress—just there, suspended and waiting—She eyed him. Tilted her head and released her breath. “If this is meant to be an apology this is going quite badly.”

He snorted. She narrowed her eyes.

“Have it your way then, Shadowsinger. I bid you a pleasant day.” She shrugged and began to walk away.

“Wait.” She stopped, turned back to him. “I am sorry, Gwyn.”

“Do you know what you are apologizing for?” She returned to the water’s edge, bent for another perfect stone and skipped it across the water again.

“Well, you are upset with me.” He tried to remember what he was learning in the meetings with Akeso. He is meant to take responsibility for what he did. But if it was because of her that he did those things, isn’t she responsible?

“This is not how resolutions work if all the parties involved are to be satisfied.” She was better than him at this.

“What is it that you want? I asked you this that night and you gave me no answer.” He closed the distance between them, stopped himself from grabbing her and demanding she tell him exactly what she wants from him. Her eyebrows went high, like she knew what he was thinking.

“I am not the befuddled one here, Azriel.”

Befuddled? If she just gave him answers he would not be befuddled.  

He watched as Gwyn sighed with her entire body. “This works best if you acknowledge what may have upset the injured party. You have yet to do this. You prefer to focus on my emotional state, demand I stop being in it and offer an apology for what? For me being angry with you? Why would I be angry?” He felt her eyes moving across his face in an attempt to gauge his emotions. He wondered if this was part of her powers, being able to read him this well. He has never met anyone that makes him feel this way. They had somehow moved close enough that if he bent forward, just a little or if she lifted to her toes, their lips would meet.

He would bite her lower lip. Or maybe she would bite his, yeah–she would bite his. Her eyes were pulling him under, her scent had shifted–he wanted her, his hands were moving to grab a hold of her as she tilted her head back, again–a ship’s horn broke the spell. He shook his head, narrowed his eyes at her.

“Fine--You want me to acknowledge what happened? I will as soon as you tell me why you use your magic on me? Why do you make me feel things for you when I am in love with someone else?” His shadows darkened, they reached out to her as he watched his words land.

“Is that what you think of me, Azriel?”

“You just did it again. Just now. I can’t be near you without you casting some spell on me. Are you going to deny it?” He spoke through his teeth—She had her back to the water now. He stood looking at her, his back to Amren’s house. The river was almost the same blue as her eyes. Though nothing he had ever seen was exactly the same blue, nothing he had ever seen were like her eyes. Her dark red hair, her speckled skin, her soft lips—everything about her called to his bones. The report said her grandmother seduced a high fae male, that was what Gwyn was doing. She had no idea, but that is what she was doing to him. Seducing him. He could resist it. He had to. He felt the ice moving through him, he knew she could see in his eyes how angry he was. He wouldn’t hide it from her. She needed to see him, see him completely.

“This is how little you think of me? That I am like those creatures that use their powers on unsuspected males?” Her voice broke and he watched her lower lip begin to quiver.

She took 2 long strides and was in front of him. His hands were in hers before he knew it. She was looking into his eyes, hers were filled with tears and he couldn’t look away–his shadows grew as his wings involuntarily opened. She was so close to him, a faint glow. What did he do? Gwyn had to know what he truly thought of her, how he admired her. Everything about her. He just wanted her to stop making him feel the way he did whenever he looked at her. Whenever he was near her. Fuck, whenever he thought of her. It was interfering with the way he felt about Elain.

“Azriel, I care for you. Deeply.” She kissed his hands and a jolt shot through him as her lips made contact with his skin. “And if I am causing you pain and discomfort, in any way–then I will remove myself from your presence so that it stops.”

She dropped his hands and walked away.

Moments earlier, Amren’s apartment.

“Amren, Cass– come here.” Rhys pointed out the window that overlooked the Sidra. The tiny fae made her way over, annoyed that she had to stop lounging around. Cassian stood behind her.

“Interesting.” Was all she said as she looked to Rhys. One eyebrow high. She elbowed Cassian.

“Ouch—just ask me to move--” All three knew what they were looking at, as Gwyn moved closer to Azriel.

“You think she loves him?” Amren asked no one in particular

“I do.” Cassian and Rhys answered in unison–looking at each other as they did.

Amren stood on her tippy toes for a better look. “You think it is reciprocated?” 

“I do, he just doesn’t know it yet.” Cassian stated.

“He certainly seems to be fighting it.” Rhys said as he nodded in agreement

“I don’t think he understands what is happening. I think he has waited so long that he cannot see it yet.” Cassian added.

“How are you going to handle Elain and him?” Amren liked this kind of drama and was here for it.

“Well—I think the best course of action may be to make him as miserable as he is probably about to make Gwyn.”

As she walked to meet Tarquin she thought about what she would do next. Azriel thought she was some sort of monster. He thought she was using her magic or powers on him. She needed to be as far aways from him as possible. Maybe she would just stay in Windhaven once training started, maybe she could move into the townhouse. It didn’t matter, there was time to figure this out.

Gwyn thought of Cassian’s words.
Under all that scar tissue is a heart very similar to yours. Don’t be too hard on him.

And she thought of Azriel’s.
Why do you make me feel things for you when I am in love with someone else?

And she thought about her own words.
Nothing can break me.

Azriel was furious by the time he returned home. Furious at Rhys. Furious at Cassian. Furious at himself.

Rhys warded his study once Cassian started yelling. And, Cassian was yelling.


“What the fuck, Az? Are you really saying you think she is using her powers on you? That you don’t care for Gwyn naturally? That you haven’t fallen for her over these months all on your own because of who she really is? ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? ”

“Yes. She did something to me. A spell or something. I have never wanted to just smell a female’s neck before, Cassian—you’re telling me that is normal? That you felt like that with Nesta?”

He watched his brothers exchange a look he didn’t recognize.

“Or–or, when we are training and I feel like a current pulls me to her. Like I need to be where she is, near her. You are both going to tell me that isn’t some sort of magic?”

“Gwyn isn’t a monster, Az. She isn’t something that crawled out of the bog of Orin. She isn’t some creature that has cast a spell on you. YOU are an asshole for even thinking that. Your brain is so fucking broken that you cannot SEE what is right in front of you because YOU prefer to chase what you cannot have.”

“Fuck you, Cass”

“Sure, Fuck me. What do your shadows tell you, AZ? What do they tell you about her? They fucking hide from Mor–they run from Elain. What they fuck do they do with her?”

“She’s got you wrapped around her finger. Probably a spell too.”

Cassian bellowed. “Yes. I am under Gwyn’s spell. As is everyone that has ever near her. Because she is CHARMING and BRILLIANT and UNBELIEVABLY GORGEOUS. Kind and generous and loves, loves like no one I have ever known loves, Azriel. Not Nesta, not Feyre, Not Elian. Not Mor. Not Rhys. Not me. And NOT YOU. She loves in a way none of us could ever understand.”

Rhysand called an end to it all. “Enough, Cass--Azriel. Go home. That’s an order.”

He made his way through the house, her scent lingering as if she was one room ahead the entire time. He walked through the wide red hall, making his way to his office so he could finally read the other report he received from Clotho.

His shadows pushed ahead of him. Maybe she is sitting there at his desk. Wanting to talk to him, waiting to forgive him. He entered his office.

The small velvet box sat on top of his desk.

She knew the entire time it was from him. She knew. Fuck—this is why she said what she said to Cassian.

You thought of me when you bought this—you thought of me

He pulled the report out. Dropped it on his desk near the box. Got up and poured himself a drink. Downed it. Poured another. Downed it. Poured another and went back to his desk. He lifted the report, reading the title.


  The Mating Bond: What it is, What it is not.

She found the High Lord waiting in the Pit. He smiled at her in that way she assumes an older sibling would when they realize someone broke the heart of their younger sibling. He doesn’t say anything to her as he lets her cry a little, only giving her an extremely understanding look.

“My brother is an idiot, Gwyn.”

It is meant to make her feel better, she knows this, but nothing will make her feel better. She just wants to get away from here.

“Are you ready?” She nods as a tendril reaches her, she looks back to see him standing in the archway—like the morning she cut the ribbon.

“Where are you going?”

“I told you not to come up here, Az”

“Where are you taking her?”

“Go back downstairs, Az.”

“Gwyn–”

Rhys took off, over Velaris.

Chapter Text

Appointment 6.

“You admit you knowingly pushed her away?”

“I didn’t at the time. At the time I convinced myself that what I was feeling for her was a product of something she was doing to me. Not my own feelings for her.”

“When we worked through the relationship with the female we call Mona, you seemed to have a breakthrough once you understood that you allowed it to become something it wasn’t. A defense mechanism you developed to keep yourself from pursuing love with other females.”

“Yes. I remember.”

“This kept you safe from the pain of actual heartbreak.”

“Yes.”

“With the second female, Ellen?” Akeso checked her notes “Yes, Ellen–we explored your hero complex. That you viewed Ellen as someone you could save. From her sadness, from her loss, from her mating bond–”

“Yes. She often reminded me of my mother. Which made me feel obligated on some level to step in and take care of her. I was attracted to her. Very much at one point. She is a beautiful female. But, like you said, this grew out of me believing she needed me. I allowed my worth to be tied into that.”

“Female three, Fiona.”

“Yes?”

"How do you feel about her?”

“I miss her. I miss everything about her.” Azriel leaned back in the chair, resting his head in his hands. He kept his eyes on the ceiling as he spoke.

“For a long time I had her in this box. This untouchable box that I kept her in. And she pushed at that box. She kicked at the sides, and punched out of the top.”

“That’s a great way of framing it.”

He sat up– “I ever tell you about the first day I saw her in the training ring?”

Akeso smiled, Azriel knew it because she knew Fiona was their Gwyn.

“She was magnificent. So good at everything. And even though she gave me the stink-eye, I wanted to be near her.”

“When do you think your feelings truly changed towards her?”

“Right after Solstice. When she cut the ribbon and really started in on me.” He ran his hands through his hair. “I had never had a female look to get under my skin the way she did. She did everything with intention and she drove me mad.”

Azriel smiles as he thinks of Gwyn.

“I wanted to touch on why you think you assert your control differently with all three females. Is that something you are comfortable with exploring?”

“Yes.”

“With Mona. You have said that you often forced your wants into the decision making process until she would back down for pursuing something. Why do you think you did that?”

“I am embarrassed that I behaved like that when I look back. I feel like I was mimicking what I watched my father and other males behave like when it came to their mates.”

“And Ellen?”

Azriel shook his head “Again, I think it is a case of the same thing. I assume that this is mating behavior and that it will show them I am worth something.”

“And Gw–I mean Fiona. She is in a place you have called dangerous, have said she is at risk in and yet, you do not fly up there to drag her back home. Why do you think that is?”

“Because I want it to be her choice.”

Chapter Text

Two Months Later
House of Wind

“Let’s GO! We are going to be late.” Cassian was banging on his door. Azriel had been up. Dressed. Ready. Nervous. It had been 63 days. 

Cassian said she moved into Rhys’ Mother’s house in Windhaven. Emerie was back to running her store full time, both locations were warded. Nesta stayed some nights. The training was going well. They had a dozen females. Apparently even Devlon was charmed by Gwyn, but Azriel expected that.

He didn’t know what to expect when they arrived. He looked over the training rings, the weapons, the water stations. He watched as Emerie and Nesta went over techniques with some of the students. Cassian told him how the Females had things scheduled, how it really was females teaching females with Cassian being the sole male overseeing classes. He wondered where Gwyn was. Maybe she didn’t want to see him. She had the right not to after what he did.

Cassian told him to walk around and check out the improvements they were making. For whatever reason Windhaven didn’t seem as awful as he remembered it, there were no kids half dressed roaming around. No mud holes. There were actual smiles on the faces of some people as he walked around the tents.–He made his way towards one of the larger meeting houses and heard kids singing. Actual singing. His shadows began rippling towards the open doors, he knew it was her. She had to be in there.

She had at least 50 kids, all ages, sitting on the floor while she taught them their letters and numbers. Kids as big as grown males, staring at her like she was the most beautiful thing they had ever laid their eyes on—and she was, with the joy and happiness coming from her, Azriel realized she was. He stood in the doorway, just watching her. His shadows stayed at the edge of the younglings, not wanting to scare them.

“This was a good morning to visit. She gives her classes three days a week.” It was Balthazar, leaning against the wall, arms crossed.

“I had no idea this is what she was doing. I thought she only trained the females.” Azriel looked him over once.

“That lasted all of three days when she found out there was no real school. You should have been here. I don’t think I have ever seen Devlon so easily wrapped around someone’s finger. She’s really something else.” Azriel remembered how this youth looked at Gwyn at the wedding.

“What did she say to him?” He was so curious. Curious as to how she accomplished this. A school.

“She asked for a meeting. Which he granted. I think he thought it would be something silly and that he could make an example out of her. But no, she went before the council and gave a great argument as to why they should allow her to teach Windhaven’s children three mornings a week.” He shrugged, “She is hard to say no to. All they needed to hear was the edge it would give them against the other camps.” He watched a smile grow across Balthazar’s face and his eyes followed it, it was her. He was smiling at her.

Gwyn called for the kids to fold up their notepads and return their pencils to the tin that she shook as they exited through a back door. They were not allowed to leave with them after the last stabbing. It took her thirty mins to dig the lead out of the scalp of Nial, the son of one of the council members. The little children always hugged her as they left. She used that time to check their ears and hair quickly to make sure they were being taken care of properly. Some had lost their fathers and their mothers were overwhelmed. The last of the children were gone and she looked to the front doors at the two silhouettes, she smelled him before he even entered the building.

Get a hold of yourself, Gwyn.

His shadows moved across the floor to her as she walked their way. If you had told her that they could giggle, she would not have believed you until she felt them humming as they circled around her. She couldn’t help but giggle back. Guess they missed her too.

“Hello, Shadowsinger.” she came to stand next to Balthazar.

“Hello, Priestess.”

“I didn’t know you were coming.” Her hair was down. Almost reaching her hips now. He wanted to run his fingers through it.

“I would have been here weeks ago but things have come up for the Court.” Rhys had him everywhere over the last two months. The continent, other Courts, even Hybern. He knew it was to keep her from him, or him away from her. 

She smiled at him. Her eyes are sad—Priestess misses us. He knows, he tells them, he misses her too.

She motions for them to leave the meeting house “I’ll show you where I train the females.” He nods and followers her. Balthazar close behind her. Too close. He doesn’t like it.

Azriel doesn’t expect Gwyn to be as good as she is with the staff. She kicks Balthazar’s ass with it. But he seemed to enjoy every second of it. He also doesn’t expect her to be as good as she is with the spear. Something he had never seen her train with, something that is usually used by the best of the Illyrians, something that fits in with her being the granddaughter of a Sea God for some reason.

“Devlon himself taught her how to use the spear.” Balthazar informs him. He has a tone of pride when he is talking about Gwyn. Pride he has no right to as far as Azriel is concerned.

Gwyn explains that there are four females she is training in spycraft, she shows him lesson plans and equipment. They are working on codes and signals. He tells her how impressed he is and she gives him a big smile, like the one on Solstice. His heart aches when he tells himself he has to remember it, he was having a hard time remembering her smiles with her gone.

When they walk back to Cassian, Azriel does not expect Balthazar to put his arm around Gwyn’s shoulders and pull her close to him. He didn’t expect her to wrap her arms around his waist as he did. He feels sick as he watches it happen.

“Oh yeah–forgot to tell you about that. Should have warned you, but–I’m sure you are happy she is using her powers on someone else.” Cassian says as he stands next to him with his arms crossed.

He knows he deserves that.

“Let’s spar.” Is all he says.
“Punching your pretty face in is exactly what I would like to do right now, Az.”

The house seems so much smaller than he remembers it. Cassian cooked them a nice dinner, he cleaned, Nesta did the dishes. She was out, somewhere in Windhaven, with him. There was nothing to do out here except mess around or have sex. She was somewhere probably messing around with him. His hands on her body… maybe she was having sex with Balthazar. What did he care what she was doing anyway? Things didn’t work out the way he thought they would with Elain, the kissing was as far as they ever went. He realized, she realized—it didn’t matter.

He needed fresh air. He went out on the porch.



Gwyn thought about how odd this all was. She wasn’t expecting to see him. She was in Balthazar’s cabin, they had only started kissing. He was patient with her. Told her they could take it as slow as she wanted. Normally they would kiss for hours, but tonight she wanted to be home. Something was pulling her to go home.

“I’m sorry, Balt. Today was really long for me, do you mind if I head home?”

“Not at all, Gwyn. I understand your family is here.” He adjusted himself before standing. She was convinced all Illyrians were blessed in that way. All except that one dead male with the smaller wings and feet. Poor male.

She knew she did things to Balthazar. To be fair, he did things to her too. But something just made her hold back. It wasn’t time yet.

He was at the door holding her coat for her, he helped her into it and out the door they went. His cabin was a 20 min walk from hers. Hers, not hers–Rhys’ mom. They held hands, and some of the older Illyrians wished them a good night. She felt him again, she felt him staring as they walked down the main road.

As they got closer to the cabin, less than 20 feet away—Balthazar stopped and pulled her into his arms and kissed her. She knew why. She knew why and she didn’t stop him. She let him. She put her hands in his hair as he ran his over her ass, pressing himself against her.


Part of the porch railing cracked in his hands. Cassian came out to see what the noise was and all he could do was look at his brother as he tried to rest the now splintered piece of wood against the cabin. “It probably needed to be replaced” he said with a shrug as Cassian caught the end of their kiss. “Yeah. The porch is a little old” was all he said and they both watched Gwyn walk their way. Balthazar gave them a wave. Which only Cassian returned, Azriel growled. Cassian laughed at him. She started up the stairs.

“Hi. Is this the big brother brigade?” She tilted her head and her hair shone in the fae lights running along the awning. Azriel forgot how her hair looked like molten metal. 

“You know I prefer to see you walked to the door.” Azriel laughed as Cassian crossed his arms. He really took to this role of brother.

“Well, that’s when there is only you here.” He watched Gwyn come up on her toes and kiss his brother on the cheek and his brother fucking blushed. She snuck a look at him and Cassian mumbled something about going to bed.

They were alone on the porch. She smiled at him. He smiled back. “So, you are seeing him?”

“Yes.” She leaned against the post holding up the awning.

“You like him?”

“Yes.” a small blush moved across her cheeks and he wanted to own it.

“He obviously likes you.”

“It’s my magical powers.” He laughed, he deserved that. She only gave him a soft smile and then her nostrils flared. “You’re bleeding” She scanned him and his hands were in her hands before he had a chance to check them himself. She was right. He was bleeding.

“Come with me.” She pulled him into the cabin, through the living area and into the kitchenette. She quickly put the water on, tested the temperature and placed his hands under the stream as she took her coat off and began searching for supplies. She worked quickly and quietly. Rhys’ mom loved copper pots and there was a set that hung from the ceiling of the cabin, streaks of her hair matching them.

She sucked her breath through her teeth, he waited for his shadows to disappear. They hated that sound. Instead they gathered behind her shoulders and watched her work. “Oh, Az. You’ve got a ton of splinters.” She looked up at him, her eyebrows furrowed “How did this happen?” She pulled a pair of tweezers out of a kit, pushed him onto a stool and carefully started to pull pieces of wood out of his hands. He thought about lying to her. He thought he could make up a story–instead he found himself telling her the truth, like he always did when she asked him a question “I saw him kiss you.”

She didn’t say anything. She pursed her lips. Put her head down. Whispered to him when it may hurt because she had to dig a little deeper for some. She was so gentle with him, with his hands. Every few minutes she would wipe her cheek, “I’m sorry.” He said, realizing that she was probably tired and this was the last thing she wanted to do.

“It’s alright, Azriel.” she said quietly, a sniffle followed.

She was crying.

“Why are you crying, Gwyn?” She ignored the question. “Gwyn. Why are you crying?”

“Azriel. Please don’t ask me again.” She placed his right hand on his thigh and announced it was done. She turned to his left hand and continued working. Azriel stretched his hand, ran his thumb over his fingers and felt that she had removed every splinter. He remembered how silky her hair was, and reached out to tuck it behind her ear, running it through his fingers to the ends. He missed the freckles. He had forgotten how much he loved to look at her freckles.

“There. Done.” She placed his left hand on his thigh. She looked up, her gorgeous eyes rimmed in red. She gave him a closed mouth smile. He could smell the other male on her. He watched him kiss her. He watched him pull her body against his. He was the reason she was here, in this shithole. With a male Illyrian that is not him.

“I am so sorry, Gwyn.” He did this to her. He drove her out here.

She shrugged as she walked towards the bedroom he had once shared with Rhys and Cassian.

“All I ever wanted was for you to be happy, Azriel. I hope you are happy.” She closed the door behind her. Leaving him alone in the kitchen.




She was screaming. Screaming for someone to get off her. Screaming for him. Screaming his name. Azriel jumped up and it took him a moment to remember he was on the couch in the cabin. Cassian and Nesta’s door opened and Nesta made her way towards Gwyn’s room just as Azriel reached the door. He flung it open and Gwyn was in bed, screaming and crying and she fought off whatever monster was in her dream.

Nesta ran to her, “Gwyn you are safe. It will be okay. You are safe. ” Cassian came in with a bowl of cool water and a washcloth. He looked at his brother, whose face said he would explain later.

Gwyn was in a nightgown that was hiked up to her thighs. She was sweating and repeatedly calling for him. “Azriel, Azriel, Azriel” Nesta turned to take the bowl and washcloth from her mate “You can go now. I’ve got it. I don’t want her waking up with you in the room. Not like this. Not with what you have heard.” Cassian pulled him by his arm though every part of him wanted to stay in there with her.

“What is going on, Cass?” He was pacing. His shadows were as well. 

“Sit” Cassian pointed to a chair. 

“Tell me what that was all about.” Azriel pointed to the bedroom door. 

“SIT” Cassian commanded. 

He sat.

“It started as soon as she left. Night terrors are what Madja had called them.” Cassian ran his fingers through his hair. “She has them at least twice a week. Sometimes more.”

Azriel knew she had nightmares, but he didn’t expect to hear his name as she did.

“She always calls for you. Some nights it is quiet weeping. Some nights it is that, the screaming.”

Azriel held his head in his hands. “How do we stop them?”

“You think if I knew that I wouldn’t take this away from her?” Cassian breathed deeply as Nesta quietly closed Gwyn’s door behind her. “She’s ok now. She slept through it.”

He watched as Nesta placed the bowl into the sink. Rung out the washcloth, hung it over the bowl to dry.

“Come on, Cass. Let’s go back to bed.”

“I’m sorry, Nes.” Nesta stopped and looked at him–he knew she wanted to say something and decided not to. She only said goodnight and closed the door behind them.

Azriel laid back down on the now extremely uncomfortable couch. Staring at the ceiling as the sadness and fear that was in Gwyn’s room coated his tongue. He closed his eyes and tried to sleep, but it wasn’t returning—he felt like he was close to drifting back when he heard faint murmurs from her room again.

He winnowed to her.

She was wearing a different nightgown. Nesta must have changed her. Her hair was like the sun, surrounding her head on her pillow. She had partially kicked the blankets off, her legs scissoring as she mumbled and spoke in incoherent sentences.

“Saudade,” she whispered. “I promise, my love–it is not a made up word.” she let out a sigh “I cannot tell you what it means, but I live it everyday.” She reached out towards him, still sleeping–“Azriel, come swim with me.” He stilled. That was his dream. Every dream is her asking him to come swim with her. She tells him a word, and then asks him to swim. “Come, my love.” He stilled again, held his breath. She was still asleep. His stupid shadows rushed to the bed and got under the covers. She turned on her side, Azriel, against all the good judgment he had, got in bed behind her.

She immediately tucked her body into his, her head under his chin, her back against his chest, her ass firmly pushed against his hips as her long legs met the angle of his. He slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her closer to him. She released whatever tension she was holding and before Azriel knew it, they were asleep.



He woke with her breast in his hand. Like it belonged there. Like it was meant for his palm. Her nipple, hard, in the center of it. She moaned as he tried to slowly slide his hand out of her nightgown. Moaned and moved against him. He had somehow gotten his other arm under her, his other hand stilled her hips as she moved. She arched into his touch and Azriel had never simultaneously wanted to be inside someone and away from them.
His lips were near her neck. That fucking neck. The neck that made him want to bite down on it. He needed to get out of this bed.
He rolled to his back and slowly pulled his arm free. He stood. His cock ached, it ached even more when he allowed his eyes to roam down her sleeping form as she rolled to her back. Her legs spread, just so. Knees bent, just right. Arms above her head, her breasts peeking through her almost transparent nightgown.

Azriel winnowed back into the living room. He grabbed his clothes and quickly got dressed in the bathing chamber. When he came out, Nesta was brewing coffee.

“You’re fucked up, Azriel.” Nesta said as she sucked her teeth.

“Nothing happened. I just held her.”

“She isn’t yours to hold. You made her feel like a monster. She cried herself to sleep every night for almost two weeks. Mor didn’t tell you?”

He was going to be sick. “I don’t think she is a monster.”

“Feel. You made her feel like one. It doesn’t matter what you think. You made her feel like one.”

He needed air. He needed to get away from here. He needed to go back to Velaris. Azriel got up and put on his flight leather. “I shouldn’t have come here. This was a bad idea. I’m sorry.”

Nesta only stared him down, grabbing his hand before he could winnow away.

“Why did you come here? Is it to say you are sorry? You did that to her, Az. You did it to someone who only wanted to love you. You know how that feels. To be thought of as a creature.” She was right. And he had been working on things, seeing Akeso like she said he should.

“I have been seeing who we talked about, Nes. I have been working on myself.” Nesta released his hand and sat back down on one of the stools.

“I know, Az. I know. Cass and I will be back in a few days. She is coming home next week. Clotho said they need her back. Then she goes to a modified schedule where Balthazar or Cassian, Rhys, whoever, brings her here 3 mornings a week. The rest of the time she will be back in the library.” She poured a coffee, offered him a cup but he only shook his head. “I am worried she will go down there again and never come back up. Never come back up because she cannot handle that you think she was using powers on you, that she was making you feel things for her.” She sipped her coffee. “You may not want to hear this, but you need to. She was raped. You know this. Males took all the control and sovereignty she had, they took her choices from her and you basically told her she was doing the same thing to you.” Azriel’s Syphons flared as Nesta’s power grumbled “You made her feel that way. You broke her heart. And for what, Az? You didn’t even really love Elain. You just thought you were owed something.”

Gwyn’s door opened and she appeared in the threshold. Azriel rubbed his face, stood and walked to the front door just as Cassian came out of the other bedroom.

“Rhys wants us to visit Ironcrest today.”

He took off his leather as he stole a glance at Gwyn. Who only tucked her hair behind her ear, the freckled one, as she padded her way into the bathing chamber. She never looked at him. His shadows said she heard every word Nesta said— Priestess wants to disappear.

Chapter Text

Appointment 10

Akeso had a small fountain with running water set up in a corner. It was calming, he felt prepared. They had created a list of incidents in his life that needed to be worked through. She had suggested working out the ones he was comfortable dealing with now, they would tackle the ones with the most pain when he said he was ready.


“Are you ready to discuss Solstice? It is next on the list.” She sat in her chair. There would be minimal notes this time. The faelights had been dimmed, and he was glad she was willing to meet at all hours. A midnight session helped him with his self-destructive behaviors. Especially with her gone. He was miserable outside of this office. The only place he could openly talk about her.

“I am ready to discuss Solstice.” He clapped his hands in sarcastic excitement and laughed. Akeso did too. 

“This will be a little different. I want to explore the emotions you felt that night. Not what you felt for them, but how YOU felt in relation to them. I am going to say a name and you give me the first word that comes to mind when thinking of them and that night.”

“Understood.”

“Ellen”

“Lust”

“Rex”

“Shame”

“Fiona”

“Amusement”

“Ellen”

“Wrong”

“Rex”

“Rage”

“Fiona”

“Comfort”

“Ellen”

“Shame”

“Rex”

“Pity”

“Fiona”

“Calm”


“You don’t need to say it, Akeso. I know.” he sighed, so did his shadows.

“We can move on then. The necklace.”

He took a deep breath. “The necklace .”

“Motives?”

“I wanted Ellen to have something from me that she could wear that only she and I would know about. Small, beautiful, a secret. It would make me feel good knowing it was on her under her clothing. A symbol of her belonging to me and not her mate.”

“A relationship built on secrets is not a healthy one, Azriel.”

“I know. But that is what I do for a living. Keep secrets.” It was a matter of fact statement.

“When she returned it, why didn’t you bring it back to the shop?”

“I still don’t know. It could have avoided so much.” 

“Regifting it.”

“A BIG mistake.” he paused. “Though my motive— Akeso— I left her up there in the pit and every negative feeling, the wants, the needs, they were replaced with a stillness. It was a strange sensation for me, I was calm. My shadows were calm. The singing, the music.”

“Go on”

“I wanted to give her something. I felt the need to give her something for how she made me feel. I never meant to hurt her. Gods, I could never intentionally hurt her and I see how much I did now when I look back.” He rubbed his hands over his face. “She had become so much to me. I feel like I lost a part of myself.”

“That is ok. How you feel is valid. Regret can be a positive emotion when it helps us make corrections.”

“Do you think she will ever forgive me?”

He watched as his shadows moved from around Akeso’s feet and returned to him.

“Shadowsinger– I cannot guess at what another would do in a situation like this. Especially when I do not know all the parties involved. That would be unprofessional.”

“You’re right. I am sorry I asked.”

“However.”

He found himself gripping the armrests. His fingertips digging into the leather. 

“Fiona. If I were to know a female such as she, and we both know I do not .” She smiled at him, it felt like his mother’s reassuring ones. “I would tell you that if you asked her for forgiveness and truly made amends, she would give it to you.”

He relaxed his hands.

“She will make you pay, though. Most likely through the nose. She is stubborn, she won't let you off easy. You will have to work for it.”

“I know. I know.”

Chapter Text

Dearest Catrin,

I go home a week from today. Home. I am unsure where that truly is anymore. We will be visiting Ironcrest, Misthaven and finally Innishiona before I leave. I have heard a rumor that Innishiona has a library—but they are so remote and seem to be removed from the other camps, which allows for me to keep my expectations low.

Am I happy to be returning to Velaris? Yes, I have found fulfillment here in ways I needed.  I do miss my work in the library and am eager to return to the research that I was doing.
Clotho has kept me abreast of the goings on, she is such a wicked gossip! It seems Merrill is stuck on some of her bigger research projects. According to Clotho she has a terrible time finding the right books that help her formulate the proper connections for her theories. If I was a prideful fae, I may say that she and others learned that without me, the research does not get done. BUT–I am not. And Rhysand’s hilarious letter to me, the part where he requests for me to “Save him from the tears of the harpy living in the library and return home, post haste” made this all the more delicious.

Don’t you dare judge me! You are finding the humor in this as well.

OH! The Children will be putting on a show for me before I leave. Even though I will be seeing them three mornings a week. I am not supposed to know, but one of them let it slip and so, now I do. Balthazar refuses to tell me anything about it, I only know that it is in the evening. And I have been asked to wear traditional Illyrian female clothing. Emerie, who must have been in on this, has a dress for me. Which I have yet to see, she cannot wipe the smile off her face every time I ask about it. She’s a real devilish one.

After 63 days he arrived yesterday. You would be very proud of how strong I was. I did not give into the urge to run to him, leap into his arms, wrap my appendages around him and beg him to take me home. THO– I did have the dream again and at some point in the night, he moved himself into my bed. HUSH. You would not throw this male out of your bed, I promise.

And Nesta took care of him before I even made it to the bathing chamber. Everything you would have said, are you sure she does not channel you?

I did want to disappear. But only momentarily. And you know Cass, he won’t allow me to hide. He ordered me dressed and on the porch, prepared to leave for our tours within the next hour. And so, I must bid you farewell. For now.

I love you. I miss you. I do this in honor of you.
Gwyn

Chapter Text

He decided he would have a cup of coffee. They had a morning rhythm and he preferred to be out of the way once he realized this.  “I’ll take this outside.” he told Nesta as he poured a cup. Stepping out onto the porch, the morning mist still clinging to the surfaces of the camp. He was an idiot for slipping into bed with her. Nesta was right to call him out on it and she was clearly uncomfortable.

Cassian stepped outside.

“Are we leaving now?” Azriel placed the mug on the windowsill as he adjusted his Siphons.

“Soon. Just waiting for them to be ready.” Cassain played with the button on his own.

“Them? They are coming?” Azriel wasn’t sure about bringing the females to the other camps.

“Yes. Second time at Ironcrest for Nesta, but Gwyn has been there multiple times and to the other camps with the exception of Innishiona. I promised her I would take her before she goes home, today is the last day I can do that.” Azriel was shocked to find out Gwyn had been to the other camps. Shocked and also proud, proud of her ever growing bravery.

“I can winnow us to Ironcrest. We can fly to Misthaven from there. That will cut the time in half. Then we can winnow to Innishiona.” Cassian nodded, letting Azriel know he approved of the plan.

Nesta came out first, in a set of leathers his brother had made for her as a Mating gift. Cass would be insisting on a detour at some point.

Gwyn stumbled onto the porch already talking. “I know, I know Cass–you are going to tell me that I should not be bringing treats to the kids. But, you forget that I promised I would and I do not want to let them down.” She pulled her single long braid to the front as she slipped a backpack over her leathers. A set Azriel and never seen before, a deep green finish with a black shirt underneath the flight jacket. She looked outrageously fuckable, he now fully understood why his brother responded the way he did every time he saw Nesta in the leathers. Azriel was not sure this was a good idea anymore.  His brother only smiled at him as he announced the travel plans.

They walked down the stairs and Cass pointed to where the wards ended. Azriel made his way over, Gwyn walked next to him. 

“You look very nice in those leathers. ” He tried hard not to ogle, but he failed. And she knew it.

“Thank you. They were a gift.” She offered no other information. Just a smile. They were probably from him. If she was his, Azriel would gift these to her. He certainly would. He would and then he would do things to her while she wore them so that his scent was all over her and them. She would let you— gods, they were not helpful at times.

He explained how this would work to Gwyn. He would hold Nesta’s hand, while Cass held her. Gwyn would hold on to him. She said she understood.

Nesta and Cassian spent a few minutes adjusting the straps of her backpack while Gwyn moved into him, he slid his arm down her right side, resting his hand on her hip.

He knew winnowing always made her nervous, she asked a thousand questions about the possibility of slipping through the shadows and what would happen if she did. His promises of never losing her, never letting her go mocked him now. He had done both. She dug her hands into his leathers. One in the front, the other under his wing. She was careful not to brush them, grabbing at the center between them. That kid has probably asked her to touch his wings. While he is kissing her and holding her, like this–but closer.

“Ouch” She was all whispers as she placed her hand over the one he had on her hip “Not so rough, Shadowsinger.” He didn’t realize he was grabbing her as he drove himself into a doom spiral, as Akeso likes to call them.

“I’m sorry. I know you worry I will lose you in the shadows.” She rubbed his hand with hers before reassuming her traditional death grip. “I know you won’t.”

“And I’m sorry about this morning. I shouldn’t have done that.” He whispered to her as Nesta asked Cassian to help pull her braid out from under the backpack.

“You are a reprobate , Azriel. And so are your shadows.” she whispered back, mischief dancing in her eyes.

“Ready?” Cassian asked as Nesta grabbed Azriel’s hand. “Ready.” And then they walked through the shadows.

Malcolm, the Lord of Ironcrest was the worst of what Illryia was. A bitter, arrogant male that Cassian and Azriel both knew was an inactive part of the Valkyries being forced into the Rite and an active part of the possible rebellion. But, above all this he was a slick overseer. Not as openly gruff as Devlon, which made Azriel dislike him even more. Upon landing Gwyn grumbled “Here comes the snake” when she spotted him walking their way. This, for whatever reason–put him at ease.

“You’ve come for your monthly visit a week early, General.” This high up in Illyria some wore leather wraps with a woolen underlining. Believed to allow for more freedom of movement, while protecting one from the elements. Malcolm was wearing only the woolen fabrics. A sign that he was caught off guard by the visit.

“Our apologies, Malcolm. We need to hit 3 other camps today. As you know, Gwyn promised to come see your younglings before she returned to Velaris. We all know she would never let them down.” Cassian began walking towards the Lord and his gathering council.

“And the Shadowsinger is here today as well? My—it seems to be a special day for us all here in Ironcrest. The General and the Shadowsinger.” Azriel only met the Lord’s stare with his. Malcolm understood, and turned to address the females.

“Lady Nesta. Lady Gwyneth. ” An actual courteous head nod. Nesta returned only the nod, Gwyn–Gods love her said “I love your dress.” as she pointed to his attire. Before the Lord had a chance to respond, before Azriel felt the need to stand between them, Siphons at the ready—children, a stream of them came running. Gwyn was surrounded within seconds and whisked into the meeting house by the gaggle of unruly younglings.

“Cassian arranged for her to come here once a week. As you can see, the children adore her. This has kept Malcolm in check. The females come to see her as well. She checks them and the children.” Nesta explained as they walked over to the meeting house, a large building in the center of the camp. Which Azriel had forgotten was set up with multiple buildings, some carved into the landscape.

“Balthazar volunteered to be the one to escort her back and forth. He wasn’t the only one that offered, just the one Rhys approved.” Other males, this is all that translated to in Azriel’s head. There are other males interested in Gwyn.

“What does she check them for?” Azriel sent his shadows to secure the meeting house as he scanned the area. Cassian said this would be less than two hours, Ironcrest did seem to have less younglings than Windhaven.

“Their health, mostly. She has the power of healing from the Mother. She held back and wouldn't use it because of what happened with her sister. But after the Rite, she embraced it.” They entered the meeting house.

Azriel tucked himself into a corner closer to Gwyn. Nesta excused herself, returning to Cassian, saying something about someone needing to glower. She had the kids in an organized line, from youngest to oldest and he watched as some of the older females started shuffling in.

Gwyn waved him over to her. He went.

“Do you mind being my assistant today? Usually Balthazar helps me out. Nesta does not do well with all the kids or I would have asked her.” He sensed she was worried he would say no.
“What would I be assisting with?” She handed him a bag filled with treats. “You get to hand these out once I am finished seeing them behind the screen. It goes quickly. I promise.”
“It would be my pleasure, Gwyn.” He smiled, hoping she would see his sincerity.

It did go quickly. With some children needing a little more attention than others and some of the females reaching their age of majority lingering to talk to her privately. The older females were seeking contraceptive teas, which she had and news of family members in Windhaven or elsewhere.

“We are all done, Shadowsinger,” Gwyn announced as she repacked her bag and folded up the screen. “Thank you for being such a good assistant today. More of the younger females came because you were here.” She blushed and he did as well.

“Misthaven has even fewer younglings. They lost many of their males in the war with Hybern. It is very sad there.” He understood.

“We can stay as long as you need, Gwyn. I think Cassian wants to take Nesta to a spot near there.” A little shine to her eyes told him she needed no further information.

Malcolm’s second was making his way over to them as they prepared to leave the building, she grabbed his arm “Stay here. With me.” his Siphons flared as the male entered the building.

“Lachlan.” He nodded.

“Azriel.” He returned the nod.

She moved her hand into his. “Lachlan.” she nodded.

“Gwyneth.” He returned it.

“Una is approaching the end soon, her 10th month. She will be delivering on time.” 

“The date has not changed?” 

“No. It is still the same. I know you will not be here. But I will take your offer to help contact the midwives in the other camps to let them know the date has not changed.” 

“Will do, Lachlan. Please remember what I said about her comfort over the next 2 months. It is important that you limit her travels as much as you can.”

“I will do my best, Gwyneth” 

“Gods be with you, Lach.” 

“May the Mother keep you safe, Gwyn.”


Cassian broke off as they got closer to Misthaven, Nesta’s laughter as he dropped rapidly caused Gwyn to giggle. Her giggle caused his heart to swell, so then he laughed. When he laughed, she smiled and when she smiled Azriel lost all his senses and decided to land them in a spot he knew.

“We can still beat them to Misthaven, it is just up there. I think you’ve earned a little break anyway.” He said this before she had an opportunity to argue. Landing in a clearing near a river.

“It is fine, Shadowsinger. I am alright with a short rest.” He laughed again when she used her finger and thumb to indicate how short. She undid the clasps on her leather and removed it. Laying it under a tree, she made herself comfortable in the shade as she began unpacking food.

He removed his flight jacket and did the same.

“I packed enough for you. Just in case.” She laid out nuts, dried meats, dried fruits, cheeses and bread. They ate in silence for a bit, she got up to refill their waters. He watched as she walked back up the small ridge, he had to work on getting her back to him.

“You and Balthazar–how long?” It wasn’t his business, but it was.

“A few weeks” She signaled give or take by shaking her outstretched hand, palm down.

“How did it happen?” Again, not his business, but he needed to know how that boy won her.

“The house wasn’t done when I first arrived. Something about the piping and a thaw. I stayed with Emerie while he oversaw the repairs. When Mor would come visit, Emerie would invite him over as well. He would bring me flowers, sometimes candies or little gifts. And then he asked me to go to a formal dinner with him and so, here we are.”

Gwyn had picked a wild flower and was twirling it as she spoke.

“I still write to Tarquin. He has obligations and so do I. I liked him very much. But I do not want to follow Feyre’s path and he deserves someone willing to give him that.”

His shadows cheered, they had designated poor Tarquin as enemy number one—a moniker the male did not deserve, even if his shadows thought they were hilarious for it.

He wanted to avoid interrogator mode, but he couldn’t help himself. He thought about the phrasing of the next question.

“Are you comfortable? Being in a relationship again?” He always thought she was not ready.

“I have never–I mean, Balthazar is my first relationship.” She pulled her legs up and hugged her knees.

“I didn’t know, Gwyn.” She stretched her legs back out, leaning back on her arms and turned her face up towards the sun.

“You never really asked me. You must ask the proper questions to get the answer you want.” She would make a great interrogator he thought to himself.

They sat in silence for a little. He watched the sunlight play with all the colors her hair held. There were blondes and reds, browns and darker browns. Gold seemed to shine under every strand no matter the color, as if the precious metal grew out of the top of her head.

“I had always assumed that you had participated.” He would ask no other questions about this if they told him she was uncomfortable.

“I hadn’t. You know how remote we were.” She sat up, folding her legs as she wiped pine needles off her hands. Playing with a patch of white clovers, her head down, she went on, “My sister did. Twice. Catrin was different from myself. Braver, ready. I hadn’t even kissed a male.”

Rage. Rage began to creep its way into Azriel. A rage that he now knew had a time and a place, he worked on stilling himself. Not here. Not now. Not with her. Not here. Not now. Not with her.

“Are you still in love ?” He will never understand how she does it, how every tone, the nuances and the expressions that she uses pulls him out of himself. Her tender teasing of him was something he craved.

“I was mistaken.” He knew she deserved more of an answer. He had been working on communicating, “I misplaced my affections. Which is a pattern I have established in my life in order to keep myself from true emotional attachments with females.”

She said nothing, while her face said everything. He saw a hint of triumph, a wisp of anger and what he thought may have been sadness.

“Is it serious? You and Balthazar?” He swatted at a bug that tried to get up his nose. 

“Define serious.” She picked at the clovers.

He asked her what Rhys asked him– “Do you see future plans with him?”

“I—no.” She laid down, tossing her arm over her eyes. “He was my first kiss though.”

He thinks about what a fuck up this was. He hates that it wasn’t him. And he doesn’t want her to hide her face, he needs to see it to know what she is truly thinking.

“I owe you an explanation, an apology.”

“I am open to negotiations.” Even though she kept her arm over her eyes, she was smiling.

“I didn’t understand what was happening to me. I blamed you for the way I felt, which was unfair. And you deserve better.” He wasn’t sure if she would accept it, it seemed lame. She deserved more than just words. “If you will let me, I would like to repair our friendship.”

He released the breath he was holding.

She sat up, looking right at him with one eye crinkled to keep the sun out of it. Her freckles bunching up on her cheeks. She was waiting for more from him. He would give her what he could, as he could.  She was always so much better at this than he was.

“I will accept this first attempt at an apology. You are so good at many things, Shadowsinger. I imagine if you keep working at this, you will eventually give me the best apology ever.”

Her eyes told him to keep trying. So he would.




Misthaven was quick. Bleak, quick, and hard on Gwyn. Higher in the mountains, thinner air. They weren’t as outwardly kind to Gwyn as the other camps, but the elderly Illyrians were grateful for her company. Rhys contacted Cassian and asked for him to return to Velaris tomorrow, the decision was made for him and Nesta to return to Windhaven–While Gwyn and himself would continue to Innishiona. Azriel was ordered to stay the remainder of the week, taking Gwyn home as scheduled.

“I am going to fly us down and then we can winnow from a lower altitude.” Azriel had been to Innishiona over the centuries. They were fiercely independent, something he admired about them. They often sent only their best warriors to participate in the Blood Rite. Choosing instead, to embrace the right of some males to be farmers, bakers, blacksmiths and sailors without the pressure of surviving a useless slaughter. 

They also had a library. A library where they illustrate books. Located on a small island off the coast. He could not wait to show her.

She could see that this was different from all the other camps from the sky. It was like a regular town. A walled one. With long buildings, thatched roofs, and a tall structure that looked like a temple in the center. Azriel said they needed to land outside of the wall and then be invited in.

“They will shoot me down if not.” She wasn’t sure if this was in jest, however Illyrians are Illyrians. He landed just at the edge of the clearing, right on the path. There were two small huts on either side of the gate. Both with guards in them. One guard came out to speak to them while the other flew over the wall.

“State your business.”

“I am the Shadowsinger, Spymaster of the Night Court. This is Gwyneth Berdara, Priestess and Valkyrie of the Night Court. We are here to see—”

Gwyn heard a boisterous male voice coming from above her saying “Azriel, you handsome devil! Why not send word!?”

“Brennus—” Azriel finished his sentence as the male, as large–if not larger than Cassian landed. He grabbed Azriel by the forearms, Azriel did the same. Gwyn knew this was a greeting in some places, but this was the first time seeing it in the flesh.

Gwyn may have been gaping, she felt her throat dry out as Azriel came to put his arm around her waist–which felt wonderful , but also forced her to close her mouth. The male was unlike anyone she had laid her eyes on before. He had facial hair, which he wore down to his chest and the section above his lips was curled. They all had facial hair, some in braids, some with shells in them. Earrings, nose rings. Leathers.

“Brennus, let me introduce you to Gwyneth Berdara. Priestess and Valkyrie of the Night Court.” He took her hand and kissed it.

“It is an honor to meet you. Please, welcome to our camp” Azriel kept his hand on her lower back as they walked through the open gateway into the camp. Kids and unclipped females walked over to take in the two of them, Gwyn wondered how often they received visitors. They followed the extremely tall male into the building that looked like a temple from above and Gwyn found that it was more like a Throne Room, but if it was a restaurant and party hall as well. She was confused and it must have shown because a female as tall as she, dressed in a set of leathers with a top that looked like one of those breast holders Mor likes, walked right up to her and handed her a pint. 

“I’m Mavis, that’s our homemade ale. You are famous up here. We have all heard about you, the sister of the High Lady and the clipped Illyrian. To your health!” Mavis clinked their glasses together and then Gwyn watched Mavis drink hers in one swallow. 

“Come, I’ll introduce you to the others. Sinead, she’s 8, and likes to tell everyone the business of the camp–has already alerted all the other females that a Valkyrie is here. The younglings won’t believe her until we parade you around.” Mavis had a beautiful smile and a contagious laugh.

“May I just let Azriel know where I am going?” Mavis stopped, looked her over and then looked to Azriel. She stuck two fingers in her mouth and whistled. Brennus immediately looked her way, as did Azriel. “I’m taking the Valkyrie to meet the others. You lads enjoy discussing whatever it is you’ll be discussing, us lasses will be discussing you.” Gwyn’s eyes found Azriel’s and he smiled, a smile that told her she would be alright.

“Leave your top leather here, it does get warm now this late in the afternoon.”

Gwyn took it off.

“Have you anything on under that tunic?” She did. A black underbodice she had specially made to stop chafing. It was similar to what Mavis was wearing, but without being so revealing and not leather. She shook her head yes. “Well, take the tunic off as well.” She did.


Azriel paid as much attention to Brennus and the other males as he could while Mavis seemingly ordered Gwyn to disrobe in the long house. First the leather, then the tunic. She was left in those pants he wanted to remove with his teeth and a bodice? But not a bodice. It formed to her, held her breasts up like something Mor would have her wear and still kept her covered. Mavis must have said something about her body because he saw her blushing from here—She tucked stray hairs behind her ears and she looked his way again. He mouthed You look beautiful to her. She stuck out her tongue, crinkling her nose and mouthed a thank you in return.


Brennus and the other males discussed the atmosphere of the other camps. The grumblings of a revolt, and what they planned to do if it were to happen.

“You know what has kept us and our families safe has been the policy of non-engagement. We have an unspoken understanding with Cassian. We send him our best, we get left alone.” Brennus took a long sip from his pint.

“I am not here to force you to take an oath. That can be left for another time, when Cassian is here. I am hoping to take Gwyn to your library.” Azriel watched as the males all exchanged looks, then they began in on him. It was all in good fun, Azriel had fought with many of them over the years, trusted them with his life and knew they sensed how different Gwyn was.

“How long has the Valkyrie been yours, Azriel?” It was Brennus’ right hand that finally asked. “She belongs to herself, Oisin.” He took a sip of the refreshing ale “but, I am already hers and someday she will be mine.”


She underestimated the power of 8 year old Sinead and her ability to spread news quickly. Upon exiting the building it seemed like every female in the camp was outside, waiting to meet her. Mavis, who was Brennus’ Mate, began the introductions.

“I’m not expecting you to remember everybody's names here, Gwyn. Try to remember every 4th or 5th–many are sisters and will answer to each other's names.” The growing crowd laughed and then Gwyn realized how many did look like sisters. All pretty Illyrian females, with long hair and beautiful smiles. They had so many questions about the Rite, how they were trained, what happened when they woke surrounded by males. Gwyn told them how things happened, from the beginning. . . including why she was living in the Library.

“You survived Sangravah?” a beautiful female named Ailish asked as she nursed a babe.

“I did. Unfortunately my sister did not.” She told them how Azriel came and slaughtered the men that did that to her and her sister.

“What’s the Library like?” another pretty female named Coria asked, and she told them.

“Tell us about when you saw the Shadowsinger again” shouted a younger female from the back. This was followed by cheers and claps. And so, she did. She told them how she antagonized him, and how much fun it was.

She then told them how they survived the Rite. “Mother” and “Cauldron boil me.” was repeated, often.

“Did he kiss you when he saw you in the morning?” It was Sinead, Gwyn was starting to believe she had an 8 year old nemesis.

“No.” She shook her head “He did not kiss me when he saw me in the morning.” Sinead looked absolutely destroyed by this information.

“Lass, are you trying to convince us he’s not your beau?” asked an older Illyrian with hair as white as snow, her hazel eyes glowing from under it.

Probably Sinead’s grandmother.

“I have a–” She stopped, what was Balthazar? “I have a male that I spend time with. He is not the Shadowsinger.”

Boo’s and raspberries was what she heard. Sinead and a small gang of cohorts gave thumbs down and stink faces.

Mavis showed her where the females train. “Centuries ago our camp lost most of our males during the War. We lived in a different location then. It left our females at the mercy of other camps. Brennus’ father’s father demanded that his Mate and any daughters they had be trained as the males are. He never wanted the males to worry that their homes were threatened should another war happen.”

“Is it kept a secret?” Mavis only nodded a yes.

“That’s why you are all the way out here.” Mavis nodded again.

“Because we are on the other side of the range we are able to keep to ourselves. We trade with the continent, other seafaring nations. We have our own ships too, for trading.” She followed Mavis to the throwing section, and that was where Mavis explained how insulting it would be for Gwyn to turn down the invitation she was about to extend. “SO you see, you’ve got to stay the night now. If you don’t–I fear we will be lifelong enemies and I’d hate for this to happen between two females that are clearly meant to be such good friends.” Gwyn realized then and there that Mavis was going to be a good lifelong friend.


“Azriel–you know the custom. I have invited you to stay. With the female. If you leave I will be insulted. Besides–it is getting late. I know your shadows have their magic.” Brennus wiggled his fingers like he was casting a spell “But, I must insist you stay the night. There are bands living in the range. They will shoot you two down.”

“I will need to speak with the Priestess before I can take you up on your offer.” He sent his shadows to find her, and then followed them there.

He found her and Mavis spear throwing. It was wholly possible that he found the one place in all of Prythian that Gwyn truly belonged. He watched from a distance as they continued.

“I cannot believe it was that codger Devlon that taught you. How did that even happen?” Mavis handed Gwyn a longer spear, she balanced it in her hands–seeking to get a feel for it.

She shrugged “I don’t know. After he said yes to the school and he saw how well the younglings were doing, he started to come watch us train the females. One day he saw me teaching the staff and then asked me how good I was with a spear.” She threw the long one and watched it land shorter than she would like, she began mapping her corrections in her mind when she caught Azriel standing to the side.

“Azriel, they train the females here. Like we do!” She was grinning like the nights they would spend training together. 

“May I speak with you?” Azriel moved them between two of the buildings. She followed him.

“Of course. Are you alright?” She leaned against one of the walls, thankful for the coolness of the shade. He stood before her.

“Yes. I am. They have invited us to stay for the night.” She tucked her chin in a little, he watched a grin form “Before you say no, I must explain what an insult it will be if we do not stay. It is getting late and even with my winnowing—”

She interrupted him, placing her hand on his chest “Mavis explained if I were to say no that we would be lifelong enemies. She then sent Sinead in to have Brennus work on you.” Every part of Gwyn’s face was aglow with that mischief he found so endearing, she crooked her finger and called him down to her, conspiratorially, they were in this together, he bent to her. Their faces inches away– “They are as bad as I am here. I can see how difficult it must have been for you to deal with me.”

Her hushed, husky tones sent shivers through him. Azriel had moments in his life when he knew his silence was the best weapon he had. This was not one of those moments. “Not one moment I have spent with you has ever been difficult, Priestess.” Her hand was still on his chest as he placed his over hers. She licked her lips, and their breathing synced. Her scents surrounding him, she was gone from him for too long.

“Supper is going to be ready soon. My Nan said you two need to go wash up.” Gwyn snapped her head so fast in the direction of the voice that Azriel was worried she hurt herself. “Sinead” was all she seethed as she huffed and left him standing in between the two buildings.

Gwyn was definitely a little tipsy. The females ate at one table, while the males ate at another. She and Azriel were sat across from each other. They spent the evening communicating through looks, sometimes eye rolls. They were shown to their room after dinner. Singular. One room. Mavis explained that there was a fire recently and the guest lodgings were not rebuilt yet. Brennus claimed that single females are not permitted to sleep alone.

Gwyn knew they were both full of shit. 

The room had one bed. A large Illyrian one, but Gwyn knew this trick too. She read plenty of Sellyn Drake novels. Azriel offered to sleep on the floor as he excused himself to go clean up, but she only gave him a look after he snuck into bed with her last night.

She was given a lovely nightgown and a young female came in with Mavis to set up a washing area for her. They lit a fire, opened the privacy screen and showed her the larger basin to stand in, she would use the smaller basin and jugs to soap up and rinse off. She went behind the privacy screen to clean and change just as Azriel returned.


“You were able to contact Rhys from all the way up here?” She asked as she shimmed out of her pants. Folding them and placing them on the small stool next to the shelf that held the smaller wash basin and water jugs. She removed her top. Stepping into the larger tin basin that would collect the dirty water. Mavis told her she would take her to the bathing house in the morning when the water was heated. Azriel said something about not minding cold water. She did. She minded. Which is why she would wait till the morning and said yes to this. At least she was near the fire she thought as she soaped up a cloth and prepared to give herself what her mother used to call a cat bath.

Brennus and Mavis are two awful friends he thought to himself as he watched every movement she made behind the screen that was all but transparent due to it being illuminated by the fire.

“I was. He contacted Cassian.”

He had sat in the one oversized armchair in the room before he even realized what Mavis–that rake, had done here. Sipping a whiskey as he watched her pin up her hair, take down those leathers and remove her shirt. Her shadowy silhouette bouncing in all the right places. Her lovely nipples, the small tuft of hair she had down there. He could see it all. He is a reprobate.

He put his head back and closed his eyes. He could just leave. But then he would need to explain why. And though he knew she was raised in the Temples and that they are much more open, he did not want her to know that Mavis and Brennus were devious reprobates too.

“Mmmmm, this feels so good after today” Mother forgive him, he clenched his eyelids shut. “You should have waited for this, Azriel. Between the warm water and the fire, this is divine.”

She is divine. Chatty and divine. He only hummed in agreement. He promised he would not watch everything she did. Closing his eyes, he relaxed to the sounds of the water she was pouring over herself. He peeked as she lathered her hands up with soup, and then he watched. Watched until he couldn't take it anymore.

Closing his eyes again she asked, “Was Rhys surprised with what we learned here today?”

His shadows whispered she was done. But they lied. She was pouring water over herself. Trickling down her curves and off her points. Scumbags he called them, they chuckled.

“Are you alright, Shadowsinger? You are very quiet over there.” He had to adjust himself, push down on his throbbing cock to relieve some pressure. He shut his eyes again.

“Yes. He was. I didn’t tell him everything. Some things are better left for face to face.” his voice came out too gruff.

“You ok? You sound a little horse.”

“I’m fine. Just tired.”


She dried herself, and slipped the light pink nightgown over her head. She had never worn anything like it. It had small straps and her breasts had individual sections to sit in.

She would need to ask him to close his eyes and then she would run to the bed, get under the covers. She hung the towel, hung the washcloths to dry and pushed the catch bin under the shelf like Mavis showed her. She unpinned her hair and released the braid, undoing it from the bottom.

This is where Gwyn decided she won’t ask him to close his eyes. She is a grown female and this is what she looks like. She is going to fold up the screen, like her friend Mavis showed her and walk to the bed like a normal female.

So she did. She folded the screen, grabbed the brush and walked into the rest of the room to find Azriel sitting in the armchair in the corner.
His face partially hidden in the shadows.

She watched as he lifted his drink to his lips, “That’s what Mavis gave you to sleep in?” She couldn’t see his face, she felt embarrassed now. She pulled her arms over her chest as heat spread throughout her chest, up her neck and ended at her ears. 

His shadows pulsated around him.

“Don’t do that, Gwyn.” She put her arms down. His voice was deeper, softer and rougher as it moved through her.

“Brush your hair for me.” She did as he asked. Starting from the bottom, moving up as she worked the tangles out. She felt his eyes on her and she had that feeling in her lower stomach, lower lower stomach. She moved her hair to one side, pulling it over her chest.

“Come here.” With his words there was a pull at the center of her, a tug that felt like he had the other end. She walked over to him as he kicked a small footstool in front of him. 


He sat up and reached for her. Placing his hands on either side of her hips, Azriel turns her around and sits her in front of him on the little stool. She lets him malehandle her. Every jiggling inch of her. He takes the brush from her hand and pulls all her hair back to him.

He knows why he is doing this. He doesn’t want to just fuck her. He wants to be inside her, in her heart. He wants to build a house there.

He presses a kiss against the top of her head and then he brushes her hair. Sliding his fingers through the strands after every stroke. She lets out soft sounds as she tilts her head back for him, he wraps one of his hands around her neck—using his thumb against her chin to position her head where he wants it as he works across her scalp.

She moans at one point, lifting her arms to rest on his thighs, she moves herself back into him. 

“This feels lovely, Shadowsinger” her voice is all dreamy, like she is ready for sleep.

“You have the most beautiful hair I have ever seen, Priestess.” He murmurs to her. It is hard to brush it now, she is sitting between his legs. He keeps his hand on her neck as he runs his fingers through the strands that are not pressed between them. They stay like this until he feels a little jolt from her, followed by a pull through her nostrils. She fell asleep like this. Drool and all.
He is ready now. In one movement he has her in his arms and moves her to the bed. He puts her on the fire side, pulls the blankets over her and tucks her in.


He lays on the other side. On top of the covers, with a throw blanket. He goes over the plans he has for the morning, the ship will leave at 10, they will be back for 14, on their way to Windhaven before 16. Landing before sundown.

She lets out a little snore as she turns to her side. He continues playing with her hair until he falls asleep too. His shadows resting between them. 

Chapter Text

Appointments 11-16
Birth to age 11

“You’ve done so well, Azriel.” Akeso handed him a fresh handkerchief.

“I didn’t think this would be so cathartic. I get it now. Even if my eyes feel like fire and the tip of my nose feels numb.”

“Tears have different chemical components according to why we shed them. Why do you think Mothers often tell their daughters they will feel better after a good cry? There is a real science behind it.”

“It does give one a sense of resolution. The release of what you were holding on to.”

Appointment 19

“You have said you’ve always felt as if you are playing catch-up. Would you be alright focusing on that?” The last two meetings discussed his first few years in Windhaven. Something Akeso said needed to be dealt with in order for him to move forward. He was glad she pushed him to do so.

She also suggested a change in the language used for key moments in his memories.

“Sure. Though I think it is pretty obvious. Everything that happened once I was dump–sorry,”

“Don’t be. It will take time for you to shift the perspective from negative to positive. The language we chose to use helps our minds with that shift.”

“When I was liberated from them–” He sighs. It is from his stomach and it feels good. “I was behind all the young males. With everything.”

“And what happened?”

“In the end, like we discussed, I found my brothers.” He smiles at the memories of those early days. He can smile freely now for them. “After they stopped trying to kill me, things were great.”

“If you were to let go of the sense of abandonment you have held on to all these centuries, what would you replace it with when you think of Rex and Conan now?”

“Belonging”

Appointment 24

“I see her tomorrow.” He can't believe it has been 62 days without seeing her. All because he chased after something that wasn't meant for him.

“How does that make you feel?”

“Excited. Nervous. Happy.” He would say like Solstice, but that feels too odd.

“What are your plans?”

“I have none. I mean I do. You know that, but I cannot make it about my wants and needs. I have to let her tell me."

"So no special plans? Come on, Azriel. That is not who you are." Akeso shook her head in mock admonishment.

"Alright." he stretched his arms up and to the sides--shook his shoulders. "I have gifts for her. Two. I just need to work out the right times to give them to her."

Chapter Text

Mavis undersold the baths. Even though Rhys had put in a new bathing chamber for her, there truly is nothing like sitting in a very large communal pool with natural salts and minerals. She enjoyed the rainwater rinse as well. She said a quick yes when someone made the offer to braid her clean hair, she now had two plaits that started almost at her forehead neatly holding all her hair.

Gwyn spotted his dimples as he met her halfway on her return to the main hall. She spent far too much of her soak time thinking about his hands in her hair. Of all the intimate moments they have ever shared, that one has been her favorite as of yet. 

They exchanged shy hellos.

“I wasn’t expecting you to be up and out before I woke, Priestess.” He murmured to her, he concentrated on the braid he chose to run through his fingers instead of looking her in the eyes. 

Gwyn wondered if she will always be this distracted by how beautiful he is. “Were you disappointed to wake and find me gone, Shadowsinger?” She kept her voice as low as his, he hummed. “Maybe a little.” Showing her the measurement with his thumb and pointer.

“Did you want a little morning cuddle?” She tried not to purr this out, but she purred—His eyes shot up to meet her own. Golds and greens darkening under those hoods. Another smile.

“Maybe a little.” This was demonstrated with a larger measurement. Using his hands.



Azriel said she had thirty minutes to pack and get dressed if they wanted to reach the dock on time. She rushed back to their room, took off the morning robe Mavis was kind enough to loan and quickly put on her backup fresh undergarments and her leathers. She tried to remember ever feeling such excitement, she stills herself—but she can’t keep the giddy feeling down and her cheeks already hurt from smiling.

It would be a short walk to the beach followed by a thirty minute boat ride to the island. They would spend the morning in the Library and return in time to head back to Windhaven, arriving there just past dinner. 

“Are you ready, Priestess?” He put his hand out to help her step onto the boat. Her first time in one and she immediately feels a dip as a wave rolls under the hull. To be temporarily separated and suspended from the surface her feet were meant to be on is a wholly new sensation for her. When Azriel’s hands come and rest on either side of her ribs, she feels secure. 

“It is always worse in dock, you’ll love it once we are out.” he assures her as he stands on the dock and waits for their Captain, Mercadier, who is not Illyrian to give him direction. The Captain promised Gwyn that her sea legs would arrive once they were out on the water, and he was right. In fact, she loved every minute of the trip. 

“Oh! Shadowsinger–is that the library?” Gwyn could see a temple as they pulled into the dock about thirty minutes later.

“It is, Priestess. You’ll need to wait for the Captain to give us the ok to disembark. Sit tight.” Azriel stepped onto the dock, helping to secure the boat as she sat tight. It was not very enjoyable, this sitting tight. In fact it she felt it was the longest 10 minutes of her life.

They thanked the Captain, who said he would see them for the return trip.

As they walked up the beach to the main road, Azriel explained that the Library was inside an old temple that was not part of the temples Gwyn grew up in. This was run by Scholars from all over Prythian and beyond. It belonged to no Court. Many of the Scholars here go by new names, with their old identities being left on the shore in a ceremony they have when they arrive here. The only way on the island was by boat, by Mercadier’s boat and there was no flying or winnowing allowed.

“There are guards, and it is warded. Old magic.” He said as he helped her over a part of a stone wall that had collapsed. “It is about a mile up from here.” They began the uphill walk.

“You’ve been here before?” It was so windy that Gwyn felt like her voice was being carried off the island.

“Once. Centuries ago.” She watched as Azriel tucked in his wings. She was worried he would get picked up in a gust. “There are less than 50 fae living here. All working in some way to support the Library.”

They were halfway there when she saw a flock of sheep. She saw cows and birds, so many birds. Falcons and skylarks and a funny looking black and white one. Not many trees, but she did see grasses and shrubs. Many different shades of green snaking through the rocks and sands. Azriel had stopped at the top, right outside a gate that led onto the grounds. She must have slowed down while she was looking around. She smiled as she reached him. His dimples were out again.

“I’m sorry. It is so beautiful here.” She pulled on her braids.

“You should see how you look against the landscape.” He opened the gate for her and ushered her in.


There was a pillar in the lane on the way to the main entrance of the building, the top was the same Tri-Knot Gwyn had used for her bracelets. She began to pick up other designs on the facade of the building, swirl patterns, shield patterns, and dara patterns. The main entrance, two massive oak doors with metal finishes opened and a male stepped out. A smaller stout lesser fae in a robe, with hair that could only be described as tawney. Everything about him was some degree of the color. Gwyn thought he looked like a mole. An adorable little garden mole.

“Welcome, Shadowsinger of the Night Court.” called out the male as she and Azriel closed the distance to greet them.

“Brother Aiden?” Azriel asked as he kept his hand on her lower back. Brother Aiden nodded and motioned them inside.

They stepped into an antechamber as Brother Aiden formally introduced himself.

“You now know who I am, I do know who Azriel is—you, my child, I have yet to meet.”

“I am Gwyneth Berdara, Priestess and Valkyrie of the Night Court.” He made no move to further the greetings, Gwyn assumed that he would keep his hands tucked in his sleeves for the rest of the visit. She was fine with this. She noted that this antechamber had three halls branching from it, and on the tiles under each archway were runes. Runes that she recalls Merrill having her research. Some match what she has seen on the hilt of Truth Teller.

“Come, let's go view the books.” He smiled and walked down a corridor to a larger room with floor to ceiling windows and multiple lecterns with Scribe's working quietly at their stations.

“Some are simple translations, others are repairs to ancient manuscripts that were damaged during Amarantha’s reign.” he nodded matter of factly “Helion thought all was lost, but we have spent years repairing some of these.”

“May I speak with some of the Scribes?”

“But of course, please–”


Azriel watched as Gwyn moved about the males and females working on the books. Her eyes bigger than he has ever seen, he collected all her inquisitive expressions and looks of delight. She began making a list in a notepad that he is convinced his shadows pulled from their void for her. He spent an hour watching her flitter from Scribe to Scribe, each willing to impart some knowledge for her to take home.

“What happens to a book that is beyond repair, Brother Aiden?”

“We believe nothing is beyond repair, Priestess. We may never be able to restore it to its original condition, but that does not mean it loses its value.”

They moved through another corridor and into another large room that was almost like a greenhouse, more lecterns, but less Scribes.

“These are our Limners.”

Gwyn gasped and grabbed Azriel’s hand. You could see the golds and purples, the silvers and reds, the greens and the blues. The intricate designs being worked around the edging of some pages, an entire page dedicated to a portrait on the other.

“Azriel ” was all she said to him as she lifted his hand and kissed it. Releasing it and then taking off, notepad in hand, ready to ask her thousands of questions.



Lunchtime had arrived. Aiden said they would meet again at the back of the property in an hour.


“What shall we do now, Shadowsinger? She stuffed her flight leather into the backpack, leaving on the white tunic. It may be windy, but the sun was higher in the sky and the little island was warming up.

“I’ve a prize for you, Priestess.” He pointed in the direction of said prize as he removed his flight leather.

“It is just over this ridge?” Gods, what he would do for these smiles. He nodded and she took off up the ridge.

“Yes, Priestess—But wait at the top for me.” She stopped immediately. “And keep your eyes on me until I get there.”

“This is so unfair, Shadowsinger.” She had her hands balled in little frustrated fists. Her forehead crinkled, her side smirk, those freckles. He walked up the ridge to her, his shadows clinging to him under his wings.

“That it may be, but—” He reached her. Loose tendrils that stood no chance against the winds that kept the landscape shorn wrapped around her face, her neck; his view of her unobstructed now as it was only her against the water that held every blue and green in her irises. This was his prize. “I selfishly need to have this memory.”

Gwyn was taller than most fae females. A long limber body that had curves in all the right places, places he was also learning she welcomed his hands. Her hips, at a perfect height for him to rest his hands, seemed tailor made for him. Last night, when he needed to control his urge to bury himself in her so deeply that they would be written into each other's bones, she allowed him to move her with his hands on her hips. He kept his eyes locked on hers, like she once did with him, when he missed every clue she was laying out for him to follow— “You can look now, Priestess.” he turned her.



It was a cove. Just like ones she had told him she read about in her adventure books. “Azriel—” She looked back to him, his dimples out, his eyes–soft now, only on her.

“There are a set of stepping stones to the right. Easiest way to get down from what they tell me.” She was down them faster than these pesky winds. Winds that all but stopped once she reached the bottom, a natural shelter from them formed by the rock walls on either side. She spotted a small basket and blanket laid out to their left.

Gwyn waited at the base of the steps for him to reach her. When she whispered his name again in that way that sounded like half a prayer, half a wish he tucked it into himself. They stood before each other-boots safely on rocky sands.

“Do you like your prize?” He didn’t know what he was expecting. Snark? Tears? Laughter? He was expecting her to use her entire vocabulary to say something about everything when they finally made it over here. She dropped the pack and stepped into him, against him and then her arms were around him.

It was far too short of an embrace. His arms thrummed from the energy he felt from her. Her soft glow almost masked in the sunlight.

“I’m famished” She said as she pulled away, walking to the blanket.


She was in the sand, like a child. Her boots, socks tucked into them sat on two corners of their blanket. She was in another one of those bodice things and those evil leathers, he relaxed on his side, propped on his elbow, watching her. His shadows were busy collecting items for her to use, making a little pile of shells, sticks and other items they found. He had planned on apologizing for the necklace today, with a gift–but–this felt, just her and him. Them, the sand, the waves. This, this was happiness. She was happiness. His need to apologize could wait. He sighed knowing he had to keep them on schedule.


“Unfortunately we will need to head back soon, Priestess. Mercadier only makes so many trips a day. If we miss the next one, we will be stuck here until the late afternoon.”

She was busy decorating the Castle with the shells and sticks his shadows collected, here here— they kept saying as they plunked whatever they felt needed to be used into her hand– “That would be plain awful, Shadowsinger.” Though she had her head down, concentrating on her work, the lift of her cheeks gave her away.

“It would be. We would be late for our return to Windhaven.” She stilled. She stilled and he didn’t need his shadows to tell him she hadn’t thought about that male all day. That he was the only male on her mind, like she was the only female he was thinking about. He also didn’t need his shadows hissing at him for ruining their time with her. 

“You are right.” She began removing the shells, the sticks and worked on smoothing out the castle. His shadows joined her. 

“What are you doing?” He was brushing sand off himself. 

“Leaving it as I found it, silly." 

They worked together in silence to pack up the basket. He sadly watched as she slipped back into her tunic, slid into her socks and then boots. She handed him a pear when they reached the steps “I saved this for you from the picnic.” She quickly walked up the steps, back to the top of the ridge.





Brother Aiden was waiting for them by the rear of the building. A female retrieved the basket from them, Gwyn thanking her for the wonderful meal.

“Before you return to the mainland, there is someone that wishes to meet the Priestess.” He motioned them to walk through the Cloister, into the inner garden at the center of the building.

Gwyn only shrugged. “We have a few extra minutes.” He knew Mercadier would wait for them, at least for a few minutes. 


In the center of the garden, near a small spring stood an elegant female fae. Long white blonde hair, white eyebrows, eyelashes and skin that was almost transparent.

“This is Sister Decima.” Sister Decima had a coating on her eyes that made them appear like two clouds. Gwyn watched as she sniffed the air, reaching out her hands towards her.

“Girl–come to me.” The Fae’s hands closed in grasping motions. Gwyn did as she was told. The moment their hands met the female asked “You’ve copper hair and turquoise eyes?”

“Yes–yes, I do.” She looked to Azriel who only met her puzzling look with his own.

“You are from Sangravah, your sister? The twin?” Sister Decima was now running her fingers over her face.

“Catrin. She is no longer with us.” She quietly answered as Decima rested her hands on Gwyn’s shoulders.

“Aiden—this is the one Clotho wrote to inquire after. What a way the Mother works, do you not think, brother?” She chuckled.

“Indeed, indeed. Almost as if the Fates had their very hands in this.” He clapped his hands and rubbed them together.

“I made a promise to your Mother, Gwyneth. We have much to discuss. Come, take my hand.”

Chapter Text

Eris was growing bored of his visits to Hewn. The debauchery that he once enjoyed, participated in at times—it no longer served him. His wants or his needs. His proclivities may have varied over the centuries, but he never truly enjoyed the underlining cruelty of Hewn, or Keir’s courtiers.

“Keir, my father is not going to involve himself in a petty uprising amongst brutes” Eris knew this was a lie. He knew this was a lie and he knew time was running out.

“Your father is capable of running successful operations on more than one front, Eris.” Keir was correct. Beron still had an eye on Spring, he also had one of his feet firmly planted on the Continent seeking to gain all the alliances Brialynn had left behind.

“That may be true, but what does he care if a bunch of mongrels take each other out?” He wanted Keir to say it. To say that it would knowingly weaken the Night Court’s forces and he wanted to hear Keir admit that he was adding his father in this.

“Oh, I don’t know. Just for fun, one would guess?” His retinue of yes males laughing as Keir pulled a young pretty fae that looked far too similar to Mor for his comfort on his lap. The elder fae’s slightly deformed arm, thanks to an insult to Feyre— holding the female tightly against his body as his other hand disappeared under her dress.

Eris closed his eyes, resting his intertwined hands on his head.

“Word is that pretty little redheaded Valkyrie is up there. In Illyria. Living amongst them.” One of the useless courtiers whose name Eris has never bothered to learn offered this information. Eris locked down his expressions.

“Is that so?”

“She is involved with one of them.” He felt his heat moving to his hands.

Keir, now looking at him intently, said “After your public display at the mating ceremony, we figured you would be interested in knowing what she was up to. We all know you prefer not to bed females that are tainted.” More laughter.

Laughter he would make them all pay for.

Cassian and Nesta arrived at the river house just after breakfast. They landed late the night before, Nesta was exhausted and he needed to complete the report while the information was fresh in his mind.

“He amassed the weapons by raiding Misthaven’s armory. That’s how he hid Ironcrest’s involvement.” Cassian plopped the report on Rhysand’s desk and threw himself into his designated armchair. Nesta closed the door to the study behind them.

“Fucking Malcolm—-” Rhys seethed. Fucking Malcolm is right, Cassian thought to himself.

“She was able to get in there after all?” Rhys was looking at Nesta, who nodded as a proud smile grew on her face.

“She’s fucking good at what she does. Very good.” Cassian waited for his brother to read through the report—Gods, he hopes it is as Gwyn wanted it.

“Misthaven is that bad?” All they could do was nod in unison at Rhysand.

“Ironcrest has it out for them. According to what Gwyn learned, their allegiance to you during the War with Hybern, the years you spent under the mountain and their turning from clippings has pissed Malcolm and his ilk off.” Nesta couldn’t believe the conditions she saw when they landed before Rhys called them home. “I wasn’t expecting it to be so awful, Rhysand. It is mostly elders, females and children.”

They both watched as Rhys began making notations to the report. The energy in the room darkening for a few moments, and then settling down.

“If it makes you feel any better, Brother—She already has a proposal to address it. She said she will submit it when she returns.”

“I am shocked” All three laughed.

“Next order of business—How was he when he arrived?”

“He was good. Certainly not expecting her and Balthazar.” Rhys only gave Cassian an oh well expression that he met with his own it’s not right one.

“Cass, it is relatively new. And none of us were expecting Balthazar to be as ballsy as he was with his public display of affection for her in front of Azriel.” Nesta, sitting now, worked on her cuticles.

“He’s proud of himself. He won the most eligible female in Prythian as far as he is concerned. Let the kid have his moment.” Rhys shifted the pile of paperwork to the side, making room for his feet as he leaned back in his chair.

“I think it is cruel. Knowing all the feelings involved.” Nesta, never a fan of the Inner Court’s use of manipulation, had to make her position on this known. Gwyn was her sister and Azriel was her brother. She wanted them both happy.

Rhys simply ignored her, announcing “Next order of business–Autumn.”

Cassian huffed “What has he found out?” Azriel had promised him an update, an update that never happened when he arrived. 

“He was able to confirm that her grandfather is a high fae male in Autumn. But Gwyn already knew this—What was unknown until now is that the High Lady handed the child over to the Priestesses.”

“Oh shit.” This fell from Nesta’s mouth before she could stop herself.

“Exactly. Which could mean any of the sons or just someone closely associated with the Vanserra family.”

“Beron, Eris or Lucien could be her grandfather?” Nesta couldn’t believe the chances of this, but as she thought of Gwyn and her beauty—something that was undeniable when looking at both Eris and Lucien, she started to see the similarities. Then she thought of the one time she was in the same room as the Lady of Autumn. 

“It is a possibility.” Rhys picked invisible lint from is shirt. 

“What did Az say?” Nesta looked to her mate as she watched whatever internal struggle that was happening battle it out on his face.

“We have more than one concern when it comes to Autumn. Gwyn is just an added layer.”

Cassian rose, ready to return to the house of wind for the morning’s training. At this, Nesta stood as well– “You both will need to meet with Eris later this afternoon. I do not want this subject breached with him. He is not to know we are aware of Gwyn’s ties to his family.”

“Why?” It may have been the tone that Nesta used, she isn’t sure–she doesn’t care. She needs to know what her brother in law is thinking.

“Because I said so. But, I will give you this, Nesta. Out of my devotion to you for what you have done. If he knows we know, I fear for Gwyn. They have the right to claim her. Beron has the right to claim her.”

You’ve known.
I suspected, Cass. For a while.
This is why you asked for his first born at the Solstice ball—
I’ve been trying.

Eris was late. He was late and Cassian was annoyed. Thankful that the summer months offered a respite from his allergies, but he hated lateness.

“I hear the hounds.” Nesta pointed in the direction Eris appeared from. Two of the hounds making their way over, immediately nudging his mate to pet them. Which she did. Nesta, he found out, was a dog fae.

“You’re late.” Cassian has never seen Eris look so–so, disheveled?

“You need to pull her out of Illyria. Now.” Eris was breathing heavy, had frantic look about him.

“Who?” Nesta demanded as she crossed her arms.

“You know who, Archeron.”

“What do you know, Eris?” Cassian stepped into his space, the hounds growling in reply.

“My father has eyes up there. Keir seemed tickled pink that the redheaded Valkyrie is there, was under the assumption that after my public display at your mating ceremony I would want to know she had been tainted.”

“Why would you care about her being tainted, Eris?” Nesta, again asking the right questions.

“That is none of your concern, Archeron. She is your concern and as an ally I am relaying information about a member of your court that was specifically spoken about by less than honorable people.”

“She’s fine. She is the safest she will ever be, Eris. You let us worry about our Valkyrie.” Cassian leaned in. “Tell us what else you called this meeting for.”

“You cannot guarantee that. You cannot guarantee she is safe up there.”

“She is. She is with Azriel.” Eris picked up a softness in Nesta’s eyes that he had only seen from her when she looked at the big ugly brute she called her mate–he realized she knew more than he thought. Which meant they knew more than he thought. But, for once. . . for once in 500 years, he thanked the Mother for the Shadowsinger.

He began “My Father---" 

Chapter Text

Gwyn had never met a blind fae. She didn’t think they could exist. She had always believed that the power of the Mother could heal everything. She learned today that this was not the case.

“Old magic. The kind that cannot be undone without a price being paid. I made the decision to remain this way instead of causing further harm.”
Sister Decima stated as she motioned to her eyes, Gwyn supposed she sensed that would be the first question she would ask. 

“You were a High Priestess?”

“I was. I was.” Sister Decima carefully looped her arm into Gwyn’s and began walking along the path back into the Library. “If you are similar to your mother, it would not be bold on my part to believe that will be the first of a thousand questions.” They both laughed. 

Gwyn guessed she really was like her mother.

“Let us go inside to my private chambers and I will tell you what I know, from the beginning.” Brother Aiden came to Sister Decima’s side and guided her into the building while Gwyn waited for Azriel to catch up.

He came to stand before her, her pretty face struggling to contain the myriad of emotions he felt moving through her. “Tell me what you need, Priestess.” He placed his hands on her upper arms and slowly ran them up and down. He had watched Cass do this to her so many times. She had her hands on either side of his torso, just beneath his ribs.

“Stay with me, Shadowsinger.” He kissed her forehead, took her hand and followed the two fae into the building.




Brother Aiden helped Sister Decima to her rooms. They entered behind them, it was a sitting room with a fireplace, a small but comfortable looking armchair in a corner near a large window and a small rounded table with 4 seats in the center. Attached to this room were her bedchambers and a bathing chamber.

Decima sat in one of the chairs, patting the chair to her right for Gwyn. Azriel signaled to Brother Aiden that he needed to speak to him before he left them.

“I need you to go to the dock and tell the Captain we are running behind. Find out if it is possible if he can wait for us. Thank you.” Aiden quickly said yes and closed the door behind them.

He took the seat on the other side of Sister Decima, Gwyn’s eyes and eyebrows told him this was the wrong choice. He moved to the seat to her right and she waved him closer. He lifted the chair, moving as close as they could be. She then smiled, approvingly.

“Did you want to ask me questions or did you want me to start from the beginning?” Sister Decima asked as Azriel slid his hand onto Gwyn’s thigh to stop it from bouncing. She rested her hand over his.

“Maybe both? But, start from the beginning for now. Please.”

“You favor your mother, Gwyn? With the copper hair and freckles?” Sister Decima’s still pretty face lit while she seemed to have lost herself in the memories of Gwyn’s mother.

“I do. Fair skin, dark red hair, freckles. Catrin was the beautiful one.” Azriel made a small sound at this and Sister Decima’s stormy eyes fought to focus on him.

“Cerys had no idea how beautiful she was either, Shadowsinger. I imagine Gwyn is as endearing about it as her mother was.” The Sister ran her hands over the table.

“It drives us all mad, but my brother Cassian gets downright furious about it. Especially when Gwyn also claims that Catrin was the charming one.” He gave Gwyn a warning look not to argue. “There was no one in all of Prythian as charming as Gwyn and everyone who has met her knows this.”

The High Priestess only smiled broadly at this. “Describe Catrin to me, please.”

“Catrin had long black hair, and the same large eyes. Though a different eye color from me. She had no freckles, her skin was luminescent–like the moon. Webbed hands and feet. We were the same height, very similar build.”

Azriel now had confirmation that it was her sister he found on that day. Someone had purposely unearthed Catrin.

“Can you tell me when you first met my mother?” Gwyn was wringing her hands.

“About 9 years into Amarantha’s reign I was contacted by my dear friend about a child that needed to be taken out of Autumn. Your mother, Cerys, was believed to be anywhere between 11 to 13. She had lived within the confines of the Forest House for about ten years. Her first years I have very little knowledge outside of it being told it was difficult for her to remain with her mother’s kin because she favored her father’s side.” Gwyn had known most of this, it matched with what Catrin and she had been told.

Sister Decima continued “She was the most inquisitive fae as a child, highly intelligent and easy to love. Wild. In a way that indicated she was not meant for the temples.” Gwyn said she understood. She was describing both her sister and herself, but in one body.

Sister Decima paused– “I should go back a little—I apologize, the timeline is important to your story.”

There was a knock on the door and tea service was brought in. Sister Decima thanked the younger fae, who poured for everyone. Azriel fixed Gwyn’s tea and then his own. Sister Decima took hers as is.

“There are some High Priestesses who have, for many many centuries, used the temples for their own power, riches and glory. Some of these Priestesses had, and still have a goal of restoring what they believe is the rightful matriarchal power in Prythian.”

“We knew one like this. Ianthe. She worked with Hybern during the War. She is the reason Nesta and Elain were thrown into the Cauldron. Hybern had said something about her having a goal of a High Lordless Prythian” Sister Decima nodded as Azriel spoke.

“Ianthe was one of the worst, my son. She had spent years attempting to seduce High Lords. Thankfully she was never successful.” It wasn’t only High Lords she targeted, Azriel recalls her being such a creep he left early one night after she wouldn’t leave him alone.

“Successful how?” Gwyn asked, sipping her tea that was exactly as sweet as she preferred. She gave Azriel a little smile.

“In the way a coupling would be, Gwyn.” he caught a slight pink on Gwyn’s cheeks. “She never fell pregnant. Which means she was never able to produce the child she wanted—now, what I am about to tell you does not reflect on yourself, your sister or your mother’s worth. Cerys was born out of a relationship that was more than one night, Gwyn. There were true feelings.”

“I am not understanding what you are saying?” She grabbed Azriel’s hand.

“High Priestesses like Ianthe and others were seeking to produce off-spring through pairings. Children with powers, specifically female children with powers. Your grandmother early on was a part of this movement. Believing that it was as the Old Gods wanted. She went into Autumn, yes to seduce, but she ended up caring for your grandfather. And for your mother. Which is why we believe she went home, wherever that was for her, to have your mother. Something happened. We never found out exactly— first Cerys was hidden amongst distant Nymph relatives, but eventually she was given to the Lady of Autumn. In hindsight we think the original intent was to keep Cerys out of the hands of the temples. We know that is not what happened.”

Azriel’s shadows began to encircle Gwyn in a way he had only seen them do to him, a protective cloaking–for when he has heightened emotions, when he needs to release his power. He placed his hand on Gwyn’s back “Did you need a break, Gwyn?” He could feel the thrumming from her.

“I am alright, Azriel.” Her big eyes, looking into his and all he wanted was to take her away from all of this.

“Many involved in this undertaking had fled to the Continent when Amarantha came to power. Some stayed and continued with their plans. The early years of her reign she allowed the High Lords that did as she commanded to have freedom of movement, this allowed them to return to their courts—some temples were in the early stages of a— civil strife —, one could call it. Sangravah was one of them.” The Sister stopped, looked to the window in the room—his shadows spoke of her sadness—“We collected your mother shortly before some of the High Lords rebelled against Amarantha. The High Priestesses had pushed for this, using their human followers as messengers and go betweens with the continent. But those arrogant bitches were always working both sides. They were foolish in believing Amarantha had any inclination in power sharing. Amarantha promised she would appoint them to the positions of power when they feed her information about the rebellion, a rebellion they encouraged. She instead slaughtered the High Lords, in some cases their families. She had the human followers of the Priestess tortured and slaughtered, and then she appointed those that are the current High Lords.”

“Oh Gods” Was all Gwyn said.

“Of course. For a time, Priestesses like myself were in the majority since we did not flee under Amarantha’s reign. We had temples that were safer, places that Priestesses like Ianthe had not gained complete control over. We moved Cerys through these at first, some were very small and did not provide the safety we eventually found in Day at Sangravah.” Sister Decima sipped her tea, “Of course it helped that Lady Autumn had a friend in Day that did his best to take care of your mother.”

“Helion.” Azriel was sure it was the High Lord she is speaking of. And now his treatment of Gwyn made sense. He knew exactly who she was.

“You know him? What a character that one is. But yes, they are–well, let us say that they are what happens when two who the Mother put together, cannot be.” He felt her opaque eyes fall to him “He helped as much as he could while trapped under the mountain. Out of his love for her.”

Gwyn had the end of a braid in her hands, he watched as her facial expressions made connections “When the first rebellion failed, these Priestesses turned to Hybern? Making a new deal with him?”

“Yes–Gwyn. That is exactly what happened. And once this deal was in place, the temples needed to be cleansed of those like myself who stood in the way.”

“How were you driven out?” So much of this was unknown to the Night Court. So much information that they should have had. Azriel was angry. Angry that Gwyn and her sister had to live through any of this while himself and Cassian were trapped in Velaris. While Rhys was trapped under the mountain. 

“They turned to old magic—magic we had no weapons against. This gave them unmatched power against us.”

“When was the last time you saw my mother?”

“A year before your mother participated in the Great Rite was when we lost our control in Sangravah. It is how I ended up like this,” Motioning to her eyes “It is how the three temples holding the most power from the Cauldron were taken over by High Priestesses who were working with Hybern.” Sister Decima reached out for Gwyn’s hand “They took my sight. Separated me from your mother.”

“I am so sorry, Decima. I can only imagine what this was like for you. What did you promise my mother, you said you made her a promise.”

“Your mother knew they would, well—breed her. Your mother asked that if this happened, and if there was a child, that I try to find them one day. I did not know you were alive until Clotho wrote. We had been told there were no survivors at Sangravah, the attack happened so quickly after we were able to get back in— I am sorry, Gwyn.” The Sister wiped the tears that fell from her eyes. Gwyn murmured words of consolation to her.

“Do you know who my father is?” Azriel moved closer to her, he wrapped his arm around her back, resting his hand on her hip. She leaned into him.

“Gwyn—I am going to give you the information that we were able to learn once Amarantha was defeated, when we were able to send our Priestesses back into temples to retrieve the records we needed to protect the children. Your Mother had specific powers. Beyond the typical healing. She could summon. She had signs of fire power. She could winnow.”

Azriel knew winnowing was a sign of greater power for a fae.

“During the Rite your mother participated in, with the High Lords trapped under the mountain–Your mother was forced to use her power, with the old magic, to call a male from elsewhere. I do not know who they called out to, I do not know who answered the call.”

“What do you mean? What does she mean, Azriel?” panic—our priestess is feeling panic . He silently told them he sensed it too.

“It couldn’t have been a High Lord surrogate that participated?” Azriel knew others could step in.

“No- I will never forgive myself for not better protecting your mother—we should have tried harder to fight against the magic they used. And then to know that all those years later Hybern attacked the very temples these Priestess all but handed over to him.”

Gwyn put her face in her hands, leaning on the table. She stayed like this and allowed him to rub her back. She lifted her face and turned to him–“Oh Gods, Azriel—They slaughtered us on purpose. Hybern ordered us all killed because he knew there was a chance we were from these couplings. That is why they wanted the girls. He was afraid they were successful and we needed to die if he won because we would have been a threat to him and his power.” 

“I am so sorry I failed your mother, you and your sister, Gwyn.” Gwyn placed her hand on Sister Decima’s and as she did, her soft glow rose “There is nothing to forgive, Sister. You did as much as you could, for as long as you could. I can tell you cared for my mother and I thank you for that.”

Peace —his shadows whispered — Priestess gives her peace . Azriel could sense it himself. The Sister deeply sighed and then asked him  “How did you know Sangravah was being attacked, Shadowsinger?”

Azriel had to think about that night, what he could remember happening before. What his shadows told him– “My shadows alerted me. They woke me.” Gwyn was gently rubbing his lower back, under his wings. “Sangravah was the 2nd temple sacked for the foot. By that time we knew of Hybern’s brutality. Leaving no survivors, slaughtering the children.”

“Do you recall what they told you, your shadows?”

He did. He did, but had forgotten portions of that night as it got further away.  They said to save her. They said he needed to save her.

“I do not.”

“My father is actively involved in supporting whatever uprising is going to happen in Illyria. He is also making strides with Koschei. Gaining his trust and working his way into an alliance with him.” Eris was calmer now, collected. Nesta noted the change in him the second he found out Gwyn was with Azriel.

“What proof do you have of Beron taking an active role in Illyria? I can’t return with conjecture or guesses, Eris. That’s not how this works.” Cassian’s usual patience had grown thin.

“I know. I know. That— I am still working on. I suggest you send my brother up there.”

“Why Lucien?” Nesta, crossing her arms and leaning against a tree as if this was a sewing circle, had decided that she too would relax knowing Gwyn was the safest she could be.

“Because similar to your Shadowsinger, Lucien has a talent for ferreting out the facts. It is one of his many gifts.”

“Huh. I’ll give you that, Eris. Your brother is very good at obtaining information. Much like Azriel.” Cassian took note of Nesta and leaned his arm against the tree. They should all relax now.

“They may reveal themselves, thinking Lucien’s allegiance is to my father and not the Night Court.”

Cassian nodded, “Maybe. Maybe not. I will let Rhys decide.”

Azriel offered to give Gwyn and the Sister some time alone. Tales of her mother’s teen years drew giggles from Gwyn, giggles she deserved. She also told Gwyn stories of Clotho in her younger years, apparently she was as tough as nails then as she is now. He stood just outside the door, still open so that they could listen in. Gwyn then told her how her mother passed after a short illness and how Catrin took care of her until she was taken from her. A short time later Gwyn and the Sister made their way out of the room.

“Sister Decima, I will never be able to thank you properly. You may not have all the answers that I have been searching for, but you helped fill in some of the gaps that I did have. Thank you.” They embraced.

“Thank you, Shadowsinger, for allowing us the time together. Thank you for bringing her here. You have allowed a very old fae to finally be relieved of an extremely heavy burden.”

“I will do anything for Gwyn, Sister. It may be my greatest weakness.”

She knows—she knows — they whispered. He was fine with her knowing. It would give the old fae comfort that she earned. 

Together with Brother Aiden they walked out to the main road, Mercadieri had said he would wait for them and Azriel was eager to get into the air so that they would not be traveling at night.

Gwyn stopped—”Oh, how did you know it was me? Aside from Brother Aiden telling you there was a Priestess visiting today. How did you know?”

Sister Decima laughed “Brother Aiden loves two things more than the Mother, cheese and gossip. He knew I had been in correspondence with Clotho about a Priestess, and he described you. Which is the image I still hold in my heart of your beautiful mother. Then I scented you today—you smell so much like her and she was a blend of both her parents. Though your grandfather has uncanny scenting abilities, including being able to mask his scent, very good for hunting and catching his prey.”

“You know who my grandfather is?” Gwyn stopped in her tracks. She had never even thought to ask! 


“Of course, my child. It is Eris, the eldest son of Lady Autumn.”

His shadows laughing all the way to the dock at the irony of Gwyn being Eris’ granddaughter was not his favorite moment of the day. It changed nothing, it did not change how he felt for her. About her. He would still kill him, given the chance and if he followed through with his threat to claim her, he would kill him more than once.

He got her in the boat, sitting her in between his legs as they crossed back to the mainland. She was quiet. He would let her decide when she was ready to talk about it. They landed, he helped tie the boat and he lifted her out onto the dock.

“You alright, Priestess?” He lifted her face to him with his thumb on her chin.

“Uh-huh” Gwyn speaking in sounds was not what he was prepared for.

Once on the beach he told her “It is two hours later than we were scheduled to leave. We will be traveling in the dark for the last half of the trip home. I leave it up to you to decide whether we travel now or wait until the morning.”

She turned to him— “I want to go home. Can you please take me home?” She threw herself into his arms “Of course, Priestess. Let’s say our goodbyes and then I will take you home.” He ran his hands over her hair. He held her face like he did the final morning of the Blood Rite. Her eyes searching his, her melting into him. He winnowed them back to Innishiona. Arriving outside of the Hall.



“We should be in the air in less than a half an hour.” Gwyn nodded to him as she removed her flight leather from the pack, putting in the food Mavis gave her for later. Saying goodbye to new friends, friends that she truly liked was a new experience for her. But, she knew he understood her need to be in the air.

“You’ll not stay away for too long, Gwyn. I am expecting Azriel to bring you here to see us whenever you two have the time.” Mavis had her in an embrace before she could respond. She returned it. “Sinead will be peeved she wasn’t here to say goodbye.”

“How will everyone know I left then?”

Mavis and Brennus both let out hearty laughs. 

Brennus gave Azriel a knowing look. “Remember what I told you. There are bands out there that will take shots at you. IF that happens and you aren’t far from us, just turn around and come back. We will hunt them together.” They said goodbye in the same way they said hello.

She slipped her pack on. They would stop once, Azriel said, midway. Flying first, and then winnowing once it is too dark to do so.

“Ready, Priestess?”

“I am, Shadowsinger.” She put her arms around his neck and jumped up for him. Another laugh from Brennus as he said “She is a great catch, Shadowsinger.” and with that Azriel had them in the air.

She sang, hummed and chatted about absolutely nothing for the first hour of flight. The second hour was stories from her childhood. Which he was glad to learn was a happy one in spite of all they had learned. Her mother truly loved her and her sister.

There were storm clouds moving in from behind them, he spotted a clearing near the base of a mountain with a small brook and made his way there.

“Those clouds look angry, Shadowsinger.” She pointed to the sky with her thumb, he thought it was adorable that she gave clouds emotions.

“We should be able to eat and take care of our needs before they are over us. We can beat them.” He removed his flight leather to stretch his muscles. 

She returned from washing her hands and began setting out the food for them. He was resting himself against a tree, his wings relaxed as she sorted through the food. His shadows produced the pear she gave him earlier in the day. He took a smaller knife and cut it in two, handing her half.

She was sitting with her legs folded under her, biting into the pear--“I love pears. They are sweet and gritty at the same time. Sort of like you, Shadowsinger.” Flirt , she was flirting.

“I don’t think I have ever been compared to fruit before.” He felt a little bit of heat in his cheeks. How she did it, every time–

“Do you still like me even though you want to pummel my grandfather into the ground?” She handed him some bread and cheese.

“I still like you.” say it–say it–say it he hushed them. “Very much, Priestess. I still like you very much.”

It was her turn to blush. She handed him a water skin, and they ate quickly. The sun had begun to set, there were distant sounds of rolling thunder and the eerie bluish gray of lightning streaked across the sky to their left, the storm was moving faster than he anticipated.

“Can you winnow in a storm?” She asked as she packed up their food. He picked up a little tinge of fear in her voice.

“I can. We should be able to winnow closer to Windhaven as soon as you are ready.” He stood from his squat, slipping into his leathers as she slipped her pack on.

He watched her sniff the air. She moved. Faster than he had ever seen her move before. She was against him, her arms wrapped around his waist. “Hide us. There are strangers coming. Many.”

He did as he was told. 

Chapter Text

Nesta wanted to get to the bottom of Eris and the way he was behaving when it came to Gwyn.  Requesting to send his brother up there? Something didn’t make sense. She now knew it went beyond some weirdo ginger on ginger fetish thing. 

They landed on the lawn of the river house just before dinner. 

“Cass, you think the way he behaved in relation to Gwyn being with Azriel was odd?” She straightened herself out from the hours-long flight back from the border of Spring. 

“I dunno, males act all sorts of ways around her. She has that thing.” He shrugged his shoulders and then hit his Siphons, recalling his armor. 

Nesta grabbed his arm— “Whoa. Whoa, whoa, whoa–what thing?” 

Cassian, sensing trouble, made his way towards the house. If he got in there, Rhys would help him out. He called to his brother. 

“Cassian, WHAT thing?” Nesta was running alongside him. They made it to the door together, barreling into the entryway in time for Rhys to meet them. 

“You two are back! Wonderful!” Rhys was all phony smiles. 

“Oh, piss off- Rhys, I know when he reaches out to you for backup. Tell him to explain what he meant by ‘she has that thing’ about Gwyn.”

Feyre walked down the stairs, “What are we talking about?” 

“Cassian said Gwyn has ‘that thing’ and is not telling me what exactly that thing is.” The High Lady, one eyebrow up, looked at both her mate and her sister’s mate. “Both of you, explain what this ‘thing’ is when it comes to Gwyn. Now.” 

It was Elain, who had been sitting quietly with Lucien in the front room that offered “Gwyn has the Fae Next Door thing. Plus the Sexy Librarian thing.” She sipped her tea. “Come on, Nesta. You read those novels.” 

“And the ‘can kick your ass thing’ Males secretly love that.” Added Lucien, the couple nodding to each other in affirmation. 

“SEE? It isn’t just me, Nes! Your own sister sees it too.” Cassian pointed to Elain, giving her a smile that said thanks for the backup. 

Nesta crossed her arms. “You couldn’t just tell me that?” 

Feyre narrowed her eyes at Rhys— “Feyre darling, I already admitted to you privately that if it had not been you, it would have been Gwyn.” The High Lord pulled his mate into his arms, burying his face in her neck. Feyre only giggled in response. 

“There. I rest my case, Nes.” Cassian pointed at his brother as proof of him not being alone in this. 

Nesta rubbed her mate's arms, “You have a crush on Gwyn and I think that is adorable.” He pulled her in for a hug. 

“She’s adorable.” Cassian mumbled as they made their way into Rhys’ study. 

Nesta, Cassian and Rhys were joined by Lucien. 

“Sounds exactly like something my father would foolishly involve himself in.” Lucien paced as he spoke. 

“Unfortunately we cannot do anything until we are absolutely certain.” Rhys said as he walked around his desk. 

“What about sending Lucien up there?” Cassian looked to Lucien, who only lifted both his eyebrows and tilted his head at the suggestion. 

“I am waiting to hear from Az that they have safely made it back to Windhaven. He is bringing her home in less than five days. We can send Lucien up there as our Emissary, what have you–have her bring him to Misthaven for an evaluation.” Nesta nodded in agreement with Rhys’ plan. 

“They will believe you are there to tour the camps for Rhys, but you can get a look around and see if you spot anything suspicious.” Nesta was pacing in the opposite direction of Lucien. 

“That’s perfect, Nesta. As Emissary it wouldn’t be abnormal for me to be up there representing Rhys” Lucien sat in an armchair. 

“No, not at all.” Nesta, proud of herself, took a seat as well. 

“Great, good plan. Lucien, when can you leave?” Rhys was now sitting at his desk. 

“In two days? I have tickets to a show tomorrow night with Elain. I can leave the following morning?” He waited for Rhys to agree. 

“Perfect. Alright, it is dinner time. Let’s eat.” 

Cassian was the first out the door, Rhys following close behind. 

Nesta feigned tying her boot, grabbing Lucien before he could make his way out of the study. 

“Yes?” Lucien, who knew Nesta still disliked him–possibly hated him, looked her over with his mechanical eye. 

“What’s the deal with your brother and my best friend?” She had him in a corner. 

“I do not know what you are talking about.” She eyed him, Lucien eyed her. He crossed his arms, she crossed hers. 

“You do. And you are hiding something. Spill, or I tell my sister to stay away from you.” Cruel, she can be so cruel. 

He gave her a hard look, her powers grumbled—his eyes lit in answer–He sighed. Ran his hand through his long red hair “It isn’t my secret to tell, but I promise you he is no danger to her. It is quite the opposite.” 

“Tell me. She is my best friend, my sister. I love her dearly. You understand why. If she needs me, I need to know.” She backed off a little, allowing Lucien to step out of the corner she trapped him in. 

“Fine. I will tell you this, for now and you must say nothing. Repeat nothing—Gwyn has family. Outside of this Court, yourself, Emerie, Cassian–Gwyn is not alone.” 

Nesta only pursed her lips as they walked to the dining room, together. 

He pulled them deeper into the trees, hidden in his shadows. Her big eyes found his, and he understood everything she was saying with them. He nodded as she stealthily slid her pack off, placing it at the base of a large tree. She pointed to their right, she pulled her dagger from its sheath. He nodded, and sent a shadow to her. It wrapped around her neck, under her braids. He moved to their left, pulling Truth Teller. 

They would flank them, not engage unless absolutely necessary—it was a group of 5, using one of the caves as some sort of drop-off. Three Illyrians and what looked like two high fae, hard to tell from where-brown hair, he suspected they could be Autumn. 

His shadow reported that they were in a tree. High in one. She sees a wagon and they are unloading crates. There are 6 more, she says all high fae. Everyone is wearing Illyrian leathers. He thinks about where they are near and the shadow with her answers Misthaven is above, other side. 

They both watch as they bring the crates into the cave. 

The storm clouds are above them. It begins with big drops. Then the sky opens, sheets of rain fall. 

He watches as the 5 leave the cave. The Illyrians take off into the rain–his shadow reports that the wagon is leaving and she is climbing down. He is expecting her to walk back to him but he catches her making her way to the cave. 

Priestess says come—he winnows to the mouth, grabbing her from behind before she can enter the cave. 

She feels his hands on her and then she is pulled against him, hidden in his shadows behind an outcropping just to the side of the cave mouth. Her back against his front. His lips against her ear, he murmurs in his way “Priestess-there could be traps. Let my shadows go first.” She shivers, partly because she is soaking wet under her leathers, partly because of him. He only wraps his arms tighter around her, murmuring again “we will be home soon.” 

The shadows report that there are no traps, he releases her and they make their way into the cave. He enters first. She follows. 

Crates lining each side of the cave from floor to ceiling. She watches as he pops the lid of one of them, pulling out an arrow–sniffing it and quietly saying “Faebane”. 

“What can we do?” She keeps her voice low, knowing that some of these caves are connected–she does not want to chance them being heard. 

“I don’t know, Priestess. We can’t take these all with us. We will grab an arrow or two and return with Rhys to destroy them.” he is equally as quiet. 

“We cannot wait. We have to destroy them before we leave.” She watches as he takes in the number of crates. 

“No fire we would light would take care of all of them. Not with this dampness.” She can sense his frustration. 

She isn’t as prepared as she would like to be. She had quietly been working on it. On the fire. She takes a deep breath, walks to the center of one row of crates and places her hands on the bottom crate. 

“Gwyn–what are you doing? Come here.” He motions to her as he is walking towards the cave mouth. She only smiles at him as she lights the first crate on fire. She crosses to the other side and does the same. She then runs to him and he winnows them back to the tree line. 

There is smoke pouring from the cave now and all he knows is he just watched Gwyn set things on fire. He is watching her as she slides the pack back on. She is soaking wet, her hair is sticking to her smiling face and he wants to rip her clothes off. He crosses the small distance between them and stands before her, the temperature dropped–their breaths are mingling as they both breath out, in sync. Her eyes are daring him. All dare. He puts one hand on her hip, the other he places on the side of her neck, thumb under her jaw…he tilts her face to his and whispers over her skin “I want to kiss you, Gwyn. But if I do I am going to expect your lips to be mine and only mine. And until you are ready for that, and I don’t think you are yet–I won’t.” 

He winnows them to Windhaven, just outside the stone house that she currently calls home. 

Chapter Text

It had taken Gwyn a few minutes for her head to stop spinning when they arrived outside of the cabin in Windhaven last night. He didn’t leave her in the middle of the road like she thought he would. No, he kept his hands on her until she was steady, trying to cease her slight shiver from the rain and from his words —he only smirked and walked towards the house once she nodded in affirmation that she was okay. She looked around in case any of her nosy neighbors happened to be outside and realized she didn’t care.

It was going to be what it was going to be.

The sun had made its way under the curtains an hour ago. She had her own reports to write. It was a school day. She was hungry. She needed to get up. And if that meant facing him this morning, after what he said to her, so be it —She rolled over in bed. Tangled in her sheets as she thought about the tension between them as they danced around each other in what now feels like too small a cabin. And she-Gwyn, what would Catrin say to this? She covered her face with her hands, smiling at how cheeky she truly is—Once they were both in the cabin and had successfully scrounged for food, he announced he needed to contact Rhys and begin paperwork, walking to the bedroom Cassian and Nesta usually occupy and closing the door. She took that as her having bathing chamber privileges first, and by Gods, she enjoyed every second in that hot bath.

She also enjoyed the look on his face when it was his turn and he clearly noted the lingering scent of her arousal following her from the bathing chamber, up the small stairs to the loft area that had the bedrooms side by side. She could have masked it, but if he was going to tease her–well, turnabout is fair play and she is always up for a competition.

By midmorning Gwyn found she could not pay attention in class. A class she was in charge of, and the kids were amok due to this. Amok, amok, amok. She couldn’t blame them, her mind was wholly occupied by him. She was both relieved and disappointed to find he was already gone when she made her way down, but he did make breakfast and he left a little note.

Good Morning, Priestess-

I hope that you slept well. Heading to training. Rhys is coming tomorrow. I will catch you up later today.

Have a good day at school.

A


It was afternoon by the time she finally saw Balthazar. He was on his way to meetings for the High Lord. It was not, thankfully, as uncomfortable as she thought it would be. They had never discussed what they were, and he never pushed for more than the kissing they both seemed to enjoy. He put his arm around her shoulders as he walked her back to the cabin, Rhys had never added him to the wards past the front door. Balthazar knew this and never asked for it to be lifted for him. She liked this about him, that he understood there are boundaries that not only she needed respected, but that her family expected to be respected.

When he kissed her at the base of the stairs she didn’t open for him like she usually did. She held him in a sweet embrace, taking in his soft scent as he asked if everything was alright. She only nodded, saying “Court business” and he immediately let the conversation go. He told her he wouldn’t see her tonight, he needed to check on some of the outposts they had established around Windhaven and the closer camps.

“I will see you tomorrow, though. After the meetings with the High Lord.” She smiled at his smile. They only had a few more days before she went back to Velaris. Back to her real life. They still hadn’t worked out the details on her coming back and forth. She would worry about that later. She had dinner to worry about, and a night alone with him.

Azriel hadn’t been driven to pleasure himself like that in months. He did it to himself, and she did it—that minx, with her scent. Her arousal. She set him up to be surrounded by it in the bathing chamber, a mist of her clinging to the mirrors, the walls, every surface. He waited. Waited until his shadows said she was asleep, waited until they were too. And then he thought of her in the bath, pleasuring herself to thoughts of him. Covered in bubbles, sleek and wet. Her hair floating around her. Her nipples peeking out of the water, her long muscular legs spread as she touched herself with his name on her lips.

He left before she woke, leaving her a note. 


It was nice to be around Emerie again, he forgot how much he appreciated their shared views on Illyria. He also forgot how much she reminded him of Cassian at times, an unmatched physical strength only outdone by her insanely inappropriate sense of humor. He would have invited her over as a buffer but she made it very clear that Mor’s midweek visit was one that they looked forward to. Alone.

His afternoon meeting with Devlon, the Council and Balthazar went as smoothly as he expected. Sitting in the room with the male wasn’t as difficult as he thought it would be. They went over the borders of Windhaven, the smaller camps that they were now supporting as part of a program Devlon and Gwyn had worked on. He was shocked by how much that bastard seemed to like every one of her ideas. When it was just them, after the council and Balthazar left and he asked Devlon why he was so open to Gwyn’s ideas he was not expecting him to say that it was because even with what was done to her, she didn’t hate all Illyrians.


On his walk back to the cabin he went over the last few days. Did he mess up yesterday telling her he wanted to kiss her? His shadows told him no. In fact they said finally followed with a do it. Something about watching her set things on fire—He was so turned on. He never thought he would be, by fire? But it was her, so proud to show him what she could do. To reveal to him what she is capable of. That victorious smile she gave him. Rhys went ballistic with that information. He thought his brother was going to lose his mind. He had not told Rhys everything that had happened over the last two days. He was leaving the trip to the Library and the meeting with Sister Decima until they were face to face. It was too much information for him to relay and much of it belonged to Gwyn. He wanted her to be there when it was discussed.

But…..What the fuck was he going to do tonight? They would be alone. Alone and she knows he wants to kiss her because he told her he did. And he does. Desperately.


He was just walking up the stairs of the cabin when she opened the door. Leaning against the doorframe, in a sundress with an apron over it. Her hair is down and the sun is setting behind the cabin, she is bathed in the last amber rays coming through the large windows of the kitchen area near the back door. She is smiling at him and between her scent and whatever it is that she has cooking in there—Azriel thinks he could do this every night for the rest of however many days the Mother gives him.

“Hey, Shadowsinger. Hungry?” Her voice is that husky tone she has only for him and her smile is all mischief. He makes it across the porch and she doesn’t move. She is drying her hands on a dishtowel and looking into his eyes with that unmatched irreverence.

"I am, as you said yesterday–famished, Priestess.” She steps out of the doorway and lets him in.

The house smells wonderful. He notices the table is set for the two of them.

“Have I got time to clean up?” She nods as she opens a bottle of red wine.

“You’ve got 15 minutes before you spoil the temp on the meat.” She pours two glasses and hands him one. “Well? Go, Shadowsinger.” Her eyes yell at him.

He has never cleaned up so fast. He even winnowed from the bathing chamber to the bedroom. Changing his shirt twice–annoyed that he did not bring a nicer one. He runs his fingers through his hair at the mirror, checks his teeth and grabs one of the gifts he has for her. His shadows take it, they tell him he looks good. He thanks them.

Gods, why is he so nervous? It is Gwyn. He hears the kitchen timer go off as he opens the bedroom door.

“I am assessing how I am feeling.” I am feeling like I want Azriel to kiss me. “Letting it go.” breathing. breathing. breathing. “I am the rock against which the surf crashes” His mouth is ridiculous. Perfection, lips of perfection and he wants to use them on me? I need him to use them on me…please, thank you very much, Shadowsinger, I will take that kiss. Breathing, in through my nose, out through my mouth. I could spend an entire evening just on his neck and ears. And mouth.

*DING*

She puts on the oven mitts and pulls the roasting pan from the oven. Azriel seemed to really have enjoy the food at Nesta’s mating ceremony. So, she made some of it tonight for him. “Is that a rack of lamb, Priestess?” He was right behind her, looking over her shoulder. She nods yes. “It has to rest for a bit, but we can start with a salad?” They both walk to the table.

They discuss their day as they work their way through a simple lettuce and tomato salad. He had an easier one than she did, and on some level she suspects he enjoyed that the children were so unruly.

She clears the salad dishes and cuts the lamb, arranging it on a platter. He pours them another glass each as she brings over the side dishes. When she brings over the lamb, a perfect med-rare, his eyes light up.

“That looks amazing, Priestess.” She uncovers the two side dishes; Roasted beets with red onions, in a raspberry balsamic glaze topped with fresh goat cheese, and a crispy rice dish made with saffron, turmeric and yogurt–the key is trapping the steam. It was her favorite rice in Sangravah.

She makes him a plate and then makes her own. She sits back down and waits for him to begin eating. He is waiting for her to begin. “Azriel, please eat.” And he does. He lets out a sound that has her forcing her knees together– “This is wonderful, Gwyn. I cannot believe the flavors.” Her heart swells as she watches him eat what she made for him. “Did you know I love roasted beets? They are one of my favorites” She did know. “This rice? How did you make it so crispy?” She quickly explains the process and he seemed very, very impressed. “I’ve never had it like this before. We usually have a lot of potatoes. Especially at the river house dinners.” She knows he means the dinners mostly made by Elain. She avoided potatoes for that very reason.


He had no clue that Gwyn could cook like this. None. It may be the best meal he has in a long time. Maybe ever. He doesn't know if it is the spice combinations or, he shouldn’t call it magic after what happened–but it tastes like magic. Every time he pays her a compliment her eyes light up and she gives him a bashful smile, he feels like if he says anything else she will stop believing him. He ate an entire rack by himself. When she begins to clear the table he stops her.
“I’ll clean, Priestess. Sit. Enjoy your wine.” He is happy when she does and between himself and his shadows, the leftovers are put away and the dishes are done before she is even finished with her glass. He opens another bottle.


“That was one of the best meals of my life, Gwyn. Thank you.” Sitting back down her realizes he doesn't want this night to end. “I am glad you enjoyed it. I wanted to do something nice for you to thank you for being such a good friend the last few days.” She bites her lip as she folds her arms in front of her. She looks beautiful and so he tells her.

“You’re beautiful, Shadowsinger.” she murmurs to him and her freckles seem to darken as a flush spreads from her breasts to her ears. He feels his own ears heat.

“You didn’t tell Rhys what I learned about my family and myself.” It isn’t a question.

“No. I didn’t.” He watches as her long fingers play with the edging of the base on her glass.

“Why?”

“Because it is your story to tell or not tell. I would never take that from you.” her eyes shoot up to his.

“Thank you.” The intensity in her eyes a moment ago disappears.  

“I will need to tell him what the Priestesses were up to. I can try to do that without telling him about you.” She tilts her head at him, narrowing her eyes. He wonders if he said the wrong thing.

“Shadowsinger, what kind of friend would I be to you if I allowed you to put yourself in a position of compromise with the High Lord? Not a very good one, I am afraid. We can tell him together, since we learned the information together. Do you find that acceptable?”

He does. He also finds her refusal to allow him to omit information about her because of what it may do to him and his relationship with Rhys—admirable. “Of course.” He does not attempt to clarify his motives to her, his shadows tell him she understands.

“I heard some of the stories you told Decima about your sister. You two seemed like trouble.” Her toothy grin spread across her face, bringing her cheeks up to her eyes.

"You have me at a slight disadvantage because as you know, I am slightly mischievous now, Shadowsinger. But, back then it was all Catrin.” She laughs and his heart races at the sound. “I was often an unwitting accomplice, but—to be fair, she was responsible for me and after our mother died, she rarely left me alone. She was very protective.” 

“You must miss her.” He cannot imagine the pain she still carries. How it would feel to no longer have Rhys or Cassian, he doesn’t know if he could manage it.

“I do. Terribly. I will always miss her.” She sips her wine and then slips her hand into her hair, wrapping a good grouping of the strands sitting just behind her ear around her fingers as she twirls them into a curl. “I find that I mourn her while also mourning whoever I was meant to be with her in this world. I suppose I will always have a melancholy in me, it has taken up the space that should have been for all those moments we will never have together. All the memories we never had a chance to make.” She takes a deep breath, and Azriel goes through his catalog of her eyes. He has seen anger and fear, wonderment and glee, mischief and amusement, he thinks he has seen love— but he does not recall seeing desolation. A desolation that he had thought he only knew, knew and learned to live with because no one could ever possibly understand. Yet here she is, the source of so much of the joy he has had since Solstice—he almost cannot bear it. He isn’t sure if it was him, or her–a combined want from the two of them, but he is standing and she is in his arms.


There is something about Azriel’s scent that Gwyn knows calms her in a way she has yet to understand. It is one of the reasons she has always been able to treat him as her equal instead of the big bad Shadowsinger Spymaster. Once in his arms, surrounded by him and his aroma—the tears that wanted to work their way out receded. She breathes him in. Burying her nose in his shirt, so close to his skin. His hands are in her hair again and if she could she would stay like this, forever.



Azriel explains, again–why kissing her now would be a scumbag move. His shadows huff and then proceed to try to push his hands out of her hair so that they can be in it. He isn’t sure how long they held each other, doesn’t matter–every time is getting to be too short, but she is pushing off him as she plants a kiss over his heart and announces there is still dessert.



She fills the kettle and puts it on the fire. He watches as she sets up the tea service, goes to the chiller and brings out a tray with ramekins on it. She gives him a sheepish smile as she places it on the counter—it is creme brulee and there is no way she hasn’t interrogated Cassian for his likes and dislikes. No one knows how much he enjoys creme brulee except for his brothers. She even has a berry compote. She worked on this hours before he got home. She was thinking of him in the same way he was thinking of her.

The kettle whistles and she pours it into the pot and brings the tray over. She then rubs her hands together–“Are you using your hands to carmelize, Priestess? That is something we should probably discuss.” She only giggles at him and does exactly that. The top is a lesson in perfect caramelization. She places one in front of him, with a side of compote and hands him a spoon. Which he takes, and immediately cracks the top, getting a perfect sized shard to sit on the cream underneath. He scoops it in his mouth and he can feel her eyes on him.

Gwyn sits across from him as he takes his first mouthful and all she can think is— Please don’t moan. Please don’t moan. Please don’t moan. If he does, she may attack him. His pesky shadows are sniffing her, traitors. He is done before she is on her 3rd spoonful. He genuinely looks happy. Sated.

“I had no idea you could cook like this, Berdara. Is there anything you can not master?”

She does have plans of mastering him, so no–there isn’t anything she will not master. But that is not what she says. Instead she replies with a safe “Thank you, Shadowsinger. It was the least I could do after the last two days.”

"I have something for you.” His shadows, perched behind him, produce a small wrapped package.

“For me?” She lifts her eyes to his and even though he can tell she knows what it is by the size and shape of it–he is still nervous. Nervous enough that his hands are trembling.

“Yes. For you.” He slides the package across the table and she takes it in her hands and begins to open it with the same regard she had with the paper Cassian’s gift came in.

“I wanted to get you something small, to show you that I am sincere in wanting to be the kind of friend you deserve. I will always regret how I made you feel. It wasn’t until you were gone that I understood you had become my truest friend.” There. He said it— good job, good job– he was glad they worked on saying this to her. They were right, they needed to practice it. She paused in her unwrapping, gently lifting just her eyes to his, but he can see how her cheeks rise again.

She returns to unwrapping and pulls the book out. “Are these the love poems of Imur? An illustrated copy?” She stood, he would say almost violently with excitement. Her chair falls over and she is clutching the book as if she will fight anyone who dares to come near it. His shadows straighten out her toppled chair and she sits back down.

“Shadowsinger” There is a sweetness in which she is admonishing him “—this must have cost you a fortune. There are only 5 known originals of this work.” He is captivated with how her fingers turn the pages, running her tips over the words and the illustrations as her pretty lips move while she silently reads the lines. She closes the book. Holding it against her chest. He is pulled into the gentle pools that are her eyes.

“I cannot accept this.” She shakes her head, but continues clutching the book as if it is a newborn.

“You can and you will.” His face must be sterner than he realizes because she gives him one of those smiles that tells him she is tickled he is angry.

“I will if you let me give you something in return. Something small. And you must accept it. No fighting me on it.” He narrows his eyes at her. This is some sort of trick, she is too smart for him.

“Against my better judgment and, may I add–the rules of gift giving, fine. I agree to your terms, Priestess.” He knows he is in for it because every part of her face lights up and that slight glow happens immediately. She carefully rewraps the book and leaves it on the table between them. She rises again, smoothing out her dress and walks to his side of the table. This has been one of the best nights of his life, he is so at ease, he is so satisfied that he isn’t expecting her to place her warm hand on his cheek, turning his face to hers as she bends over, just slightly and kisses him.

Chapter Text

“See you tomorrow, Shadowsinger.” That’s what she tossed at him, again as she made her way up the stairs.

Azriel is a little dumbfounded. More than a little, his shadows dance towards the stairs and back again, towards the stairs and back again. He brings his fingers up to his lips and finds himself trying to hold on to the sensation she has left all over them.

He has experienced a lot of kisses. From many different kinds of fae. The one Gwyn just gave him barely had tongues involved and he is all but destroyed. Heart racing, skin flushed. It was almost all lips, her perfect soft plump lips and that overbite. He thought she was giving him a peck, maybe something shy—tentative, nope. It was fucking hot and controlled, with her mouth on his, and then her lips kissing his lips–individually, together–Just the tip of her tongue fucking teasing his and she did bite his bottom lip. Just like he hoped she would. He had his hands on her breasts and a moan escaped her that made his cock jump. And here he is, with that painful throb in the cock only a good kiss can give.

Forget good. That, that was a great fucking kiss. He chuckles, to himself–to his shadows, Gwyn Berdera, Priestess and Valkyrie of the Night Court as all but decimated Azriel, the Shadowsinger and Spymaster of the Night Court with one kiss. He is left with a want and need of her in his mouth. He wants more. He wants more of her and her mouth.




Who she thinks she is, Gwyn is not entirely sure. She does know that she wishes Nesta was here. She also wishes that she did not have to live in this room for the rest of her life, or until Azriel goes far away—very far away—because she is having feelings about doing things to him, with him and if he comes anywhere near her—she is just going to have to barricade herself in. She shrugs as she begins formulating her plan in her head, which pieces to move in front of the door---She is being ridiculous. 

Breath, Gwyn. Breath.

What if he didn’t like it? Cauldron–what if she is an awful kisser? She replays it in her mind.



She gently places her left hand on his beautiful face, tilting it slightly up and towards her. She tucks her hair behind her ear–so it is not in the way. She bites her lip and he has a small smile on his mouth. She leans forward, she promised herself it will be a soft sweet quick peck–but something happens when her lips touch his. And it is not a peck, at all--and she is kissing him more than once, and he pulled her into his lap. She keeps her hands on his face, exploring only his lips with her lips, warm and soft and strong, he tastes like berries and red wine, caramelized sugars and what she imagines sex tastes like. She slides just the tip of her tongue past his ridiculously strong lips and his meets hers, teasingly, little nibbles on his bottom lip follow and then they do it again. She’s making a sound as his hands are moving up her ribs, cupping her breasts–his thumbs running over her nipples, there is only a thin layer of fabric between his hands and her, a thin layer between her skin and his– he answers her sound and Gwyn isn’t ready for where this needs to go even if her entire back is arching into his touch. She ends it with peck. Stands. His hands slide down her body, he keeps them on her until she walks away.

He looks as devastated as she feels. Red swollen lips and a want for more than what this just was.



She walks to the small desk and places the book on it. He gave her one of 5 copies known to fae. She feels like her heart is fluttering, she closes her eyes and a picture of a hummingbird comes to mind. She rubs her thumbs over her collarbones, her knuckles on her sternum–she starts counting and her breathing exercises as she unties the top of her sundress, pulls it down her body and slips into a nightgown. She rests her cool hands on her cheeks, but they are so hot and it is feeling even harder for her to get air in through her nostrils.

She loves him. She is in love with Azriel.

She starts taking in air through her mouth and she is pulling it in as strong and as deep as it will go. She is feeling odd, there is a checkerboard pattern at her peripheral and she kind of feels like she is going to pass out. She laughs at how silly it will be when he finds her, probably with a head injury—maybe dead and he will think he killed her with a kiss. She laughs again, she thinks out loud, right before her head gets so light that her fingertips go numb—the door to the bedroom opens and his shadows are in before him.

He is shirtless and his hair is wet and slicked back. His one arm is around her and he places one of his hands over her heart and murmurs easy as he holds her. “Easy, Gwyn. Breathe.” His scent is here and he is here and she can. He is murmuring other things to her as he keeps his hand on her heart, pulling her closer to him, at her ear. Things like 'that was the best kiss of my life' and 'you have ruined me for every other female' Which seems only fair because he has ruined her, entirely.

When she wakes a few hours later, safely tucked in her bed–with that one shadow that likes to dance while she sings laying on the pillow next to her–she thinks maybe he could love her too.

Chapter Text

Cassian arrived at the cabin before breakfast, his booming Good Morning woke both Azriel and Gwyn from their deeper than usual slumbers.


Azriel made his way to the balcony railing first, leaning forward to nod a return greeting to his brother. She padded out of her room shortly after. His shadows darting towards her–“Good morning to you, Cassian.” she yawned out with her tousled hair framing her still sleepy face. She stretched both arms high in the air as if to take flight, little animalistic sounds and soft groans escaping her as she turned to him with a sweet smile, whispering “good morning to you, Shadowsinger” before she ducked back in her room. He rubbed at the warm spot on his chest while returning to his room.

He was dressed and downstairs before she was, “Rhys said you two had an adventure.” Cass handed him a steaming cup of coffee as Azriel sat to dig into breakfast.

“If she ever disappears, Mavis and Brennus’ would be the first place I would look.” Cassian laughed and Azriel took a sip before continuing. “Cass–she fucking set the crates on fire with her hands. I had no idea she was working on powers like that. I should have been told. Rhys should have been told.”

Cassian shrugged “I didn’t know myself. Nesta is a loyal friend and she loves Gwyn. Sometimes I think she loves her more than she loves me. If Gwyn asked her to keep her secret, shouldn’t we respect that?”

Whatever else they needed to discuss when it came to this would need to wait–Gwyn reappeared at the top of the stairs carrying a stack of reports in two hands as she managed her way down the stairs. “Here, Cass” she slid them onto the table, pulling her hair out of her face and securing it into a ponytail as she came up to her full height. “It is all in there. Including the trip to the library and what we learned.” She started walking towards the coffee pot and he knew he was staring– hair swaying–soft parts moving—she was in another set of leathers that Azriel had never seen before, these featured a top she appeared to have been sewn into. The neckline was low enough that there was no way he was going to be able to sit through meetings with her dressed like this. Not after that kiss. And certainly not after where his hands were.

She sat across from him. “Did you sleep well, Shadowsinger?” She leaned forward, just right.

“Yes, Priestess. I slept well. You?” His eyes dropped to exactly where she wanted them to go.

“I did. Had wonderful dreams too.” She took a sip of her coffee. “Cass, when is the High Lord due?”

“Soon. I believe he is hoping to see Emerie, yourself and the female trainees in action this morning.”

Gwyn stood then, grabbing a thin summer leather from the back of one of the chairs and patted herself down–counting her daggers. “Well–I shall be off then in order to prepare them. I certainly would not wish to be caught off guard when Mr. Night Sky Himself solidifies for a visit. See you in the ring, Cass?” His brother nodded as he laughed, Gwyn really did have the mind of a writer.

He watched as she slipped the leather on and made her way to the front door “I will see you later, Shadowsinger" the door shutting softly behind her.

Azriel knew his eyes were on her from the top of the stairs until she walked out and when he finally turned himself back to his coffee and eggs, he was met with Cassian staring at him, “Anything I should know about that isn’t in those reports, Brother?”

“Nope.” He didn’t bother with a mask.

Cassian narrowed his eyes at him “Did you two need a chaperone?”

Azriel had his shadows slide the full stack of Gwyn’s reports over. “We have work to focus on.”

“I will find out,” his brother said in a sing-song way as he started to flip through the pages of the top report titled Misthaven’s Youth.

“When is Rhys due again?” he would change the subject. Cassian only laughed.

“Lucien is coming with him.” his brother was thumbing through another report as he divided the stack for the two of them.

“Lucien? What the hell is he coming up here for?” They better not expect him to be the one to escort him around.

“To investigate his father’s involvement up here.” Cassian plopped a stack of Gwyn’s reports in front of Azriel and said “Here. These will keep your mind off her in those leathers.”

Azriel only narrowed his eyes at his brother, opened the first report and began reading.

Nothing would keep his mind off of her in those leathers.






The Female Training Rings and equipment were not the same as the Males. This was one of the differences that helped work Devlon on to their side. They were nearer to the newer homes, closer to Emerie’s shop. Gwyn had them build a long 3 sided roofed structure with a bench and some cubbies that keep equipment, provided a little shade and Gwyn’s favorite part—keeps them partially shielded from lurkers and unnecessary onlookers.

Thirty minutes into training The High Lord did just appear. Along with that handsome red-headed mate of Elain’s. Both dressed in leathers, both quite dashing in them she thinks to herself. The females were very curious about Lucien and Gwyn had to keep scolding them for being so distracted.
“He is like having a red-headed Azriel.” Emerie joked.
“He is very handsome. But, no one is as handsome as the Shadowsinger.” She blushed.
“Spoken like a favorite pupil.” Gwyn only shrugged.

At an hour in, they called the first break. Gwyn and Emerie made their way over to greet the males.

“Hello, High Lord. It is good to see you.” She is perfectly comfortable with calling him Rhys, but she finds calling him High Lord as if it is his first name provides the two of them with the right amount of professionalism considering where they are. Rhys laughs, knowing why she does it.

“You know Lucien, I believe you all met around the mating ceremony.”

Emerie nods and then begins wrapping her hands as she greets Lucien. “Yes, Hello, Lucien. It is a pleasure to see you again.”

“The pleasure is all mine, Fair Ladies.” Maybe it is the way she squints at him for this, but she thinks Lucien has a laugh as beautiful as his face. And that Elain may be a little crazy for not scooping him up immediately.

She gets a little lost in her thoughts about him being an absurdly handsome male, wondering if everyone in his family is as good-looking just as Cassian and Azriel arrive. Lucien and Emerie are discussing training, but all Gwyn can do is stare at Azriel as he walks towards them.

He glances her way and her stomach immediately drops—His shadows are dark and swarming, she senses the remnants of rage coming off him. Is he angry with her?

Cassian breaks from his brother and makes his way over to her, takes the finished hand from Emerie to inspect the wrapping. “Good job, Em–your wrapping is some of the best I’ve ever seen.” Emerie smiles “Thanks, Cass.” Emerie pretends she is concentrating on the wrapping while Cassian lowers his head to Gwyn, whispering “Don’t forget what I said in Velaris.” he drops her hand and walks into the ring, pairing the females off for sparring rounds.

Emerie glances over Gwyn’s shoulder “I forgot–I need to open early today. Have a big delivery coming.” Gwyn only smirks. “You are a terrible liar, Em. But I love you.” Emerie winks “Hope you find a partner willing to wrestle you in those leathers.” She walks away to bid goodbye to the High Lord and others.

The first groups spar as Cassian shouts pointers and tips. Azriel drifts over to her, putting his hands out and she lifts hers into his hands for inspection. They may be closer than they need to be, but sometimes it never feels close enough. His hands are as cold as his eyes when he lifts them to look into hers.

"Those reports are some of the best work I have ever read, Priestess.” He motions for her to flip her hands palms up as he checks her wrists, continuing to murmur, in his way–only to her “I am not happy about the risks you have been taking up here, Gwyn. But —you are exceptional at your job.”

“Do I get a prize for being exceptional at my job?” She keeps her tones hushed in return. Her knees almost give out when a low rumbling sound escapes him as his shadows surround them—“Oh, you deserve something.” he says as he begins pulling her daggers. Handing them to his shadows as he makes quick work of disarming her. He is unbuckling straps and running his hands under her small bandolier and she is arching her back so he can remove that too. Another low sound comes from him and she knows he can scent what he is doing to her. But he isn’t done, he bends over-palming her right inner thigh— lifting it to him as he unsheathes her longest dagger and then runs his hands down the rest of her legs until he has the ones she keeps in her boot out as well. He comes back up, the entire time his hands are on her, giving gentle little squeezes on what she would like to think may be his favorite spots as he continues to check for weapons.

“An entire fake pregnancy and due date that is really the month and week Malcolm is planning to launch the uprising? Using the midwives to run information? You basically created a countermovement because you have a crazy notion that Mothers may not want their sons to have to grow up in this kind of Illyria. You are fucking brilliant, Gwyn.”

Whatever icy rage he arrived in is now replaced with a heat even she is going to have a hard time recovering from.

“Thank you, Shadowsinger. I had a good teacher.” She didn’t realize her hands were still on his shoulders long after she no longer needed to hold on for stability. He slipped his hand around her waist and pulled her to him “I’m not done giving you lessons, Priestess. Get in the ring.”




She walks towards the weapons rack “No. No weapons. Hand to hand.”

“Have it your way, Shadowsinger.” She walked back towards the structure to remove her boots.

"You sure about this, Az? You hate hand to hand." Cassian eyes his brother.

“I was looking forward to seeing Gwyn’s staff techniques.” Rhys said to no one in particular.

“Aren’t you afraid of the size difference, Gwyn?” Genuine concern laced Lucien’s face.

“I am not afraid of the Shadowsinger. Or his size, Lucien.” She flipped her ponytail as she made her way into the ring.

"No wings, Shadowsinger." She pointed directly at him.

"I will try my best, Berdara. Can't fight nature." He shrugged as he removed his shirt, rolling his shoulders.

Gwyn ran through words to describe what seeing Azriel shirtless was doing to her. Transfixed was the one she settled on. She has spent nights, too many—wondering what the rest of those tattoos look like as they disappeared under his leathers. What the rest of him looks like too.

—Mother, bless you for creating a male this perfect.

They walked to the center of the ring. Her eyes were mapping out where her mouth would like to explore. She understands now, she thinks…what Nesta and Emerie meant by wingspan as she takes the rest of him in.

“Getting your fill, Berdara?” She didn’t care if she blushed. She was getting her fill.

“Feel you need to cheat in order to beat me, Shadowsinger?” She motioned to his upper body. All of it.

“You can make it even if you want?” His eyes moved up and down the light summer leather she was still wearing over her bodice, his one finger making a lifting motion.

She felt her entire face crinkle as he laughed at her reaction. She took her position and nodded. He did the same.

Cassian is called “Begin”.


After the Rite Azriel pushed for her to focus on hand to hand, he was angry at what he called his “failure to fully prepare her” for all possible types of combat. It was the first late night lesson on sparring when they found out they had a shared dislike for hand to hand. Her, for obvious reasons–him, not so obvious. This commonality relaxed them so much that it was less than 2 weeks in and he incorporated wrestling and grappling moves. Every lesson was more comfortable than the one before. Every step he would ask "Is this alright, Berdara?" when his hands would slide into places on her body so he could flip her or manipulate her into a hold.

She won a few times, she still thinks he let her.

The last few lessons ended with the two of them breathless, trying to look anywhere else but at each other. Then everything happened.


Azriel circled to her right as she rolled her shoulders. She brought her hands up and shuffled back when it looked like he was going to make his first move.

“Almost got you there, Berdara.” There was amusement in his eyes. Gods, she really was going to have a hard time not thinking about licking those swirls on his body.

“There is no almost, Shadowsinger.” She decided she would make it even. She unbuckled the top leather and tossed it out of the ring.

“There. Now we are even.” His eyes said they were not even. At all.

He tried to deliver the first blow, a right cross, he always attempted to use his arm length to his advantage…but she was keeping an eye on his feet and was able to move out of the way, getting in her first kick to his ribs as she did.

He followed up with a left hook, she blocked it–went in low and hit his ribs with a quick succession of body jabs–ducking out of his reach before he could get her in a hold. She did not have his size, or strength but she understood what multiple hits could do to a body.

“Nice, Berdara. Very nice.” He was now stalking towards her. He relaxed his arms, she knew what was coming next.

“Impressive, right?” She was on the balls of her feet and moving the entire time. Azriel and Cassian didn’t move as much as she did in the ring. Cass said fighting her was like trying to catch a chicken. Azriel always said her balance and speed were her best assets.

He kicked out and caught her in the hip, she recovered quickly but he was already in her space and landed more than one blow to her arms that she had protecting her head. She was able to push off him and had enough recovery to land a shin kick, followed with a quick knee kick. He landed two kicks and delivered a pretty mean jab to her chin. They both backed off.

“You're quick, Priestess.” He was panting.

“If you need it nice and slow just ask, Shadowsinger.” She could have sworn there were snickers from ring side.

He lunged for her, catching her in a body hold–she drove her thumb into the crook of his elbow causing him to open up the hold, driving her head into his chest as she locked her arms around his waist, stepping her right leg behind his left and using her momentum and weight to take him down.

He opened his wings as they landed with a thud and he let out a laugh as he quickly recovered, holding her body close to his and the next thing she knew, she was under him. Pinned. His thigh in between her legs. Her arms basically stuck to her sides. He was smiling down at her as he landed a fist on the ground next to her head. "You can get out of this, Berdara." He breathed into her ear as he shifted the bulk of his weight to rest on his other forearm.

They had worked on this. The panic. The freezing. She no longer did either, but she did have what he called a bad habit of squirming–He had yelled at her at their very last lesson a few nights before the ceremony. She didn’t fully understand why then…she did now. And so, she squirmed. She squirmed until she was able to get her one foot flat under her, and then she tried to buck up into a bridge. He let his body weight and legs tell her how silly she was as he maneuvered both his thighs in between her legs, forcing her leg straight as he did. He then placed one hand on her hip and using the heel— forced her hip back down to where he wanted it. He opened his wings fully. She was out of breath. He was out of breath. He closed his wings around them. He was looking down at her with a face she hadn’t seen before.

“You’re fucking beautiful, Gwyn.” He murmured.

"You're a dirty fighter, Azriel." She could not have tried to say this in a breather tone. But he was. Him, shirtless—on top of her with his wings open, enough of her bodice had rolled up on her abdomen so that his hot skin was touching hers–-the feel of that patch of dark hair just above his--unfair. All of it. She could fight dirty too–ideas ran through her mind. She moved her hands out as far as she could and flipped them upward, he sensed what she was about.

"If you were to even breathe on my wings right now, Berdara. . ." He closed his eyes and tucked in his chin, burying his face into her neck. There was no anger in his words, more of a plea. A simple truth of what she did to him. She could feel the release of weight to her left side. She quickly slid both her feet close to her hips and came back up in a full bridge, kicking one of her legs up as she did and flipped him off her.

They were both back on their feet as Cassian entered the ring.

The females surrounded her, clapping and speaking in whispers about how they wouldn’t mind sparring with the Shadowsinger if they would end up under him.  All she wanted to do was punch them in their stupid faces. But she just smiled and nodded as she walked to Cassian, hands out–-looking to be unwrapped.

Azriel was gone and so was Lucien.

Cassian pulled her to a quiet spot “You did great. He just fights dirty. He hates losing.” She was shaking.

“Did Balthazar arrive?” She was searching Cassian’s face as he held her hands in his to steady them.

“Rhys has him on some errand.” She let out a sigh of relief.

“What did Rhys say?” Was she overthinking this? Was she making it into more than it was?

“I say Az is a dirty fighter.” The High Lord walked over, handing  her a glass of water. “He will use every advantage he has against an opponent. Even one he thinks is beautiful."

"Oh Gods--you heard him?" If she wasn't beet red from wrestling, she was now.

"No, Gwyn.” He laughed. She said too much. “But I do know my brother.”

She thanked Rhys for the water as she drank it in one long gulp—wishing it was a whiskey.




Azriel was ordered to escort Lucien around. Rhys was in his head, telling him to get off her and take her UNCLE for a tour. So here he was, doing just that.

“Are all the camps like Windhaven?” They were inspecting new housing that was built for the widows and their children.

“No. Not even Windhaven is like Windhaven was 2 months ago. Some of this was Rhys, but then some of this is Gwyn’s influence.” He couldn’t believe all the things she was doing in those reports. And, how they had the wrong approach for centuries.

“Impressive. According to Feyre and Elain she is highly intelligent.” Two months ago Azriel would not have been able to stand being in this male’s presence, let alone hear him speak Elain’s name. Today he is having a hard time stopping himself from bragging about Gwyn.

“She is. She figured out the best way to make change was to involve the females, mothers in particular.” Azriel watched as Lucien took it all in.

“There is a school now too.” They began walking towards that building.

Lucien’s mechanical eye whirled and took him in. “What made Rhys send her up here?”

“You’d have to ask him.” Azriel slipped into his mask.

“Fair enough.” Lucien continued to examine him.

“Rhys wants us back at the cabin now, he adjusted the wards to allow you in. When we are done there, Cassian will accompany us to the other camps.” They began walking back towards the house.

“Before we are with the others,” Lucien stopped them in an empty clearing between the new homes and the town. “My brother is no threat to her. He would never harm her.”

His shadows spoke of sincerity–Azriel didn’t care. He fucking hated Eris. “You can tell your brother that I will personally destroy anyone that attempts to harm a single hair on her head.” His shadows swarmed, he expected Lucien to balk. He did not. His mechanical eye whirled as a smile came to the fox’s face.
“Interesting” is all he said.




Azriel chose to position himself in the corner of the living space. Arms crossed, leaning against the wall–he watched as Rhys, Cassian, Lucien and Gwyn sifted through the reports.

“You stand by your assessment that Lachlan has the numbers to take out Malcolm, Gwyn?” Rhys closed the file he had been reviewing. He relaxed into the worn red sofa with a scotch.

“I do. But not based on the numbers. He has the younger warriors backing him, there is a loyalty to him because of his actions after the Cauldron strike.” She looked to Cassian knowing his survival was due to Nesta and Nesta alone. “Him giving the males under his command the choice of continuing or the option to leave if they had wives and babes made a difference to them.”

Forgetting he was in a room of Illyrian males, Lucien asked “Gwyn, how is it that you were able to gather all this information? Illyrian males are notoriously gruff and unwilling to cooperate with others, correct?” He quickly followed with “Apologies. Present company excluded.”

“Lachlan was angry that Nesta, Emerie and myself were forced into the Rite.” Azriel watched as she pulled a folded piece of paper from a hidden pocket on her leathers. “He gave me this list, had his males make sure the names and their locations are correct.” She handed the paper to Rhys. Who opened it, read it and then held it out for his shadows.

“What’s this, Priestess?” He asked as he opened to see six names.

“Those are the males that entered Emerie’s. Lachlan’s group already took care of the two that stood guard.” She sipped her tea.

“Are you sure?” His shadows took the list.

“With certainty. I was able to locate them myself by scenting them on the children. Three were sent to Misthaven, I am assuming to hide and to move weapons. The other three are still in Ironcrest.” She sat back on the couch next to Rhys.

Rhys only nodded to him. An unspoken command.

“We can hit them before the Due Date.” Cassian was enjoying throwing this term around, Azriel was starting to believe his brother had a touch of baby fever.

“We can. We will.” Rhys said as he picked at lint “You’ve done an excellent job up here, Gwyn. I am almost sorry to recall you. But–I need you back home. Merrill may be brilliant. But she is unable to do what you do. Your analysis is vital to the Court.” 

“Thank you, Rhys. It means the world to me to know that I am a valued member of the Court.” She was beaming with well earned pride and Azriel found himself rubbing his chest at her smile. “Though I would like to be a part of whatever plans are made in regards to the uprising. I feel the Valkyries are ready.”

“I prefer they not be included.” Azriel thought this was more diplomatic than his No. Cassian grumbled–something about him asking for it. Rhys just stared at him.

“Your preference is note, Shadowsinger. But I do not recall needing your permission for my Unit to be involved.” She stood and made her way into the kitchen with her tea cup. Adding “I have been perfectly fine up here all this time. Sometimes alone in this house.”

“When it happens you and your Unit will be targeted. Specifically.” He stayed in his corner. Shadows darkening around him, the ice moving into his veins. “No one came near you here because the house is warded and because it is Windhaven.”

“And you won’t be specifically targeted?” She pointed at him. “Cassian won’t be?” She pointed to his brother. Walking back into the living area.

“Not with the same intentions. You insulted them by winning. Those that wanted you in there, to make you an example—to hurt or–” He would refuse to list off the other things that could have happened “They aren’t finished with you or the other Valkyries.” His voice was deep with an edge he had not heard from himself before.

“Good. Because I am not finished with them.” She marched back into the living area, right up to him in his corner. He could feel the heat off her, heat that met his ice and all but melted it. Every fucking time.

They stared at each other. They would continue this another time.

“On to the next topic.” Rhys picked up another file “Lucien–I’d like to formally introduce you to your niece, Gwyneth Berdara.”

“Holy shit” Cassian blurted out. “Wait till Nes finds out. She is going to lose her fucking mind.”

“Eris is your brother?” Azriel watched as she turned, walking over and pointing at Lucien. She began examining him.

Rhys handed the file to him “Though, you knew–” There was a tinge of anger in his tone “And I understand why you withheld the information, but, if there is more of an interest in Gwyn simply because your father thinks she belongs to his Court, we need to know this.”

Lucien took the file. His mechanical eye whirling at Gwyn as she circled him—Azriel’s shadows on alert, they liked when she stalked.

“Apologies, Rhys. I knew the minute I saw her face.” He offered Gwyn a slight smile “You look so much like our mother when she was young. I at first thought it may just be a distant relation–but your scent, your magic.”

Gwyn had returned to her spot near Rhys.

“When your brother showed up at Cassian’s Mating Ceremony?” Her hand was to her lips, she was threading information together.

“Unbeknownst to me, Gwyn, he came to see why our father was showing interest in the Redheaded Valkyrie. He was not expecting you. Neither of us were. We were told there were no survivors from Sangravah.” Lucien sat at the edge of his chair, leaning towards her. “I would be honored if you allowed me the opportunity to be a part of your life, Gwyn. In any way that you are comfortable.”

“I think you are darling, Lucien. So this will not be an issue.” It was her winsome smile, one that Azriel would prefer to belong solely to him.

“But–” The temperature in the room rose by at least a few degrees.

She’s heating the room, Az
I can feel it, Rhys

“I dislike your brother. Please excuse me. I have plans this afternoon.” She stood making her way to the stairs—she stopped at the foot of them, turning to the room. “You let him know that if he wants to be a part of my life, in any way, he needs to apologize to Azriel.” She took off up the stairs. Door closing behind her.

Rhys, Cassian and now Lucien all turned to look at him. In his corner. His arms still crossed, his shadows oscillating between attempting to look intimidating and dancing, whispering she likes us–priestess is ours. He raised his eyebrows in amusement as he shrugs his shoulders.

“She told me she defends her friends” Is all he says with a shrug. 

Chapter Text

Azriel and Cassian made their way to the yard behind the house. Rhys indicated that he and Lucien needed a private conversation. Azriel thought it could wait-whatever it was, he wanted to get them to the camps, get things done and get back here. To her.

Gwyn really took to Illyria, she had a firepit and furniture in the yard. There was a small garden with tomatoes, peppers, aubergines, cabbages and other greens. She had flowers growing in pots and containers along the dry stone walls. 

“I gotta say—That wasn’t really sparring, Az.” His brother lowered himself into a round chair that rocked back and forth.

As he expected, Cassian had something to say.

“Yeah? What was it?” Azriel sat in a comfortable lounge chair. Spreading his wings and kicking up his feet, he could live her. With her. 

“Looked a hell of a lot like foreplay to me.” Sometimes Az just wants to punch his brother. This is one of those times.

“Shut up. Don’t talk about her like that.” Cassian held his hand over his heart as if he is mortally wounded. Azriel laughed.

“You are still going to try to tell me nothing is happening between you two?” Cassian sees through him, he knows it.

“She is seeing that male.” He feels an intense urge to find that male and—

Gwyn was at the back door. Her hair is down, she has two braids sitting just above her ears tied together in the back. She comes down the three stairs into the yard holding the skirt of her dress. It is not a sundress, not revealing. It has soft floral patterns, flowing sleeves and a high collar.

“You look very pretty, Gwyn.” Cassian looks towards him “Doesn’t she Az?”

She knows she is more than pretty to him. He looks her up and down, a vision of him lifting that dress over her head and finding her only wearing a sweet pair of cotton panties underneath flashes through his mind. He swears she knows what he is thinking by the way she narrows her eyes at him and bites her lip.

She pulls some of her hair forward, twirling the strands around her fingers. “I will be back in the evening. In case you wanted to wait for me to eat dinner, Shadowsinger.” 

“Maybe, Priestess.” His shadows ripple towards her. Slipping in and out of her hair.

“Where are you off to, Gwyn?” Cassian has reclaimed his role of big brother.

“I am unsure. These are not my plans, Balthazar made them.” Her eyes were everywhere else but on him.

“Well, have a good time. Be safe.” She smiled at Cassian.

“Good luck at the camps.” She smiled at him. He returned a small one.

When she is back in the house, his brother looks at him—narrowing his eyes, he tries to lean forward to say something in the big round chair but it just rocks him back. He laughs as his brother lets out a growl. Cursing the chair under his breath. “You think this is funny?” He makes another attempt at getting out of the chair, this time kicking his legs out causing the back of the chair to lift up–almost expelling Cassian fully onto the ground. Azriel is laughing so hard that Rhys winnows into the yard to find him doubled over as Cassian is righting the chair with a string of curse flying from his mouth.

Whatever Cassian wanted to say would have to wait. 

Six Weeks Earlier
Widow’s Settlement west of Ironcrest.

Gwyn knew she was woefully unprepared the moment Balthazar touched down near a rocky outcrop on the ridge of the settlement. The despair enveloped her, causing her stomach to retch as her senses were overwhelmed with a barrage of sights, smells and sounds.

“I figured it would be best to land up. Give you time to acclimate.” He took a step back to allow her the needed space as she adjusted her pack.

“Thank you, Balthazar. I appreciate that.” She made her way down to what looked like a main road that ran from one end of the settlement to the other. It was lined with makeshift tents, cobbled together pieces of wood and stones. Along the ridges there were dugouts, with sheets in the doorways. There were no real structures, no running water, no sanitation. She could not believe that this is how the Illyrians treated the wives and mothers of their  warriors. Simply discarded.

“Are you the Priestess?” The voice was from just behind her to her right. She turned and found a slight Illyrian female, wings not yet clipped–but eyes that said she was old enough to have been if she was in a proper town.
“I am. My name is Gwyn.” The female offered no name, no expression.
“Follow me.”

Cassian had suggested moving about as the Priestess in some of the settlements, explaining that they may have little to no want to open up to a Valkyrie–but they will for someone representing the Mother. He was right. She and Balthazar followed the female off the main road and through a zigzagging path that had more makeshift hovels lining it. She could smell the scent of birth even before the girl stopped, pointing to the end of the path.
“In there. Ina is with her.”
Gwyn let Balthazar know he could return to the ridge and she entered the dugout.

It was stifling, dark and the smell of blood was now overpowering the one that comes with a babe. She had never met Ina, but Hellegond said she was one of them—and Gwyn had to trust in order to be trusted.

“Ina?” She called out as she moved deeper into the home.
“In here, child. Hurry. I need your help.”

Gwyn found mother and midwife in the back room–Ina was working on a newborn, rubbing the back—between the tiny wings as the mother continued to push.

“Hello, I am Gwyn.”

“The sibling is breech.” Ina explained.

Gwyn had attended 2 other births in Illyria. She had begun attending some of the births in Sangravah. There they used magic to turn babies when needed. She had no experience with a Breech delivery.

“You will need to follow my directions. Beginning with sitting on that stool.”
Ina used her chin to point to the stool right in front of the mother’s legs. Before Gwyn sat she asked the mother if she was comfortable with her touching her. From the chair she was half sitting/half laying in, the female only moaned “If it means you get this one out of me, absolutely.” She then sat and watched a little butt make its way out as the female continued to follow Ina’s directions.

“You are going to let momma do most of this on her own until we see the tops of their wings. You will only help straighten the legs and arms if needed, we never pull.”
She watched as the lower back and then the middle back were delivered.

“This is the beefy twin. If we are lucky the legs will just pop once Momma pushes” Ina continued to work on the first infant, having flipped the babe over and rubbing her softly glowing stone across his chest.

“Good job, Momma. You are doing amazing.” With a push the legs popped. They were long. Ina was right, this one was a large baby. Ina quickly fiddled with the cord, making sure it was not stuck. Handing Gwyn a small towel to keep the baby warm. All while still attending the smaller male child.

“We see the tops of their wings now. Those arms will need a little help. I want you to gently hold the babe with your thumbs over their little butt, your fingers around their little hips. Gently rotate the babe’s back towards me—just a little—-there, good girl. You are both doing so well. You will help the arm by gently running two fingers along it, flex it and straightening.” Gwyn did and the first arm was out. “Perfect, Priestess. Excellent job. Rotate in the other direction now.” Thank the Gods the other straightened on its own. The momma continued pushing when she needed to.
“Excellent. Look at you already supporting the babe with your arm under them. You are a natural, Priestess” Gwyn wanted to smile, but she could not, she was concentrating.
“Sometimes we can let mom do this all on her own, but her mate had a huge head. I know because he was breech as well. This babe needs our help.”
Gwyn heard a cry from the first babe Ina had been working on and felt an overwhelming need to cry herself. She watched as Ina laid the babe on his mother, with the mother immediately helping her son latch on. “It does wonders for the contractions.” Ina winked as she came to stand over Gwyn–
“We’ve got half the hairline showing, Priestess—work the hand you have holding the baby up to her face.” Gwyn nodded “Take your two fingers and slip them so that they are right on the sides of her nose.” Ina demonstrated with her own fingers on her own face. “I need you to put the middle finger of your other hand on the back of baby’s head–right in the center and rest your other fingers on baby’s shoulders. There, good job.”
Gwyn followed all of Ina’s directions as best she could. She watched Ina push gently right above the Mom’s pelvic bone as she said. “Priestess, you are going to stand now and as you do gently bring baby up with you till they look like they are doing a headstand.”
Gwyn did and out came baby’s head. Screaming.


Twins. A small male and beefy female. They delivered the placenta. Ina had her make sure it was all there while she made sure there was no extra healing needed. Gwyn had offered to use her stone, it would be the second time and Ina was more than happy to let her. 
"Ah, you see? The Mother works through you, Priestess. You have the gift." 

Ina was paid. In fabric. "I will end up making outfits for the babies with this. The High Lord has us on a stipend now. It started two weeks ago. You wouldn't know anything about that, would you?"

They came out of the cramped home and Gwyn was able to come to her full height. "You are a tall one.” Ina was eyeing her as they stepped fully into the sun. Gwyn had an appreciation now for this being the fresher air.

“I am.” Gwyn examined the Illyrian—she couldn’t always tell the ages of the males, the females though—their ages were so often found in their eyes. Ina was frail, but plump. Wiry hair and eyes that were more green than brown. Lighter skin, almost like Cassian’s. She had yet to meet anyone with skin as lovely as Azriel’s.

“Hellegond sings your praises. Claims you want to help make changes to Illyria. For the females.” Gwyn marked a slight limp on the older fae, she wasn’t so short as she was hunched over.
“With the females. With the Mothers, for their sons, for their daughters. For all Illyrians.” Gwyn stated as Ina continued to hobble towards the ridge.
Ina’s eyes twinkled “She’s the youngest of us. Just over 100 years as a midwife. But, she was trained by Shiprah. Who trained me.” Ina reached out her hand for Gwyn to support her as they walked up the ridge to Balthazar.

“What purpose do you believe we can serve, Priestess? We deliver babies and take care of females. We have no power outside of this. We are allowed to keep our wings only because they serve this purpose. So tell me, outside of this how will we be useful?

“I grew up in the Temples. Sangravah.” Gwyn found saying only the name was enough amongst the females in Illyria. She never needed to say more, this was a culture of saying less and still fully understanding. Ina squeezed her hand. “In Sangravah the Midwives always had the news. Always knew what was happening in the other temples. I suspect that is the same here, in Illyria.”

“You suspect correctly.”

“I believe we can benefit from this. With the ability to move freely and carry news, we can plant the seeds needed to change the conditions. Also, I assume you all keep logs. With documentation of who, when and where. You see more than others. You know more than others.”

Ina narrowed her eyes at Gwyn. “You are a sly one, Priestess. You make the argument appealing to the worst in me–my thirst for gossip and then the best in me–my want for a better Illyria. I will join you for this meeting.” She released Gwyn’s hand. “Balthazar, fly her to the location. I will meet you there.”

Gwyn watched as Ina spread her unclipped wings. Thinning now because of her age, but still a beauteous sight of purples with strands of reds and blues along the edging. She looked to Balthazar when Ina was in the air. “Do you think this can work?” She asked him, she needed a genuine answer from an Illyrian who was not Cassian. He never gave up hope for his people. Or someone like the Shadowsinger, who hated them.

“I watched you convince Devlon that a school was in his best interests because it would give him an edge against other camps. I think this can work, Gwyn.”



Camp Out Post
West of Moorstone
Eastern Coast of Steppes.



Cassian had landed with Nesta and was shortly due to return with Emerie. This would be the first official meeting they would have as the Valkyrie Unit in Illyria. They were expecting the 4 main Midwives, males from various camps. Balthazar would attend as an observer for the Court. Cassian as the General.

“You look good, Gwyn. Illyria suits you in a weird way.” Nesta tucked Gwyn’s stray strands out of her face as she looked her over. Gwyn was happy to find this location had a fresh well. She quickly washed up.

“Thank you. Busy is good for me.” They were somewhere between Windhaven and one of the outer camps. Further east on the Steppes. Closer to the ocean. She could smell the salt in the air.

“Did you want to know how he is?” She did. Even if there was a pain that traveled from her heart into her throat whenever she thought about him—she did. She just couldn’t bear to speak his name because it forced tears to her eyes. She gave Nesta a small nod.

“Miserable. He wrecked part of the pit the night you left. He sulked around the house for about a week after Cassian and Rhys laid into him.”
Gwyn held her hand up “Nes, maybe it is better for you not to tell me. I do not wish to know that he is experiencing pain of any kind.” Nesta put her arm around her, kissing her cheek, she said no more.

They entered a large, clean tent. There were rugs covering the dirt floor, a sitting area, a desk with maps and other plans and a table suitable for the number attending this meeting.

Cassian took the head, when Lachlan–the Second from Ironcrest arrived, he sat at the other head. She sat to Cassian’s left, while Nesta sat to his right. Emerie sat next to Nesta.

Gwyn began writing out her notes. Starting with those attending.

Midwives:
Shiprah, Head Midwife of Greater Illyria. Resides in Moorstone. Years in service: 782
Ina, Midwife to Ironcrest and surrounding settlements. Years in service: 603
Martha, Midwife to Misthaven and surrounding settlements. Years in service: 324
Hellegond, Midwife to Windhaven and surrounding settlements. Years in service: 107

Illyrians:
Lachlan 546 Second in Ironcrest.
Ean 354 Acting in Misthavan and surrounding settlements.
Aloysius 604 Lord of Moorstone.
Evander 130 Representing multiple break-off settlements and bands living in the mountains.

Night Court:
The General and best big brother in Night Court.
Nesta Lady of the Court and Valkyrie.
Gwyneth Berdara Priestess of the Court and Valkyrie
Emerie Lady of the Court and Valkyrie.
Balthazar Emissary to the Court.



Cassian began “We want to thank you for coming. We understand that this undertaking is something that could change the future of Illyria. We appreciate the risks you are all taking coming here.”

“What exactly is needed from us?” Evander, young and ready to fight, was the first to speak.

“Patience, first. We need to map out the goal based on the information we currently have. We have multiple issues; the Valkyries being forced into the Blood Rite, the weapons planted in the Blood Rite, me being forced into the Blood Rite. Someone in Illyria was helping that Queen and we have suspicions but still do not know for sure. Then we have this continued talk of uprising, the conditions many of the camps are allowing Widows and Children to live in and if we have outside enemies helping to cause unrest we need to know.”

“Thank you, General.” Lachlan introduced himself “This is what we know thus far: Malcolm is still pushing for an uprising. Ean, Evander–you have been instrumental in keeping me in the loop when it comes to the movements of those working with him in other locations, their movement of weapons. What we do not know is how he is securing them from outside of Illyria and who is funding him. Someone is helping him.”

“Do we know when he is planning to make his move?” Lord Aloysius sat in the middle of the table on the opposite side. Shiprah, the Midwife, sat next to him. Gwyn noted that the Lord of Moorstone was another undeniably handsome Illryian.

“We believe we do,” Martha motioned to herself and Hellegond “We attended a birth to a young female in the mountains near you” She pointed to Ean “The child is Malcolm’s.” She said this with what sounded like regret “The female claims he has promised that in the winter he will be with her.”

“What exactly did she say?” Cassian was taking his own notes. Gwyn watched as Hellegond took out her log book and read off statements she remembered from the birth.

“She declared him the father. And went on to say: He promised me that he would be here before the first snowfall. He said everything will be different then. That he was going to make big changes in Illyria.”

“All this tells me is that the old bastard can still get it up.” Ina, Gwyn now believed was a wicked only bat. “Sorry, Lachlan. You know I’ve always disliked him.” Lachlan only shrugged in agreement.

“Unfortunately it is true, Ina. That bastard can still get it up. And he is still attracting young females. This one he has set up nicely in those mountains. She is in a cabin. It is secured, plumbing, faelights. She has a servant. This is not your traditional mistress situation. She gave him a son. We all know Malcolm only has daughters.” Martha’s eyes softly rested on Lachlan.

Gwyn did not always understand the culture of Illyria, but she knew how to ask questions.

“Lachlan, why does it seem Malcolm is withholding information from you?” Gwyn was curious why there seemed to be distrust between the two if they were the Lord and his Second.

This question was met with a look of despondency, “His wife happens to be my sister.”

“I am sorry, Lachlan. No female deserves that.”

“It was not a love match. Never was.” He only shrugged.

“It would explain the distance. It has more to do with your familiar ties than if you are trusted to be a part of the uprising.”

“Yes.”

“And you are not married?”

“I am. But my wife spends as much time out of Ironcrest as she can. She currently lives in Velaris with our daughter.” Gwyn nodded and then Lachlan added “We have an arrangement. We are not mates. One could call it a political marriage.”

Evander and Ean began giving information on which bands were sympathetic to them and which they believed were running weapons for Malcolm. Gwyn followed as best she could but her mind kept wandering to the book series she had just finished. So refreshing after that awful one she was reading involving the love triangle. That poor Emissary had his heart broken all for a forbidden romance when the pair lacked chemistry completely. How are two people so different going to remain happy? That female needed sun and flowers, the male needed–well, that male needed a lot of things. A Healing Priestess being the first. Oh well…Can’t account for taste, she thought. But this new series was scandalous, with mated pairs and pregnancies and false marriages— She looked to Nesta, who looked to Emerie, who looked to her. — “Em, Nes--Due Mates!”

“The Mates On Wings Series? Nesta, you have not read book three yet?” Emerie’s hand went over her mouth as if she wanted to keep a secret.

“I did. I finished it two nights ago. Lent it to the house.”

“You three are NOT going to discuss smut books right now?” Cassian shook his head.

“The Drake series about the Lord who needs a wife quick to avoid political fallout and his housekeeper finds a young unwed pregnant female who he ends up falling in love with?” Martha elbowed Hellegond. “That’s the one I told you to read next.”

“I told you, Martha—I don’t have the breeding thing you have.” Hellegond rolled her eyes. Ean and Evander laughed.

“How sexy is this book?” Ina asked. Gwyn decided this old female needed to be her friend.

“Very if you are into pregnancy sex.” Emerie made the motion of having a baby belly, wiggling her eyebrows—very much like Cassian does.

“ Ladies ” Lord Aloysius said with a bit of mirth. “We have an uprising to thwart.”

Gwyn rose and began pacing. “We need to get Lachlan a mistress—preferably newly pregnant one.”

Lachlan raised his eyebrows “If I must have a pregnant mistress, please make her younger and prettier than Malcolm’s.” The table laughed.

“Gwyn, you cannot be serious. . .” Cassian rested his forehead in his hand.

“Don’t you see, Cass? A mistress gets him back in the inner circle. They are in the same boat, so to speak. We use the fake mistress and pregnancy as a way to communicate via the midwives.”

“Too bad we don’t know a real pregnant female. That would really sell it.” Emerie adjusted herself in her seat.

“If we want real—I’ve just the girl, she has been cast out by her family near Moorstone. Poor, rural. They have no connections outside of their small settlement. She is quite beautiful, Lachlan. Aloysius has a soft spot for her, she is the niece of a dear friend we lost in the Cauldron strike.” Shiprah reminded Gwyn of Merrill, but softer and even more beautiful and obviously kinder. She had streaks of pure white hair breaking up the blue black of the rest of her hair, with her striking hazel eyes–She may be the most elegant Illyrian female she has ever seen.

The Lord of Moorstone turned to Lachlan “She traveled with friends to see Starfall. She was attacked on the way back. Unfortunately her father is nowhere near the man our dear friend was. He and his mate refused her once they learned of the attack. The young girl showed up on Shiprah’s doorstep, hoping to end the predicament she was in but by then she was already into her 3rd month.” his nostrils flared, “Also, I can speak on her beauty. Both inside and out. I believe she was hoping to marry well and escape her father and his wife but this happened. I would be willing to finance her care if you would be willing to go through with this.”

“What is her name?” Lachlan seemed to be mulling it over.

“Kensa.” Answered the Lord.

“First?” Gwyn tilted her head, an interesting name she thought to herself.

“Yes. You know your languages, Priestess.” The Lord seemed impressed.

“Of course I do. I work in Rhysand’s Library—her name is Una now, Lachlan. She is your mistress. Una means one, Malcolm is one, you are two. It is perfect.”

“How did I meet her?”

“When and where did you last travel to?" Gwyn was doing the math in her head. 

“I attended a wedding around Starfall. Ironically, close to you, Aloysious. I traveled alone.”

“I do not think the timeline needs to be one hundred percent accurate. We can estimate, once we know when Malcolm is looking to make his move–that becomes the Due Date.”

Gwyn looked across the table to Ina “You are comfortable with this? Someone will need to spread the information and someone will have to see the pregnant young female with Lachlan. Can we make this happen?”

“Gwyn, my dear. . . I live for this very type of drama. I will do anything to participate in this so that I can go down in the history books as the greatest gossip Illyria has ever had.”

“There is a cabin near me, it is the one peak over from Misthaven. Facing Ramiel. You won’t have to worry about people poking around. There is a small camp there, our kind. She won’t be alone.” Ean looked to Evander, who nodded in agreement.

“I think this is a good idea. Gives you reason to be back and forth at times too, Lachlan. Get a little love time with your Mistress in the Mountains.” Evander and Ean laughed.

"Why are you two willing to assist us?” Gwyn pointed to Ean and Evander. It was Evander that spoke for them.

“Lachlan was our Commander during the war. When the Cauldron Strike happened, he immediately told us that if we were young and married with children or a child on the way, that he would say nothing if we left. Even though the war virtually ended within hours and none of us took him up on the offer, that it was even made--" He motioned to Ean "We love our females. Like our General loves his Mate. And we needed to get home to them.”

Gwyn caught Nesta’s momentary pout as she looked to her Mate.

“You?” She pointed to Lachlan.

“You are already aware of how I feel about what they did to you three and the Rite.” He pointed to the Valkyries “I also want a different Illyria. One where my daughter, whom I happen to adore, feels safe in. She does not have that now. And I want that to change.”

“And you, Lord?”

The handsome Illryian looked her in the eye and said “I am tired of having to live amongst males that mutilate their own flesh and blood. I enforce Rhysand’s laws in Moorstone and it has cost us, dearly, with reprisals and attacks. I want that to end.” He sat back in his chair, flexing his wings and asked Gwyn. “And you? You are an outsider. A Priestess and Valkyrie. You are obviously from Autumn, with a touch of something else—I cannot place it, but why? Why do you seek to make a difference?”

“Because I think Illyrians deserve better.”

Chapter Text

Dearest Catrin,

This is my second to last night in Illyria until Autumn. I shall return right before the rains for a short stay.

I have appointed one of the younger females as Teacher for the next few weeks. I will be coming twice a week, not the originally planned thrice. This works better for everyone. Though I have made huge improvements on with my fire magic, the winnowing is still me getting locked out of the house. I cannot get the distance right and I ruin it for myself by overthinking that I will be lost in some void forever. So, my brain only allows me on the opposite side of the wall. Thank goodness Emerie has a backup key.

This afternoon Balthazar took me for a lovely early supper at an inn. There was music and pretty good food. I have enjoyed his company very much. And as you know, with him being my first kiss, he will always hold a special place for me. We both entered this with no expectations, and I believe he understood that it would come to end when I was returning to Velaris.
I told him the truth. He was happy for me. Said he knew and that he understood. That he was pleased to have bragging rights about being my first kiss, even if all my other kisses would belong to someone else. We have parted as friends.

He arrived this week and has done his very best to make amends. We have spent time alone together. Talked, we still have not discussed the necklace. But we will. He was with me when I found out about our Grandfather and how Mom ended up at Sangravah. He was with me when I found out how Mom became pregnant with us. He did not allow me to get lost in my head, Cat.

He gave me a book of poetry. Love poems. I gave him a kiss.

Yes. I kissed him and it was wonderful. I do not wish to kiss another for as long as I live.

I am awaiting his return now. It is late. Even for him. I am assuming that they got caught up in one of the camps. I have a dinner prepared for when he does come home.

I miss you. Everyday. I live in memory of you.

Gwyn.

Chapter Text

Azriel found the contact Cassian gave him easily enough. His cabin was right where he said it would be, peak over from Misthaven–facing Ramiel. Ean, the Acting Lord of Misthaven who doesn’t live in Misthaven. He sharpened Truth Teller as the warrior approached.

“I didn’t see you earlier in the week when we stopped over.” He didn’t like the way Gwyn was treated in Misthaven. Trust–His shadows whispered– he would have to. He didn’t have to like it. But he would have to.

“I was disappointed we missed her. But we were on a job. You of all fae should understand that. And when she arrived not with Cassian, even though you are known—you cannot fault the way that others react.”

Azriel appreciated the male’s forthrightness. “Fair enough.” He sent the sharpening stone to the void, sheathed his blade.

“We would like to join you.” Ean said as Azriel’s shadows told him there were two more males approaching.

“I work alone.” He tapped his Siphons. –come—let them come–I prefer they not, he answered them.

“I understand, Shadowsinger. But we owe the Priestess.” The two other males arrived. “This is Evander. This is Dalziel.” The younger males nodded. Each had two siphons, which was impressive. They were equipped with bows and other weapons. It seems that no was never going to be taken as the answer.

There were a few hours left before sunset. With three others, he could be in and out. Back to her. His brother would have come with him if he didn’t need to get back to Velaris, Lucien–once he found out what was happening offered to join him. He refused. No need for an emissary in the mountains, is what he told him. But these three, they were warriors. Young, yes–but they each had a hunger in their eyes that Azriel recognized. Especially that want for vengeance. Whoever these three on that list were, it seemed as personal for them as it was for him.

“Fine.” He breathed out. When the one named Evander, the youngest of the three gave a jubilant “YES” with a fist pull–even his shadows chuckled. “But it is my way, my rules, my commands.”

“Yes, Shadowsinger.” They said in unison.

Eris didn’t hear his brother arrive in his suite at the Court of Nightmares. Lucien walked in, wearing Illyrian leathers and a look of exhaustion. He poured himself a drink before making his way over. Lucien sat and after drinking that drink in one gulp asked what he would prefer to hear first.

“Isn’t it all family drama now, Lucien?” Eris waved his hand in the air. 

“I suppose. But would you prefer Gwyn or Father?” Lucien pulled his leg onto his knee. 

“Gwyn.” 

“She knows. She knows who we are to her. She knows and she is willing to have a relationship with you under one condition.” He handed his brother his empty glass. Eris rose to refill it. 

“I imagine that condition involves a Shadowsinger?” He poured one for himself as well. 

“Yes.”

Eris sighed deeply. "What are her demands?" Handing his brother his drink, he now proceeded to down his own. 

"She wants you to apologize to the Shadowsinger." Eris spit out his drink. 

"For WHAT?" 

"She said--and I quote 'Everything'" Lucien watched his brother roll his eyes. 

"She's a fucking Vanserra, alright." Eris laughed. 

"You don't know the half of it." Lucien filled him of the rest. 

They would settle on a ridge alongside a part of the road that narrows just after a curve causing a natural ravine. There are two main encampments that Ean said they had been watching, both on opposite sides of the mountain. This road was the main road before it broke into two, and there was an uptick in cart traffic.

“See here? The tracks are heavier–the carts are heavier. We think they are establishing a base camp up there. Probably to be able to take us out from the top down.” Azriel was impressed with the way Ean and his unit seemed to be gathering information and acting only once their suspicions were confirmed. They were patient. Patience is good.

Dalziel offered to use a cart that he transported goods in as a roadblock.

“It’s what I do. Keep the deer population down, they call me for bears and other big game. If one of the beasts wander off Ramiel–they send for me.” Not an ounce of boasting, a matter of fact statement coming from a simple Illyrian that was good at what he does with a longbow.

“You should tell the High Lord. I’ve seen Dalziel hit his mark from over 400 meters. He is blessed by the Cauldron.” Ean smiled with pride for his friend.

“Why are you three so willing to do this? Aside from the Priestess being who she is.” Azriel did not want to get into his own need to do this for her. Or his want for vengeance for the Valkyries being kidnapped and forced into the Rite.

“Tobias is a piece of shit that put his hands on Evander’s sister when she refused his marriage proposal. She is fine now, her Mate gave him twice what he gave her. But she isn’t the only female he has roughed up.” Ean lifted his chin in Dalziel’s direction. “He’s got a sweetheart that Cormac won’t leave alone.” Dalziel only smiled as he returned from positioning the cart “And Seamus–”
Evander quietly finished for Ean “Seamus likes them younger than he should.” Azriel watched as Evander positioned himself, even his shadows were affected by what he said “It is a matter of principle. All my mother ever asked of me was to be a good male. Good males do not stand by and allow bad males to flourish.”

“And—It’s our mountain.” Ean motioned in all directions, the three males laughed and Azriel did too.





He sent his shadows up the road to keep watch—It was an hour from sunset. He pulled the sharpening stone and set to working on Truth Teller again. He went over his plans. What he would like to do to the three, even with these three here to witness it. He let his mind wander to her. What he wouldn’t give to be in that yard with her at sunset. Would she really wait for him to have dinner? She did look pretty in that dress. He should have told her so. He bets that male told her how pretty she looked. But she doesn’t cook dinners for that kid. She cooks for him. Because she is —his shadows alerted him to movement coming their way.


—more than three. That’s alright. We can handle more than three.
—carts. two– weapons. That’s ok. We can handle that. How many?
— –4 Illyrians 8 Fae. some on horse. Not a problem. How long?
—twenty minutes
Azriel was fine taking on those number. He wasn’t sure about these three. He signaled to the three males.

“It is two carts and horses. They are about twenty minutes up from here. Twelve males. Only four are Illyrians. Are you three sure you are going to be good with this?” All three nodded in the affirmative. “Good. Then we have to change our initial plans.”



Ean stood beside the cart. The wheel had been removed and left on the road. The furs and skins, along with a carcass or two were haphazardly tossed across the road. Dalziel’s top leather was torn and placed in a mud puddle. As the first cart entered the ravine Ean called out to them.

“Hello!” He waved and the first cart pulled to a stop. The driver called for the second cart to halt as well. Ean did not recognize the two in fae in the box of each cart—he did recognize Cormac and Seamus who were perched atop the first cart, with Tobias and an Illyrian named Callum perched on the second. 

He called up to them, nodding a greeting. “Cormac, Seamus–Did you see Dalziel along the road on your way up here?”

Dalziel loosed arrows in a rapid session. Taking out the driver of each cart, the fae next to them and hitting Cormac and Seamus before they could take off.

Azriel, who had Evander cross to the other side of the ravine to mirror him–hit the faes on the horses from behind. Tobias and Callum were able to get in the air, shooting at Ean with their siphons. He was clipped and ran into the tree line, returning hits with his siphons.

Azriel gave chase to the two in the air with Evander following. His shadows dispersed into the sky, closing in on Tobias and bringing him down to the ground in a cloud of darkness. Evander continued to give chase to Callum, flying past him and then diving at him with his siphons delivering blow after blow.

Back on the ground Ean and Dalziel were now engaged in combat with Seamus and Cormac. Seamus had pulled his Illyrian blade and Ean engaged with his, as Cormac and Delziel fought hand to hand.
Azriel landed—some of his shadows secured Tobias, he sent some back up to aid Evander as he pulled his blade and delivered two strikes to the wings of Cormac, shadow-walked to do the same with Seamus. He ordered the rest of his shadows to secure them just as Evander landed holding on to what remained of Callum, who was now dead—Evander all but slicing him in half midair.

It was dusk. The mist was rolling onto the mountain. Azriel wanted this done.

“You two–start moving the carts and bodies off the road. Evander, you are with me.” Ean and Dalziel nodded and got to work. 

Azriel and Evander lined up the three Illyrians and he had his shadows move them up the ridge, into the trees—where they could do this right.

“You three know why this is happening?” Azriel asked as Evander began circling them.

He was beginning to like this kid.

Tobias spit on the ground. “If this is about those whores, then yeah. We know what this is about.”

Evander delivered a slice with his blade to the talon on top of each of Tobias’ wings. He released a cry that carried into the trees as he fell to his knees weeping. “Let’s try that again, without speaking of the ladies that way.” Evander kicked out the knees of the other two, forcing them to kneel and returned to his stalking.

Azriel did like this kid.

There were questions that needed to be answered. He pulled Truth Teller–who he sharpened all day in anticipation.

“Evander–how comfortable are you with needless violence?” He asked as he approached Cormac, who was on the right of Seamus, with a still weeping Tobias to his left.

“When it comes to pieces of shit like these three?” He smiled as he cleaned and sheathed his blade. Pulling out two of his own daggers “Very, Shadowsinger. Very .” 

Azriel really fucking liked this kid. They got to work.

Each cart contained more crates of arrows laced in fae bane. But there were also crates of Illyrian leathers. Boots. Blades. Daggers. Maps of known locations of Widow encampments.

“What the fuck would they need the locations for?” An obviously exhausted Ean asked once they were back in his cabin. A neat home with a loft for his children to sleep in. His wife offered tea and food. He thanked her but turned her down.

“I don’t know.” Azriel didn’t have an answer because he didn’t know this was a question he should have asked.

They were able to find out that there is outside funding, funding and aid that replaced the Queen’s influence immediately. The Fae? All they know is that they show up with the crates. When Azriel inspected the bodies there were no identifying marks or clothing. They traveled in Illyrian leathers, and had the look of multiple Courts. For all he knows–they are from the Continent or Hybern.

He was preparing to leave when Evander followed him out of the cabin.

“Shadowsinger—thank you.” He was cleaning the remaining blood off his hands with a towel. 

“Do you feel better?” Azriel took in a deep breath and looked up to the bits of the night sky he could see through the trees.

“Yes and no.” He shrugged.

“Yeah. That doesn’t change.” Azriel chuckled.

They stood in a comfortable silence for a few minutes.

“You contact me if you ever want a job with the Night Court.” They nodded their goodbye and Azriel took off to Windhaven. To her. 





He stopped in a clearing to clean up a little before he would winnow the rest of the way. His shadows whispered—good…did good— He would winnow into that yard she made a home. It was late, she would be sleeping. He would go right into the bathing chamber, clean up, eat and go to bed.

When he stepped out of his shadows she was opening the backdoor, down the three steps and in his arms before he could tell her he was covered in blood. That pretty dress would be ruined.

She released him. Saying nothing she took his hand into hers and led him into the house. Helped him undress, a little, and showed him to the bathing chamber that was already prepared for him. How she knew how to time it, he didn’t know. She said nothing. She only spoke in tender touches and soft caresses. There were clothes laid out for him when he got to his room. And, when he was clean and dressed— he went downstairs to eat.
She was cleaned up too and in a set of green summer pajamas that looked like night court fashions.
She poured him a cold beer from the chiller and set a basket of bread and butter in front of him. She then brought over a pot, filled with the most delicious smelling chicken stew. She scooped some in a bowl for him, then herself. And they sat and ate in silence.
They cleaned up together. Neither saying anything. She made him peppermint tea, she had one too. They sat together on the red couch. He had his wings spread along the back–she was nestled against him reading one of those romance books. At some point in time he dozed off, walking when his head bobbed. She softly laughed, pulled him off the couch and led him up the stairs.

He walked to his door.
She walked to hers.
She opened her door and motioned for him to follow. He shook his head and she just smiled, crossed the hall to him, came up on her tiptoes and gave him a sweet kiss on his lips. He put his hands on her hips and gave her a gentle squeeze.

“Good night, Shadowsinger.” She whispered.

She went to her bed and he went to his. They both slept until the morning.

Chapter Text

“Are you sure about this, Em?” Gwyn seeks Emerie’s eyes in the mirror inside the very bedroom she was taken from so many months ago. The dress is beautiful. Buttery Illyrian leather in a red so deep she thought it was black. The back is open and it features a cutout in the front. She is not sure how she feels about her midriff being so—well, out there. She cannot help but wrap her arms around her body.

“Gods, Gwyn. Yes. I am a thousand percent sure about you and your body in this dress.” Emerie gently urges Gwyn to release her arms. Straightens out her shoulders, pulls some of her hair to the front.

“And this is what Illyrian females traditionally wear?” Gwyn knows her teal eyes are wider than the sea by the look of Emerie’s. 

“Yes. Females wear this when they come of age.” She takes herself in, and then looks Emerie over. 

“You look beautiful, Em.” She has always been beautiful to Gwyn, she is even more beautiful in love. And, in her traditional dress featuring more skin than she has ever seen from Emerie.“I anticipate Mor seeking to leave early with you.”

“Me? You look hot enough to set a wet cave on fire.” Gwyn snorted. There was a quick knock on the door with Nesta and Mor entering. Mor let out a whistle.

“That little Illyrian boy you are seeing may die when he gets a look at you, Gwyn” Mor gave Emerie a chaste kiss.

“Balthazar and I are no longer involved in a romantic way.” Gwyn fiddles with the skirt, self-conscious about having ended the first real relationship she has had with a male.

“Did something happen?” Nesta moved towards her, moving her hair out of her face to see her better.

“No. We have parted as friends.” Gwyn gives a slight shrug. Offering nothing else. But, it is Nesta that Gwyn knows can see everything she has not said. Nesta’s narrowing silver eyes that wait for Mor and Emerie to leave the living area. Nesta, who pulls out a chair, points to it and commands Gwyn to “Sit and tell me everything , Gwyn.”

And so, she tells Nesta. Everything. And when she is finished, Nesta has one question. “What are those lips like, Gwyn? I am not going to lie—Azriel’s mouth, well…” Gwyn, who senses the calming seas that are usually found in her own eyes, brewing a tempest at her sister’s teasing says—“You better not think about those lips, Nes. You have your own handsome Illyrian lips to think about.”

The children put on an adorable show. Lots of traditional dances and songs and some new ones, with a whole lot of giggling children. Her cheeks hurt from smiling, her hands hurt from clapping and her eyes sting from crying. From the front row of the makeshift theater set up in the meeting house, Gwyn takes in all that these children have accomplished in the short time she has been there. She will miss them, she will miss Illyria in a way she never thought she could just six short weeks ago. 

“Make a little speech, Gwyneth.” Devlon calls out as he waves her up to the front. “But make it quick–we have drinking to do.” 

She makes it quick. Thanking the mothers and fathers that entrusted her with their children. Thanking the children who showed up everyday and did their work. And thanking Devlon

“You may be ancient, and you may have referred to me as a witch when I first arrived. But you showed great leadership when you said yes to some of my ideas. The children of Windhaven are lucky to have a Lord that prioritizes education. A smart military is a winning one.”

She is quickly pulled into the wave of children waiting to hand her flowers and candies. She takes in the small crowd and finds him there. In the back. With Cassian. His eyes intensely on her, his shadows slinking under chairs and through legs to reach her. A cool caress touching her lower back as Emerie and Mor offer to take the small gifts and flowers for her “We are just gonna run these to the house, Gwyn.” Emerie, wiggles her eyebrows right before Mor winnows them off.

Some of the Mothers and younger females wait to thank her. She feels a little less ridiculous once she notices that many of the females are wearing dresses similar to her own. She is still slightly self-conscious as she takes in the beautiful array of golden browns and deep bronzes of of the Illyrians—her own pale speckled skin seems so out of place. Most of the females will not be joining them. They can only move so far, so fast in Illyria. When the meeting house has emptied she finally makes her way towards him to find he is closing the distance to her.

“I got here as soon as I could. I needed to clean up.” Cassian told her he was called away, she was happy he made it at all.
“I caught it from the song She’s our Teacher, Not a Witch , on.” They both laughed…his shadows gliding over her exposed skin, and their eyes met. His pupils are dilated and she wonders if hers are too.
“It had a great line about the color of your hair.” Both his eyes and hand move to her hair. His fingers mirror the movements of his shadows as they drift up her neck, into her hair— twirling strands around his fingers as he gently pulls all the way to the ends.

“Can you feel through them?” She asks while his shadows continue to skim across her back, tickling her.
“Yes, Priestess. I can.” He murmurs as he keeps his eyes on her hair.

“Is it to compensate for the loss of sensation in your hands?” She thinks about those hands and where she would like him to put them. His eyes shoot to hers.
“You are very smart, Priestess.” His lips twitch.
“I think you may like my brain.” She smiles up at him. They haven’t discussed the kiss. Though she senses he is trying to reestablish boundaries, he hasn’t closed her out.
“I may.” He is fighting a smile.

“We should go join the others.” If they stay here, she will try to kiss him again.
“Let’s not stay long.” His fingers are at the ends of her hair again. Gentle tugs that she feels all the way to her core.
“Whatever you want, Shadowsinger.” She flips her hair away from him.
“Whatever?” He lifts one eyebrow, a devious smile crosses his lips.




It is two hours later and Devlon, that bastard is really going to miss her. Being cornered by him as he drunkenly confessed that his first love was a Nymph he met when he was stationed on the coast was not something Azriel or his brother ever expected. “I knew the minute I saw those eyes that morning they beat the qualifier. You never forget eyes the color of the sea, Azriel. They stay with you. Forever.” It was a side to the old male that neither would ever reveal to anyone else. Cassian had two of the younger males help him home, he then made his way over to his mate and Gwyn, giggling to each other as they sat in a corner of the tent.

— young male comes to talk– this should be good, he answers.

“Good evening, Shadowsinger.” He nodded.
“Good evening, Balthazar.” He returned the nod.

“I don’t know if she said anything but, we have parted as friends.” He watched the young Illyrian take a sip from his stein. His hand shaking slightly.
“I am aware.” He wasn’t. She gave him peace last night when he returned. She took care of him. Asking no questions, reading his needs like he was one of those novels she buries her nose in. He wonders if it is the dress that made the young male come over to speak with him. That fucking dress.

Balthazar releases a breath filled with personal derision, a feeling Azriel recognized immediately—“I knew I never really stood a chance. When she first arrived, she was so sad and all I wanted to do was bring that smile back to her face. I worked hard at it.” He was looking Azriel dead in the eyes while he said this, he was also a little drunk—which apparently gave him courage. “But her smile—you know the one, right? Of course you do. That didn’t return until you were here. And I knew. Right then and there. I knew.”

Azriel only crossed his arms, he would allow this kid to confess.

“We never did anything.” He lifted his shaking beer to his mouth again. “I always respected her boundaries.”
Azriel breathed deeply as his shadows flexed behind his wings. –Concerned you will kill him. Good, he answered.
“Gwyn is her own female. She makes her own choices.” Azriel sipped his drink. “But I appreciate you being a gentlemale while she was here. She has spoken highly of you.”

“Thank you, Shadowsinger. I appreciate you saying that. I respect her. Immensely.”

Azriel noted the loss, the longing as he followed Balthazar’s eyes to Gwyn “I think she was glad  you were her first kiss, Balthazar.” He rested his hand on the young male’s shoulder, “Imagine the bragging rights you will have for centuries to come.” A look of relief landed on the young male’s face.

Azriel excused himself. Eyed his brother, signaling he was ready to leave as he walked to the corner where Cassian, Nesta and Gwyn sat.

They stepped out of the tent and into the moonlight and he isn’t sure how much longer he could take of her walking around in this dress. Nesta and Gwyn are just up ahead, still giggling over whatever it is they have been discussing. Emerie, already off with Mor—he’d have to wait to get even with her for this. For putting Gwyn in an Illyrian Mate Dress. The top barely containing those wonderful breasts. Breasts he still cannot believe he had in his hands. Her midriff exposed by diamond shaped cutouts similar to the dresses Mor favors, just a peek in the front—but her sides and her entire well toned back, with the exception of a few inches of leather that wrap under her arms and connect at the base of her neck is exposed. Right down to just above her equally well toned hips and ass. She is meant to have wings in this. It is only the long sheet of silken hair that gives her the coverage wings would have provided that stopped him from immediately taking her to the little stone house and begging her to change.

Every step she takes causes the dress to sway around her knees, her hair to give him peeks of her back—she is in a pair of boots that stop at her slender ankles—The shape of her legs, her hips, her arms, her hair—He would have fought all of Windhaven had one male dared approach her tonight.

“Did you hear me, Az?” Cassian elbows him and Azriel pulls his eyes from Gwyn to meet his brother’s. Chuckling, Cassian says “You’ve got it bad, Az.”

“I don’t know what you are talking about.” His brother only lifts one eyebrow.

“That’s fine. I know what I am talking about.” Cassian smirks “I am taking Nesta to my house for the night. We will see you two back in Velaris sometime tomorrow.”

Azriel nods and Cassian pulls Nesta into his arms.
“Guess I’ll see you tomorrow, Gwyn.” Nesta’s arms are around Cassian as she gives her sister a look filled with wicked mirth. The two haven’t stopped laughing all night. Azriel knows how much this means to Cassian, to him. Azriel also knows that it is Gwyn that draws the most laughter out of her. And him. They say a quick goodbye and watch as Cassian shoots into the sky.

They are left in the middle of the road.
He fights the urge to pull her to him.
It feels instinctual.
He has to control it.

“We should get you back before you freeze.” He motions towards the stone house and he hadn’t meant to sound–well, possessive —she begins to walk ahead of him again.
“Freeze ?” He sees amusement in her eyes as she looks over her shoulder, that hair rippling like his shadows “It is a pleasant summer night, Shadowsinger. I am quite warm.”

His shadows confirm her body temperature as they make their way under all her hair, moving against her skin. warm–sweet soft— She twirls to face him, walking backwards and as much as he enjoyed the view from behind, this view is even better. 

“Perhaps it is you that is cold , Shadowsinger?”

He chuckles, playful Gwyn is here.
“I do have powers that can keep a male warm.” She wiggles her fingers towards him and his chest feels her warmth. He gives in to the urge to pull her to him, closing the distance between them in two strides—she is in his arms, giggling like she was with Nesta. She straightens herself out, catching her breath and takes on a more serious tone as she looks at him.
“Hi, Shadowsinger.” She whispers as she rests her hands on his forearms. Those teal orbs glistening in the night. She’s been so happy here, of all places. Here. With Illyrians.
“Hello, Priestess.” He rests his hands on her hips. He allows his thumbs to brush the bare skin just above them. She leans her head against his chest, a small hum follows.
“Can I winnow us into the back garden? I would like to spend some time with you under the stars.”
Her hands move from his forearms to his ribs and then around him, he feels the slight nod as she murmurs “Yes. Yes, please.”

They don't immediately separate once they are in the little haven she has created. She keeps her arms around him, gently rubbing his back. He stays, hands on her hips and waits for her to be the one to let go. When she does, she kisses his chest. Right above his heart and moves to the fire pit. He watches as she gets the logs just right and lights the fire.

“Now you won’t have to write a report explaining why I froze to death on a warm summer night under your watch.”

She makes her way towards a bench, lifts the top and tosses small pillows his way. “Put them on Cassian’s lounge chair” It makes sense that it is Cassian’s. It is wide enough for him to spread his wings. Wide enough for two. She is walking towards him with a blanket.
“Did you want a scotch? I could do with a scotch.”
“I’ll get it.” Azriel makes his way to the house, “Anything else, Priestess?”
“No. Just the scotch.” She shakes the blanket out, holding two corners in her hands as she tosses it open and lays it across the chair. “And you.”

He feels his face heat at her sweet flirtations.

— touch–touch priestess I can’t, he explains. I can’t. Not yet. She deserves more. He takes off his leather, leaving himself in a light shirt and pants. He grabs two glasses and the bottle. He stops at the door, taking a few deep breaths. His shadows are swirling, he can feel their excitement—don’t be odd —not the odd ones. He chuckles and heads back outside.

She is on her side in the lounge chair. With the firelight dancing across her hair and in her eyes, and all he can think is she is breathtaking.
“There is enough room for the both of us, Shadowsinger. Cassian, Nesta and myself fit on this. Comfortably, I might add.” She is patting the empty space in front of her. Closer to the fire.

He pours her a drink first, hands it to her and then pours one for himself. Her boots are off and her long legs are crossed at the ankle where she is gently rubbing her feet together.  She leans on one arm and sips. He sits, and she is right–it is big enough for three. She pulls herself up for him, allowing him to open his wings so that he can rest them along the back of the chair. When she is sure he is comfortable, she makes herself comfortable again. He has his back against the chair, and she is lying just below him.

His shadows rest between them.

“What did you do while I was gone?” She plays with his shadows, swirling her fingers around them in the same way he finds himself playing with her hair.
“Spy stuff.” He teases “Not as good as your Illyrian spy stuff, though.” He watches a smile move across her pretty face.
“You are impressed with my work?” There is a sense of earnestness in her question.
“I told you once before, Priestess. I am very much impressed by you.” Their eyes meet and he hopes she knows he is being sincere.

He breaks the momentary silence that follows.

“Cassian said your main idea came from one of those novels you read.” He runs his fingers through her hair. There is magic in her, he knows this now because he has never felt such calmness.
“That is true, Shadowsinger.” She sipped her drink and pulled all her hair to one side for him. He wants all of that hair in his hand, wrapped around his wrist.

“It is close to the plot– not exactly the same, but similar.” She sits up, facing him. Her legs are criss-crossed in front of her and finally, he thinks to himself—he has waited days for this. For this Gwyn. The Gwyn that tells her story to him with her entire body. She is explaining that it is a three book series, with a different couple in each book. Her arms and hands, eyes and wiggling toes are all involved in this now. She leans forward, speaking in a low tone,
“Each male has something they call a kink .” He can’t tell if she is blushing or if it is too hot for her where she is sitting, but the word kink coming out of her sweet mouth has him thinking all kinds of things–she continues.
“I’m sure you know what that means. I didn’t when I first started reading this manner of book. Nesta had to explain it to me. Oh boy was that a mistake.” She brings her hand up to her forehead at the memory.

He would have paid to hear this conversation.

“And the male in this book has a specific kink?” He watches her begin to squirm, she is biting her lip but in the way one does when they want to laugh. 
“Yes. A breeding one.” She pulls a pillow and places it over her toned stomach. Motioning to it with a slight glimmer in her eyes. “That is when you like to get females pregnant or you like them already pregnant.”
“I am familiar with it, Priestess.” He cannot help but smile, he knows she is not ready for all the kinks he is familiar with.
“Nesta says everyone has kinks.” She plays with the fringe edging of the pillow. “I bet Cassian has a breeding kink.” It is said so innocently, so matter of factly that Azriel laughs. She laughs too. His stomach flutters, his heart does too.

“Did you miss me?” Much like her other questions, this one catches him off guard. She doesn’t look at him when she asks. And as much as he would have enjoyed teasing Gwyn about kinks, this feels more important.
“I did, Priestess.” He wants to say very much, but she knows.
“I missed you.” Gwyn’s eyes find his and he could swear a faint song is in the air.

“Are you happy to be going home?” He tugs at the pillow. 

“I am. As much as I have grown to love it here, I miss the library. I miss my research.”

“I must admit, I was not expecting you to enjoy being here as much as you do.” He pours more scotch into their glasses.

“I am as surprised as you are, Shadowsinger. When Rhys first offered this to me, so that I could—” She stops herself from saying it, so that she could get away from him.
There is still so much he needs to make up for.  

“I anticipated disliking it here. To dislike the Illyrians.” She maneuvers herself to her stomach, placing the pillow under her arms as she leans on it. This causes her breasts to press together and push up towards her wonderfully speckled clavicle. He is transfixed as she takes her long hair and tosses it down her back—the uncovered skin of her milky sides and back captures the faint oranges and yellows of the fire, the curves that lead to her perfect ass and length of her legs as she crosses her ankles, how did he ever think of another female once she was in his life?

She moves her face to his eyes, smiling she says “Eyes over here, Shadowsinger.”
He chuckles to himself—that authoritative tone she takes with him is something they are going to need to discuss.

He puts on a serious face.
“What made that change?” His voice is deeper, he scents her now–the sweet water and florals.

“I thought of Cassian, Rhys and you– How you three are good and honorable males. I figured it could not be that you were the only ones. It is statistically impossible. And once I was here, meeting males that would tell me that they were sorry for what happened to us in the Rite, that they felt those that did that to us should pay, I knew my supposition was correct.”

“You really feel that way about us? My brothers, me?” He greatly admired Gwyn, for her to feel the same towards him, even after what he did–he wasn’t sure he deserved it.
“I do.” She finished her drink and moved into a sitting position. “Although I do not view you in the way I do Cassian. Or Rhysand.”
“Oh? How do you view me?”
“Not like a brother.” It is spoken like a confession.
She stood, in one graceful movement. He reached out to her, for her hand and she gave it to him.
“When Clotho gave me the necklace, the box smelled of you. It also smelled of a female I did not know.” She released his hand and began to walk towards the pit. He watched as she took a poker to a log, moving it so that the fire would smolder. “I had no experience in these matters. I presumed that a gift such as that meant a return of affections. I did not know until later that it was first Elain’s. That you intended the gift for Elain and not for me. That it was with her that your affections laid.”

“Gwyn—if you let me explain.” He is standing now, moving towards her. His shadows tell him she is receptive so he continues.
“I did buy it for Elain. With Elain in mind. Because, as you now know, I had feelings for her.”

She wrapped her arms around her waist and continued to listen.

“I had convinced myself a mistake was made. That Nesta, Feyre–being given to my brothers, I felt overlooked, like I was being punished. They both found their mates, they were both gifted  them by the Cauldron. And I thought the third sister should have been given to me, that the Cauldron was wrong.” Her eyes dart towards him as he confesses he questioned his faith–like she did once.
“We almost kissed that Solstice night. Rhys caught us and put a stop to it. Things were said, I had ideas in my head that were not healthy. I was jealous of what my brothers had. Rhys and I fought. He forbade me to pursue her. Told me all the reasons I was not permitted to be with her and all I heard was that I was a piece of shit and not good enough. I hated myself. I felt rage. My icy rage, my heart felt cold.” He thinks back to that night and all he can feel is sick.

“All I wanted to do was go home, to the house of wind and hurt myself in that pit.”

They had begun circling the fire in opposite directions, but she was listening. She was listening to everything he said.
“You should know that my shadows alert me to anyone being in the pit when I approach. But not that night. That night they said nothing and there you were, practicing with your sword.” They stopped, just opposite of each other. The glow from the fire, the red of her hair and dress–the ivory of her skin, he had to do this right because he wanted all of her.

“You were so—You were charming and funny. You knew I liked to be alone. You called me out on my lie and then you teased me about it. You made me laugh. And even though you tried to kick me out” He earned a smile “You talked to me. You just talked to me like we were friends.”
“You were my friend.” He hears the hurt in her voice.
“I didn’t know it then. I didn’t deserve a friend like you then.” He began walking again, this time she waited for him. Her feet in the grass,
“I could have ended the conversation multiple times. Left you up there and for whatever reason, I didn’t. I–maybe we?” He motioned between the two of them as he came to stand before her “Maybe we both needed to stay.” He reached her.
“Then you asked if I sang, I was so caught off guard. No one ever asks me questions about myself. Not Mor, not Elain—You did though and you pushed for an answer.” She laughed as she looked down at her own hands, as if remembering what happened next.
“When I asked you to cut the ribbon, I thought you would leave. But you didn’t. You stayed and you showed me and you let me correct you. And then I watched as you corrected yourself in three tries. You had such skill, such determination.” She slipped a hand into his, lifting it to her lips and kissed it.
“Then you made that joke about Cassian and Nesta—I laughed, it felt so good. Then you smiled at me. You know you have a beautiful smile—all that ice, all that rage, that hatred, you melted it, Gwyn.” He kissed her hand.

“Elain returned the necklace the next day. I spent the day meaning to return it, and in hindsight I realize how stupid it was for me to give it to you. But, I wanted you to have something nice for how you made me feel. I wanted you to feel the joy you gave me. You gave me a gift that night.” That sensation in his chest returned, the one that thinking of her brings. 

A tear escaped her eye and Azriel wiped it away. He kept his hand on her cheek.

“I was torn between this idea that you possibly had feelings for me, and believing you left the necklace in a place for discarded things.” Another tear escaped, and more followed.
“When you told me that you thought I was using my powers on you, and that you were in love with Elain. When you told me to stop—” There was a sob that broke from Gwyn. A sob that tore his heart in two. He pulls her into his arms and she lets him.
“Please don’t cry. I never thought you were discarded, I thought you were safe. I was a fool, Gwyn. An idiot.” He wraps his arms around her shoulders as she buried her face in his chest.
“Yes. You were.” It was a muffled laugh with an affirming nod. And he deserved it.
“I am glad we can agree on this.” His shadows produce a handkerchief for her. She thanks them. She wraps her arms around his waist and he held her, his hands resting on her back, caressing her skin that is luxurious in a way that skin shouldn’t be. She sighs when he runs his hands down her spine, all the way to the curve and back up again.
“This is where your wings should be, Gwyn.” He murmurs as he stops his hands where they would be. "Of all the fae that should have them, it is you Gwyn. You deserve wings." She arches into his touch and he slowly moved his hands down her back again, taking in the supple softness of her perfectly snowy skin. He breaths her in, running his nose along her hairline and she lifts her lips to kiss his jawline.
“Priestess?”
“Yes, Shadowsinger?”
“Let’s go inside.”


Azriel made his way up the stairs to change as she set the kettle to a boil. When he returned in his sleepwear he made his way to the kitchen to make the tea. She poked her head out of the bathing chamber, finding him and the sounds of her bare feet padding across the tile floors made his shadows hum.

“Can you help me?” She is nervously pulling on her hair, which she now has in one long braid.

“What do you need help with?” He knows what she needs. He knows what he needs.

“In spite of my flexibility I cannot seem to get all the hooks and eyes to release.” She blushes and turns around, pointing to the top of her dress.

He moves forward and he can see she tried, she did try her best—but right in the very center are three hooks and eyes. All bent and jammed. He undoes them, one by one and the back of her dress falls open— This fucking supple leather— is all he can think as it does and he watches her quickly catch the front. She turns to him, lifting her eyes to his and before she can say thank you her face is in his hands and his mouth finds hers and they are kissing. But this kiss is deep, and her mouth is sweet and her tongue finds his and there are long strokes followed by short ones, tender bites to his bottom lip, his jaw, his neck. She meets everything he gives her and gives him more in return. Her hands are in his hair and he breathes her in deeply as they kiss—their arousals mingling, her sounds filling the air around him and he swallows each one. He moves his hands to her incredible ass–cups it and lifts her as she wraps her legs around his hips. She is pressed up against the one wall in the kitchen and she rocks her hips into his, he answers by rocking back into her. There is nothing but his sleep pants and whatever it is she had on under that dress between them–all he feels is heat, soft heat against his raging hard-on.

He cannot believe she is in his arms, he cannot believe his hands are caressing her. She arches towards him, pulling her arms out of the dress—the top falling in between them and she has her hands on his face again. Her mouth hovers over his. Breathing in his air. She is finding her rhythm against him, he is doing this with her, with his Gwyn. His Priestess. His Valkyrie. He wants to be with her. He dreams of holding her, kissing her, showing her how he feels. His body is screaming for her, his heart wants out of his chest and into hers.

“Touch me, Shadowsinger” she commands him in a voice so low and sultry that his hands move to where she wants them and he finds them filled with her breasts. He is kissing her neck and her clavicle and he swears she is singing to him—he hears her music, and his shadows sing back.

“You’re doing so well, Shadowsinger” she murmurs in his ear and Gods, she fucking turns him on. He listens to the change in her breathing as he slips one of her nipples into his mouth, suckling and running his teeth over it as she throws back her head and moans his name. He feels himself getting closer—it has been centuries since a female has had him this close, this fast and still clothed. She finds his mouth again and all he wants to do is make love to her. Not sex. Not satisfy his proclivities. He now understands what Rhys and Cassian meant by it feels different. This feels different and he is fucking terrified.

“Gwyn,” He hears his own need for her in his voice. Her beautiful face is all he sees as her glow, her soft radiant light that is only for him returns —“Gwyn .” He wants more than this. She deserves more than this. What he is feeling. For her. Only her—he grabs her hips and stills them.
“I can’t, Priestess.” Resting his forehead against hers, he moves to bring the front of her dress back up. She releases her legs and he can tell when her toes touch the tiles. He has his shadows bring him a throw blanket and he wraps it around her, secures her arms under it as he holds it shut. He watches as both disappointment and annoyance replace the beautiful sensual look she just had. He takes her in, her swollen red lips, the love bites he put on her neck and he knows he is doing the right thing.

He needs to control himself even if the palms of his hands are itching for her.

“Have I done something inappropriate, Shadowsinger?” There is such confusion in her eyes.

“No. Nothing you did was inappropriate. It felt—right. Too right. All of it.” His cock is throbbing. What the hell is wrong with him?

“Then why are we stopping?” She pushes off the wall and puts her back to him as she slips her arms back into the dress. She throws the blanket at him.
“Nevermind. I’m sorry.” She begins walking to the stairs and he quickly follows her, grabbing her hand and bringing her back to him.
“You just felt what you do to me. You know what you do to me, Gwyn.” She pushes out of his grip.

“Is it because I am not good enough for you? Because of what happened to me?” He sees them, the tears and smells her anger.

“No. No–Gwyn, no.” He can’t explain what he doesn’t fully understand and she is hurt and angry because he can’t.
“Then what is it?” She is holding back her tears and there is such pain across her face. She takes three quick steps up the stairs, he knows she wants the distance.

“Will you stop being mad at me if I tell you?” He walks up one step.

“Are you attempting to control my emotions again?” She walks up one step.

“No. I am not. I am—I am trying to be open and honest about my feelings. About the way I feel about you.” He walks up another step. She narrows her eyes at him.

“How do you feel about me?” She walks up another step. He breathes deep and releases.

“While you were gone I began seeing Akeso and she has helped me understand things about myself.” He walked up another step. She stayed on her step.

“And one of the things we worked on is how I felt, feel about you.” He made it up another step.
She crosses her arms, her top barely staying on, “Alright, Shadowsinger. I am listening.”

He is on the step just beneath her now. They are eye to eye. He puts his hands on her hips and she allows it.
“I am scared of what I feel for you. How I feel about you. What I want from you. How I want it from you. I need time. I need time to do this right.” He speaks this quietly but confidently. He kisses her, gently, on her lips.
“Will you give me that? That time?”


Gwyn is looking into the eyes of the most beautiful man on this planet and he is asking her for time, time so he can get things right. She was just kissing him. Riding him . A lot of him. He had his hands on her breasts and she was so close, so so close. She loves him. She loves him enough to give him whatever it is he asks for and if that is more time, then so be it. 

“We should discuss ground rules, Shadowsinger. You cannot get me all worked up like that again if we both are not ready.” She brushes his hair out of his eyes.
“Understood, Priestess.” He smiles up at her and he is unbelievably adorable.
“Come on, let’s go to bed.”
“Alright, but you keep your hands to yourself, Priestess. I am saving myself for a special night.”

Chapter Text

Velaris



Gwyn sits in her newly appointed office beneath the house of wind. She already has stacks, stacks of books, stacks of reports and none of them can keep her mind from drifting to him. It has been four weeks since she returned. Four weeks with less courting and more stolen moments alone, four weeks of him sending little notes via his shadows and them waiting patiently for her to answer. Four weeks of them both being so exhausted that Nesta had the house add black out curtains to the private library after finding them in the morning--tangled together on a couch or floor having fallen asleep while reading over reports.
There is a knock on her door and Nesta is leaning on the frame as it opens.

“Look at this big brain room Rhysand awarded his favorite researcher.” She flicks her name plate as she enters. Reminding Gwyn of a mischievous cat.
“I know. It is hard to believe I have achieved a similar level to Merrill.” She welcomes the break, the company. Illyria was filled with friends and children’s laughter, the Library is filled with solo work. She has only made it back twice, once with Cassian and once with Rhysand. The workload here is triple what it once was.
“Similar?” Nesta scoffs “You are so above that bitch.” Her sister makes herself comfortable in the chair before her desk. Gwyn asks the house for tea and  lunch and a tray appears.
“Nice pen.” Nesta points at the magic pen that Azriel gifted her.
“He worries that my hands will cramp.” It is similar to Clotho’s and she thinks he is very sweet for having thought of it.
“I bet” Nesta makes a perverted motion with her hand and Gwyn knows her ears have turned as red as the walls in the house above.
“Nesta, don’t be dirty.” She hands her sister a cup “You know how thoughtful he truly is.” She tucks her hair behind her ear as she smiles coyly at her sister.
“Mother Bless you, Gwyn. I do not know how either of you have such self control. It took Cassian and myself all of four weeks before-- Well, you know. Hold on to the headboard.” Gwyn banishes the image but laughs at Nesta’s retellings of their exploits.

“To be fair, you two were together everyday—and you are mates.” She sips her tea, and dips a biscuit. He likes to dip, even dipping his pastries in his tea.

“True.” She watches as Nesta places a couple of finger sandwiches on her plate and returns to her seat. Gwyn senses that Nesta is about to say something on a topic she is not ready to discuss, so she changes the subject.

“I am babysitting Nyx tonight.” This is a tactic Nesta hates, it is one she picked up from him.
“Fine—I will just say I think it is very sweet—whatever it is that is between you two, Gwyn.”
“Nesta—I know of the wager.” She watches as those silver eyes dance with both mirth and disappointment.
“Ugh! How?” Throwing her hands up in frustration, Nesta brings them to her thighs and waits.
“He is the Spymaster, Silly.”



A tendril arrives as Nesta leaves. A small note is produced from the void–

Priestess,

Rhys made an attempt to gain information today. I believe Nesta has been dispatched to do the same. I trust you will not falter.

The pot is at 175 gold coins.


Your Shadowsinger


The ink disappeared and she answered–


Shadowsinger,

Nesta has gained zero insight through her attempt. The High Lord should be ashamed of himself.

Tsk, tsk.

175? This is child’s play.

Your Priestess

That last night in Illyria they had established rules. Parameters being the word they settled on.

“Parameters is an excellent word, Shadowsinger. Let us go with that one.” His head is resting on her stomach, he has her shirt pulled up just enough for his cheek to be on her skin–her hands are in his inkwell hair. She loves the little curls at the ends. How they bounce in between her fingers. She loves the feel of his skin on hers, his breaths coasting over her.

“You will let me properly court you.” He lifts his head to look at her “But with kissing and some touching.” He adds. They both smile in agreement. He puts his head back down.

“We only court each other.” She knows this is easier for her than him.

“There is no other female I wish to spend time with, Berdara.” She feels her heart flutter like that humming bird again.

“How would you prefer we handle questions pertaining to us?” She knows how much he values his privacy. Nesta had told her he is notorious for having lovers no one ever knows of.

“I have always kept my private life away from the inner court. But I leave this as your decision.” He kisses her belly button.

“I do not wish to explain to others what is between us.” He moved up her body, his lips finding hers as he wrapped his arms around her. He shifts them to their sides, and in no time they have found the positions their bodies seemed to have been made for. He is thanking her for protecting him, his heart.

“There are some that may try to hurt you. They may try to hurt you because it will hurt me.” His shadows darken at this disclosure.
“Careful, Shadowsinger—that sounds very much like a declaration.” She laced her fingers through his.
“Do you need a declaration, Priestess?” There was a slight roll of his hips against her bottom. He got his point across.
“That is a demerit against you, Shadowsinger.” She wiggled enough to earn a growl.
“How many must I earn to receive a punishment, Priestess?” His voice was thick, dark.
“Achieve ten and maybe you’ll learn.” He bit her earlobe as he whispered for her to please behave.

They quietly spoke of other things, wishes and wants. He told her of his childhood, and let her kiss away his tears and when he was safely in her arms, his head resting over her heart, he softly requested “Tell me another story, Priestess. Like you did at Starfall.” And so she did.

She rolls in, having a stack of reports in her arms and needing to use her hip to open the door of the house library—her eyes find him first, but she is ever the professional and greets his brother before him.

“Hello, Rhys.” She drops the reports on the desk, keeping her hand on the top one.

“Shadowsinger.” She is in her robes and all he can think about is that two hour two reprieve three days ago and how easily those robes allowed him access to her breasts.

“Hello, Gwyn.” His brother is downright happy to see her.

“Priestess.” Azriel smiles to himself when it is clear she is thinking about the same reprieve by how red her ears are. Thank Gods for her Autumn Court ability to mask her scent.

“This is what we have on Bryaxis. The rest is all the other topics you have me researching.” She let out an adorable huff.

“Excellent. You really don’t mind about tonight? With Elain in Spring and us needing to be in two places tonight, we appreciate you jumping in.”
“I do not mind. You know how much I love younglings.” His shadows are rolling at her feet and fluffing the hem of her robes.

“They behave rather absurdly around you, Gwyn.” His brother rises from his chair to peer over the desk. His Shadows will most likely give them away in the end, when it happens—they will not know what to do with themselves.

“They do.” A two word reprimand meant for him as she narrows her eyes his way. He gives her a shrug, eyebrows high. He warned her they said they will behave however they please in the house with her, outside they will be professional.

“Tomorrow we will have a meeting to go over all of this. I will see you on the veranda at six?”

“Yes on the meeting, yes for six on the veranda.” She nods, bids them goodbye and makes her way back towards the library. She snickers as she dashes through the red hall knowing there is no way she is going to beat him to that door, and when she finds herself winnowed into his room—a place they had recently decided as no longer off-limits, she melts into his arms.

“I’ve caught you.” He murmurs into her hair. The scent of clouds and oaks cling to his armor. He must have been near Autumn.
“I let you.” She wraps her arms around his waist, pulling him to her.
“Babysitting tonight?” He kisses her, briefly.
“I am.” She bites the curve of his jaw and he presses into her.
“Did you want company?” He traces the lace edging of her robe with his finger.
“You’ll have to ask his parents.” She nips his lower lip. “They may not appreciate the idea of an unsavory male being alone with their babysitter.”
“I think they will be alright with it. I know them.” She laughs as he picks her up and tosses her on his bed. It is big, as he promised it would be. Tapping his siphons to recall his armor as she props herself against his very plush pillow collection, she watches as he removes his jacket and can feel the caress of his eyes as they roam over her.
“I have a meeting in Hewn. We will be back shortly after nine. Rhys will be meeting Feyre at the event afterwards.” He crawls his way over her, pulling up the skirt of her robe to her thighs as he pushes her legs apart with his knee.
“Shouldn’t you be preparing for Hewn?” He lowers his body onto hers, resting his head on her chest as he helps her pull her hair out from under her.
“I am preparing for Hewn.” He rests his hands on her ribs as he syncs their breathing. She runs her hands down his shoulders and under his wings. They lay together like this until she feels him release his muscles while he spreads her hair out across one of the pillows. Flattening it out with his palms, and then creating twirls and other shapes out of it with his fingertips. It feels like hours, but she knows it is most likely only minutes. Minutes that never feel enough. They have not crossed certain parameters yet, they have only explored so much. He doesn’t push and neither does she. He is gentle and kind and—he is loving with her. Patient and loving.


“I will be seeing your Grandfather.” She cannot help but giggle. “What? That is who he is. Your Pop Pop. Umpa. Granddaddy.” Her ribs vibrate as his deep voice is absorbed into her bones.
“Please don’t say Granddaddy.” He pokes her just above her hip, tickling her and forcing a chortle from her.

“Alright. No Granddaddy—we believe it is Beron running the weapons into Illyria, with the aid of the remaining Queens and Hybern forces. Tonight Rhys and I are going to press for answers.”

“Is there going to be another war?” She knows her brows are furrowed. 

He sighs deeply “We don’t know yet.” He lifts his head off her “Come here,” He pulls her down to him by her hip. Her hair is splayed out over her head. He smooths out the lines on her forehead with his gentle hand.  

“You are strong but pushy, Shadowsinger.” She fusses, for show. 

“You are lighter than most females, Priestess. Probably your bones.” He lowers his mouth to hers, kissing her thoroughly as his hand pulls her leg up and around his hip. He breaks the kiss “And I am not the pushy one.” This is a wicked lie he tells as he pushes his hips into her core. She feels his long hard length. His mouth is on her neck, nibbling and sucking–his hand is on her hip and he is driving her mad with his slow movements against her. She feels his hand slip down the curve of her ass, his fingers making their way to the edging of her panties.

“Do not initiate what we cannot complete, Shadowsinger.” She is breathless as he stills. She knows how wet she is and he will never make it to Hewn if she allows him to touch her. Lifting his head, his eyes—pupils blown, meeting hers.

“Can I touch the babysitter later?” He puts his mouth over her peaked nipple, soaking the fabric of her robe.
“Maybe the babysitter will touch you?” He pushes her arms above her head, not permitting her to touch him.
“How many demerits do I currently have?” His gaze is all heat as he nips at her breasts through her robe.
“I believe you have earned eight. You may have earned another just now for being so ill behaved.”
“I believe this is wrong, Priestess. I think I have earned ten.” He abruptly stops and pushes off the bed. Adjusting himself and recalling his armor.
“Oh? I doubt I am wrong. I have a list of your infractions.” She stands and begins smoothing herself out.
“This.” she points to the spot his mouth was on, it is transparent from his suckling. “Earns you another one. That is nine.”
“When I come back from Hewn, I am going for ten.” He kisses her as he winnows them to the doorway of the library under the house.

She dresses in some of her new normal female clothing to babysit Nyx. The week she returned Azriel managed an afternoon off for the two of them and they took a trip to Velaris. He refused to let her pay for anything, this caused some gossip. She was the topic of that gossip and this led to Rhys having to speak to a few of the Shop owners.
Gwyn was not expecting Azriel to tell her that the female who spread the gossip was one he had an on and off arrangement with for centuries. She did not take it well to him ending their arrangement, as he called it. Gwyn thought it had to be the server at the restaurant they dined in. That female, who had hair very close to her color, looked like she was going to poison her food. Azriel said that arrangement ended shortly after she had cut the ribbon. 

“Are there any places in Velaris where I will not find a female you have dated?” They sat on a bench overlooking the Sidra.
“I wouldn’t call these arrangements dating, Berdara.” He runs his fingers through his hair as he spreads his arms along the back of the bench.

“Oh. Was it just sex?” She finished the last of the lemon ice he wanted her to try. He was right. It was refreshing. She walks the cup to the trash receptacle.
“Yes. For me it was. And I was always very clear about that.” When she returned to him she sat on his lap to stop him from nervously bouncing his leg.
“Did you have sex with Elain?” Ah, the mask. Mr. Aloof is attempting to make an appearance.
“No.” The tone.
“Why not?” She would have none of this shutting her out.
“Is there no line of questioning that feels off limits to you?” She kisses him and his hands are quickly at her hips, adjusting her on his lap.
“I am only curious about you.” She brushes his hair out of his eyes and rubs her nose against his.
“Fine. There were only a few kisses exchanged between us. I couldn’t stop thinking about you. The few times we were alone after you were gone, I could not stop thinking about you.”

“You are just saying that to make me feel better about living in a city filled with your ex-lovers.” He pulls her even closer to him. Working his lips to just beneath her ear.
“Priestess, you invaded me. I dreamt of you. I thought of you when awake. Those females? I told them months ago that things were over because you occupied my every thought.”
“You did miss me.” She rested her head on his shoulder as he wrapped her tighter in his arms.
“Very much, Priestess. Very much.”

“There are enough bottles until I return.” She watches as Feyre finishes adding her jewelry. She is wearing a midnight blue gown that can only be described as decadent.
“You look adorable, by the way. I love you in these tights and shirt. That’s my favorite style.” She likes her outfit as well, a blue button down shirt with cream colored tights.
“You look beautiful.” Gwyn cannot imagine having as many gowns as the High Lady does.
“Thank you, but I would rather be you this evening.” The High Lady winks and Gwyn feels like they are sharing a private joke. She takes Gwyn’s hands into hers.
“I don’t have money in the pot, Gwyn. I feel I do not know you well enough to participate in the types of betting they do.”
“Thank you, High Lady.”

“Feyre.”
“Feyre.” Gwyn feels she has made a friend just then. Feyre gives her a moment to let this settle in.

“Nyx should sleep through the night once you get him down. If he does wake, you know what to do.” They leave the bedroom and make their way to the grand staircase.

“I do. Feed him, change him, keep him to his schedule. No lights after bedtime, only the moonlight through the windows.” She counts off with her fingers.

“If his uncle tries to keep him up you will need to be the grown fae. Azriel enjoys a fun baby, but he does not deal with a cranky one in the morning.” There is a squeal from the family room and they both know there is a baby being tossed playfully into the air by his father.

“I shall keep his uncle occupied should he need a plaything.” She slaps her hand over her lips. Maybe it was Feyre’s admission that she is not involved in the bet that allowed her to let down her guard, she is met with Feyre’s wide eyes mid stairs.

“ Gwyn! You are a minx. No wonder Azriel is so enamored.” She elbows her. 

“You really think so?” They have yet to make declarations, which Gywn is fine with.

“Yes. We all do. Which is why they have those bets on when you two will finally—you know” Feyre, who is not as perverted as her sister leaves it at that.

“Have sex?” They share wide smiles.

“Yes. Though I am in agreement with Nesta, I do not know how you do it. Azriel is just so— intense. And, even though I think Rhys is divine, there is no denying Azriel is the handsomest of the three.” The High Lady wrapped her arm around Gwyn’s waist as the made their way to little Nyx.
Gwyn had to agree—“Yes. He is. Both—both handsome and intense.”



As they waved their goodbyes from the front door of the river house, Gwyn thought about all the blessings that had come out of her tragedy. In a span of a few years she has gone from losing half her heart to gaining it again. She felt tears of joy making their way to her eyes as she looked at the son of the High Lord and Lady of Night Court.
“I guess it is me and you for the night, Master Nyx. What is the first thing you would like to do?” He answered her in a series of babbles and squeals and she agreed, it would be dinner first and then silly songs. Followed with a nice warm bath, a bottle and then a bedtime story.
“These plans are wonderful. I am so glad you thought this all through.” She nuzzled him and he nuzzled her right back.

She learns he likes her hair just as much as his uncle. Maybe more so, because he tried to eat it.