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duskandcobalt · 7 months

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Echoes in the Hallway

Elain didn’t know why it bothered her so much. Yes, she’d been prepared for a cozy night in with her nephew - just the two of them - but an additional presence in the house wasn’t usually something that would set her off like this.

Typically, she’d welcome having someone else around. She knew she wouldn’t be feeling like this if it was Cassian or Mor that had stayed back with her.

But Azriel…

….

18+ pls

Azriel finds himself playing chaperone again, this time for the girl he’s been avoiding for months…. What could possibly go wrong?

This is like 7.7k words of shameless angst and smut????? enjoy!!

…

Read on AO3

“Azriel.” Rhys’ voice broke through Azriel’s concentration. Their eyes met as the Shadowsinger looked up from the reports he’d been diligently reading for god knows how long, reclined on a couch in Rhys’ office after their morning debrief with Cassian.

Azriel raised his eyebrows at his brother, already wary of the conversation they were about to have based solely on the seriousness in which Rhys had addressed him.

Rhysand leaned against the corner of his desk. “We’re all going to the Court of Nightmares tomorrow…”

Azriel nodded, shuffling his papers together and setting them to the side so he could sit up straight.

“I know you were supposed to come but something’s come up and I’ll need you to stay here.” Rhys continued.

“Why?” Suspicion laced Azriel’s voice.

“The twins aren’t available and Elain…” Rhys paused, carefully watching his brother’s reaction.

Azriel tensed at the name, frustration immediately building under his skin. He hadn’t let himself even think about that name for almost nine months now.

Solstice felt like a fever dream - a night that had gone so wrong, so quickly that he deigned it easier to just try to forget any of it had even happened. Even if he’d quickly realised that was easier said than done.

“Elain is staying back to watch Nyx.” Rhys finished. He was still studying Azriel, waiting for a reaction that wasn’t coming. Anger flowed through Azriel but he pushed it down, wouldn’t let that icy exterior that he’d spent so long perfecting crack.

It had been Rhys after all that had put an end to everything before anything had even had a chance to begin.

“And you want me to stand guard?” Azriel inquired, quiet and steady, no sign of that underlying anger as he spoke.

“No.” Rhys sighed. “But we need Nesta to come with us and Cassian refuses to let her out of his sight after everything happened with the Blood Rite. Feyre’s already stressed about leaving Nyx for the night, with everything that’s happening. Elain and Nyx, leaving them for the first time… she insisted you be the one to stay back.”

“Why me? You told me…”

“I know what I said, Az.” Rhys cut him off. “And please don’t get any ideas. I stand by what I said.”

“So then why me? Why not someone else?”

“Because Feyre trusts you, Az.” He took a deep breath before continuing. “We both trust you.” ‘

“Do you?” Azriel scoffed. It was the first obvious display of emotion he’d let Rhysand see during this conversation.

They’d both be lying if they said things hadn’t been a little tense between them since that night where Rhysand had exercised his power, his ranking, in a way he hardly ever did. And for him to use that ranking to call Azriel off for a matter of the heart… Azriel had struggled to move past the decision even if he had done his best to obey.

“You are my spymaster, Azriel.” Rhys leaned back into his chair but his eyes stayed fixed on Azriel. “ You are my spymaster and my brother, of course I trust you.”

Azriel said nothing, only dipped his chin in acknowledgement of the clear sincerity in Rhysand’s tone.

“Don’t do anything to undermine my trust, Az. Just be here tomorrow night and keep an eye on things. There is to be nothing more. Is that understood?”

“I’ve stayed away, haven’t I?” Azriel stood, gathering his things before rolling his shoulders back and allowing his wings to flare behind him. A slight show of power to let his brother, his High Lord, know exactly how he felt about the situation.

“Is that understood, Azriel?” Rhys ignored the display, repeating his words with that same sense of command that he'd used on Solstice.

“Yes.” Azriel replied, words sharp as he swiftly exited the office and made his way out of the house.

…

“I just don’t understand why I need a chaperone when I am the chaperone.” Elain grumbled, avoiding even looking in Azriel’s direction.

They were in the kitchen, Nyx balanced on her hip as she bustled around getting a bottle ready for his first feed of the night. Azriel was standing across the kitchen from her, one scarred hand braced on the counter as he flipped through a thick stack of paper with the other. Also avoiding looking at her.

More reports. His distraction for the night.

The rest of the household had just left for the Hewn City mere minutes ago. Rhys and Feyre had chosen to only inform Elain that Azriel would be accompanying her and Nyx right before they winnowed away.

“It’s a safety precaution, with everything going on…” Azriel replied, his voice barely above a whisper. His hazel eyes stayed focused on his papers.

“Ridiculous. This house is protected within an inch of its life.” Elain threw back, her words cutting.. She saw him tense out of the corner of her eye, clearly unused to hearing this tone of voice from her.

Good.

Typically, she’d welcome having someone else around. She knew she wouldn’t be feeling like this if it was Cassian or Mor that had stayed back with her.

But Azriel…

She couldn’t even justify being upset at Rhys and Feyre for not telling her sooner. Why would they have thought to warn her? How could they possibly know that spending even a moment alone with the Shadowsinger wasn’t exactly high on her list of enjoyable activities these days?

Having him in her space after all these months apart had completely thrown her off, had her fumbling as she tried to put together a simple bottle. She cursed under her breath as she attempted to screw the top on for the third time. Nyx was entirely unhelpful as his little hands tugged at her hair, pulling curls loose from her braid and further distracting her from the task at hand.

“Need some help?” His low voice was closer than anticipated. She hadn’t noticed him come up behind her.

Alway so damn quiet - something that she’d found endearing once upon a time.

“I’m fine.” She bit back, silently willing her hands to stop shaking as she tried yet again to get the lid on the bottle.

“Elain.” Azriel sighed. Gods, she’d forgotten what her name sounded like on his lips. The effect it had on her body. “I know you don’t want me here. At least let me make myself useful.”

She set the lid down on the counter and turned to face him, making eye contact with him for the first time that night. For the first time since Solstice, really.

It’s hard to make eye contact with someone that seemed to do everything in their power to avoid her.

She could see the exhaustion in his hazel eyes but his face was as beautiful as always. The summer months had leant him a healthy glow, his already tan skin a couple shades deeper, a few freckles dotting the bridge of his nose. His dark hair was just a little longer than she remembered and a slight curl had developed along with the length.

How she had once ached to run her hands through his hair.

Anger flooded her veins again, a fresh wave, this time at herself for even allowing herself to think of him like she used to do.

He was infuriatingly expressionless as he watched her, patiently waiting for her to say something.

“I’ll take him to the great room. Bring the bottle and a cloth.” She relented, shifting Nyx in her arms as she quickly stepped around Azriel. His wings retracted to let her through.

…

Azriel took his time putting the lid on the bottle and grabbing a cloth in order to give Elain a little space.

He felt terrible about this - about having to be in this house, a looming presence that she very clearly didn’t have any desire to be around.

He didn’t know what else he had expected from tonight. He certainly didn’t think things would be like they used to be, back when she’d welcome him into the house with a shy smile, when they’d spend hours quietly talking to each other in the garden. He hadn’t even expected for them to exchange more than a few words.

He just hadn’t been prepared for the anger that radiated off of her.

It was so unlike her, so different from the girl he’d come to know. Of course, he knew that Elain wasn’t as quiet or demure as everyone seemed to think. She was kind, yes. Soft spoken compared to her sisters, yes. But she was also intelligent and sharp and funny in a way that often caught him off guard.

He’d seen her upset in the past, seen her frustrated, but he couldn’t remember ever seeing her like this. So angry that the same raging fire which had once been a constant presence in Nesta’s eyes now infiltrated Elain’s.

He took a deep breath in, picking up the bottle and taking a cloth from the cupboard, steeling himself to face Elain again.

Multiple centuries of life - all those terrifying people and places he’d dealt with in his line of work - and somehow he still felt wholly unprepared and nervous to interact with Elain Archeron.

Azriel found her in the great room, as promised, sitting in a large navy velvet armchair. Her feet were tucked under her, her skirts a never ending cloud of soft pink fabric around her. Nyx was cradled in Elain’s arms, the fire in her eyes nowhere to be seen, her features soft as she babbled back to the babe happily babbling to her. The last bit of light from the setting sun streamed in from the glass doors that led out to the river, illuminating them from behind and Azriel’s breath caught - she looked ethereal.

Elain saw him then and watched as Azriel approached her, flames immediately igniting again as she met his gaze. He held out the bottle and she reached for it, careful to avoid touching his hands in the process. She looked away finally, adjusting Nyx against her chest and watching as he latched on to the bottle.

Azriel found himself fighting back the emotions that came to the surface at the sight before him. Of Elain with a winged babe in her arms, humming softly as she fed him. It was a glimpse into what might’ve been. In another life. Another universe. What he might’ve had if the cauldron had only deemed him worthy.

He tried to push the thoughts down, attempted to let them frost over in the depths of his soul as he shook out the cloth in his hands, doubling it over once before tentatively stepping forward and leaning down to drape it neatly over her shoulder - matching what he’d seen Rhys do for Feyre time and time again. He didn’t miss the way Elain stiffened, the way her breath hitched until he was standing upright again. He hadn’t let his hands so much as graze her skin, as much as he might’ve wanted to.

“I’ll be in the kitchen.” He mumbled, one hand coming up to run through his hair, turning on his heel and heading out of the room before she even had a chance to reply.

He couldn’t take it.

There was a reason he’d stayed away all these months and he was quickly remembering just why he’d taken to hiding himself away at the House of Wind with Nesta and Cassian. It was too much - being near her, being surrounded by her scent. Not being able to talk to her, not being able to touch her. Seeing her with Nyx. This unspoken tension between them. It was all too much.

He thought that the months apart would’ve helped, that the pull he felt towards her would’ve lessened with time. He hadn’t realised how wrong he’d been - hadn’t realised just how much he still yearned for her.

Azriel took a seat at the dining table, hands dragging over his face once as he attempted to focus on his reports. It was utterly useless, all he could think about was the female down the hall from him.

He had no idea how he’d make it through the night when the pain of this longing was eating him alive.

…

Nyx’s wailing had been echoing through the house for a couple hours now, so loud that Elain was concerned that the windows would shatter regardless of the countless wards Rhys had placed on them.

The poor babe had refused to settle, only sleeping for a few hours before he awoke just after midnight - tears streaming down his sweet face even after Elain had rushed down the hall to him, picking him up and cradling him to her chest.

She had tried everything - changing him, feeding him, singing to him as she sat in a rocking chair. She was at her wits end, bouncing him anxiously in her arms as she paced the nursery, only the moonlight streaming in from the balcony window providing her with just enough light to watch Nyx as he all but screamed in her arms.

She’d done her best to ignore the shadows at the foot of his crib. They’d been there all night, silently laying on the floor where they typically monitored Nyx whenever Azriel was in the house. She glanced at them now and saw that they were gathered together, a cloud of darkness that seemed to keenly watch her, just waiting to be acknowledged. Elain had a feeling they’d been instructed to mind their business and let her handle things tonight but she could tell that they had a different opinion on the subject.

“Go get him, then.” She rolled her eyes, frustrated enough to give in to what she knew they were itching to do. If she wasn’t so overwhelmed she might’ve laughed at the speed at which they vanished, off to find their master.

Azriel appeared seconds later, stepping through his shadows, fully alert with Truthteller clutched in one hand. His hair was a mess, dark circles beginning to form under his eyes. He was still dressed in his leathers so he clearly hadn’t made it to bed yet.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, eyes scanning the nursery - the empty crib, the corners of the room, the balcony, before settling on her.

She saw him relax slightly once he realised that Nyx was indeed safe but then his eyes were taking her in - ever so slowly grazing over her - head to toe. She couldn’t help the heat that spread through her at his gaze. His eyes burned into her skin as he took in her unbound hair, the thin silk of the nightgown she wore, her feet bare on the plush rug. She was too exasperated to care that he was seeing her in this state of undress.

“I… I don’t know.” Elain rasped, her throat scratchy from being abruptly pulled out of her slumber. “He just won’t stop crying. I’ve tried everything, I don’t know what to do.”

“May I?” Azriel stepped towards her, holding out his arms.

Elain paused for a second, looking up at him before gently maneuvering Nyx into his uncle’s outstretched arms.

Azriel took him, those beautiful scarred hands cradling the still screaming babe and bringing him up to rest against his leather clad chest.

She had watched Nyx fill out over these past few months and had often felt that he was growing too quickly for her liking. But now, seeing Azriel with him… Elain couldn’t believe just how small Nyx looked in the arms of the Illyrian warrior. How tiny his body was in those large hands, how fragile he seemed against that broad chest.

Azriel’s hand rubbed smooth circles over Nyx’s back - in between the tiny wings that were beginning to strengthen.

Just five or ten minutes later, Nyx’s wails finally began to die down, his cries fading into small whimpers as he nuzzled further into Azriel’s chest - one tiny fist clutching at his leathers.

“Go to bed, Elain. I’ll stay with him until he sleeps.” Azriel glanced up from where he’d been walking back and forth in front of the window. Elain peered up at him from the rocking chair that she’d fallen into once Azriel had taken over - fighting the exhaustion that threatened to send her to sleep in favour of watching in quiet awe as Azriel managed to calm Nyx down.

“How did you…?” She started.

“I think it’s the wings.” He shrugged. “They can be quite uncomfortable when they’re growing. Mine were so itchy when they were healing after Hybern. I’d imagine it’s even worse for a babe.”

“I didn’t know.” Elain remarked. “I had no idea how to help him.”

“How could you know? It isn’t your fault.” Azriel said softly, fingers still gently rubbing over Nyx’s back. “The leathers probably help too, feels familiar to Rhys.”

“If I’d been here alone…” Tears were gathering in her eyes, the exhaustion of the past few hours hitting her.

“You’d have figured it out.” Azriel cut her off, crossing the room towards her. “Please sleep, Elain. You’ve been with him all evening. I’ve got this.”

He adjusted his grip on Nyx, holding him firm to his chest with one large hand so he could extend his other hand out towards her.

She sighed, her eyes focused on his outstretched hand before she gave in and took it - doing her best to ignore the spark that coursed through her at the feeling of his hand wrapping around hers and pulling her up until she was standing in front of him. He didn’t let go even as Elain went up on her toes to peer at Nyx. Her other hand pressed into Azriel’s chest for balance as she leaned in to place a kiss on her nephew’s cheek.

“Sleep well now, sweet boy.” She said softly before backing up and finally letting her hand drop from Azriel’s chest.

“Goodnight.” He gave her a small smile and let go of her hand, motioning towards the nursery door with his chin - beckoning her to rest.

…

Elain couldn’t sleep even though she was utterly exhausted. She’d been laying in bed, staring up at her ceiling for hours now, her mind racing with seemingly no end in sight. She couldn’t stop thinking.

The way Azriel had looked at her was burned into her memory - the scan of his eyes over her hair, her nightgown clad body, the way his gaze softened as his alert eyes met her exhausted ones.

She pictured him with Nyx, that icy exterior of his melting as the soft side he kept carefully hidden came to the surface once his nephew was safe in his arms.

She thought of the feeling of his hand around hers - his scars grazing against her skin as his fingers wrapped around her delicate wrist. She remembered the feeling of his leather clad chest under her fingers, how the heat from him melted into her even through the thick material… how that heat made her want more - made her want to press her fingers to his bare skin, to feel the muscled chest beneath those leathers.

She pictured his full lips, how’d they once been barely an inch from hers - one hand on her throat with his fingers grazing her jaw to tilt her face up towards his, his other hand buried in her hair. She pictured what it would be like to have those hands of his on her neck again, on other parts of her too.

That all-too-familiar ache swept over her, settling deep in her bones just as it had for months now - night after sleepless night. The anger that coursed through her body during the day always seemed to shift into an unquenchable longing once the sun gave way to the moon and she was alone in her bed.

She knew it was wrong. Knew she had no right to think of him like this, to want him, need him like this. Not when he’d told her it’d been a mistake - even if the way he’d looked at her tonight had said otherwise.

She closed her eyes, breathing deeply to will away the ache in her chest, the ache between her thighs. She tried her best to try to find sleep until her keen hearing picked up on the sound of a door opening and closing.

Elain barely even realised what she was doing but suddenly she was out of bed and rushing to open the door to her room. She scanned the dark hallways until she found him standing at the top of the stairs. Azriel paused at the sound of her door opening but his shadows continued down the stairs without him.

“He’s asleep.” He turned to face her, those eyes once again quickly scanning her up, down, then back up again. “Why aren’t you?”

She took a second to look at him. Studied the way those leathers clung to him, perfectly contoured to every lean line of his toned body. He was so tall, so statuesque as if one of the gods had carved him out of stone with their very hands. His shoulders were so broad that they blocked out what little fae light carried up the stairs from the lower level of the house.

Elain ignored his question, months of that ache and anger suddenly coming together faster than she could even comprehend, combining into an emotion she couldn’t label. The words spilled out of her before she could even think it through.

“You haven’t spoken to me in months.” She seethed. “You told me I was a mistake and then you left me standing at the bottom of those stairs.” Elain gestured behind him. “You all but disappeared until Nyx was born. Even then, you stopped coming to family dinners, you only ever show up at the house for meetings with Rhys and Cassian and then leave the second they’re done. You go out of your way to avoid me, you refuse to even look in my direction. What did I do wrong?”

Azriel still hadn’t moved from where he had paused at the top of the stairs, his eyes fixed on hers in shock as he took in what she was saying.

“You…” He shook his head. “You did nothing wrong, Elain.”

“Then why?” Her voice broke as she took one small step down the hallway. “Why have you avoided me like this? You almost kissed me, and then you said I was a mistake…”

“I never said you were a mistake.” He took a step towards her. “You were not the mistake, Elain. I was the one who made a mistake by thinking I had any right to touch you.”

“Because you were with her? With Gwyn?” Elain’s hated how timid she sounded voicing the fear that she’d kept to herself all these months.

Azriel’s face fell.

“She was wearing my… I saw her wearing the necklace.” She corrected herself, leaving the rest unspoken. The crippling fear that Azriel had feelings for Nesta’s beautiful friend.

Elain had seen the necklace around Gwyn’s neck a few months ago when Nesta had invited her to the House of Wind to have lunch with some of the priestesses that she was training. She had done everything in her power to smile at the kind priestess, to try to make polite conversation and not break down in tears when she’d caught a glimpse of the stained glass rose sitting just under Gwyn’s collarbones.

She had willed herself not to think of how that necklace had ended up in Gwyn’s possession but had utterly failed. Had sat in silence, her mind racing as Nesta laughed with Gwyn. The priestesses' musical laughter like a soundtrack to the thoughts infiltrating her mind in that moment - had he looked at Gwyn like he’d looked at Elain that night? Had he put the necklace on her? Had his hands lingered on her throat? Had he kissed her like he’d almost kissed Elain? Did he visit her in the darkest hours of the night? Did she share his bed?

Jealousy swelled within her, the roaring in her ears so loud that she could barely even hear him when he spoke.

“Gwyn is a friend, Elain.” Azriel took another step forward, one hand coming up to land over his heart in earnest. “I help train her and we’re friends. There’s nothing more, I swear.”

“Then why?” She still didn’t understand, couldn’t work out how things had changed in a single second that night.

“I don’t know - I wasn’t thinking clearly after Solstice and I ran into her that same night and we spoke. Then I found the necklace with my gifts…I didn’t know what to do but I couldn’t keep it. So I went to the library and asked Clotho to give it to her, to any of the priestesses. I shouldn’t have done it, I know that now.” This was the fastest she’d ever heard him speak, his hands balling into fists at his sides as if he didn’t quite know what to do with them. “I don’t even think she knows it was from me.”

“No. I meant…” Elain shook her head. “If you weren’t seeing Gwyn then why was it a mistake? Why was it a mistake to almost kiss me?”

“You have a mate, Elain.” Azriel’s expression faltered. Even in this dark hallway, she could see the pain in his eyes.

Elain laughed. Just one single exhale of air at the reminder of her mate. Red hot rage once again seeped through her.

“That means nothing to me.” She shook her head. “I am so sick of everyone telling me that that means anything.”

“But it does.” Azriel replied. “The mating bond is… it’s rare and it’s a gift to be treasured. There’s nothing like it. To not acknowledge it, to not try at the very least, would be… it would be a mistake.”

“I don’t want to acknowledge it.” Elain’s throat felt like sandpaper, her frustration building with each second that passed.

“He’s a good male, Elain.” Azriel’s shoulders dropped in defeat as he broke eye contact with her, gazing at the floor before dragging his eyes up to meet her searing gaze once again. He looked defeated. “He’ll be good to you if you give him a chance.”

Elain took three steps forward, the distance between them becoming smaller although the was still so painfully far away.

“He may be a good male.” She paused, a shaky breath escaping her. She was unable to stop the tears that were falling from her eyes, didn’t have the strength to hold them back anymore. “He may be good, but he is not you.”

‘Elain…” Azriel tried to speak but she held up a hand, silencing him.

“He is not you, Azriel.” She sobbed.

…

Azriel’s knees threatened to buckle under the weight of her words. His ears buzzing as he desperately tried to focus on Elain, beautiful as ever in the moonlight despite the tears cascading down her cheeks. The tears that were there because of him.

Azriel.

She’d never said his name before. Not that he’d ever heard, anyway. Maybe she’d used it in conversations with the others but she had never once, in the last few years, ever used his name when speaking to him.

He is not you. He is not you, Azriel.

Those words, the way she said his name, ricocheted in his mind.

He took two long strides towards her, the distance between them minimal now - if he simply reached forwards, he’d be able to touch her.

“Azriel.” She repeated his name, her eyes searching his own. He still hadn’t said anything. “Did you hear me?”

He nodded, opening his mouth to say something but there were no words. He couldn’t think of a single thing to say. Could only stare into the depths of those brown doe eyes, glazed with tears, and listened as she continued to speak.

“Lucien… he tries with me because he feels like he has to. He tries because of the bond. He’d have no interest in me if there wasn’t this thing between us.” She was fighting to speak, her words interrupted by deep, heaving sobs.

Azriel fought every instinct that was roaring through him to reach out to her, to hold her against his chest and wipe away her tears.

“No one has stopped to think about what I want. They think that just because there is this bond, I must give myself over to him. That he is who I must be with. It’s not right. It doesn’t feel right. The bond is there. I can feel it and it is like a knife in my side. There is a pull to him, yes… but I’ve always felt a pull towards you, too.”

Azriel couldn’t believe what he was hearing, could barely keep up with everything she was saying as she bared her soul to him. Not even his shadows were there to guard him, to allow him to shroud himself in the safety of darkness. He was left to face her all on his own as she confirmed what he’d long suspected. That she felt that same pull, felt that energy that seemed to radiate between them since they’d first met.

“I felt drawn to you long before I was forced into that cauldron. You were there for me from the very beginning. You were the only one - the only one - to listen to me, to sit with me, to see me. They all thought I was losing my mind. I thought I was losing my mind. You were the only one to know. The only one to understand me.”

Azriel could tell she had thought this through - over and over again. Every word, though pained, was spoken with clear intent. He could tell that this wasn’t just hysterics in the heat of the moment. Elain meant every word she said and it rendered him absolutely speechless.

“My life was taken from me.” She went on, her voice quieter now as she took a deep breath and squared her shoulders. “I lost my fiancé, I lost my humanity, I lost my father. So many choices were stolen from me the second I was changed. Do I not deserve to have a say in what I do now? Do I not deserve to have a say in who I love? Do I not deserve to have a say in my own happiness?”

“It’s complicated, Elain.” Azriel finally spoke, his voice barely a whisper. “You deserve a choice but that choice comes with endless costs…there is already so much tension between the courts.”

“I don’t care!” She took another step closer until there was no space between them at all. Her hands reached for his and though he should’ve taken a step back, should’ve pulled away, he let her take them, let her intertwine her perfect fingers in his.

“You came for me once.” Elain’s voice was soft as she looked up at him, her eyebrows knitting together as she stared into the depth of this soul - forced him to recall when he’d risked his life to rescue her. “You fought for me then, will you not fight for me again?”

Tears were still streaming down her face but her sobs had subsided, her voice stronger as she challenged him.

“You know I would, but it’s just… it’s complicated.” He reiterated.

“Do you not want this?” Her face fell, her hands dropping from his as she went to take a step back. The confidence that she had exhibited just a second ago, faltering.

Azriel moved without thinking, one hand landing on her hip to keep her with him.

She gasped as his fingers pressed against her, calluses snagging on the smooth silk of her white gown, the feel of his skin through the thin material warmed her from the inside out.

His other hand landed on her neck, just as it had months ago - his thumb tracing a gentle path along the soft line of her jaw.

“Of course, of course, I want this.” He shook his head as if he couldn’t believe she’d even had to ask. His voice was so low he wasn’t sure she’d be able to hear him despite her face being mere inches from his. “I will always want this.”

Her eyes searched his, her shoulders dropping as all the tension she’d been holding in her body flooded out of her, causing her to slump against him. Azriel fingers flexed, his grip on her hip tightening, keeping her steady.

“I want you.” Elain whispered, tilting her face to look at him properly. “It will always be you.”

She was on her tiptoes then, her hands sliding up his torso until they were on his chest for the second time that night - her nails pressed into his leathers until her lips were just barely against his.

“Please, Azriel.” She all but whimpered.

Her plea cracked something in his chest and he could no longer hold back. All the work he’d done to stay away all these months, all these years, all of it was undone in a single second at the sound of his name on her lips. At the feel of her body against his.

Every wall he’d worked so diligently to build, came crumbling down faster than he could even comprehend.

Azriel closed the distance between them, his hand still on her throat as his lips brushed hers for the first time.

…

There was no going back from this.

The second his lips pressed against hers, tentative and sweet, Elain knew in her heart, in her very soul that nothing, no one, would ever compare to this. To him.

Every thought, every worry, every doubt she’d ever had slipped from her mind as Azriel finally kissed her. His lips were soft as they moved against hers, gentle and careful. He was committing this moment to memory just as she was - both of them desperate to remember every second of this, every possible detail. His tongue slid against her lips and she opened for him without a second thought, allowing him to deepen the kiss as she met him stroke for stroke.

Elain couldn’t get close enough to him, her hands frantically coming up from his chest to tangle in his hair, fingers tugging him down in a silent request for more, more, more.

His groan as she pressed her body tight against his reverberated through her and she couldn’t help the desperate moan that escaped her in response. Every ounce of blood, every nerve in her body seemed to be screaming for him - for his attention.

“Touch me.” Elain begged. His face was buried against her neck now, his lips and teeth and tongue grazing the sensitive skin causing her to arch further into him even though there was barely any space between them to begin with. “Please, Azriel.”

He relented, his hand slipped from her throat, one finger slowly skimmed along the delicate neckline of her nightgown before traveling lower. After what felt like a million years, his fingers grazed her peaked nipple, circling once, twice, before his large palm covered her breast and squeezed gently. His other hand released her hip to slip behind her, gripping the generous curve of her ass and pressing her firmly against him - allowing her to feel exactly how hard he was for her.

Her head tipped back, exposing more of her neck to him as her mouth fell open, eyes fluttering shut at the sensation of him in between her thighs. Elain rolled her hips against his as if it was second nature, seeking out that delicious pressure against her core again and again all while cursing the few despicable layers of fabric that separated her from truly feeling every inch of him.

His lips were on hers once more, all his previous gentleness nowhere to be found, replaced instead with pure heated passion as he claimed her with bruising kisses. She was dizzy - all she could feel was him, all she could taste was him, all she could smell was him - the combined scent of both of their arousal was heavy in the air, permeating every square inch of the hallway.

Azriel’s hands slipped under her ass as he continued to kiss her, bunching up the silk of her gown until he could get his hands on the back of her bare thighs. He let his thumbs drift over her soft skin once before lifting her up easily. She wrapped her legs around his waist, her arms draped around his broad shoulders. He carried her with him, walking backwards until he could set her on a small console table in the middle of the hallway.

That familiar energy between them sizzled, only amplifying with each pass of his lips over her lips, her neck, her collarbones. She could’ve sworn there was a glowing aura around them as he lowered his face to her breasts, tongue laving at her nipples over her slip. The sensation of the damp fabric sliding against her skin was enough to have her seeing stars.

“Azriel.” She pleaded again, unsure what she was even asking for.

“Tell me what you want, Elain.” His mouth was still on her chest, hands raking her nightgown even further up her thighs as he raised his eyes to watch her. “Look at me and tell me what you want.”

Cool air hit the heat of her core at the exact same time she met his eyes.

The sound that she let out at that moment was almost embarrassing, her face and chest flushing. She felt him smile against the curve of her breast as he watched her. His eyes were darker than night, darker than she’d ever seen them. His tousled hair fell over his brows, casting shadows that only added to the darkness. Despite their darkness, there was a certain softness, a reverence in his gaze that she knew was reserved just for her.

She still hadn’t answered him. How could she possibly form words when his lips were on her breast? When his fingers were pressing into the flesh of her thighs? She couldn’t think straight, not when the soft ridges of his scars were sliding over her sensitive skin, going higher and higher with each pass as her legs widened for him on their own accord.

His eyes bore into hers as he straightened, raising up until his face was inches from her face. Azriel watched her carefully as he dragged a knuckle up her bare center - an absolute tease of a touch, so light that she almost wondered if she’d imagined it.

“Is this what you want, Elain?” His breath fanned over her as he spoke, their lips almost touching.

He pressed his forehead to hers. “Tell me.”

“Yes.” The word left her mouth in a gasp at the sheer command in his voice, at the brush of that same knuckle over the nerves at the apex of her thighs. She clutched at his neck, nails surely marking his skin as she kissed him.

Azriel kissed her as if he’d never get the chance to kiss her again, a searing kiss that caused a whole new wave of arousal to crest through her. But even his hot mouth pressing over hers couldn’t distract her from the feeling of two of his fingers slowly sliding through her, parting her, before his middle finger dipped into her just once.

“Look how wet you are for me.” He murmured in awe, pulling away just enough so he could bring his hand up between them. Azriel studied his fingers, the way the moonlight caught the wetness gathered there and made it glisten.

Her eyes went wide as she watched him take that finger into his mouth, his lips wrapping around it. She blushed when his eyes fluttered, savouring the taste of her.

“Do you have any idea how good you taste, Elain?” He returned his finger to her core, adding another, and then sank them into her once more in one slow thrust.

She couldn’t say anything, didn’t have the opportunity to when his fingers curled inside her, searching her upper walls until he found what he was seeking.

Those nimble fingers stroked a place that she hadn’t even known existed within her and Elain’s moan echoed in the hallway, her chest arching up into him - the friction of his leathers against her nipples only adding to the feeling of ecstasy that coursed through her.

Her hands roamed, grasping frantically at his chest, at his back. Azriel continued to steadily move his fingers within her. She needed to feel more of him. Needed the warmth of his skin.

“How do I…?” She whined, frustrated that she couldn’t find a single button or zip on his leathers. He’d have to do it. “Take this off.”

“No time. They’ll be back soon.” Azriel took her lower lip in between his teeth, tugging once before letting it go. “Just let me do this for you.”

She started to argue but Azriel kissed her again, increasing the pressure of his fingers as he stroked her over and over again.

“Another time.” He whispered, moving his lips to her neck and biting down lightly at the same time his thumb circled her clit.

“Fuck.” Elain cursed, immediately blushing as Azriel laughed against her throat - both of them surprised by her choice of words. She swallowed her embarrassment, choosing to focus on the desire burning low in her stomach instead. “Do that again.”

Azriel obeyed her order, running his thumb in smooth circles over her as he pumped his fingers into her, maintaining that same rhythm and ensuring that the tips of his fingers bumped against that spot inside of her with each pass.

Just a minute later, before she even knew what was happening, Elain’s vision blurred, her eyes squeezing shut as every nerve in her body came alive. She clutched at his hair, grabbing fistfuls of the silky strands as she clenched hard around his fingers. Her mouth fell open in a silent scream as she came for him.

Seconds, minutes, hours passed before she regained her sense of self. Azriel’s fingers had slipped out of her but he’d pressed himself against her instead, alleviating the emptiness that she felt without his fingers filling her. Azriel’s arms were wrapped around her, holding her tight to his chest, one hand in her hair as she attempted to catch her breath.

“That’s it, Elain.” He whispered into her hair, hands drawing soothing circles low on her back. “You did so good for me.”

“That was… I’ve never…” Elain breathed against his neck.

“You’ve… never?” Azriel stilled, his hand paused its circles but he continued to hold her against him.

“I mean, I’ve had…” Elain said quickly, trailing off. Her words were muffled as she spoke into his skin, “But no one’s ever done that for me. I’ve never…”

“Finished?” Azriel completed her sentence.

She nodded, face still tucked in the space between his neck and shoulder. Despite what they’d just done, she felt shy admitting this to him.

She pulled back slowly when he didn’t say anything further. The sweat from her body caused her slip to stick to her.

Elain swallowed her nerves, looking into his eyes - searching them for any sign of regret.

She found none. Only saw simmering lust and adoration.

“You deserve to feel like that every time, Elain.” A small satisfied smile tugged at his lips. Some primal part of him secretly fulfilled at the knowledge that he was the first person to make her come. He tucked a strand behind her pointed ear. “You should really go back to bed now.”

Elain’s eyebrows furrowed together. She wasn’t ready for this to end, wanted to stay here, safe in his arms, in this blissful bubble, forever. But besides that, she could still feel him - impossibly hard - where he was pressed firmly against her.

She kept her eyes on his as she reached down in between them, fingers itching to feel him but Azriel’s hand wrapped around her wrist, stopping her before she had the chance to touch him.

“They’ll be home soon.” He shook his head, bringing her hand up to his lips and pressing a kiss to each of her finger tips. “We have to save something for later.”

His words warmed something deep within her.

Later.

The promise of more.

“You won’t disappear again?” She allowed herself to voice her insecurity. The worry that things would go back to how they were before.

“No.” He didn’t hesitate. “I’ll seek you out. We’ll find a way. There’s more I want to do for you. With you.”

“Okay.” She nodded, leaning forward to kiss him again.

“This has to be just between us for now.” Azriel’s face was as serious as his voice. His large hands moved to cradle her face, fingers tracing softly along her cheekbones. “I’ll figure out how to make this work but for now… just between us.”

“Just between us.” She promised, repeating his words back to him.

She’d take whatever she could get. For now, this would have to be enough.

To have him in secret was better than not having him at all.

Azriel kissed her one last time before he backed out from between her legs, fixing her night gown to cover her before helping her down from where he’d perched her on the narrow table. His hands stayed on her waist, brushing over her curves until he was sure she was steady on her feet. “Goodnight, Elain.”

“Goodnight, Azriel.” She gave him a soft smile before walking away from him and back to her room.

The Shadowsinger watched until Elain’s door shut behind her and then he sighed, smoothing a hand over his unruly hair as he tried to figure out how the hell he was going to get the scent of them out of this hallway within the next hour.

#elriel #acotar #azriel x elain #acosf #mine #azriel #elain #elain x azriel #elriel fanfiction #elriel smut #azriel smut #smut #angst #fic rec #writing #my writing #elain archeron #post solstice

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mystical-blaise · 2 years

Text

Azriel Week 2022: Scars Run Deep

@azrielweek2022

This fic was inspired by this beautiful work of art.

For Free Day. Gwyn forces Azriel to confront his scars. Read here on Ao3

“Azriel?”

He didn’t stop, his emotions keeping his brisk pace even as her voice called after him as he made his way into the house. Even as the shadows told him to stop and listen. To answer the female calling for him.

Still, he ran.

Down the stairs into the House proper. Then trudging down into the living area, his boots silent even as his steps were hard. Harder than the footfalls following him from behind. The ones he pointedly ignored.

“Azriel, wait!”

Once he strode into his room, he had every intention of slamming the door—but he couldn’t when the nosy, indignant priestess had her hand on the jamb. Her booted foot blocked his attempt without hurting her. And there was certainly no way in hell when the shadows held the door open like her own personal cohorts.

Her face was flushed from the exertion of her sparring and then her jog down the hall, the freckles a smattering of copper across her face. Those teal orbs of hers pierced him as well as any weapon.

He narrowed his right back.

“May I enter your humble abode, oh broody one?” she asked, sketching a bow.

He snorted and jerked his chin. The door closed softly behind them with a wind of inky mist. This wasn’t the first time the priestess had been in his quarters. Long, sleepless nights had burgeoned into a friendship. And on nights they weren’t sparring or playing chess or reading in companionable silence? They talked.

And somehow, one night, the conversation had turned to feelings… and his of Elain. Even if he was not quite sure what those feelings were.

“Do you think she feels something for you?” Gwyn had questioned him, sitting cross-legged across from him on the floor, the opened book in her lap forgotten as she had given him her undivided attention.

He had answered her question truthfully. “I don’t know, but… I hope she does.”

He begged for her to. Prayed to the Mother that somehow she did. Maybe, just maybe, if she felt something for him that…

“So, why don’t you ask her?”

“That’s not how it works, Berdara,” he scoffed.

“How would you know? Was it not you three minutes ago admitting you were limited in this experience?”

Point for the priestess, his shadows tittered. The shadowsinger rolled his eyes. Traitors. They were always taking Gwyn’s side, whether or not she was right.

Closing her book, the bluish-green eyes glittering in the firelight fell on him. “If you want to see where it may lead? Go tell Elain your feelings. Speak with her, Azriel.”

Azriel’s voice was muffled as he drew his bare hands down his face as he muttered, “I hate this relationship shit.”

Thud. There was a book thrown between them. “Females really are not that complicated, Shadowsinger. In fact, read that book. There’s nary a girl alive who hasn’t fallen for that hero. Consider it a how-to relationship guide. Just ignore the kidnapping bit and you’ll be golden.”

So, here he was after taking his friend’s unsolicited advice. Well, nearly taken.

“I’m assuming you went to her?” Her arms crossed over her chest, the battle leathers creaking in the movement. His chin dipped in a nod. “And I assume from your piss-poor attitude you had when you ignored everyone who was worried about you that it didn’t go well?”

His eyes fell to his hands. Even wrapped with clean muslin and covered by his bracer, the uneven grips on his fingertips stood out like unintentional knicks in marble. Unfixable. An eyesore. Ruined.

“Azriel.” Her voice was softer now, with no irritation. He heard her swallow. “I’m sorry. Did she not—”

“I didn’t speak with Elain.”

“Oh. Was she not available?”

With a derisive snicker, he tucked his hands behind his back, moving over to the mantle. Where he could focus on things other than his heart. His hands.

His fucking hideous hands.

Soft, tentative footsteps whispered on the floor behind him. Silence and waiting for him to continue. He’d spent enough time with the spitfire to know without turning around. Right now, she was twirling a piece of her hair while biting her lip. A nervous habit of hers, whether she knew it or not. She did that whenever she fought the swell of words down. Just as he knew she tucked it back behind her ear when she was shy or was faced with an uncomfortable situation. Which, he knew, was what was happening as her voice said, “I will not push you, friend. I’ll… I’ll leave you be. But, whatever happened, I am sorry—”

Friend. The word struck the center of his chest. Hell. Gwyn was his friend. A good one. A great one. Besides Cassian, perhaps his closest. And she was there for him, waiting to hear what was wrong. Until she wasn’t, and those retreating steps were heading away.

“I turned around,” he said, his voice edged with panic.

Her steps ceased.” Pardon?”

“I came back. I am not sure if Elain is at the river estate or the townhouse. Before I could land at either, I returned home.”

“I—I.” Gwyn stammered. She never stammered. Not like this. Though it worried him, he didn’t dare look. His stance didn’t last long because he was suddenly spun around with a hand wrapped around his biceps, forced to face her. To stop himself from spinning off balance, his hands fell to her shoulders, steadying himself with a grip. “You… you didn’t… but you were… why?”

“I just can’t.”

“And I say you don’t lack the courage to do anything you do not want to do, Azriel. And you wanted to know, so, again, I ask, why?”

“I simply cannot.”

“Is it the fear of rejection?”

“I do not fear anything, Gwyneth ,” his lie flew out, her name laced with venom at the end.

“Liar,” Gwyn immediately refuted. “We are all afraid of something. It is not a failing. It is, in fact, a healthy response.”

His eyes slammed shut before snapping back open. Why couldn’t she just let this go?

Anger fanned his words as he spat, “A healthy response?” And as her mouth moved to speak, he said, “I’m not finished, Priestess. Is it healthy , I wonder, to cower when a hand is raised, wondering if you are going to be hit? Or is it not better to block before a blow? Is it healthy to flinch when someone reaches for you? Is it healthy to wonder if someone will step away from your touch? Is it—”

It took him a moment for his own words to sink in. At what he just admitted. His eyes found his hands, his touch, still on the priestess’s leathered, trembling shoulders. His grip sure, poised—while touching her.

His eyes went wide, jerking his hands off of her as if fire had touched him again. Stumbling back until he felt bare under her watery gaze. Felt more stripped and naked than if he had shed his leather before her. He couldn’t take the way she looked at her with those unshed tears threatening to spill. The quiver of her full lower lip.

He’d caused that. By his words. His admittance. His touch . Fuck. He’d grabbed her—Gwyn. The priestess who had been through so much and—

Go, run, he told himself, as he shoved past her. He threw open the door and hurried down the hall. Up those stairs two at a time. Until he was once again on the roof.

He ignored his shadows, pleading to stop, to wait. He also ignored the boots slamming against the floor as she followed.

Fly. Go. Retreat.

The only thing he heard was his instinct—so much so that he didn’t notice the Priestess in front of him now, her dainty fingernails pressing crescents into the leather over his forearms. Her hold was as strong and determined as a mountain.

He was stronger. Physically, anyway. He could toss her aside if he wanted. But want and need were two different beasts of burden.

“Azriel,” she pleaded, the gentleness in his name full of question. For an explanation as to why.

His silence remained, a wall between them. But Gwyneth Berdara was a conqueror, removing that wall brick by brick as she guided his rapid breaths back down. And peeking through that hole in the wall, she waited. For him.

“I’m sorry I ran. You’re right, Gwyn. I am afraid,” he said, throat bobbing and wings shifting uncomfortably.

She stepped into him, her grip loosening enough for her to slide her hands up his arms. “What are you afraid of?”

A loaded question, to be sure. And still, he whispered, his voice cracking, “More things than you know. But the worst is being alone—because no one will ever willingly accept my touch. Nor should they.”

Gwyn’s gasp was full of emotion, his shadows swelling with the same shock. Better for her to know who her friend really is.

"Elain… Elain didn’t say that to you… did she?”

“No. I just know these things. It’s been my entire life, Berdara. The gawking. The outright disgust. Parents pulling their kids away, protecting them from a disfigured monster. And when I picture my hands against her skin—Elain’s beautiful, unmarred skin. These hands, my touch on her…” Rippled and bumpy, uneven and coarse upon smooth perfection. “I think I’ve finally figured out the reason the Cauldron and the Mother have forsaken me a mate.” A beat of silence, a deep, painful exhale. “Monsters are not blessed with one.”

In fact, he should probably just exile himself to The Middle for good measure.

“Azriel, look at me.” He didn’t. He couldn’t. Fingers gripped onto his chin, pressuring him. “Azriel. You stubborn ass, look at me.”

Why should he when he knew what he’d see?

“Open your damn eyes, Shadowsinger, and look at me… please.”

Her please felt like a cosmic command, unsealing them nearly beyond his control. The shadows hummed.

Stormy aqua raged back at him. Lowering her hands, she only offered them again, palm up, beckoning for him. “Your hands, good sir.”

“And if I decline?”

“Then you can wallow and I’ll leave you up here in your self-imposed pity party.”

Despite the warring emotions, he snorted at her irreverence. The sass of this female.

He set his palms on hers in challenge. She did not flinch or balk, didn’t look as she began to unlace his gauntlets from atop his hands.

“What are you doing?”

“Trust me,” she said, her eyes never leaving his as she undid one and then the other, gingerly setting them on the balustrade beside them. His heart raced and jumped as her hands unwound each hand, removing the wrappings, the unspun parts flowing in the wind like the white ribbon upon the Valkyrie’s brow.

With each precise turn, his hands shook, and with each pass, the linen bindings loosened until they were stripped from his hands.

Grabbing onto his wrists, she held up his hands at eye-level between them.

“Now tell me, what do you see when you look at your hands, Azriel?”

His pulse ratcheted. His throat tightened. No one had ever asked him this before and yet the words came out in a rush, “I see the hands of someone cursed. Someone unwanted, and marked so.” Her thumbs stroked the inside skin of his wrist. Gentle, her hold was so fucking gentle that instinct told him it was a trap. And yet… “I see the lives they have taken.”

“Many have killed. I have killed.”

“Not like me! You killed because you had to. When I look at my hands? All I can see is the river of blood that runs between each valley of this stained skin. I see the hands of a creature, not a male. A monster who is truly unworthy to touch anyone. For my touch brings nothing but pain.”

“And do you know what I see?” Gods, he didn’t want to know. Not now. “I see hands that have had to do unimaginable tasks in the name of his sovereign. Ordered him to protect his court. His friends. His family.” He made to pull away, but she held on. Her grip loosened up for her hand to move up his, her fingertip skating across the craggy base of his palm. “I see the remains of abuse, of hatred imposed upon him when he could not fight back. I see the hands the High Lord trusts to be his Spymaster. I see the hands of a male the General of the Illyrian army clasps as his dearest friend. The ones that offer comfort to his friends and family in his own way. The ones his brother trusts holding onto his son, the heir of the Night Court. The ones Nyx trusts to hold him and not let him fall.”

Up and up, her hands skimmed over his, a whisper of a touch, until their fingers interlocked and curled. Palm to palm. Pulse to pulse, his own hammering away as he felt tears burning in the back of his eyes.

“I see the hands that taught sword techniques to priestesses who needed a teacher.” Her voice quavered, a tear slipping down her freckled cheek as she whispered, “I see the hands I trusted to lay a cloak on me at my weakest and most vulnerable.”

Fuck. His breath shuddered, his hand trembled on its own. And not once had she turned from his touch. And not once had he hidden his hands from her. The realization struck him like a killing blow from a Siphon.

No, he’d only ever thought of helping her, never once concerned about his hands…

“I’m going to be blunt?” Gwyn said.

His laughter was wet, and he barely managed to speak without breaking into a sob. “You haven't been already?”

She shrugged, a smug little smile tugging at her lips even as her eyes glittered with tears. “You have scars, Shadowsinger. Deep ones. Ones given to you, not ones earned. Scars are part of experience. They mark time and memories, both good and bad. Mine may not all be visible, though I do have a good one on my arm from falling out of the tree… and that damnable mark from the arrow during the Blood Rite. The others I wear are below the skin, unseen by the naked eye. And I know you bear those, too.”

She did. His hands squeezed hers. And hers squeezed right back.

“Priestess—”

“I’m not done.”

The shadows laughed and twirled a dance. Azriel snorted, sniffling. “Of course.” He dipped his chin. “Please go on.”

“What I see when I look at your hands doesn’t matter.”

“That’s easy for you to say.”

“No, it’s actually not. Just because people can’t see my scars outright does not mean they do not judge me for others. The first time you saw me across the training ring, and then on Solstice, there were moments I thought you saw them.” Fuck. “The only thing that matters is how you feel, Az. You play cards, so you know that sometimes the ones dealt are terrible. We were both dealt some cruel hands. And yet, here we stand.” The back of his hand, still joined with hers, skimmed across her cheek. “Your scars are reminders of your past. That you survived and prevailed despite all that had been inflicted upon you. They do not have to define your future. But only you can decide that, Shadowsinger. And any female who would make you feel uncomfortable because of your scars, both inside and out? She’s not worth it.”

He choked on a wet laugh, shaking his head. Gods, how did this young priestess become so worldly and brilliant? This priestess who now held his hand without fear, her thumbs tracing the ridges on the back of his hand like a map leading to…

Something in his chest sparked .

“Promise me, Azriel. That you won’t settle for someone. That you will find someone, mate or not, who loves and respects you for all you are. Every scarred part.”

“As long as you do the same—and that you find someone, mate or not, who treats you like a godsdamn queen.”

Her smile gave away her rolling eyes. Pulling one hand away, she offered him her pinky. “Fine. I promise, but you have to promise the queen part, too. It’s only fair.”

“Fine. I’ll find someone who treats me like a queen. I promise, Gwyn,” he laughed, his marbled pinky twining around hers.

Magic flickered around them, pinching their wrists as a black tattoo curled in an infinity around their wrists almost like a black ribbon. Fuck.

His eyes shot up to hers as her pinky slipped from his. “Well, my friend, it seems we have unintentionally struck a bargain.”

Not looking away from the copper-headed female, striding over to the weapons wrack, he said, “It would appear so.”

Gwyn peered at him over his shoulder. “So, Azriel, now that we’ve had that talk, are you going to go speak with Elain?” She grabbed the hilt of a sword and tugged.

“Gwyn, be care—”

Clanging steel resounded off the rock walls and railings into the night sky.

“Mother bless it all!” Gwyn whisper-yelled.

Wings drawing tight, he strode forward, already reaching for her. “Show me your hands. Are you hurt?”

“Just my pride.”

Azriel’s playful snort answered with her scowl.

The shadowsinger didn’t need a moment to think about getting down to help her clean up, their hands occasionally brushing as he helped the Valkyrie right the fallen blades.

And as they worked, she asked him again, nudging him regarding the middle Archeron. But he didn’t have an answer right now. He and Cassian may have designed those obstacle courses, but it had been this young priestess who had thrown down the emotional gauntlet. There was much to consider. Much to resolve.

And, as for right now?

“Maybe tomorrow,” he stated as she went to place the last sword in its place. He stayed her hand and took the weapon from her, spinning it in one hand as he walked toward the center of the training circle. “Tonight, I think we need to work on your swordsmanship. Clearly.”

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