#theshadowsthatsing

[danydragons21]

TSTS Chapter 34: The Hourglass

Read it on ao3 here.

Chapter 34: The Hourglass

Elain scented her sister before she saw her.

The eldest Archeron was in the library at the Mortal Manor, a book balanced between her palms, blue-gray eyes narrowed intently as they quickly and smartly scanned the page. She was so enraptured she didn’t even notice Elain, who was on her way back from Vassa’s quarters - she had just tried to intercept the queen at the start of nightfall yet again, unsuccessfully, of course - when she’d caught a whiff of Nesta’s signature scent: rich vanilla and silvery smoke and burning embers. 

She had to call her sister’s name to get her attention.

“Nesta,” she said. 

“Elain!” she replied, surprised. She snapped the book shut.

“What are you doing here?” If Elain was blunt, she didn’t much care. What was it with her family showing up unannounced, time and time again? 

“There’s an impromptu meeting this evening to discuss the ball. We need to go over the plan and discuss a few…loose ends.”

Elain regarded her sister suspiciously. “Is it anything I should be worried about -?”

“Oh no, no,” Nesta reassured. “Just logistical things, mostly.” 

“Oh.” Elain nodded. “Okay.”

They were both quiet for a long moment.

“So how have you -”

“I’ve been meaning to stop by -”

They spoke over each other, stumbling over their words, before resorting back to an uncomfortable silence. 

Then Nesta sighed, heavily.

“It used to be so easy between us,” she said. “Don’t you remember?”

“Of course,” Elain replied warily. Of course she remembered. Nesta was her closest companion, the other half to her whole, for so many years. Even before their mother died, but especially after. Poor, sweet Feyre, always shunted to the side…but Elain and Nesta were inseparable. For a long time, Elain believed it was because her sister loved her more than anything else in the world. Now, she sees it for what it was: a love of control. 

Nesta's eyes were sad. “The meeting is in an hour. I was hoping you’d like to spend some time together before…” the eldest Archeron trailed off. 

What was she supposed to say? No, I’d rather not spend time with you, because every time I look at you I feel a simmering, boiling rage that I simply don’t know what to do with ? That would do no one a drop of good. 

So instead, Elain nodded tightly and gave as genuine a smile as she could muster. “How does a walk around the Manor sound?” she suggested, and ignoring the stab of guilt she felt when Nesta’s worried expression brightened at her acquiescence.

***

After a slightly awkward albeit rather relaxing walk around the Manor, in which Elain intentionally avoided visiting the conservatory (Cassian might have been fooled by the fast growth of the flora but Nesta most certainly would not, and Elain was in no mood to answer difficult questions), the two sisters entered the doors to the grand atrium.

They were the last ones to arrive. Everyone else was already seated around the long table in the center of the room: Feyre, smiling brightly but tiredly; Jurian, his face tan and weatherbeaten, as if he'd been out in the field more often than not; Lucien, who was avoiding Elain’s eyes; Cassian, who was avoiding Nesta’s eyes; and Vassa, who was avoiding everyone’s gaze all together. 

Elain couldn’t blame them. She was feeling slightly uncomfortable herself; it was the first time she’d seen Lucien since that night in the gardens, and it was the first time she’d seen Vassa since returning from her travels.

Not to mention it was the first time Cassian and Nesta had seen each other since The Incident . She tried to send a subtle, warning look to Cassian, but he wasn’t looking at her; instead, he was staring fixedly at the floor, as if even glancing at Nesta would make the secret come spilling out. 

Whatever. He could handle things however he wanted as long as he stayed quiet. If he kept his mouth shut, there was no way Nesta could find out, right? 

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her elder sister give her mate a curious, suspicious glance. Then she thought about how Nesta could always tell when she and Feyre were lying as kids, and her stomach started to hurt.

In an attempt to distract herself, Elain looked around the room. She'd only been in the grand atrium once before, at the very beginning of her stay at the Manor. Vassa had taken her. The queen said it was a hallowed sort of space used traditionally, reverently and sparingly for only the most prestigious of occasions - but it was also rather plain. 

That is, except for the one piece of decor in the room: the gigantic hourglass embedded into one of the walls. It was filled with silvery sand that glimmered as it trickled down and protruded so naturally, so effortlessly, from the wall that it looked like it had grown there, like some sort of plant. Like some sort of rot.

Every time the sand in the top bulb emptied entirely, the hourglass - and the pieces of stone wall it touched - moved until the hourglass was flipped upside down, and the whole process started again. It was both impactful and beautiful.

“My father used to joke about why the first royals might have put the hourglass into the Grand Atrium,” Vassa had told her. “He said that it was obviously to keep track of time during long and tedious meetings, because if our ancestors were anything like me and my mother, then impatience was as in grain ed in them as the grains in the hourglass.”

Elain had smiled then, but she wasn’t smiling now. The hourglass did not seem beautiful anymore. It seemed more like a taunt. 

The queasy feeling in her stomach intensified, but before she allowed herself to mull over it, she turned her attention back to the table. Everyone seemed to be watching Vassa, who was scanning the contents of several handwritten papers. Elain couldn’t help but notice the dark purple circles rimming the queen’s eyes.

“Notes on Koschei,” Feyre said in an undertone, noting Elain’s curious glance at the documents. “Amren, Rhys and I have been visiting different libraries throughout Prythian and finding every book on him we can. We haven’t found much information that is helpful, to be honest. It almost makes me wish we knew where Bryaxis was so we could ask it for details; I’m sure it knows plenty about Koschei, given that they’ve both existed for eons.” 

Elain considered reminding her sister that they had enough to worry about without adding Bryaxis into the equation, but she just nodded instead. 

“This is nothing I didn’t already know,” Vassa said, throwing the papers back at Feyre. “But that’s alright. I wasn’t expecting much anyway.” 

Startled, her sister blinked. Elain felt similarly taken aback. She’d never heard Vassa sound so…uncaring. 

“Well?” the queen asked, raising an eyebrow. Impatience laced her words. “Who wants to begin?” 

“I can,” Nesta said. Then she cleared her throat. 

“There are three levels to this plan,” she said, voice louder and deeper than before. The voice of the Captain of the Valkyries, dangerous and cool. But sometimes, when her sister spoke in such an authoritative voice, she was reminded of when they were little and Nesta would boss her and Feyre around the house like the little mother she was. Elain had to fight back a grin. Then she remembered that she was still angry at her older sister, and the grin faded away. 

“The first level is the Bait,” Nesta said. With the world’s smallest, tensest grimace, she nodded toward Elain. “AKA, Elain.”

Everyone’s eyes turned toward her, and she did her very best to remain cool and collected, staring blankly into her sister’s blue-grey eyes. 

Nesta tore her gaze away, jaw flexing, before continuing. “As we are all aware, Koschei believes Elain knows where the missing part of his soul is being kept. During the ball, we are going to use this to our advantage and leverage Elain to lure Koschei into a trap. 

“Because of this, I’m sure you’ll all agree that a majority of our magical protection should go toward surrounding Elain,” Nesta said.

“Elain is the bait, yes, but what about Vassa? Have we forgotten the curse he put on her? Have we forgotten the promise he made to return her to that hellhole of a lake? Vassa must remain just as protected. What if he’s tricking us into who his true target is?” Jurian said, eyes gleaming fiercely. 

“That’s a good point,” Elain murmured thoughtfully.

“I don’t think so,” Vassa said. “As soon as the power of the curse returns in full force, he will not have to trap me to get me to return to his lake. I will immediately be back under his enchantment. There will be no capturing or chasing or tracking that he will have to do. I will simply be gone.”

Lucien’s knuckles turned white. “No,” he said darkly. 

“It is not something you can have an opinion on,” Vassa said sharply, refusing to meet his eyes. Refusing to meet any of their eyes. “It is simply the truth. So fine, put some level of protection on me, but the majority should be on Elain. He may not be able to control her mind, but he will try to get to her in other, more dangerous ways. I am an inevitable casualty at this point. Elain is not.” 

“Don’t say that,” Elain said quietly, but the edge in her voice was all sharp steel.

Vassa remained quiet, as did the others, until finally Nesta resumed the plan.

“We will have a welcome ceremony the evening before the actual ball, with appetizers and cocktails and the like. We have more than enough rooms in the mortal manor to provide lodging for the guests. It’s the perfect way to get a feel for what we’re up against before the ball the next evening.

“When the ball begins, Vassa will make a welcome announcement. She will thank everyone for being there, and then specifically thank Elain for helping her with an unknown project. She’ll make sure to mention how dangerous the task is and how Elain is doing it out of the goodwill of her heart, along with her desire to keep all the courts safe from outside forces that might try and hurt them.”

“In short, she will place even more of a target on Elain’s back,” Jurian said flatly, but she knew him well enough by now to clock the worry lacing his tone. She felt a sudden rush of affection for the mortal.

“Sounds good to me,” Elain said, keeping her tone light. She didn’t want anyone to worry about her. “Keep going.” 

Nesta continued on, Feyre and Cassian interjecting every now and then with more details. Lucien surprised them all with his cunning, thoughtful questions that poked holes in the plan -  “ What happens if he hasn’t shown up by midnight? Do we have a backup plan if the magic doesn’t hold during the Presentation of the Courts? What if the other courts are gone by the time we reach Level 3? ” - forcing them to reevaluate and redesign specific components. But eventually, they all came to an agreed-upon scheme.

Well, almost.

“What exactly is our game plan during cocktail hour?” Lucien asked, “Because ‘ roam around and observe ’ doesn’t exactly sound strategic.”

Feyre let out a giggle, clearly forgetting they were in a serious and important meeting. Then she cleared her throat.

“You’re right. Let’s expand on that. How about..after Vassa gives her speech, we will split into groups and observe our guests,” Feyre suggested. “We can decide on the exact groupings later, but it would make sense, and look less suspicious, if those that are couples stay together. Rhys and I, Nes and Cas…”she paused.

Vassa interjected, “Jurian and I will remain together. The mortals that will be there know both of us well, and it would make sense to present us as a united force.”

Feyre nodded her approval, though Elain noticed Lucien’s jaw tighten. 

“We have invited Gwyn and Emerie to come, as well. Having the three Valkyrie leaders will add an additional level of prestige as well as protection. Gwyn and Emerie can stick together,” Nesta added.

“Smart,” Jurian said.

“Since Amren will remain behind to protect the Night Court, that just leaves Elain, Lucien, Mor and Azriel…” Feyre trailed off awkwardly. 

Elain cleared her throat and braced herself. She knew what she had to do, for the sake of the plan. “I’ve thought a lot about what you all suggested. About…about pretending that Lucien and I,” she gestured toward the red-haired male, who blinked in surprise, “have accepted the mating bond.” 

A thick quiet wrapped itself around the group. Feyre stared at Elain with wide eyes while Nesta, quite uncharacteristically, gasped softly in surprise. Jurian and Vassa exchanged a startled glance. It dawned on her that she’d never so explicitly mentioned the bond in front of the two mortals. Cassian looked utterly bewildered and, unless she was imagining it, slightly displeased.

The only other person in the room who didn’t seem taken aback was Lucien. He simply regarded Elain with a wary expression on his face. 

It was the longest they’d looked at each other since that night beneath the fae lights.

“And?” Feyre asked.

Elain cleared her throat. “And I think you’re right. There will be many potential enemies there. But if Lucien and I act like a pair, those enemies will be less likely to instigate anything. So I’m okay with…with making it seem like we are together. For the evening. But only if it’s okay with you,” she added awkwardly, finally meeting Lucien's gaze. His one good eye burned into her, and the memory of their almost-kiss flashed across her mind without warning. She was sure he was thinking about it, too.

“Of course it’s okay with me. It is what is safest for you, and that is all that matters,” he said finally.

She nodded once and looked down at the floor. 

“So that just leaves Azriel and Mor,” Feyre said, returning to the matter at hand. 

Despite the fact that Elain knew her decision was the right one, not only for her safety, but for the safety of others and for the good of the plan as a whole, her heart dropped at the thought of Azriel and Mor sashaying through the ballroom, the beautiful blonde hooked on Azriel’s arm. She could already see the way his hazel eyes would glow as he stared at the female he’d loved for centuries, who for the night was all his, all his . It was enough to make her feel slightly nauseous.

As was the thought of how Azriel would react when he found out she and Lucien were going to pretend to be mates for the evening. 

But gods, he had made it clear as day that they were not a couple. Sure, he’d admitted to caring about her, to liking her, but that was it. If the Cassian debacle had proved anything, it was that he wanted to keep their affection a dirty little secret. Perhaps she would simply have to accept their relationship (or lack thereof) for what it was and what it was not. Accept it was all it would ever be.

Just as Azriel would have to accept that for two nights, she would pretend to the world that her heart belonged to another. 

Even if it was just another bitter lie.

***

Elain had hoped to speak to Vassa after the planning meeting and confront her at last, but the Queen slipped out before she could reach her. Then Nesta and Feyre had cornered her to tell her just how proud they were of her for agreeing to be fake-mates with Lucien for an evening. As if it was a favor she was doing them. As she was a little girl in pigtails who needed to be praised and coddled for every "correct" decision she made. 

She didn't do it to make her sisters or anyone else happy. She did it because, deep down, she knew they were right. Not about everything, of course; she still wanted to give Rhys a swift kick up his 500-year-old ass in retaliation for the last time he'd imposed his sense of right and wrong on her. But about this one thing - about this, they were right. It was safer for everyone, not just her, to pretend that they had accepted the mating bond. Safer, and better for the plan, and the right thing to do. 

But every time she though of Mor and Azriel together, smiling and dancing, she wanted to throw something. Or scream. Or both.

Suffice it to say, Elain was not a pleased female by the time she left the grand atrium.

Hence the broad scowl that graced her face as she stomped angrily through the corridors. What the bloody hells was she supposed to do with the rest of her evening now? She was too worked up to sleep. Too emotionally-unsteady to do something productive. Too angry to hang out with anyone else in this stupid manor, especially -

“I hope that face isn’t because of me.”

Elain whipped around. “Don’t flatter yourself," she told Lucien with a small smile. "You may make me mad, but only my sisters can make me this mad.” She considers for a second. “And Vassa,” she added, then cringed. Lucien and Vassa were very close, after all. “Sorry.”

Unexpectedly, Lucien grinned. “I like it when you’re honest with me,” he says. 

She grinned a bit back, but she couldn’t hide her wariness. This was the first time they had been around each other since the almost-kiss in the gardens, let alone standing in close proximity to each other in a vacant hallway.

Without warrant, her heartbeat sped up.

Lucien seemed to notice the change in her mood too, for the sly grin dropped from his face. “I’m about to leave again,” he told her. “I’m going to…going to the Autumn Court.”

“What?” Elain breathed, her eyes wide. “No, you can’t,” she said, her voice rising in panic.

“Beron is threatening to not come to the Symposium or the Ball if I don’t pay him a visit,” he said grimly. “And we need him here that night. He’s an essential part of the plan.” 

“What does he want with you?” she nearly whispered.

Lucien’s shrug was too tense to be casual. “Who the hells knows. Maybe he just misses my pretty face.”

“You don’t think he knows about…you know,” she hedged.

Lucien’s face remained unreadable.“I guess we’ll find out,” he said finally.

Well, that wasn’t reassuring at all. She frowned at him, and he visibly softened. 

“I’ll be fine,” he said. Then a corner of his lip twitched up. “Though it’s sweet of you to worry,” he teased. 

Elain smiled without thinking about it. 

Her smile seemed to trigger something in him. He sobered up immediately, and before she could even question what was wrong, grabbed her face with both his hands. 

“Before I go,” he said, his mouth so close to hers she could feel his hot breath on her lips, “I have to kiss you first.”

She froze, utterly shocked. 

“Just once,” he murmured, those arresting, uneven eyes staring straight into her own. “Just to see.” 

And she was so shocked, so taken aback by the declaration, that she didn’t stop him when he leaned forward and kissed her. 

***

While Elain was frozen, the Shadowsinger was in the middle of an interrogation.

Azriel studied the male in front of him, frowning slightly. This was taking longer than he expected. Longer than he had wanted it to take; otherwise, he might have made it to the Ball Planning meeting on time. Unfortunately, the Autumn Court soldier, who had been captured by one of his loyal spies, had yet to break. He’d already lost three fingers, for Cauldron’s sake, yet he still wouldn’t talk. 

But Az wasn’t worried. He would talk. They always talked in the end.

It had been several months since he last traveled to the Court of Nightmares. He might not admit it to anyone else, but he could admit it to himself - it was somewhat of a relief to be back. There was no better time for him to… let loose, per say. If only because his blood was close to boiling over already, what with every other burden he bore on his back. 

The anxiety. The guilt. The secrets . How come he’d never fully realized before how heavy secrets were? They were weighing him down like sand. 

But here, in the dark and cool caverns beneath the Court of Nightmares, where not even the strongest Fae hearing could detect a scream - here, he felt the glorious relief of lifted pressure; of steady, pulsing silence. Here, he could wear the worst parts of himself like a shining suit of armor. Here, he could be the Azriel everyone knew and feared. 

Smoothly, he slipped Truth-Teller out of its sheath and twirled it between his fingers with casual, lethal precision. 

“Next question,” he said. “Where did you stay while in Pentalos?”

The male said nothing. The only sounds were his ragged panting and the blood dripping slowly from the little stumps on his hand.

“I’ll wait,” Azriel said. “I’ve been told I’m very patient.” A pause. “But I’m also incredibly impulsive, and I get mad easily. So who knows what will happen.” He cocked his head to the side. “I suppose we'll find out soon enough.”

Still, the male said nothing. Instead, he summoned all his strength and spit in Azriel's direction.

The dagger was in the Spymaster's palm, and the next second it was lodged in the man’s kneecap, deep and through the bone. The scream the soldier let out was so blood-curdling that even his shadows winced, tightening themselves against him like a second skin.

But Azriel did not react a bit. No, he simply watched as the male screamed in agony, his own expression blank and empty. There was nothing he hated more than insolence.

He let the soldier cry and sob until there were simply no tears left to cry. Slowly, Azriel approached the man and retrieved his favorite dagger before retreating once more. And only then, only then did the Spymaster speak.

“I’ll ask you one more time,” he said quietly. “Where did you stay while in Pentalos?”

The soldier let out a dry, hopeless sob, and Azriel knew he had won. 

“In the caves,” the male said, his voice raw and rasping. “In the underground caves.”

Azriel froze. “There are no underground caves on Pentalos.”

“There are,” the soldier said, exhausted. He was getting close to death; Azriel could tell. “There are.” 

Well. That was news to Az. And everyone else who scoured the island. This prisoner was turning out to be useful after all.

“One more question. Almost done,” he said, but there was no compassion lacing his voice. Just an underlying, dark promise. He tried to ignore the sudden pounding of his heart. “What does Koschei want with Elain Archeron?”

A grating, humorless laugh worked its way out of the soldier’s throat, and Azriel had to fight the urge to kill him right then. “What does he want with her?” he repeated, but his tone wasn’t mocking; just resigned. Just tired. “He wants her ruined .” 

“ No ,” Azriel growled, as if the intensity of his objection could ensure Elain’s infinite safety. “He won’t ever get what he wants. Ever. But why does he want her?”

The soldier shook his head, something close to regret in his expression. “She can’t be saved,” he rasped. “Koschei wants her too much. He needs her too much.”

Pure, unadulterated panic shot through his chest, followed closely by white-hot, furious denial.

His fingers clenched around Truth-Teller.                   

“Wrong answer,” he said. There was a flash of silver, a shocked, gurgling gasp, and the Autumn Court soldier spoke no more. 

But the panic threatened to drown the Shadowsinger all the same.

***

It was four in the morning, and Elain had yet to sleep a wink.

Her mind simply wouldn’t shut up. She couldn’t stop thinking about - well, about everything , about so many things she couldn’t keep track. Things that happened today and things that happened yesterday; things that happened decades ago and things she wished she could do again; things that never happened and things that never will. All of it flashed through her mind at the speed of light: 

The cabin she used to live in, when she and her sisters slept in one bed together, curled around each other like cats;

Nesta in the library, smelling like vanilla and smoke and wariness;

The garden in the Night Court, thriving and beautiful without her tending to it;

Vassa, loving her like a sister and then avoiding her like the plague;

The cauldon, big and black and formidable, mocking her with its mightiness;

All the things she wished she would have said to her father - and to her mother;

The Flame Keeper tapping on her chest three times as she mouthed 'speak to the Queen;'

Lucien in the hallway, a deafening quiet engulfing them as his lips pressed against hers;

The looming presence of Koschei hanging over her like a storm cloud;

Azriel on his knees and between her legs, smiling at her and kissing her thigh with heart-wrenching tenderness, a thousand unspoken words gleaming in his piercing hazel eyes -  

She sat straight up in bed, her chest heaving. For a long moment, she was frozen, just staring intently at the full moon.

“Fuck it,” she muttered, then threw the covers off and stood to her full height. 

Less than a minute later - she forgot how convenient Fae speed was sometimes - she was outside Vassa’s quarters, knocking on the heavy oak door with loud and obnoxious persistence.

A servant answered the door. “Lady Elain, what is it?” the young girl asked. “Do you know the hour?”

“I need to speak with Vassa,” she said promptly. “And don’t bother telling me she isn’t awake. And I apologize in advance for my bluntness, but don’t bother trying to stop me from going in.”

The servant swallowed, glancing behind her nervously. “Lady Elain, I’m very sorry, but the Queen has given orders -”

“I don’t care what orders she’s given you,” Elain said patiently.

The servant looked downright scared now. “I’m very sorry, my Lady, but -” 

Elain sighed, then strode past the servant faster than the human could blink. 

She found Vassa in the last place she expected - outside, on a small balcony just off the side of her bedroom. With all the time she’d spent outdoors since the curse returned, Elain assumed the queen would much prefer the indoor comforts of her home. But perhaps even the familiar felt strange to Vassa now. 

Unnoticed, Elain observed her friend for a minute. The queen looked too tired. And too skinny. And too sad, too hopeless , her eyes blank and open as she surveyed the starlit night, hands gripping the railing like it was a lifeline. 

“Vassa,” she said softly, trying not to scare her.

To her credit, Vassa didn’t even flinch. And she did not turn around as she said, “Elain.” It almost sounded like a sigh. Like she’d been expecting and waiting for and dreading this moment, and here it was. 

But Elain didn’t let that mess with her. “You’ve been avoiding me,” she said steadily. 

Vassa still didn’t bother turning around. “Yes.” 

Slowly, like approaching a wild animal, Elain joined Vassa at the balcony. She followed her friend’s lead and stared at the expansive landscape before them. 

“Did you have a good relationship with your mother?” Elain asked out of nowhere. 

Vassa visibly started. “What in the world made you ask that?”

Elain shrugged. “I’m not quite sure, to be honest.”

“Yes,” the queen finally answered. “Yes, I did. My mother was a wonderful person. Both my parents were.” A clear note of wistful grief rang in her voice. 

Elain smiled, just a little bit sadly. “That’s good,” she said. “I’m sure they were lovely, seeing as they managed to raise a woman like you.”

“What was your mother like?” Vassa asked after a beat, her voice noticeably softer. 

“Oh, she was an absolute delight.” Elain let out a laugh that didn’t sound quite right. “She was intelligent, beautiful, and well-connected. She was incredibly good at reading people. She was trendy, and her taste was impeccable, and she loved finery; she always made sure we were dressed in the latest fashions.

“And she was also cold, callous, and cruel.” Elain shook her head slightly. “It’s hard for me to pick which one of us she was most awful to. We all got it worse in some ways, I suppose. Nesta was the heir apparent, treated more like a soldier than a child, expected to not only obey but to carry out my mother’s every order. Feyre was the forgotten child.

“And I was a pretty little puppet who was too silly and naive to try and cut off the strings that held me in place.”

Elain’s hands flexed unintentionally on the railing. She forced them to relax.

“I don’t think of my mother often,” she continued. “And I talk of her even less. My sisters are the same way. Sometimes it feels like she never existed, like I just made her up in my mind, but even I’m not enough of a masochist to imagine someone so uncaring. So unkind.

“But even though we never talk about her or miss her or hold any fond feelings toward her at all, and even though she died when we were quite little…I think she’s left her stain on us all. And I wonder, sometimes, if it can ever be washed out.”

Vassa was quiet for a very long time. But Elain was used to waiting. Used to being patient. It was yet another thing that separated her from her sisters: where Feyre and Nesta were impulsive, Elain was content to wait in the shadows for the proper time to strike.

And wait she did. 

Vassa finally broke the silence. 

“Why did you come here tonight, Elain?” she asked.

It was then that Elain turned to face the queen fully.

“There’s something I need to do. And you’re coming with me.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes. It’s quite important, actually. And guess what?” Elain raised a brow.

“What?” the queen asked dryly. 

“You're going to do it, too.”

"I am?"

"Yes. You need to do it, actually."

“Do I really?”

Elain nodded, ignoring the lack of enthusiasm in Vassa’s tone. 

“And what, may I ask, do we both need to do that is so important you barged into my quarters in the dead of night?”

Elain cocked her head at her and grinned slightly. Something in her expression finally tipped Vassa off. 

“Oh, I don’t like that look,” the queen said, and though she was shaking her head, the first traces of excitement finally seeped through her voice. “What are you planning?”

Elain just grinned wider. “Vass,” she said, “Do you fancy a swim?”

***

The two females hurried through the woods. Leaves crackled beneath their feet; a heavy breeze whooshed over their bodies, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake; moonlight streamed through the gaps in the lush forest canopy, lighting their way.

“We are nearly there,” Vassa said, and though she spoke quietly, the sound still had Elain jolting slightly. Being this deep in the woods, no one around but the creatures who lived here, no sound but for the whispering wind and the rustling of foliage, had words themselves feeling foreign. Alien. 

Rounding a corner, they came to a huge clearing in the forest. The trees here arched toward each other, creating a high, curved canopy. In the center of the clearing was a large, glassy pond, or perhaps a small, circular lake, depending on who you asked. The surface was still as a statue, and the way it reflected the night sky made the water look like it was composed entirely of silvery starlight. 

“Wow,” Elain whispered. Vassa nodded in agreement. Together, they approached the edge of the glossy lake.

“When was the last time you were here?” Elain asked.

“Ages ago,” she said. “I don’t even remember. I fly over it sometimes, when I’m…in my other form. But I’ve not been this close since before the curse. Since before I became Queen, perhaps.” She shook her head as if the movement would shake away the memories. 

“Are you ready?” Elain asked.

“No,” Vassa said. “But let’s do it anyway.”

They stripped to their undergarments. Elain neatly folded her clothes and placed them on a large, flat rock; Vassa threw hers in a pile on the ground. Elain dipped a toe in and shivered. 

“It’s cold.”

“It’s November,” Vassa reminded her.

“Well. It’s not going to get any warmer with us standing here,” she replied shrewdly. “Come on. Let’s jump.”

A thick swallow worked its way down Vassa’s throat. Her hands were trembling, and Elain did not think it was because of the cold.

“You don’t have to do this, you know,” she said softly. 

“Yes. I do,” her friend replied. She took a deep, rattling breath and then held out her hand to Elain. 

In that moment, Elain forgot any anger she had with the queen. Without hesitation, she grabbed Vassa’s hand and laced their fingers together. 

“On three?”

The red-haired woman nodded tightly. 

“One,” she began.

“Two,” counted Vassa, her voice a nervous croak that nearly vanished with the wind. Elain couldn't deny it, either: she was nervous as well. She still hadn't dunked her head entirely underwater since the Cauldron...but she had to. She had to get Vassa to talk to her. And this was the only thing she could think of that might work.

“Three,” they said together, and then they were jumping. The second they hit the water, their grasp broke apart. It was cold, so cold, but so lovely too, invigorating and refreshing and a delicious shock to her very soul. 

Kicking her way up, Elain gasped as she broke above the surface, relishing the way the cool night air bit at her damp skin. A few feet away, Vassa emerged from the depths, crimson locks plastered to her face, blue eyes bright and gleaming in the light of the moon. 

“It’s fucking cold,” the queen gasped. 

“Is it?” Elain asked. “Feels amazing to me.” 

In unison, they started laughing uncontrollably. If asked, Elain could not have said what was funny, but maybe that was the point; maybe it was simply the nature of the situation, the thrill of acting on an impulse, that had mirth uncontrollably bubbling up inside of her. Or maybe it was the way she felt renewed; the way she felt clean , like all the dirty parts of her had been eliminated by the biting cool of the water; washed away like the tide, utter and absolute. Like all the rot inside of her had been cut out and replaced with new, thriving life. 

After several minutes, their laughter guttered out, throats left raw from the act. They stared at each other, treading water, soft smiles on their faces.

“Thank you,” Vassa said. The thin film of moisture in her eyes did not seem like it was from the pool they swam in, but Elain couldn’t be sure. “I don’t know if I ever would have come back here if it wasn’t for you.”

“You would have,” Elain said confidently. She was sure of that. Her friend may have her faults, but Vassa was brave and bold and true, and she would not let any obstacle stand in her way for long. Not if she could help it. 

Suddenly, Vassa's expression shifted dramatically, going from bright and giddy to starkly sober.

The mood shifted immediately, the queen’s words a catalyst to the thundering of Elain's heart. Even the forest around them seemed to quiet, the wind stilling, no creatures stirring, all listening for what came next. 

“Elain,” Vassa said, low and clear. “I need to tell you something.”

Afraid a trembling voice might give away her nerves, Elain merely nodded in response.  

Vassa took a deep, rattling breath. “Before I go any further, I want you to know that - “

She never finished the sentence. One moment she was there, staring at Elain with serious and mournful eyes, and the next she was gone. She vanished beneath the surface as if she was never there at all. She was gone so quickly she did not even have time to scream.

But Elain had seen the petrified expression on the queen’s face before her friend was pulled beneath the surface. A horror so heavy it sank like stone.

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[danydragons21]

TSTS Chapter 31

The Shadows that Sing - an Elriel fanfic

Read it on ao3 here.

Chapter 31: Air

The heady scent of fresh flowers hit her the second her feet touched solid ground.

Blinking, she took in her surroundings. They were standing in the center of the forest clearing at Rosehall - the one rimmed with Night Roses. The last time she was here, it had been during the day, and the flowers were nothing more than translucent buds tucked into their own petals. Now, beneath the shimmering starlight, they were magnificent to behold.

“Oh my,” Elain breathed despite herself. The Night Roses were more lovely than she could’ve imagined; pearly white with a spectacular silver sheen, they seemed to glow of their own accord. There was no wind to speak of, but Elain could have sworn that the blooms swayed slightly, dancing to a melody only they could hear.

“Do you like them?” Azriel asked, his voice smooth and quiet.

“Like them?” she laughed lightly. “They’re exceptional.” Slowly, as if she might disturb a sleeping creature, she walked forward, studying the petals closely. Though aware that one should never touch the flowers with bare hands - the oils on fingers did not bode well for such delicate blossoms -  she still had to fight the desire; they looked so soft, so lovely. But she knew some things were better left untouched.

She stepped away and faced Azriel. He was watching her from a distance with a carefully impassive expression.

“Thank you,” she said. “For taking me here. For showing me.”

“I told you that I’d bring you back to see them at night.”

She nodded, not sure what to say to that.

“Thank you for coming here with me,” he said after a moment. “I know that I do not deserve your time -”

“Don’t do that.” She held up a hand. “I told you I would hear you out, and you deserve the chance to explain. But please don’t…victimize yourself.”

He winced. “You’re right.” Clearing his throat, he started again. “I brought you here because this place brings me unparalleled comfort. It’s always been a sort of solace for me. A haven of serenity and solitude.” He paused. “Did you know that you’re the only person I’ve ever taken here?”

Despite herself, Elain’s heart jumped in her chest. “Not even Rhys and Cassian?”

He shook his head. “Not even them.”

It took all of the strength inside of her not to react to that.

“The first time I brought you here, I told you a bit about my past. About my mother’s past.” A pause. “But there is more to the story. I’d like to share it with you now, if you’re willing to hear.”

Unsure what this had to do with their recent fight but equally unwilling to pretend she wasn’t intrigued, Elain simply replied, “Okay.”

Perhaps someone who knew Azriel less would not have noticed the miniscule change in his countenance, but she knew this male - for better or for worse, she knew him - and she saw the way he steeled himself. The way his jaw set and eyes darkened and shoulders tensed, like he was preparing for battle. Whatever he was about to say was not going to be easy. For him to say - and for her to hear.

He took a deep breath. “Five years after they cut out my mother’s tongue,” he began, and the explicit and graphic statement had Elain inhaling sharply, even though she’d heard it before. But the blunt way he said it, so unexpectedly, so matter-of-factly… the abject horror of it all struck her anew.

“Five years after that, I had my first leave from Illyrian training camp. By then, Rhys and Cas and I had gotten exceptionally close. Close enough to go to the ends of the earth and back to defend each other; close enough to where we’d shared our deepest and darkest secrets with each other.

“Cassian told us about his bastard upbringing and the way the townspeople mistreated his mother. Rhys told us about how cruel his father was, how he feared for his mother and his sister’s safety in his absence.

“And I told them about my childhood. I told them about the cellar and the darkness and the lonely, freezing nights. About my father, step-mother and half-brothers. I even told them about what they did to my mother,” he said.

Maybe she was imagining it, but the temperature around them seemed to have dropped significantly; a chill raced down her spine.

Azriel cracked his neck in agitation. “By the time we got our first leave from camp, we’d already devised a plan. First, Cassian would go to his old village to free his mother from the hellhole she was in, with us following closely behind to ensure no trouble befell them.

“Unfortunately, we arrived much too late.”

“What do you mean?” she asked with trepidation.

“Cassian’s mother had been killed years before, apparently,” Azriel said, and there was no mistaking the tremor in his voice; the way his vocal cords clenched together in an attempt to stem the emotion. “Shortly after he was shipped off to training, we later discovered. There wasn’t even a body for him to visit. To give a proper send off. To say goodbye to.”

Cassian’s warm, friendly face swam in her mind. She had no idea such tragedy lay in his past. Had certainly never heard this story before. A fat tear dripped from her eye, and she was not surprised to find her hands were shaking.

“You can imagine how he reacted,” Azriel said.

Elain just stared at him. Yes, she could imagine. Gods, could she ever. But still, she needed to hear it straight from him.

Azriel met her eyes, a steely hardness glinting in his own. “Cassian did not leave many survivors. Nor did Rhys and I, by the time we arrived to help.

“And right after that, while we were still covered in blood, while the bodies of our victims were still warm,” he said in a forcibly blank voice, “we moved on to the second part of the plan. But this part of the plan was not about Cassian’s vengeance. No. It was about mine .

He took a deep, unsteady breath. “Originally, the plan was to bring them all to justice. To take them to Rhys’ father, tell him the details of my childhood spent in the cellar, and let the High Lord of the Night Court bestow a suitable punishment.”

“And you trusted Rhys’ father to deliver that justice?” From what Feyre had told her, the previous High Lord had not been a kind male.

“Rhys’ father was a cruel and sadistic prick, but he was also intelligent  - and I think he could tell, even then, that Rhys’ powers would far outweigh his own. We were counting on him being too calculated and strategic to deny Rhys and his ‘dangerous’ friends what was a fair enough request. I had been abused. We simply wanted my abusers to be punished accordingly.”

“But the truth was, we couldn’t entirely rely on the High Lord to punish them properly. And by the time we left Cassian’s village…that sort of uncertainty was simply unacceptable.”

Her blood went cold.

“When we arrived at my father’s house, there was no chance of containing our anger. Least of all mine.” His voice was quiet and yet his words were spoken with aching clarity. “They were dead within minutes,” he said, closing his eyes for an expanded moment before opening them again, a dull sort of acceptance raging in the hazel depths.  “All of them. My father. My step-mother. My half-brothers. All it took was minutes,” he repeated, his shadows a tempest around him.

He was watching her closely, carefully, as if he expected her to gasp or clap a hand over her mouth. Perhaps he was looking for any indication of fear or disgust or revulsion upon her face - looking for any reason to stop telling his story.

But he would not find one, not with her. Never with her. She simply kept on listening, her expression neutral, her eyes wide and her attention rapt.

It gave him enough courage to continue on.  

“I watched as they suffered. Watched as the life drained from each of them. Then we threw their bodies onto a pyre. That was my idea, of course; a twisted way of paying them back for my hands, though by that time they were long dead and couldn’t feel the pain - but gods, it felt good, all the same. It felt good to know that I could do that to them, even in death. That the power and control was mine entirely.

“Perhaps the worst part of it all is that I’ve never regretted it. Not once. Not for a single moment. It’s not because I believe I was righteous in my decision - I was a child then but I am grown now, and I know that vengeance so vicious can only sow more seeds of violence.

“It’s because I wasn’t alone in what I did. My brothers were by my side during it all. They committed those terrible acts, too; the blood that stains my hands is splattered across them, just the same. And if we are together in something, no matter if it is right or wrong, then it is all going to be okay.

“I tell you all this not to scare you or remind you what horrors I’m capable of,” he said quietly, “but to try and somehow explain to you that Cassian is more than a friend to me. He is more than a brother. He is deeper than blood. We share not just friendship but centuries of joys, sorrows and sins. Of being each other’s true and chosen family. He’s seen me at my worst and I have seen him at his.

“That is why…that is why I was so distraught when I thought I might lose him forever. I was spiraling. It felt like that day all over again, like there was this uncontrollable rage rising within me, and I was helpless against it. It was terrifying. It was humbling . I thought I was losing him forever, and I thought it was all my fault,” he croaked out.

Emotion welled in her eyes, and she couldn’t help but turn away and hope he wouldn’t see. She understood what he was telling her, of course. What wouldn’t she do to protect Feyre or Nesta? What sorrow would overwhelm her if she lost Nyx? Deep empathy pulled at her gut.

She looked back at him. Took in his dark, handsome visage; the vulnerability etched upon his face so rare, so precious. What if something were to happen to him ? Fear and something far more dangerous clutched at her heart.

Yes, she understood all too well how he’d been feeling. And yet there was still so much hurt in her heart over it.

There were always reasons for actions, but that doesn’t mean those reasons were excuses . As obviously devastated as Azriel had been, it was certainly no excuse for the way he’d so callously insulted her. She was worth so much more than that.

She opened her mouth to tell him all of that, but Azriel hurriedly spoke before she could.

“I know none of this excuses what I said to you.” Well, he stole the words right out of her mouth. “I know that. Within seconds of you walking away from me in the den that day, I realized that l’d fucked up monumentally. Not only had I hurt you…but I’d also pushed away one of the only people in the world that I trust completely.”

Trust . Just hearing that word drip from his perfectly curved lips threatened to chip away at her mask of icy apathy.

“I realized something else important too.” He took a step closer. “Something I should have realized a long time ago.”

“What did you realize?” she asked, her voice blessedly steady despite the visceral way her body reacted to the increased nearness of his own.

He stepped forward again. “I realized that you are my family now, too,” he said. “That you are someone I trust not with my secrets but with my life . Someone who I depend on. Who I…,” he swallowed, courage threatening to desert him - but he was not a cowardly male, goddamnit, he was Azriel, Shadowsinger, Spymaster; he was all they called him and more. But more than all of that, he was brave.

And no one made him braver than the female standing before him.

“Who I care about more than I can adequately convey,” he said, not even thinking twice about how his voice shook slightly.

Elain’s face of forced indifference crumbled entirely.  “Oh, Az,” she murmured.

Striding forward, a fervent, burning look on his face, he cupped her face in his hands. “You are my family, Elain,” he said fiercely. “There is nothing I wouldn’t do for you. There is no limit to the lengths I would go to protect you. And if something were to happen to you, I would be just as distraught. Just as broken. Do you understand me?”

“Yes,” she said. “Yes, I hear you.”

“But do you understand?” he asked. There was an intensity in his expression that was utterly bewitching.

“Yes,” she said, interlacing her fingers with his own, captivated by his gaze. "I do."

And she did. He wasn’t saying he loved her. He wasn’t defining their relationship or calling her his girlfriend or providing any clarity to the secret things they did to each other in the dark.

But he was telling her he cared about her. He was calling her his family . She knew how much that word meant to him, and she knew the courage it took to open up like this to her. This male, who frustrated and confounded her as much as he made her entire world spin, who struggled with emotions that had been pushed down for longer than she could possibly comprehend, had gone out of his comfort zone to give her comfort.

For now, that would have to be enough.

“I’m so incredibly sorry for what I said. For taking my anger and stress out on you when you did absolutely nothing wrong. Gods, I’m just so fucking sorry,” he said unevenly.

“I know,” she whispered back. “I know you are.”

Azriel leaned his forehead against her own. “Do you forgive me?”

She did not hesitate. “Yes. Of course I do.” Elain had never been one to hold onto grudges. It was simply not in her nature.

With a mix between a relieved groan and a heavy, rattling sigh, he let his arms fall to her sides. Then he wrapped her up in his embrace. They stayed that way for a long moment.

Then Elain leaned back, a serious look on her face. “But if you ever talk to me like that again, I swear to the gods, I’ll be done. I deserve so much more than how you treated me. Do you understand?”

He nodded solemnly. Earnestly. “Yes. I won’t ever say shit like that to you again,” he swore.

She nodded back. They were still wound around each other tightly, knotted together like ancient roots. Azriel’s firm, hot muscles tensed as she lifted a hand to cup the back of his neck. Her fingers lightly traced the bargain tattoo there.

A deep, rattling sigh escaped his lungs. “I missed you,” he murmured. “So damn much.”

“I missed you too,” she replied honestly, still caressing his nape.

He burrowed his face into her neck, inhaling deeply. Then his lips began to lightly trace the contours of her collarbone. Instinctively, her body squirmed beneath him, and she let out a breathy, desperate moan.

Their scents shifted in tandem, growing heady and sultry as desire overwhelmed them both.

“You keep making those noises and I won’t be able to control myself,” he said, raising his head and staring at her with dark eyes.

“Why would I want you to control yourself?” she asked, thrusting her hips into his. The evidence of his lust pressed against where she wanted - no, needed - him the most.

Azriel let out a deep, virile noise. He grabbed her hand and cupped it over his throbbing length.

“You want it?” he asked hotly, lips tracing the arch of her ear. “You want it right here, right now?”

“Please,” she said.

“Hells,” he rasped. Then, with graceful and enviable ease, he scooped her fully into his arms and laid her gently on the forest floor. He crawled over her, wings arching magnificently behind him.

They did not bother undressing; they did not consider that it might be too soon after such an emotionally-charged reconciliation to rush into sex. It had not even been a week since they’d last been together, but for the frantic way they clutched and pulled at each other, it may as well have been a year, a century, a lifetime. They were moving only on instinct.

Azriel shoved up her skirt, his breath uneven. She returned the favor by unbuckling his pants and pulling out his throbbing length wiggling out of her own underthings.

To her surprise, he held out a hand. “Mine,” he said in a tone that left no room for disobedience. Hand shaking, she passed over the silken garment. When he pocketed it, her face turned so red she thought she might just burst into flames.

Azriel’s cool, long fingers traced her cheekbone. “It never fails to amuse me how bashful and innocent you can get,” he murmured, “seeing as you’re the most irresistible, fuckable female I’ve ever met.” He tapped his hot member against her sensitive, slick center. She was absolutely soaking, and he couldn’t contain his groan at how good she felt beneath him.

Elain whimpered in response, her legs instinctively hooking themselves around his back. Then her heel brushed against his wing. It was an accidental, feathery touch that had him shuddering uncontrollably. He’d never wanted someone - anything - so badly. He wanted her like he wanted air.

“Fuck, what are you doing to me,” he moaned against her neck, hips still moving forward in a desperate, choppy thrust, the tip of his length sliding along her slippery folds.

“Az,” she panted, and now her hands were gripping his ass, pulling him toward her best she could.

“Yes, baby?”

“Need you,” she gasped out. “ Now .”

That was all he needed to hear. A second later, he was pushing inside of her, deep and hard.

It was unlike any other coupling they’d experienced before. From the second he was inside of her, there was no talking. There was no registering the world around them.  There was only Azriel and Elain and what they were when they were together; something grandiose and mythological; something greater than the sum of its parts.

***

Azriel was buckling his belt when a shadow curled up to his ear.

The twins need to speak with you, the shadow said, Urgently .

Alarm shot through him. The twins knew better than to throw words like urgently around so casually. If they said it, they meant it.

Elain was watching him with narrowed eyes. “What is it?” she asked, clocking his concerned expression. As usual, she looked utterly delectable post-sex; her cheeks were rosy, her eyes were bright and her hair was adorably tousled. Though he had half a mind to throw her back on the ground for round two, he somehow managed to wield the iota of willpower that remained inside him.

“Nuala and Cerridwen have an urgent report,” he said. “Do you mind if they meet us here?”

She shook her head. “Of course not. Do you mind if I hear what they have to say?”

“Of course not,” he echoed. His gaze flicked down quickly, the corner of his lip turning up. “You might want to readjust your dress, though,” he said. His sultry grin grew wider as Elain blushed. As soon as she had laced up her gown, sadly covering her perfect tits, he gave his shadow the go-ahead to call for the twins.

They arrived seconds later, materializing in the darkness like they’d been there all along.

“Greetings, Spymaster,” the twins said in unison, their voices melding together like smoke, both wearing impassive expressions. Then they noticed Elain, and the nonchalance transformed into excitement.

“Elain!” Nuala said happily. She stepped forward into the shadows and appeared directly in front of Elain before bestowing a bone-crushing hug on her. “We didn’t know you would be here, too!”

“Thanks for the heads up,” Cerridwen said to Azriel with a dirty glance before embracing Elain as well.

He rolled his eyes. The twins loved blaming him for things he had no control over.

“What’s the urgent matter you needed to discuss with me?” he asked, getting right down to it.

“We have important information for you. For both of you, actually,” Nuala said.

“What information?”

“Do you remember how weeks ago, you asked us to find out why the Autumn Court soldiers were in contact with a recently-deceased Blood Oracle named Lady Margota?”

Azriel felt Elain look at him in surprise, but he kept his gaze focused on the twins.

“Yes. And?” he urged them on.

“Well, our network of spies has obviously had trouble tracking the Autumn Court soldiers. So we decided to try a different approach. We began focusing on finding Blood Oracles instead.”

Cerridwen took over. “A week ago, we found one living on a nearly-deserted isle on the Eastern coast of Prythian. A male named Corleys. He was rather unamused by our presence the first few days, but with a little… persuasion , we managed to get him to open up.” Nuala grinned wickedly.

“And open up he did,” continued Cerridwen. “He told us that months ago, Autumn Court soldiers found him. That they threatened him with punishments worse than death if he did not acquiesce to their demands.”

“And what were the demands?” Azriel asked.

“First, he was to tell them everything he knew about the history of the Blood Oracles. Where they originated from, how many were left, and where they resided. He told them all that he knew - and, of course, he told us all he knew, as well. Specifically that the Blood Oracles derived from an ancient tribe of Fae that has been extinct for centuries, and only a handful of Blood Oracles remain today.”

Nuala cut in. “The Autumn Court soldiers told Corleys that he was not to repeat his knowledge to anyone else. And then they told him that, if a young Fae female that possessed the rare power of fortune-telling was to come knocking at his door in search of information, and if she, he was to contact the Autumn Court immediately.”

“We are still working to locate any other living Blood Oracles and confirm that they too were visited by the Autumn Court, but we think it’s safe to assume that this is the same warning Lady Margota received.”

Azriel clenched his fists. Yes, he imagined that the warning was the same across the board.

“How would they know that Elain was to visit a Blood Oracle?” he asked through his teeth.

“We’re still trying to figure that out.”

With a growl of frustration, Azriel turned away. He wasn’t upset with the twins; of course he wasn’t. They had done very well in retrieving this important information. But there were gaping chasms in the story that he still could not fill; missing links that he didn’t understand. And until he fully understood, he could not properly protect anyone. Could not protect her .

“What was the name of the Fae tribe the Blood Oracles descended from?” Elain asked.

Something in her voice had him freezing in place.

“I believe he called them Celians,” Nuala responded.

If Elain’s sharply inhaled breath didn’t tell him what he needed to know, the way she refused to meet his eye would have.

“You’ve heard of these people before,” Azriel said.

She nodded numbly. “That night in the Mortal Manor library,” she said, “I was searching for something I’d seen in a vision earlier that day. A vision that showed Vassa writing something in a book. When I went to the library myself that evening, I located the book - it was something about royal lineages in the mortal world - and scribbled on a page was the word -”

“Celians,” Azriel finished for her. She dipped her head in affirmation.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” he asked, doing his best to keep his anger out of his tone, but it was an impossible task: how could she keep something so important from him?

She shot him an accusatory look. “My apologies for getting distracted shortly thereafter,” she said, raising a delicate eyebrow. Suddenly, he recalled what had happened when he found her in the library that night.

He immediately shut his mouth.

Across the clearing, the twins exchanged a meaningful glance.

Oh, Gods above. Did they know ? He knew he’d done a masterful job of hiding his and Elain’s scent post-sex - it was instinct for him to do it now - but the twins didn’t need hard evidence to discover secrets. There was a reason they were his best spies.

“Vassa must know about all of this,” Elain said, the disappointment and disbelief in her voice pulling him from his worries. “She knows about the Celians, and the Blood Oracles, and how they all connect to-” she stopped abruptly. “Isira!” she said.

“Bless you,” Nuala said.

“No, Isira ,” Elain repeated urgently, her doe eyes bright and wide. “The Flame-Keeper from the Day Court.”

“The what? ” Azriel, Nuala and Cerridwen’s voices sounded together.

Elain smiled sheepishly. “I suppose there’s a lot I need to fill you in on,” she said, and then she was off, recounting her short but adventure-packed trip to the Day Court, the others interjecting sporadically:

“A secret bookshelf? How have I been a spy for three centuries and yet I’ve never found a secret bookshelf?” Cerridwen pouted.

“And you just waltzed into the room? The glowing room where an unknown presence lay beyond the door?” Azriel asked darkly.

“Lucien is Lord Helion’s son ?” Nuala gasped.

Elain nodded seriously. “Yes. But you cannot tell anyone. It was a surprise to Helion as well, and I don’t think they’ve spoken since, so who knows what’s going to happen. But Lucien would be in danger if Beron were to ever find out.”

“Us spies happen to be rather good at keeping secrets,” said Cerridwen.

“Let’s hope so.” She took a deep breath. “Right before I left Helion’s office, Isira told me I needed to talk to the Queen,” Elain said. “She must be referring to Vassa.”

“I would assume so. There aren’t many other queens in your circle of friends,” Azriel said.

Choosing to ignore his teasing tone, she said, “I mean, I need to confront her, right? Need to convince her that it’s time she tells me everything she knows, whether she wants to or not?”

“What if it goes badly, though?” Nuala argued. “What if Vassa is secretly in kahoots with Koschei and this is all a part of an elaborate plan to ensnare you?”

Azriel shook his head at the same time Elain said, “She is not working with Koschei.”

“How do you know?” Cerridwen asked quietly. “You don’t want to believe the worst in your friend, but people do terrible things when they are afraid.”

“It’s not about what I want to or don’t want to believe,” Elain shot back. “It’s about what I know. I’ve lived with this woman for months now. I’ve become her confidant. Her companion. There are things she is keeping from me, yes - and I’m sure that fear is a factor in why she is doing so - but there is no way in hells that she is helping that monster. I would sooner cut off my hair than believe that.”

A thoughtful quiet met her declaration. “Don’t cut your hair,” Nuala said finally. “I don’t know if you could pull off a bob.”

“I could pull off any hairstyle I wanted,” Elain said, “but noted.”

Azriel, who’d been oddly quiet, let out a low chuckle. The twins looked at him like he’d sprouted a second head.

He cleared his throat. “Vassa cares about Elain. And she would die before helping Koschei. It’s probable that she hates him more than we do.”

The twins inclined their heads in tandem. “The two of you know best,” Nuala said simply.

“But I don’t know if it’s time for you to confront her yet,” he continued, directing his words to Elain. “Remember, the ball is approaching. We need the ball to happen. We’ve been planning a trap for Koschei for months, and it might be our only chance to defeat him. Forcing Vassa to share information she isn’t ready to share could backfire - and we can’t risk that.”

“So what should Elain's next move be?” Cerridwen asked.

“To do what she’s been doing all along,” Azriel said. “Lay low. Keep alert. Be her friend. If she tells you of her own accord, fantastic. But we can’t postpone the attack plan against Koschei any longer. Not if we want to end his reign of terror and ensure our safety once and for all.”

Ensure your safety, he wanted to say to Elain, but he knew she wouldn’t take kindly to being called out like that. She’d say he was babying her in front of the twins, or she’d accuse him of thinking she was weak. He knew she wasn’t weak, of course. In fact, he knew she was stronger than most. But he also knew that the mere idea of losing Elain had begun to infiltrate his thoughts day and night, and the sooner the threat of Koschei was eliminated entirely, the sooner he could breathe properly again.

“So I just keep pretending to be her friend?

“Are you pretending?” he asked.

Elain averted her gaze, a deep swallow working down her throat. It was an answer in and of itself.

She rubbed her eyes. "This plan sure better work," she said tiredly.

“Well, I don't know about that, but I do know one thing for sure,” Cerridwen said.

“What’s that?” Elain questioned.

“If Azriel’s going to stuff your panties in his pocket, he should learn to do it more stealthily,” Nuala finished for her sister.

Indeed, peeking out of the front pocket of Azriel’s pants were Elain’s silky pink undergarments, lacy hem and all.

Before either Az or Elain could do more than gape soundlessly, the twins vanished entirely, though not without one last, knowing smirk.

Tagging: @sakurakittypeach @shedoessoshedoes @courtofjurdan @lesolehabitantdelalune @suntoksabuwan @sweet-pea1 @ireneherondale24 @supernaturallynerdy @dreaming-of-azriel @bookstaninthesoul @cuppamelia @fawnandshadows @offtorivendell @impossiblescissorspeachpaper @nikethestatue @reverie-tales @nyaxxe @casuallivi @protectorofvel @briar-reads @creatureofnightmares @swankii-art-teacher @the-laughing-bubble @gracie-rosee @cntrol @magnolia-blossom87 @ela-ivp @potassium-boron @freepandahugs @karomdr-blog @athena-85 @justreallybored @innlove @closetedfreak98

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[danydragons21]

The Shadows that  Sing Ch. 30

Read on ao3 here. 

Chapter 30: The Day Court Part 2

Under different circumstances, Elain would have enjoyed being in the High Lord of the Day Court’s personal study. Opulent marble coated the floor; the walls were lined with majestic columns and arching windows that revealed a stunning view of the Day Court territory; a chandelier made entirely of delicate glass hung from the high ceiling, illuminating the surroundings in shimmery light. It was as lovely as the rest of the Court.

As it was, the only reason they were here was because they’d fucked up—badly—and were now being savagely (and deservingly) berated for it, so Elain found it difficult to fully appreciate the impressive architecture.

Helion was pacing back and forth in agitation, the gold trim of his pure white robes sweeping over the marble as he did so. Before him stood Lucien and Elain, their heads bowed slightly like two children who’d gotten caught doing something naughty. Behind them were Feyre and Ishira, who for whatever reason had insisted on coming along.

“You were welcomed into our Court with open arms, you were given access to our libraries, and yet you decided that was not good enough,” Helion said, continuing on his rant that had already lasted several minutes. “You decided to take advantage of our hospitality and venture into areas prohibited to guests!”

Elain gulped. “I can understand that,” she said in a meek voice, “But to be fair, there was no one or nothing that told us we were specifically weren’t allowed to follow any secret passages we might find.”

The High Lord glared at her with such ferocity that she felt herself shrink backwards a little.

“The Caverns of the Keepers hold some of Day Court’s most honored and classified troves of knowledge,” the High Lord said hotly. “It’s not only disrespectful in the highest degree to take it upon yourself to peruse through the caverns—it is forbidden.”

Feeling small and useless, Elain spoke in an even quieter voice. “I’m sorry,” she said, “I didn’t mean to take advantage of you. I was just following the voices in my head.”

It took only a second after speaking for her to register how positively insane she sounded. From Helion’s wary look, she was sure he was thinking precisely the same thing.

“Ishira told us that we were meant to come down there,” said Lucien, speaking for the first time since entering the High Lord’s study. “I understand that we broke your rules or whatever, and we are sorry, but clearly this is something that was destined to happen.” He shrugged in that casually confident way of his. “When both a Seer and a Flame Keeper receive intelligence from higher powers that force them to meet, it seems like it’s something that should be forgiven. Especially in light of the bigger problem here that we are all trying to solve.”

A snarl formed on Helion's face. “How insolent,” he seethed. “Both of you,” he nodded toward Elain, “are young and foolish and irresponsible— ”

“Don’t talk to her like that!” Lucien fiercely.

Helion strode forward until he was face to face with Lucien.

“I’ll talk to her however I want in my own home when—”

But as Helion lifted his arm in an angry gesture, Lucien seemed to take it as a threat, rather than just the way the High Lord was talking expressively, and he raised his hand in response.

A beam of golden light exploded from Helion’s outstretched hand at the same time a lick of crimson fire came from Lucien’s. Both looking utterly shocked, as if they had no control over the magic whatsoever.

Though Elain knew that the magic emitted by Helion couldn’t possibly be fire (it was, after all, a gift of the Autumn Court), she couldn’t help but think that the High Lord’s glowing beam looked suspiciously like a flame, mimicking Lucien’s own so very closely.

The flame and not-flame danced together, twisting and curling in a way reminiscent of Azriel’s shadows, wrapping around each other as tightly as a lover’s embrace and burning bright as the Night Court stars before vanishing into utterly nothing.

A chill of realization ghosted across the nape of her neck as a memory—no, a vision— from months ago swam to the forefront of her mind. This was not the first time she had seen the dancing flames.

“What the bloody hells was that?” Elain surprised even herself by asking, but she could hold the question in no more than she could ignore the sense of foreboding growing stronger with every passing moment.

No one replied. Confused, frustrated, and slightly concerned at the lack of response, she studied each of her companions’ visages. Lucien looked as stunned and puzzled as she; Ishira had an expression of grim acceptance; Helion was absolutely frozen, his eyes wide as saucers. She wasn’t even sure that he was breathing.

But it was Feyre who confirmed Elain’s suspicions that something incredibly meaningful had just occurred. And it was Feyre, her sister, who she knew better than almost anyone else in the world, standing there with the strangest look of anguish, resignation and apology written across her face, who spoke next.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, her voice breaking slightly. “This is not how I wanted you to find out.” Her eyes, wide and beseeching, swiveled back and forth between Helion and Lucien.

“Find out what?” the red-haired male demanded, his vexation now mixed with frustration. Helion, on the other hand, remained in his state of shellshock; he had yet to move a single inch.

Feyre opened her mouth to speak again, but before she could, Ishira cut her off.

“What you’ve just seen is a rare, albeit not unheard of, magical manifestation that occurs in the most unique of circumstances.”

“Like calls to like,” Feyre murmured under her breath, closing her eyes.

“Precisely,” the Flame Keeper said.

“What might those unique circumstances be?” Elain asked slowly, but Ishira had turned to look at the male beside her.

“Lord Lucien,” she said, “You have been told a lie your entire life. You are not the son of Beron Vanserra, High Lord of the Autumn Court.”

A heavy, pulsing silence reverberated through the room.

“What?” he breathed finally. Then he shook his head. “What are you playing at? Of course he’s my father.”

But Ishira shook her head right back. “He is not, Lord Lucien,” she said. “Yes, your mother is the lovely Lady Elvinye of the Autumn Court.” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Helion finally move, his whole body shuddering when the Flame Keeper said Lucien’s mother’s name. But Elain did not turn her attention to him; she could not keep her eyes off Lucien. Something in her very blood told her that to leave him unattended at this moment would be a grave mistake.

“But your father—your true father—is none other than High Lord Helion of the Day Court,” Ishira’s clear voice rang out.

All the breath vanished from Elain’s lungs. She felt the thread in her chest grow taut as across from her, Lucien went utterly still.To her right, Helion’s head collapsed into his hands, a position of sorrowful defeat.

Her head was spinning with questions. Lucien was Helion’s son? Helion? How could that be? If his mother was truly the Lady of the Autumn Court…did that mean Helion and Elvinye had once been together?

Most importantly, what did this mean for Lucien? And what would his “father,” Beron, do if he were to ever find out?

The thread in her chest tugged again, pulling her from her thoughts. She focused on Lucien. He wore an expression of the utmost animosity, his teeth gnashing together.

“Is that true?” he demanded, looking straight at Helion. Slowly, the High Lord removed his hands from his face.

“I…It’s possible,” he finally croaked out.

The anger on Lucien’s face became even more pronounced. “It’s possible ?” he repeated in a low growl. Then he turned to Feyre. “You knew about this?”

“I suspected, yes,” she said, her voice rather hoarse.

“For how long?”

Briefly, she closed her eyes; when the youngest Archeron sister opened them again, tears swam in the blue depths.

“For a while,” she answered honestly. “That’s why I came here. To tell Helion of my suspicions.” She grimaced. “Of my very strong hunch.”

“Why did you wait so long to tell me?” Helion asked angrily. “We’ve been together for hours today, doing nothing of importance.”

“I was working up the courage.”

“The courage?” Helion repeated incredulously. “We spent three hours petting the pegasi, for godssake!”

Elain turned to her sister. “You saw the pegasi without me?” she practically wailed.

“Now is not the time, Elain,” her sister hissed. Elain closed her mouth. She had a point.

“You didn’t think to tell me before, perhaps?” Lucien said angrily to Feyre, his voice harder than she’d ever heard it. “As your longest friend here in this Fae world, you didn’t think it was something I deserved to know?”

“I had to know if it was absolutely true before I told you,” said Feyre pleadingly. “I know I messed up. I know I should have been more proactive about getting to the bottom of it. But if you believe anything, you must know that I had no intention of hurting you—of hurting either of you,” she added to Helion. “This is not how I wanted you to find out. And I’m so, so sorry for it.”

Lucien scoffed and then directed his attention to Elain. And while the anger blazed in his eyes for a brief moment, the longer he looked at her, the dimmer that flame became, until suddenly it was replaced entirely by an undeniable exhaustion. A tiredness that seemed to emanate from his very core.

“Do you want to get out of here?” she asked, once again speaking without truly thinking about what she was going to say.

But she knew she’d said the right thing when he nodded right back at her. “Yes,” he answered.

“Go to the Night Court,” Feyre said. When Elain met her gaze, she saw both her younger sister and High Lady staring back. “Please,” she added softly.

Elain nodded once. Where else would they go, after all—the Mortal Manor, where Vassa and Azriel were, two people she was hesitant to speak to for different reasons, and where they would not be expected to return so soon? The Autumn Court, where Lucien wasn’t even a full-blooded heir, if the crazy secrets revealed in the last few minutes were to be believed? Where else besides the Night Court would they be safe?

She nodded stiffly at her sister. Lucien crossed the room and grabbed her hand.

The last thing she saw before they winnowed away was Ishira staring at her with a meaningful look on her wise, ageless face.

Talk to the Queen , the Flame Keeper mouthed. Then she tapped the center of her chest three times.

Before Elain could do so much as blink back, they were winnowing away, twisting between the folds of time and space.

Mere seconds later, they stood in the foyer of the River House. Dropping her hand, Lucien let out a bone-weary sigh. Her heart clenched in sympathy at the defeated look on his face.

She straightened up. “Wait here,” she said. A few minutes later, she returned to find him still standing in the same spot, clearly not having moved even an inch in her temporary absence.

She held up two large bottles of wine. “Want to forget about all this shit for a little while?”

The corner of his lips turned up in the smallest possible smile, but she was thrilled—a smile was a smile, and she had succeeded in putting one on her friend’s face against all odds.

“I’ve never wanted to forget anything more,” he replied.

***

A few hours and several bottles of wine later, Elain and Lucien were wonderfully drunk and roaming through the Night Court garden. It was full of winter blooms, which naturally were not as bright and vibrant as their summer cousins, but she found them just as enchanting. She wasn’t sure who had been tending to the garden in her absence and was equal parts pleased and sad about it—pleased that the plants were being cared for, sad that they thrived just as well without her. She knew it was a silly thing to be sad about, but she couldn’t help it.

Thankfully, she had much more important things to worry about. Like the red-haired male at her side, who was significantly drunker than she, and had taken to singing randomly at the top of his lungs.

“Stop!” she said at the end of a particularly painful rendition of "The Fae Who Got Away," even as she laughed at his antics.

“You don’t like my voice?” he asked, mock-offended.

“No, I do not tend to enjoy the sound of a dying squirrel.”

He laughed loudly in response, then started swaying slightly.

“Ooookay, let’s find a place to sit,” she said, tugging him toward a nearby bench. He plopped down, uncorking the half-full bottle in his hand and chugging.

Sitting next to him, Elain curled her legs beneath her and gazed up at the sky. It was quite late in the day, or perhaps early in the morning; it had been early evening when they were still at the Day Court, though that had been hours ago, so she couldn’t imagine what time it was now. But she wasn’t tired at all, the wild events of the day keeping her mind busy and her stimulation piqued.

“What am I supposed to do next?” Lucien asked out of nowhere. He seemed to have shed the drunken lightness like a second skin and now wore a forlorn and dejected demeanor.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean,” he took another gulp of wine as he gathered his thoughts, “What in the bloody hells am I supposed to do next? Do I tell anyone? Do I tell no one? Do I start referring to Helion as Daddy?”

The snickered together, though Lucien’s expression sobered up quickly.

“Do I let my mother know that I know the truth of my heritage, the truth she has kept from me all my life?” Some of his sadness was replaced with anger as he shook his head. “I can’t believe she didn’t tell me.”

“She was trying to protect you.”

“I know that. Gods, I know that. Doesn’t make it hurt any less, though.”

“No. No, it doesn’t,” she agreed quietly.

For a while, they both sat in silence, sipping on wine and lost in their own thoughts. Soft Fae lights were strung through the branches of the trees that formed a sort of canopy above the bench, casting a warm glow over them.

“You should ask the voices in your head what I’m supposed to do,” Lucien said.

She gave him a sad smile. “I don’t think it works like that.”

He sighed and faced her fully. “I didn’t think so, either. Worth a try though, eh?”

She smiled wider. She admired her friend - she really did. Even in the face of such a life-changing discovery, even after finding out that his entire existence has been a half-lie, he still tried to keep things light and humorous. Sure, it was most likely a defense mechanism, but she liked it all the same.  

Elain was suddenly distracted by his eyes. They were really quite enchanting, one russet, one gold and mechanical. She admired them for a moment unabashedly, feeling as bold as the wine she’d been drinking all night.

“You’re staring at me,” he said.

“I am,” she agreed. It would be silly to deny it.

The enchanting eyes in question widened at her response. “What?” she asked, suddenly self-conscious.

“You almost never look at me. At least not like that. Not so…fully.”

She blinked, his honesty scalding as boiling water. Just as painful was the knowledge that there was a kernel of truth in the statement. Whether it was the wine or the guilt she felt, she decided to return his honesty with a little of her own.

“I know,” she replied finally. “I am...sometimes I look at you, and I feel like I am drowning.”

“Drowning in the cauldron?” Lucien asked quietly.

Elain stilled. Breathe , she reminded herself.

“Yes,” she whispered. “That, and also just drowning in you .”

“I can relate to that,” he said, shifting a bit and glancing away. A thick swallow worked its way down his throat. “It’s strange, isn’t it? To feel so connected to someone that you don’t know that well?”

She nodded in response, watching two fireflies circle each other. “We know each other now, though,” she said. “But you’re right. It was so strange to feel that…that tug in my belly, that indescribable pull, the very second we made eye contact that night. It feels like that moment just changed everything, you know?” She was talking mostly to herself at this point, contemplating and reflecting on how that evening in Hybern had turned her entire world upside down. But here she was on the other side, still alive, still moving forward. Stronger and surer of herself than ever before.

Lucien’s soft voice pulled her from her contemplation.

“Elain,” he said. When she looked at him again, she was shocked to see tears falling swiftly from his one good eye. “I have never truly apologized for that night. Though I swear to you that I had no idea Hybern was planning on doing that to you and your sister…” He inhaled sharply, and through the bond she felt his guilt, heavy and suffocating.

“I am so sorry. For the Cauldron. For the things I said when the time was clearly not right. For all of it.” He was still crying, his regret palpable. Unconsciously, she reached out and grabbed his hand. Watched as he froze when she began rubbing her thumb over his palm in small, soothing circles.

“I forgive you,” she said. “I forgave you a long time ago, actually.”

He smiled then, gratitude glowing in his eyes, and she found herself smiling back. They continued to smile at each other as Lucien intertwined his fingers with her own. The fae lights hanging overhead reflected against his brilliant crimson hair; for a moment, he looked luminescent.

“Growing up Fae…you hear about mates as if they are legends,” Lucien mused. “Myths, practically. That might not make sense to you, since both your sisters are mated, but it’s true. Mates are so rare, so precious. I never expected to find mine. And…and after I met Jesminda, I never really wanted to,” he admitted in a rushed whisper, as if he didn’t know if he should be mentioning his deceased lover.

“I heard what happened to her,” she said quietly, watching as Lucien stiffened. “To your…to Jesminda.” A pause. “I cannot imagine the pain and sorrow you endured. That you continue to endure. As someone who has lost a loved one, too…I know that just because they are gone, it does not mean the love you feel for them is gone. If anything, it just exacerbates it. Brings it into higher definition.”

The red-haired male inclined his head. “Exactly,” he said. “It took decades for me to even look at another female after her death. And it took even longer for me to feel anything more than lust or physical desire for one.”

“When I became Fae, and Greyson did not want me anymore, I was convinced I’d never love again,” she confessed. Almost involuntarily, the corners of her mouth turned up. “How glad I am that I was wrong.”

Something flashed in Lucien’s eyes at that, and maybe if Elain wasn’t so tipsy, she would’ve realized her slip-up. Would have realized the danger of her words. Would have realized she was a liar and a sneak and a spy , and she had just accidentally divulged a threateningly-personal piece of information. For either Lucien would assume she was talking about him… or he’d discover she was talking about someone else.

As it was, though, Elain did not realize any of this. She continued smiling in blissful unawareness.

Lucien’s face had gone rather slack. “It was you, you know,” he breathed.

“What?” she replied, just as breathlessly, taken aback by the sudden intensity in his gaze. They were moving closer together, their chests nearly touching, drawn like magnets. She could count every freckle on his nose.

“You were the first female that made me realize I could…could feel that way again. Could love again.”

Elain sucked in a breath, apprehension mixing with something different, something far more dangerous. The rational half of her brain told her to run. The other half—the half ruled primarily by the aching in her chest that had been there since the day of Cassian’s healing—begged her to move closer.

“I took one look at you,” he whispered, “and I just knew.” Her heart was pounding. Those words...wasn’t that what every girl wanted to hear?

They were so close now she could taste his warm, sweet breath. What would it hurt, she thought, to give in to this? To finally allow that thread within her to pull her toward what it so clearly wanted?

Just one kiss, she thought, head heavy with wine and want. Just one kiss, to see what it was like.

But as she began to close the distance between them, her eyelids drooping down in tandem with Lucien’s, something caught her attention. Their two figures, bent forward and nearly intertwined, were backlit against the fae-lights, creating a shadow that spanned across the ground.

Shadow .

It was with a great, heaving gasp that she pulled away, her entire body suddenly cold. Her hands covered her mouth. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered. She would have liked to say it in a normal voice, but her throat didn’t seem to be working right.

Confusion and hurt warred across Lucien’s golden face. All he said though was, “It’s okay. I’m the one who should be sorry.”

She shook her head vigorously. “No. No, you shouldn’t. Please, don’t apologize to me.” She stood up. “I have to go.”

Without waiting for a reply, she raced away, thankfully encountering no one else on the way. When she finally reached her bedroom, she collapsed on the bed, stuffed a pillow beneath her face and screamed.

Why couldn’t she just be happy with Lucien? Why did the sight of a goddamn shadow make her feel guilty for nearly kissing someone who was as single as she - the same someone that the stupid godsdamned Cauldron had decided was meant for her?

If she was smarter, if she wasn’t so drawn to an emotionally unavailable shadowsinger who had yet to explicitly admit his feelings for her, none of this would be an issue. If she didn’t let her heart make every damn decision, she wouldn’t be feeling so hollow and helpless. Wouldn’t have hurt someone else in the process.

Fucking Azriel. She should have known she'd never be able to get him out of her head.

***

Elain remained at the Night Court the next day, opting to return to the Mortal Manor the day afterwards in order to spend some much needed time with Nyx. Feyre had arrived back from the Day Court at some point the previous evening but had wisely given Lucien some much-needed space, so Elain still didn’t know how the rest of her conversation with Helion went.

Speaking of the red-haired male, Elain had not seen him since her disastrous departure in the garden. She expected he was avoiding her. She certainly could not blame him for that, and was secretly glad of it—she, too, needed some time to consider just how to approach the situation. Merely thinking about their almost-kiss had her stomach hurting like she was about to start her period (which, ever since she turned Fae, was quite possibly the most painful thing she’d ever experienced).

Thankfully, Nyx was the best cure for her stress. After a day full of belly kisses and baking cookies and trying to keep him from flying into the walls (she succeeded, for the most part), she felt infinitely better, and tucked Nyx into bed that night with a weight lifted off her shoulders.

She had just entered her bedroom and was looking forward to washing her face and curling up with a book when there was a light knock at her door.

Assuming it was Feyre with Nyx, who almost always requested multiple goodnight kisses from his Auntie Elain, she opened the door with a playful smile on her face.

It vanished almost immediately as she beheld Azriel.

“What are you doing here?” she asked breathlessly, hating the way her mind went to the previous night with Lucien, beneath the fae lights, and even though technically nothing had happened…heavy guilt churned through her belly.

The corner of his jaw ticked nervously. “Well, Lucien arrived back at the Mortal Manor early this morning. Said you and Feyre were in the Night Court and then left immediately after to go gods-know-where.”

She nodded slowly, then frowned. “If you’re here, who’s guarding the Mortal Manor?”

“Mor,” he replied, surprising her. Then, to her greater shock, he blushed. “I, well, Vassa seemed like she could use a girl friend to talk to, and I’ve always thought she and Mor would get along great, and Mor has been wanting a break from Valhalla for a while now -”

“So you set them up,” she asked, unable to stop the corner of her mouth from turning upward as Azriel blushed even deeper, the high contours of his cheeks a dusty rose color.

Her good humor was short lived as she remembered the awkward tension that still lingered between the two of them. The small smile on her face disappeared, replaced with wariness.

Sensing her change in demeanor, Azriel grew somber. “ Elain,” he said in a rough voice that reverberated through her body all the way to the tips of her fingers and toes.

She closed her eyes. It was truly unfair how his very presence affected her so significantly. She was trying so, so hard to be aloof. Cool and collected.

Thankfully, despite his affect on her, she said nothing. She would not give him the words he so desperately sought. He knew better than to expect her to fill in the blanks for him.

“Can we talk? Please?”

“We are talking,” she replied evenly.

“Somewhere else.”

“Why?”

“I want a chance to apologize. In depth, this time.”

“Apologize for what?” she said calmly, lips slightly numb. “The cruel and unwarranted words you said to me, or the way you threw my insecurities back in my face?”

Azriel swallowed. “Yes,” he said hoarsely. “Yes, all of that.”

She gave no reaction, just continued to look at him with those big brown eyes.

“Elain, he said again, and maybe he was a selfish bastard for using her name (because he knew the effect it had on her), but he would do anything to win her back right now. Would throw all his cards on the table.

“Do you remember that day in Rosehall? When I told you why my mother cannot speak.”

“Yes,” she said after a moment.

“I never finished the story.”

She blinked, her surprise evident, but she remained silent.

“I’d like to tell you now, though. Will you please go somewhere with me to hear it?”

“Where?”

He held out a hand. She eyed it for a long moment.

A thick swallow worked its way down the column of his elegant throat. “Trust me?” he asked quietly, a vulnerability in his expression that she’d never seen before.

Oh, gods. She closed her eyes for a brief moment, feeling her resolve crumble around her.

Besides, there was only one honest answer.

She opened her eyes. And she took his hand.

Tagging: @sakurakittypeach @shedoessoshedoes @courtofjurdan @lesolehabitantdelalune @suntoksabuwan @sweet-pea1 @ireneherondale24 @supernaturallynerdy @dreaming-of-azriel @bookstaninthesoul @cuppamelia @fawnandshadows @offtorivendell @impossiblescissorspeachpaper @nikethestatue @reverie-tales @nyaxxe @casuallivi @protectorofvel @briar-reads @creatureofnightmares @swankii-art-teacher @the-laughing-bubble @gracie-rosee @cntrol @magnolia-blossom87 @ela-ivp @potassium-boron @freepandahugs @karomdr-blog @athena-85 @justreallybored @innlove

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[danydragons21]

The Shadows That Sing: Chapter 28

Read it on ao3 here.

Chapter 28: Words

“You look like shit,” Cassian observed.

Azriel grimaced. “Thanks.” 

“If anyone in this room has an excuse to look shitty, it’s me. You know, the one who quite literally came back from the dead,” Cassian said. 

The latter part of his sentence had Nesta, who was curled up on his other side reading a book, whipping her head up to glare at him, the mere mention of his near-death experience sending a tangible rush of distress through her. Cassian patted her hand placatingly. She refocused her attention back on the book, though every once in a while she would shoot her mate a suspicious glance out of the corners of her narrowed, blue-gray eyes.

“Instead,” Cas continued, “well, you know how I look,” he smirked, gesturing to the healthy flush of his skin. “I look absolutely incredible.”

“If I had a gold coin for every time you’ve said that in the past 48 hours, we could move out of the House of Wind and buy a new mansion.” Nesta said dryly. 

Azriel would never admit it to Cassian—his brother needed no extra boost to his confidence—but he did look incredible. His complexion was glowing. His eyes were vibrant and clear. Even the muscles beneath his sun-darkened skin looked stronger and more robust. It was nearly impossible to imagine that only a few days ago, he had been on his deathbed. Now he could very well enter a male beauty contest—and win. He was a living, breathing, walking and talking miracle.

And the shadowsinger was one of only two people who knew just how that miracle came about. And the other person—the miracle-maker herself—was avoiding him like the plague.

Hence why he looked like shit. In the two days since Cassian’s recovery, Azriel hadn’t even seen Elain, let alone spoken to her. Every time he recalled the horrible things he’d said when they were last face-to-face - which he thought about, oh, every other minute or so - guilt and regret threatened to pull him under. 

“And you’re being useless, like always.”

Gods. He didn’t deserve to live after saying that. Or maybe he did deserve to live and have to forever replay the utter devastation that had splashed across her face following his ugly declaration. That seemed like a fair way to pay his penance. 

After she’d left him in the den, he’d wallowed in misery for a few moments before visiting Cassian, confirming for himself that his friend was going to make a full recovery, and drawing up a chair next to his sick bed. He’d barely left his side since, spending nearly every second with him and Nesta in the infirmary. 

Azriel would like to pretend this commitment stemmed solely from being a good friend and wanting to ensure Cassian remained healthy, but that would be a lie. The truth was that he was avoiding Elain just as much as she was avoiding him. 

He’d fucked up—royally—and he didn’t know how to fix it. He didn’t even know how to begin . Words had never been his strong suit, and he didn’t know how to adequately explain how incredibly and deeply sorry he was while also begging for forgiveness and ensuring her that he had not meant anything he’d said. 

Because he hadn’t meant it, not even a little bit. She was anything but useless; she was as bright as the stars in the sky; she was everything . The hurtful words he’d said had been nothing more than an awful defense mechanism. A rudimentary and cruel way to attempt to guard his heart from any more breaking. Even in his head, though, the explanation sounded pathetic and not nearly good enough. 

So he had not even tried to find her yet, because he was unable to stomach seeing her and experiencing her cold shoulder. Or her apathy. Or the wounded hurt in her eyes. Worst of all, he had a nagging fear that the next time he saw her, she was going to end—going to end whatever this thing was between them. And despite thinking only days ago that the culmination of their relationship was inevitable, he found that the thought of letting her go right now was utterly unbearable. 

If she couldn’t speak to him alone, though…well, then she couldn’t end it. And so here he was, camping out in the Manor’s hospital wing like a coward and impeding on Cassian and Nesta’s privacy. 

“So, Azriel, do you still want to have a threesome with us?” 

He blinked, sure that he did not hear Nesta right. But no, she and Cassian were staring at him expectantly, waiting for him to reply.

“...What?” 

“See, I told you he wasn’t listening,” Cassian nudged Nesta. “Pay up, Archeron.” 

She scowled. “ I told you he wasn’t listening, you brat. Are you sure there aren’t any unfortunate side effects from this so-called near death experience? You seem to be dumber than usual.”

A grin spread across Cassian’s face. “There aren’t any unfortunate side effects, no. However, I can tell you there are some fortunate side effects, my sweet little mate,” he said, tugging Nesta closer to him. “Such as a renewed virility and an entirely new desire to—”

“I have NEVER said I wanted to have a threesome with the two of you!” Azriel said loudly. He could feel his cheeks burning. 

Nesta rolled her eyes good-naturedly and lightly separated herself from Cassian (though only by a few inches, and if Azriel wasn’t so entirely avoiding her icy-blue gaze, he would have noticed that her cheeks were rather red, too). “We made a bet,” she said.  

Azriel opened his mouth, gaping wordlessly like a fish out of water for a few seconds. “What does that have to do with a threesome?” he choked out. 

With a great roar, Cassian burst out laughing and, in typical-Cassian fashion, started rolling around. Nesta giggled, a very not-typical-Nesta thing to do.

Azriel glowered at them. 

“Oh, stop pouting,” Nesta said. “We made a bet on if you were listening to us or not. When it quickly became apparent that you were in a world all of your own, it just escalated into saying the most outlandish things until you finally registered that we were speaking to you.” She shrugged. “You really need to work on your awareness skills.”

Well. That was a humiliating thing to hear as the Spymaster of the Night Court. 

“We’re just playing with you, Az,” said Cassian, “but we know you’re hiding out here for some reason.”

Azriel did his best not to give any reaction, but it didn’t matter. His friends had already seen through his flimsy mask of security to what he really was: a distracted, heartbroken fool.

Leaning over, Cassian gave Azriel’s shoulder a rough, encouraging pat. “Don’t worry. You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to. We’re here if you need us. You can third-wheel with us anytime you want, buddy.”

“And do let us know about that threesome,” Nesta said off-handedly, returning to her book. 

Azriel shook his head. “Sometimes I can’t tell if she’s joking or not,” he said to Cassian under his breath. 

His friend nodded in understanding. “I know. It’s scary, right?” 

“Thank you,” Nesta said as she turned the page.

Azriel’s shadows suddenly started swirling around him. One sidled up to his ear and whispered. The High Lady approaches with urgent news.

“Feyre is coming. ” he told Cassian and Nesta. The latter frowned. 

“How do you know?” she asked.

He sent her a funny look. “My shadows told me.” Of course , he wanted to add, but didn’t.

But Nesta continued to look disturbed. “I thought your shadows couldn’t hear in the Mortal Manor,” she said slowly. 

It was like an icicle to the heart, sharp in the way his panic hit, melting in the way it cascaded throughout his veins, putting all of his other senses on high alert. He’d forgotten, for a moment, that his shadows could not hear within the Manor; their whispers were a sixth sense to him at this point. 

Except she was right. Until this very moment, he’d never been able to hear his shadows while inside the Manor. Because of…

Instinctively, he stood up.

“Shit,” Cassian exhaled deeply through his nose.

Shit was right.

***

Sometime over the last week, autumn had faded into winter; there were nearly no leaves left on any of the trees, and every morning a thin dusting of frozen dew coated the grounds. Elain usually hated the cold, but for the past two days, the chilly and barren woods had become her solace. Her sanctuary.

She’d spent hours on end finding dead plants and occasionally animals and testing her powers on them. The plants were easy to bring back to life; the animals were not. It made sense; animals were that much more complex, and healing an injured living creature was not nearly as difficult as completely reviving a dead one. Yesterday, though, she’d had some luck reviving a frozen butterfly, so she knew she was improving.

It annoyed her as much as it pleased her that she found mastering her healing magic so much easier than her seer powers, though that, too, made sense to her. Healing was brought forth by love and positive energy; well, Elain had so much love. Sometimes she thought she loved too much. 

Summoning visions, on the other hand, required her to shut off the emotions that came so naturally to her. And while usually this was a difficult feat in and of itself…ever since Azriel had so cruelly cut her down with words in the den, she’d found it nearly impossible to close off her emotions. Found it nearly impossible to feel anything but wretched hurt and anger and betrayal.

How dare he? How dare he say those barbed words to her? He, who more than anyone else, knew just how deep those words would slice at her confidence. She would never have believed the male could say something so callous. And so untrue. Because Elain was not dense enough to take Azriel’s insult seriously. Perhaps it was the fact that she’d brought his best friend back from the brink of death only a few days ago, but she knew without a doubt that she was not useless. And she wasn’t going to let some stupid, insensitive, and annoyingly sexy bat tell her otherwise.

She just wished she didn’t miss him so much. She hadn’t realized how much better she'd been sleeping with Azriel beside her until sleeping next to him was an impossibility. Now, he haunted her dreams like all the other ghosts of her past. 

Ugh . She scowled at herself. She had far more important things to do with herself than wallow in pity over the potential demise of her relationship with the shadowsinger. 

For the past two days, Lucien had been urging her to tell the rest of her court about her newfound powers. She had to admit that he had a point. Ever since Cassian’s “miraculous” healing, everyone had been coming up with theories for how he could have possibly survived such a terminal wound. Each was more ridiculous than the last. 

At first the theories had been relatively plausible. Rhys had suggested that Koschei had never meant to kill Cassian; that his injury was only supposed to push him to the brink of death before whatever magic the death lord possessed pulled him back to the edge of safety. 

“He wants to remind us that he’s in control,” the High Lord had said grimly. 

Now though, days after the fact, the theories had gotten utterly unhinged. Jurian had gone so far to suggest that Cassian was not healed at all and instead was a puppet for Koschei to spy on them all. When Mor came to visit briefly, she’d mused aloud on if Cassian was descended from a rare breed of Fae that possessed miraculous healing properties in their blood. 

“They’re practically invincible,” Mor said, her eyes shining. “That would explain why you’ve survived so many wars while being on the front lines.”

“Yeah, because it can’t just be the fact that I’m the best warrior in Prythian,” replied Cassian in an offended tone.

Elain crept quietly out of the room after that because she was worried the guilty look on her face would give her away. 

She was running out of reasons not to tell the rest of her court and family about her healing powers. In fact, she only had one reason remaining, and it wasn’t a very good one: she just didn’t want to. Not until she was perfectly adept with her magic, at least. It was stupid, but when she finally told the others, she wanted it to be on her terms, and she wanted to be fully capable of healing in every which way. She just couldn’t take any more pitiful looks that implied she was a burden rather than an asset.

First things first: Elain needed a plan of action. And what better way to plan than to see into the future? Sure, she hadn’t had much luck purposefully summoning visions lately…but there was a nagging feeling in Elain’s stomach that told her she had to keep trying. That told her it was imperative that she keep trying. Almost like time was running out, if she was to be that melodramatic and foreboding. 

She sat cross-legged on a small tree stump and closed her eyes. Took a deep, controlling breath. 

What do I want to see? What do I need to see? 

Behind her, a twig snapped. She whipped around, heart thundering in her chest. Her sharp Fae eyes caught a small mouse darting across the forest floor, and she whooshed out a half-frustrated, half-relieved sigh.

“Focus,” she ordered herself. Slowly, she felt her taut muscles relax as a soothing numbness consumed her. Hollowed her. Carved her into a vessel for whatever visions would come her way.

What do I want to see? What do I need to see?

I want to see what to do next , she thought. I need to see the path I must take. The path to where, she was not sure…but she was starting to understand that fortune telling was not an etching of set events into stone; human nature was too fickle for that, too inconstant and dynamic. To be a seer was not to predict with certainty that which was too far away to consider: it was to let the next step in the path be illuminated.

And with that revelation, a vision came to her immediately. 

She was sitting at a long table, tomes haphazardly stacked atop the surface, and was flipping through one of the books with a look of deep concentration on her face. Beside her was Lucien, who was also scouring a thick volume. They were in a library, though that word was far too simple to describe the gorgeous room, with its dark wooden interior and intricate gold detailings and arching windows that revealed the most stunning view of a cloudless cerulean sky and puffy white clouds. The rays of sun beaming into the room had never seemed so bright, so pure. 

The red-haired male beside her excitedly pointed to a passage in the book he was reading. “This could be—oh, never mind,” Vision-Lucien murmured disappointedly, shaking his head. Vision-Elain gave him a sympathetic look and turned back to her own tome.

The loud cawing of a bird jolted her from the vision. Crisp and cool air stung her eyes as they opened. The bleak winter sun traversing through the nearly-barren branches seemed much dimmer than the brilliant light in her vision. A rush of clarity seared through her. 

She knew what she had to do next.

***

If Elain hadn’t been so preoccupied with her most recent vision, she would have noticed how ominously quiet the Manor was upon entering. As it was, her head was so entirely filled with what she’d just seen that she barely noticed where she was going. It wasn’t until she was mere feet away from the throne room that she realized where she was; a moment later she registered Lucien's deep voice sounding from behind the arched doors. Huh. Her subconscious must have led her straight to the person she wanted to talk to. 

Perhaps she should have been a little more aware of her surroundings and registered that there were other voices inside the room, as well. Instead, she barged straight in, throwing the double doors wide open in her haste, and strode right for Lucien.

“We need to talk,” she told him. He blinked down at her in surprise.

“What?” he asked after a moment, his voice strangely hoarse. 

“We need to talk,” she repeated, more urgently this time. “I just had a vision.”

“Elain.” It was Nesta who had spoken. The eldest Archeron sister wrung her hands nervously. “Elain, something has happened.”

Her heart slowed. Glancing around the throne room, she fully registered the others who stood around them—her sisters and their mates, Jurian and a few select soldiers from the legion he commanded. They all wore the same grim and melancholy expression, made even more somber in the dim light from the flickering torches that lined the walls. 

And there, nearly in the corner, half-ensconced in the darkness, was the Spymaster. She couldn’t make out his face—she didn’t allow her gaze to linger on him to seek out his expression—but she could sense his anxiety from the way his shadows tensed and pulsed around him.

“What happened?” 

Silence. When Jurian let out a small sniff, her heart started back up again, racing far too fast.

“If someone doesn’t tell me what’s wrong this instant—”

“It’s Vassa,” Lucien croaked. “Her curse has returned.”

She clapped a hand over her mouth. Dread was a living thing that moved inside her body; it slithered through her, cold and damning. Despite all the anger she’d harbored toward the mortal queen these past few weeks, all she felt now was pure and utter panic. Not Vassa, no, he couldn’t take her, he couldn’t have her, and oh gods, she was supposed to save her friend, this was her fault, she hadn't tried hard enough, she had not been enough —

“Koschei took her?” she asked fearfully.

“No,” Feyre said, shaking her head, blue eyes full of sorrow. “She has not been made to return to the Lake—yet. But she has been forced back into firebird form during sunlit hours.”

Breathing became slightly easier. Vassa was still here; she had not been taken by Koschei. Thank the gods. And yet the fact that her firebird curse had returned did not bode well for any of them, least of all the queen.

“Where is she?” Elain asked, her voice scarcely louder than a whisper. Oh, Vassa. Brave and bold Vassa, trapped inside a body that was not her own. An immense pressure bore down upon Elain’s heart.

“She’s circling the grounds.”

As one, they looked out the massive windows overlooking the grounds. There, in the distance, high above the trees, flew a large avian creature. It was colored with brilliant crimson and gold plumage. As they watched, the bird emitted a heartbreaking cry. She immediately recognized it as the call that had roused her from her earlier vision. The lament seemed to echo throughout Elain’s very being, a chilling and sorrowful song that rattled her bones with its intensity. 

“What do we do?” Jurian asked.

“There is nothing we can do right now,” said Rhys. “It seems the only way to free Vassa of the curse is to destroy Koschei. Our best chance of doing that is to wait until the ball, when we can put our plan into action. I know that’s not the answer you want to hear, but…” he trailed off as Lucien started pacing furiously, his hands cupping the back of his neck, the scent of his frustration clouding the room. 

He spun around and pointed at Elain.

“I thought you were supposed to be helping her.” His good eye was bright with rage.

Shock rendered her silent for a moment. “What?” she finally replied. 

“You were supposed to use your powers to find a way to rid her of this horrible enchantment,” he said loudly, voice shaking. “To figure out how the hell we can stop Koschei.” 

“Lucien,” said Feyre, her voice low with warning. “Stop. Your frustration is misplaced.”

What the fuck was with all these alpha-Faes thinking they could yell at her? Well, she’d had enough. “As a matter of fact,” Elain cut in angrily, “I just had a vision that told me what our next step should be. Now can I share it, or do you have any more unfair and unfounded accusations to throw my way?”

Everyone blinked. Lucien’s face turned nearly as red as his hair as he took an embarrassed step backward, averting his eyes.

A few moments of awkward silence passed. “Well, what was your vision, Elain?” Jurian asked breathlessly.

She relayed the details quickly. 

“I was with you?” Lucien asked once she’d finished.

“Yes,” Elain replied shortly, not bothering to look at him. 

“This library,” Rhys mused, “do you know where it is?”

“I’ve never been there before...but yes, I think I know where it is. I believe it’s at the Day Court.”

“The Day Court?”

“Yes. It’s just a hunch, but it feels right.”

Rhys hesitated before continuing on. “May I take a look inside your mind and confirm? I’ve been to the Day Court library before, you see.” 

She eyes her brother-in-law with thinly-veiled suspicion. Did she really want to give him permission to sift through her memories? There were some things she’d rather he never see (and a lot of them involved her sex life with a certain someone). But at this point, Elain knew her mental magic was good enough that she’d be able to put up a decent fight. Besides, as misguided and arrogant as he could be, she didn’t think Rhys was cruel enough to invade her most private thoughts.

Nodding once at Rhys, she relaxed and lifted the mental barriers inside her head. His eyes focused elsewhere; a moment later, he blinked. “Yes. That is the Day Court library. You are clearly meant to find something important there.” 

She nodded back in agreement. “I don’t know how exactly it will help Vassa, but I know that it’s going to,” Elain said, and saying the words out loud had her feeling even more sure of their truth. “I just can’t see the end result yet. Which means I need to go to the Day Court. And you,” she turned to fix her gaze at Lucien, a little unwillingly, “have to come with me.”

Lucien’s mouth dropped open. “Me?”

Elain frowned. “Yes, you. No one else was in the vision.” 

“Oh, right,” he said, ducking his head. 

Gods. And she was the useless one? Resisting the urge to throw something, Elain continued in a steady voice, “With your permission, High Lord and High Lady, and of course the blessing of Lord Helion, I would like to visit the Day Court as soon as possible. With Lucien, too, if he agrees to come,” she added.

“I’ll come,” he said quickly.

“The Day Court?” Feyre said, and perhaps Elain was imagining it, but she thought she detected a hint of nervousness in her sister’s voice. “Just the two of you?” 

Rhys sent his mate a loaded glance. What the hell is going on? Elain thought, bemused.

Then a deep voice spoke from the far end of the room, effectively stealing all of her attention. “If you need someone else to go, I’m happy to accompany Elain, as well,” the Spymaster said. 

She stiffened, her gaze flicking to where Azriel leaned against the far wall, wearing his shadows like a second-skin. Even in the semi-darkness, his glowing hazel eyes were piercing as ever, and they were directed straight at her. She hated her traitorous heart for stopping mid-beat in her chest. 

“I don’t think Elain and I need a chaperone, but thanks for the offer,” Lucien said. Still caught in Azriel’s intense gaze, she watched as his expression turned dark and dangerous (or, well, darker and more dangerous than usual). 

“Careful, Vanserra” the shadowsinger warned quietly. Elain would never admit it, but the deep, raspy timbre of his voice made her unnaturally hot between the legs. 

“Or what?” Lucien sneered.

“Knock it off, you two,” Nesta snapped. 

The two males immediately obeyed her elder sister and went silent, but the daggers they glared at each other were as sharp as ever. 

Now Elain was more than annoyed. She was ready to be done with this conversation.

Taking a deep breath, she collected herself, then faced Rhys and Feyre. “Well? May we go?”

Apparently the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court had already discussed the matter mind-to-mind. 

“Yes. You may go. I’ll reach out to Helion at once,” Feyre answered. “I am sure he will be more than fine with it.” Once again, there was a guarded expression on her sister’s face that Elain could not quite comprehend. She’d have to ask her about it later. “Upon receiving Helion’s blessing, you, Lucien and I will depart for the Day Court immediately.”

“You’re coming with us?” she asked in surprise.

“I have other matters to discuss with Helion, so yes, I’ll be joining you.” 

Well, that was a relief. If she was going to have a third companion, Feyre was a much preferable option than Azriel. She felt sick even thinking about the sheer awkwardness of trying to make conversation with Azriel and Lucien together. Hells . She shook off the disturbing thought. 

“The Day Court is one of the safest places in the realm, but it’s often in the safest places that we let our guards down,” said Rhys. “Don’t do that. Always be on alert. Keep mental notes of anything odd you notice. And most importantly..don’t do anything risky.”

Elain nodded her acquiescence, pretending she didn’t notice the worried look Nesta sent her way.

Clapping her hands together, Feyre said, “Well, I’m going to get a message to Helion. I’ll let him know this is urgent business. Elain and Lucien, I’d go pack a bag immediately. Chances are Helion will reply in the next hour or so, and we have no time to waste.”

She started to nod again when a thought occurred to her. “If we leave before Vassa…transforms back,” she swallowed down the emotion stuck in her throat, “will you tell her where we went? Will you tell her that we’ll be back soon?”

It was Jurian who replied. “Of course.”

She wished she could be there when the queen returned from her cursed form, but perhaps it was for the best. Elain knew Vassa, and she knew that her prideful and spirited friend would likely not want to speak to anyone for a while. 

“One more thing,” said Rhys. “Make sure you wake up before the sun rises.” 

“Why so early?” she asked before she could help herself.

A small smile tugged at Rhys’ lips. “Believe me. You won’t want to miss the sunrise in the Day Court.”

***

She felt him before she saw him.

“You know, most people would call appearing unannounced in someone’s bedroom an invasion of privacy,” she said, not bothering to pause in her folding of garments as she packed a small bag for her trip. Feyre had informed her just a few minutes ago that Helion had gotten their message and invited them to the Day Court. They’d be leaving as soon as the clock struck noon.

“It’s only an invasion of privacy if it’s an unwelcome visit.”

She huffed out a humorless laugh. “If you’re waiting on me to invite you in, you’ll be waiting a while, I’m afraid.” 

A heavy silence. “Elain,” he said eventually, deep and demanding. “Look at me.”

No , she wanted to say. No, I can’t look at you, because then I might consider forgiving you, and I’m far too hurt and angry to do that right now. Instead, she said nothing at all.

“Please, Elain,” he said raspily. Her heart seized up and this time, she did pause in her tasks. How could she not when the ring of genuine regret and apology in his voice threatened to melt down her walls of resistance? 

He spoke again. “I messed up.”

She nodded slowly, still facing the other way. “Yes.”

“I’m so sorry, Elain. You have to know I didn’t mean it. Even if you can’t forgive me, you have to know that.”

She let out a long sigh. The thing was, she did know that. She knew he didn’t mean what he’d said—but he had meant to hurt her. And that intentionality was what gnawed at her heart the most.

“Yes, I know that,” she said finally, turning to face him.

The wintry afternoon sunbeams shining through the window reflected beautifully against his eyes. It made the deep green warmer; made the gold flecks brighter. He was so beautiful, standing there in his shadows and his sorrow. He was so beautiful, and yet she was still so angry with him that it physically hurt. 

“Do you forgive me?” 

She smiled sadly. “I didn’t say that.”

He made a pained sound in the back of his throat. “Is that why you are going to the Day Court with him?” he asked, and there was a desperation to his tone that she’d never heard before. “Are you doing it to punish me?”

Shock had her taking an instinctive step backward. “When have I ever done something to purposely hurt you?” she asked incredulously. “When have I not had your back? I’m on your team , Azriel. I always have been, and I have always acted with your best intentions at heart. Meanwhile, you’re tailoring your words to hit me where it will hurt me most, and even worse, you are doubting me! Doubting us .”

He flinched. 

She let out a frustrated sigh. “We have less than a month before the ball. Vassa’s curse has returned. Koschei is coming for us. We are running out of time. Everything I am doing is what I believe must be done in order for us to survive the coming storm. I have no ulterior motives.” A pause. “And you have to know I would never hurt you like that. Not intentionally.” Her voice went so low it might as well have been a whisper. “I care for you far too much.”

Anticipation was a restless beating in her chest as she waited—and hoped, and wanted, and wished—for his response to be something substantial, something she could grasp on to. But after several moments of silence, it became apparent that she would wait in vain.

Swallowing down the crushing disappointment, she returned to her packing, hoping he didn’t see her shaking hands. “I’ll see you when I return.” 

In the span of a breath, he was behind her and spinning her around to face him. 

“Please, wait a second,” he said, low and urgent, “I don’t want to leave it like this.”

“We don’t always get what we want,” she snapped back. A vein in his jaw twitched, and she had the sudden urge to flick it.

“Tell me what you want,then,” he begged. “What do you want me to do? What do you want, ‘Lain?” 

His hands were still on her shoulders, holding her in place, and she seemed to register it at the same time as him. Their eyes met. 

“I want…” she breathed, trailing off as the familiar wave of desire flooded her senses.

She didn’t know who moved first; maybe they moved at exactly the same time, the way they always have, as if drawn together by an invisible magnet, but suddenly his body was mere centimeters away. And then, a beat later, his chest was flush against her own, warm and solid and sculpted like a statue, and her back was arching as one of his hands found the small of her back and the other cradled her face, and the heady, familiar scent of him made her as lightheaded as southern wine—

Gods. Gods . How could it still be like this? She thought her desire for Azriel would have been quenched at this point. Somewhat sated, at the very least. And not only because of their recent argument, but because they’d been sleeping together for over a month now—often and consistently—and yet…and yet she still wanted him just as much as before. Her pulse still skyrocketed at his very proximity. She still ached for him, all the time; ached for all of him to be intertwined with all of her. 

But she wouldn’t really have him , would she? She would have his kisses. His demands and praises. She would have the singular feeling of his keen, intoxicating gaze devouring her body, worshiping her with his eyes. She would have the indescribable comfort and safety his presence brought her. Yes, Elain supposed, she would have all of that. 

As long as it was behind closed doors.

Azriel leaned forward, pushing his forehead against hers. “I’m not good with my words,” he murmured. “I don’t…I don’t know how to fix this. But I want to. Desperately.” His hot, sweet breath ghosted over her ear, then traveled down the curve of her jaw, and Elain had to bite her lip to keep from whimpering. “So please, tell me what I can say to make this better. Tell me what to say and I’ll say it.”

He was looking at her so fiercely, so sincerely, that she considered—just for a moment—giving in. But the feeling was as fleeting as it was dangerous. 

Gently, she disentangled herself from his embrace and took a step back. His arms fell limply to his side. 

“You are not as bad with words as you think,” she said, not unkindly. “You knew what you were saying the other day.”

Pain crashed across his face. He opened his mouth at the same time the clock struck noon, and then the manor was filled with the usual clanging of bell chimes. When the bellowing echoes finally ceased, Elain spoke.

“I have to go,” she said.

He nodded stiffly, that vein in his jaw still working.

“When you get back, we’re going to have a talk. I promise, El. Yeah? A talk, just you and me.” 

She nodded, throat too tight with emotion to speak. Gave him as genuine of a smile as she could muster, but she could tell that it was a weak attempt.

Something visceral flashed in his eyes, but before she could decipher it he was stepping back into his shadows. “Have a good trip,” he said, expression unreadable, the vulnerable male she’d seen just moments ago gone completely. “I’ll see you soon.” A pause, and then, like he couldn’t help himself: “Be safe, Elain. Please.”

He vanished. She swallowed down the lump in her throat. Smoothed out a crease on her gown. Slung her pack over her shoulder and exited the room.

She had a mission to complete. 

And while she was at it, she hoped she got to pet a pegasus or two.

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[danydragons21]

TSTS: Chapter 26

Read it here on ao3.

s/o to @shedoessoshedoes for closely guessing the chapter title <3 it’s almost like my beta knows my style or something...

The Shadows That Sing

Chapter 26: Sing

Elain was sleeping when the vines appeared.

They slithered through the window, through the space under the door; some even squeezed through the miniscule cracks in the walls, bursting forth and blossoming with a vengeance. The tiny vines grew exponentially, and by the time Elain awoke, they were thick and heavy and coiled around her every limb.

Thrashing, she tried to shake them off, but it was useless; they wrapped tightly around her ankles and wrists, pinning her down. And then the vines were everywhere: crawling on the ceiling, hanging in thick ropes, the entire room a jungle. Within the dense foliage were large cocoons of vegetation, and when she realized what was entombed inside the cocoons, she nearly choked on her horror.

They were bodies—and not just any bodies, but those of her family and friends. Her sisters. Her brothers-in-law. Mor and Vassa. The twins. Lucien. Azriel…

And closest to her, entwined in the tiniest cocoon, was Nyx, his cherubic face blank and unseeing.

She awoke gasping for air, a scream caught in her lungs, the sheets beneath her soaked with sweat. Trembling, she forced herself into a seated position. It wasn’t real it wasn’t real it wasn’t real , she repeated in her head over and over again, trying to forget the awful nightmare, but the images burned into her mind’s eye as if they’d been branded there.

A cool hand cupped her shoulder.

“Elain.” The steadiness of Azriel’s voice had her heartbeat slowing significantly. “It’s okay. You’re safe,” he murmured, and though it took several more minutes for her breathing to return to normal, the comfort of his touch and his soothing voice made it all the more bearable.

When she finally slumped back down on the mattress, still shaking slightly from the cold sweat that coated her skin, Azriel pulled her over his chest and embraced her tightly. She inhaled his cedar and petrichor scent like it was a drug, letting it wash away the last of her terror.

“What did you dream about?” he asked carefully after several minutes of peaceful silence.

“Not a dream. A nightmare. It’s always the same one, but this time…” An involuntary shiver danced down her spine. “Vines. I dream of vines that wrap themselves around me. Choke me. Suffocate me. This time, though, I was not the only one trapped in the vines. You were there, and my sisters, and even…even Nyx,” she forced herself to say his name, feeling Azriel’s arms tense around her. But after a moment, he relaxed.

“I’m sorry you have these nightmares, sweet girl,” he murmured, and even through the residual horror, she felt a bright spark of emotion at the moniker. Sweet girl . “But that’s all it is, ‘Lain. A nightmare. Nothing else.”

She made a noncommittal noise, burrowing herself deeper into his broad torso. A hum of pleasure vibrated through her as he started stroking her hair. “I know it’s not a vision. It’s nothing to do with my seer powers. But still, I can’t help but feel like it is trying to tell me something. Trying to warn me.” She tilted her chin up, finding Azriel’s hazel gaze staring intently at her. “Does that make sense?”

“Yes,” he said. “But dwelling on these dreams will do you no good. We already know of the dangers that face us. We are already taking precautions. There’s nothing else we can prepare for.”

“I suppose,” she replied, reaching up and cupping Azriel’s chin, her thumb absentmindedly caressing his sharp jawline with soft strokes. A heavy sigh whooshed out of her. “I’ll never be able to fall back asleep now.”

“Welcome to the insomniac club. It’s not fun, but we’re glad you’re here.”

Elain laughed lightly. “Have you always had trouble sleeping?”

“Mmm. Always. The cellar my father kept me in was quite uncomfortable, as you can imagine. Not to mention bitterly, sometimes unbearably, cold. I suppose my insomnia started then, but it’s been centuries since I stepped foot in that hellhole, and still the sleeplessness persists.”

She held her breath throughout Azriel’s admission. She knew that his father kept him in a cellar. Knew that his childhood was fraught and filled with horrors. Yet every time he spoke of it, her blood boiled anew.

What she would not give to make his father—and his step-brothers, and his step-mother—pay for their sins…

But she could tell that he did not want pity or sympathy or to dissect the trauma of his childhood. No, he was telling her this because he wanted her to know, and because he wanted to be heard. He had given her a gift. She was nothing but grateful—no, honored— to take some of the weight from his shoulders. He had carried too much for far too long.

“There was only one thing that could ever get me to sleep,” Azriel said, interrupting her thoughts. They lay on their sides now, still intertwined but facing each other.

“What was it?”

“My mother singing to me. Back when she was able to sing, of course.” He smiled sadly, eyes foggy with bittersweet nostalgia. “She had the most beautiful voice in the world. She would sing all the time—when she was cooking, when she was cleaning, when she was in the garden. Anywhere and everywhere. I swear, even the birds would stop chirping to listen when she sang. She was that good.”

The sorrow in his voice was achingly evident, and his shadows pressed themselves closer to him, as if they could shield him from sadness. Similarly, Elain snuggled deeper into his chest, twining her limbs around his taut, muscled body, heart leaping when he automatically tightened his grip on her. Like she was the only solid, steady thing in the world, and if he let her slip through his fingers, he would no longer be grounded. Like he might just sink below the surface without her keeping him afloat.

“What kind of songs would she sing?” Elain asked.

“Mostly songs from her childhood. Pentalian folk songs. A few she made up herself. There was even one that she wrote for me, specifically to help me fall asleep.”

“Do you remember it?”

Azriel’s chest moved up and down as he swallowed, Elain’s head bobbing along with the motion. She found it quite fitting that with every move he made, her body responded in kind, like a planet orbiting the sun.

“I remember every word,” he breathed. And then, so hesitantly, so unexpectedly - “Would you like me to sing it for you?”

Pressure suffocated her chest as she took in the vulnerability in his expression. As she fully comprehended the immense weight of his offer and the intrinsic trust it displayed.

Months ago, she had teased him and told him she’d get him to sing for her before the year was up. But teasing him was the last thing she wanted to do now. She couldn’t quite pinpoint why this seemed so pivotal, so monumental, but she’d be damned if she would shatter the delicate beauty of this moment.

“Yes, please,” she whispered.

A few deep breaths, and then he was singing, and the air vanished entirely from her lungs.

There’s a storm coming

I feel it in my bones

It whispers in the night

And breaks with the dawn

So I’ll keep watching sunsets

And squeezing my fists tight

And maybe when I wake up

I’ll see the morning light

He wasn’t just good at singing. No. He was utterly magnificent. Low and raspy but simultaneously soulful, his voice was a salve to the jagged pieces inside of her that she did not even know needed soothing. Every note he sang held profound meaning, not just in the lyrics but in the heart and feeling behind them, in the inherent reflection of his intentionality, where every action and word he put forth held incredible significance. No accidents, not with him, not with this willful, dependable male before her.

The perfect timbre and stunning cadence of his voice, combined with the burning fire in his stunning eyes, and the fact that he trusted her enough to share this part of himself…It all sharpened the adoration she felt for him until it was something so visceral, she thought it might just incinerate them both.

And a mere moment later, the realization of what this intense, incredible, and dangerous feeling meant hit her like a slap to the face.

Six months ago, she could not say that she really knew Azriel. She knew only what he showed on the surface: his quiet kindness and his polite, courteous treatment of others. His fierce protectiveness and solemn beauty. But she hadn’t known him .

Now, though, she did know him. Knew him like the back of her hand. Knew his complex, tormented past and his hopes for the future. Knew how deep the roots of his self-deprecation and self-doubt grew. Knew so many of the dark and twisty pieces that formed the complicated and tortured male that so often hid his true feelings behind shadows, both literal and figurative. And she knew that in spite of all of that, in spite of the horrors he’d admitted to and the darkness that he carried within him, he was good. Good to the last shred of bone in his body. Good to the very core.

She had liked him before. Yearned for and desired him from afar, her infatuation a little plant she would feed and water with longing glances and lingering touches.

But with each encounter, with every conversation, with every longing glance and shared secret and searing kiss, her feelings for him had grown. Had blossomed into something wild and fierce and untamable, and this culmination - him singing for her like he meant every word, like it came straight from the depths of his beautiful and cracked and lovely soul, like this song was another secret just between the two of them, perhaps the most important one yet - she knew what it meant. Knew the truth she had tried to ignore for so long. There was no denying it now.

Azriel had finished singing, the last notes still echoing around them. In response, her magic swirled with a fervor, charging throughout her veins with joyful abandon. And she realized then, too, how he sang to her magic, and how it strengthened every particle of power within her.

And when she climbed on top of him and slowly took him inside of her, their lips moving together tenderly, devoutly, it didn’t feel like sex. It felt like making love.

***

Elain hadn’t managed to get any more sleep after her nightmare, but she wasn’t complaining. She and Azriel had spent the early hours pleasuring each other, and she was now officially convinced that there was no better way to start the day than with a few healthy (and leg-shaking, and mind-blowing, and star-rattling) orgasms.

If it was up to her, she would have spent the rest of the day in bed with Azriel. Unfortunately, the shadowsinger departed shortly after sunrise; once again, he was headed to the Southern Islands. Elain was starting to believe Azriel and his network of spies would never discover what the Autumn Court was doing on Pentalos and the other islands, but she kept those thoughts to herself. There was nothing like doubt to crush a male’s ego, and Elain preferred Azriel when he was full of confidence and swagger. She certainly reaped the benefits.

A familiar voice echoed down the halls as Elain exited her chambers. Knitting her brows in confusion, she followed it until she rounded a corner and came across—

“Feyre?”

Her little sister turned around, a small smile on her face. Flanking her on either side were Jurian and Vassa.

Elain returned the grin, albeit hesitantly; the last time the sisters had spoken, things hadn’t ended on the best of terms. Although purging her magic had certainly erased much of her built-up negativity, seeing Feyre irrevocably reminded her of the residual anger she felt from the last Inner Circle meeting.

“Hi, Elain,” her sister said.

“What are you doing here?” Elain didn’t mean for the question to come out so bluntly, but it did.

Feyre blinked, clearly noting her tone. “We need to go over some details regarding the plan. For the ball.”

“Ah. Yes. Of course.” Now that she said it, Elain had a very faint memory of Vassa saying something about it a few evenings ago…but with the very distracting Illyrian warrior who’d had his head between her legs, she’d forgotten about her sister’s impending visit entirely.

“We’ll have to wait until Lucien returns from the Spring Court before starting the planning meeting,” Vassa said, glancing at the clock above the mantel. “He should be back in a few hours.”

Feyre looked hopefully at Elain. “Since we have some free time, will you take me on a tour? I didn’t get to explore the Manor as much as I would have liked the last time I was here.”

In all honesty, she didn't really want to. Elain knew that look in her sister’s eye all too well: Feyre wanted to talk about something, and Elain had a strong hunch that it was something she herself had no interest in discussing. But what was she supposed to say?

“Sure.”

They spent the next hour or so walking around the sweeping grounds, admiring the late autumnal views—the falling leaves and increasingly bare branches were a sure sign winter was coming—and making small talk, mostly about what Elain had missed since she’d last been to Velaris. Nyx, in addition to walking, was now trying to use his wings. Apparently Illyrians didn’t gain full usage of their wings until around age three, but with enough momentum, he was still able to get a foot or so off the ground and remain airborne for a few seconds.

“The amount of vases he’s broken!” Feyre lamented. “And of course Rhys has been no help. He thinks it’s simply hilarious. He’s such a pushover he can't even bring himself to scold Nyx, so I get stuck with the super fun job of being the mean parent.”

Elain chuckled, even though the casual mention of Rhys’ name made her stomach turn sour. “I want to visit again soon. I don’t think I can go another month without seeing Nyx.” That was how long was left of her stay at the Mortal Manor.

“Come anytime,” Feyre said sincerely. “We miss you.”

We . An awkward silence ensued.

“I know you don’t want to talk about it, but I think we need to discuss what happened at the last Inner Circle meeting.”

“You’re right. I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Elain,” Feyre said, a hint of frustration in her voice, “Do you really think it’s something that can just be swept under the rug?”

“No, but I don’t know what more there is to discuss. You all tried to interfere in my personal life, and so I told you not to. Rhys did interfere in my personal life, so I told him not to do it again. What’s done is done, and I stand by what I said.”

“As you should. Though I wish you would have spoken to me and Rhys privately about what you discovered before making a dramatic announcement at what was supposed to be a serious meeting.”

“Excuse me?” Elain scoffed. “‘A serious meeting?’ One that only my sisters and their mates attended with the not-so-subtle intention of forcing me to pretend to accept a bond they know I do not wish to accept?”

“So you are decided? You will never accept the bond?”

“I didn’t say that. Stop putting words in my mouth.”

Feyre stayed quiet for a moment. “I’m sorry,” she said finally. “I didn’t mean it like that. I am just confused, Elain.”

“Confused about what? That I want to make decisions for myself?” The anger rose in her again, a wild animal she could not tame, and truly had no interest in trying to.

“No. That I understand perfectly. And I agree with you,” Feyre said. “It is not fair for us to push you one way or another in regards to Lucien, even if we are doing it with your best interest at heart. You are completely right about that. But I am confused about what it is you want . All I know is what you don’t want.”

“What do you mean?”

“You don’t want to accept the bond, but you don’t want to outright deny it, either. You don’t want us to make decisions for you, but you aren’t making any for yourself. You are furiously angry at Nesta, but you are willing to speak with me.”

Elain blinked in surprise. Neither of them had even mentioned Nesta’s name up until this point, so she had no idea how Feyre knew how angry she was with their older sister. Then again, Feyre and her had become close over the past year. They’d gotten quite good at reading each other.

And Elain was still angry with Nesta. Not just for what she’d said at the last inner circle meeting, but for the years and years of controlling actions and blatant disrespect she’d experienced at her sister’s hands.

“Just like with Lucien, what is going on with Nesta and I is none of your business.”

“I beg to differ. Let alone the fact that you are both my sisters, you made it my business when you screamed at her in front of all of us.”

The beginnings of shame started to poke at her chest, but Elain ignored them. “Your point?” she asked coolly.

“I suppose I just need some clarity on a few things.”

“Such as?”

“Are you and Azriel…together?” Feyre asked carefully.

Elain used all the training she had to keep her heart rate steady, her scent unbothered and the gates of her mind securely closed. She didn’t think her sister would resort to mindreading, but then again, she didn’t think Feyre would defend Nesta, and here she was.

“We are friends,” she said. It wasn’t even a lie. As far as Elain knew, they were just friends. Friends who had undeniable sexual and emotional chemistry and who had fucked each other only hours before, to be fair, but friends all the same. “But that shouldn’t matter. Rhys has no right to dictate what does or does not happen between Azriel and I.”

“I agree. And believe me, I was angry when I found out.”

“Were you?”

“ Yes . I still am rather angry at him, as a matter of fact. Why don’t you believe me?” Hurt echoed throughout her words.

Elain swallowed, ignoring the guilt coating her insides. Anger was so much easier to cope with.

Realizing Elain was not going to respond, Feyre continued. “I won’t ask you to forgive Rhys any time soon. And honestly, this isn’t my fight. He may be my husband and my mate, but you are my sister. I can love you both and be angry at you both, too.

“You’re angry at me ? ”Elain asked, shocked.

“A little, yes.”

“Why?”

It was a long while before she responded. “I never held it against you. The fact that you abandoned me for all those years. Left me to provide for our family myself.”

A coldness slithered over her, and when she found her voice, it was strangled and broken. “Feyre—”  

Her sister held up her hands. “Let me speak.” She took a deep breath. “You abandoned me. You and Nesta both. You neglected me, your baby sister, and left me to fend for myself and fend for you all while I was still a child. I know there were other circumstances contributing to the situation. I know you and Nesta both feel guilt over what occurred. But the fact remains that it happened, and that we all have to live with it and the consequences that come with it.”

“Feyre, I’m so sorry,” Elain whispered, any anger she’d felt now fully transformed into raw and aching guilt.

“I don’t want or need your apologies,” Feyre said. She pinched her nose and sighed. “I did not bring this up to make you feel bad about it all over again. You know I have forgiven you both. You know that resentment is not something I carry. Truly, it is not something I have ever carried when it comes to the two of you. But can you say the same?”

Elain was quiet. “I don’t understand what you mean.”

“You have been wronged. Rhys betrayed your trust. Nesta has controlled you and cut you down for years. Graysen left you.”

“Stop,” Elain whispered.

“No,” Feyre said simply. “It’s hard to deal with. I know it is. And I know our pain is not the same and I know we handle things differently, but as your sister and your friend and your High Lady, I have to tell you: avoiding what hurts you will not get you anywhere. You cannot play the victim forever.”

“You think I’m playing the victim?”

“I think you have a tendency to blame others. And I think you hold your resentment like a shield against you, just as, at times, your kindness and sweet nature is a veil hiding how you truly feel.”

Elain felt nettled and bombarded and angry and ashamed, all at the same time.

“I did not bring this up to make you feel worse,” Feyre said.

“You’re doing a fine job of it.”

Feyre’s mouth twisted. “I just wanted to ask you to consider the strength of forgiveness. Speaking from personal experience…I know how freeing it can be.”

After last week’s purging session, Elain had felt free and light and cleansed; now, with a physical reminder of the hurt she hid in the depths of her heart, she felt the negativity seeping through her soul yet again. But that’s how hurt works—it lingers.

Feyre stared at her with her brilliant blue eyes, so like Nesta’s, sharp and intelligent and piercing. It was a stupid thing to care about, but Elain had always been jealous that her sisters had matching eyes while she was stuck with boring old brown ones. Others took one look at Feyre and Nesta and knew they were sisters; with Elain, the resemblance was murky at best.

“It is humiliating,” Elain said finally. “Humiliating that I am the type of person people can take advantage of. And I hold so much anger because of it. Anger directed at Nesta, at Rhys…at myself.” she admitted. And at Vassa, she thought, but she did not say it outloud. “I have never let my anger rise to the surface like this before, but now that it has, I do not know how to shove it back down.”

“You do not need to shove it back down. That is the worst thing you can do. You have to feel it, Elain. Feel everything, the good and the bad and all that lies between. And when you do, then you will be set free. Take all the time you need.”

Perhaps she needed another purging session. Perhaps she needed to speak to her elder sister and brother-in-law and put their differences to rest, once and for all. But all of that seemed like something that future Elain could do. Present Elain still wasn’t quite sure if she had it in her heart to forgive others when she could barely forgive herself.

Not sure what else to say, Elain just nodded.

Seemingly satisfied, Feyre smiled lightly and turned her gaze to the setting sun. “I don’t remember a time when we were happy as a family,” she said after a few moments of quiet. “Truly happy. And now that we have eternity to make it happen, I don’t want any of us to waste it.”

Though Elain had always considered her baby sister to be the most mature out of the three of them, there was something potently and undeniably young about the way she looked right then. And maybe it was that, or maybe it was the ringing truth in the words she’d spoken, that had Elain reaching out and grabbing her sister’s hand.

“We’ll be happy, Fey. I promise.”

***

“I’m bored,” Cassian whined.

Azriel gritted his teeth. “No one asked you to come.”

It was true. Azriel had certainly not asked Cassian to join him while he scouted the perimeter of Pentalos for what must have been the thousandth time, searching for any sign of the Autumn court, or Koschei, or something that would tell him why the hell Elain kept having visions of the place.

But Cassian had insisted, claiming that he barely ever saw Az anymore (true), and that he knew Az missed him but was just too proud to admit it (not necessarily true; Azriel had seen Cassian nearly every day for 500 years, so a few months in his absence felt more like a nice, quiet vacation), and then promised that he would help him look and keep all complaints to himself (a big, fat lie).

So now Azriel was stuck on this stupid island doing stupid scouting with his stupid brother.

Cassian frowned. “That’s rude.”

“It’s honest, brother. Would you rather I lied?”

“I’d rather you stop acting like a bitter old lady and be grateful that I came to keep you company on your little Spymaster endeavor that, despite working tirelessly for the past few months, you have made little to no progress on.”

Slowly, Azriel twisted his neck, piercing Cassian with his deadliest glare. Of course, it did nothing to affect the smug expression on his brother’s stupid face.

“Why have I not killed you yet?” Azriel mused. “My life would certainly be more peaceful.”

“I’m far too entertaining to be killed. I keep things interesting,” Cassian replied, flipping his shoulder-length hair out of his eye before tying it up in a loose knot. “Besides, if you ever killed me, Nesta would then have to kill you in turn, and we both know that would not be a quick, clean death.”

He had a point. Nesta was sure to take her sweet time torturing him should any harm come to a hair on Cassian’s well-shampooed head.

“Shame,” Azriel drawled. “I suppose I’ll have to find other ways to take revenge against you.”

“I look forward to it,” Cassian said, then yawned dramatically. “So this is all you’ve been doing? Just sitting on a cliff and waiting for an Autumn Court soldier to make an appearance?”

“It’s not all I’ve been doing. Mostly I fly ahead and search that way, but you’re the one who wanted to take a break and eat. Besides, do you have any better ideas?”

Cassian threw his hands up innocently. “I’m just asking!”

Azriel exhaled heavily. “Stay here. I’m going to take a quick lap, see if I can find anything.”

“Have fun.” Cas waggled his fingers, eliciting yet another eye roll from Az. Then he jumped off the cliff, reveling in the way the wind whipped around him, before gracefully falling into a current and soaring away.

He scoured the land below, but his head was entirely elsewhere.

In case it wasn’t clear - Azriel was not in a good mood. His morning had started wonderfully; it was hard for the day to begin badly when Elain was naked and riding his face like she’d never had it so good. But like always, he had to leave, and like always, the subsequent separation from Elain brought forth a rush of anxiety and doubts and self-deprecation.

What was he doing? What in the hells did he think he was doing? For a male who’d always prided himself on his incredible and unmatched self-control, he had none to speak of when it came to Elain. Take their little tryst in the library, for example. When he returned to the Manor from his mission, he’d gone straight to her room without thinking twice about it. And then, when he couldn’t find her there, panic had engulfed him. The moment he’d found her in the library, some animalistic instinct had taken over entirely. It was stupid as hell to fuck her out in the open like that, where anyone could have found them, but he couldn’t - physically couldn’t - resist.

And then last night, he’d willingly sung for her. On purpose! She didn’t even ask him; no, he’d offered the song up entirely on his own. He’d never done anything so emotionally foolish in his entire existence.

He was going insane. He was losing it. He was willingly walking through the fiery pits of the hells.

And yet he had no desire whatsoever to leave.

It was unreal how he felt about her. Unreal in that he had never once imagined he would be so head over heels for another being. That his heart would be drawn to her so significantly he could track her every movement, even without his shadows. He missed her when she was gone and he even missed her when she was near, thinking about when she would have to leave.

Their relationship existed entirely in the liminal. In the shadowy, transitional spaces between reality and wishful thinking, he was hers and she was his; in darkened rooms and empty corridors and stolen moments, they belonged to one another. He’d never experienced that before - belonging to another being. It felt like a dream. She was a dream, and he never wanted to wake up.

As dreamlike as his life felt when he was with her, it also felt more real than anything he’d ever experienced. Like he’d only been living halfway before. The stars at night were brighter with Elain in his life.

But still...he could not stop thinking about the inevitable end. Nothing about their situation was ideal, let alone sustainable. He knew what hollowness and disaster would surely come from this affair. He knew the fuel that fed the flames would run out eventually.

Or it would burn them alive.

Because she was like fire, unstoppable and powerful and wildly dangerous. Fearsome and beautiful to behold. And gods be damned, but he was unable to resist the flames. And if that meant getting incinerated into ashes, well, it would be worth it. This small piece of eternity they held together. It would be worth it, even in the inevitable, heartbreaking, agonizing end.

Elain Archeron. The only fire he’d ever risk.

***

Azriel flew overhead for nearly an hour before calling it quits and turning back to the cliff. As he neared it, he expected to see Cassian sitting there, his wings twitching as they always did when he was feeling impatient.

But Cassian was not there. Azriel walked around the narrow cliffside searching for him with no luck. It was possible that Cassian had taken to the air, performing a perimeter of the island or something else helpful, so Azriel didn’t worry too much. But when an hour passed with no sign of Cassian, his nonchalance twisted into anxiety, and yet another hour later, he was in a full-fledged panic.

The shadowsinger took to the air yet again and flew with reckless abandon, searching the island with hawk-like eyes, but there was no sign of Cassian. He returned to the cliff, praying to the gods that his brother would be there.

He wasn’t. But there was something there that hadn’t been there before. With shaking hands, Azriel knelt and picked up the well-worn leather string that Cassian used to tie up his hair. Oh gods. Oh gods.

“CASSIAN!” he bellowed, and as his voice echoed throughout the vast, rocky landscape, terror tore at his gut. As he expected, only silence answered his panicked call.

Something terrible had happened, and Azriel needed help. He needed the Night Court. But as he called his shadows toward him, as he tried to twist into their darkness as he had so many times before, he was met with an invisible wall. The kind that he’d only encountered twice before. He knew what that meant.

Somehow, Koschei had found them. And he had taken Cassian.

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[danydragons21]

TSTS Chapter 27: Waves

@sakurakittypeach @shedoessoshedoes @courtofjurdan @lesolehabitantdelalune @suntoksabuwan @sweet-pea1 @ireneherondale24 @supernaturallynerdy @dreaming-of-azriel @bookstaninthesoul @cuppamelia@fawnandshadows @offtorivendell @impossiblescissorspeachpaper @nikethestatue @reverie-tales @nyaxxe @casuallivi @protectorofvel @briar-reads @creatureofnightmares @swankii-art-teacher @the-laughing-bubble @Gracie-rosee @nikethestatue @cntrol @magnolia-blossom87 @ela-ivp @potassium-boron @freepandahugsRead on ao3 here.

Chapter 27: Waves

The sun was just dipping below the hills as the two sisters made their way across the grounds. It was nearing dinner time, and Elain was starving. Hopefully Janna and Elisa had made something good for supper. Absent-mindedly, she scratched the rose tattoo on the back of her neck. For the past several minutes, it had been tingling uncomfortably, like someone was lightly poking needles into her skin. She tried to ignore it and focus on Feyre, who was recounting an incident that had taken place in her art studio recently, but the pain was steadily getting worse.

They were only paces away from the Mortal Manor when the back of Elain’s neck began to burn like someone had taken a red-hot brand and pressed it to her skin. Instinctively, she let out a pained cry, slapping a hand across the scorching tattoo. 

And she knew, immediately and irrevocably, that Azriel was in danger. 

“Elain? What’s wrong?” Feyre’s face was etched with concern. 

Panic flooded her senses. She needed to get to Azriel right away, there was no time to waste, but how could she do that without telling Feyre of the bargain tattoo? 

The idea hit her as quickly as the searing pain in her neck had. 

Purposefully, she rolled her eyes to the back of her head and held still. Did not make a single movement as Feyre gasped. She felt her sister’s fingers circle around her wrist and give a little shake, but Elain remained frozen. 

A long moment later, Elain shuddered and “awoke” from her vision. 

“What did you see?” Feyre asked, blue eyes wide. 

“It’s Azriel,” Elain said, letting her panic show fully now that an excuse had been wrought. “He’s in danger. He needs help immediately.” 

“How do you know this? Where is he?”

“I know because I saw it.” Elain struggled to bite back her growing impatience; did Feyre not understand how pressing this was? Did she not understand that Elain was moments away from succumbing to sheer terror?  “But I don’t know where he is, I couldn’t see that. Please, just speak to Rhys with your Daemati powers, ask him where he sent Azriel, Rhys must know where he -”

But she was cut off by a flash of motion to her right. One second there was empty, sunset-lit air; the next, a storm of shadows appeared. The shadows then dissipated to reveal Azriel holding Cassian in his arms, nearly sagging underneath the warrior’s weight. They were both soaking wet. 

Elain and Feyre gasped in tandem and rushed forward. 

“What happened?” Feyre demanded. 

“Koschei,” Azriel responded, out of breath, fear radiating off him in waves. “I couldn’t stop the bleeding, and I was afraid to travel farther with him, and the Mortal Manor was closest -” 

As Azriel babbled, Elain moved her attention to Cassian. Dark crimson stains were spreading frighteningly fast from the center of the Illyrian warrior’s chest.

“Oh, gods,” she whispered.

The doors were thrown open as Lucien, Vassa, Jurian and a host of mortal guards came to check out the commotion. 

“Shit,” Jurian murmured as he glimpsed Cassian, still unconscious and fully supported by Azriel. Hurriedly, Lucien stepped forward to help.

“We need to get him a healer. Now,” Azriel nearly snarled. 

Vassa nodded, all business, and gestured to a few of the guards. “Go guard every entrance to the Manor,” she commanded, “and Jurian, I need you to call in reinforcements.” He nodded and rushed away.

“This way,” Vassa beckoned to the rest of them, gown swishing as she hurriedly led the way to the hospital wing. 

By the time they reached the infirmary, Feyre had already spoken to Rhys via her Daemati powers. He came storming into the room mere moments after they’d laid Cassian on a clean white bed, Majda behind him with a healing kit. The last to enter was Nesta. She walked in, her gray-blue eyes wider than Elain had ever seen them, and immediately went to Cassian’s side. She began stroking his dark hair, murmuring words far too quiet for the rest of them to hear.

“What in the seven hells happened?” Rhys demanded, turning his attention to the shadowsinger.

Azriel, who was standing in a corner half-hidden in the shadows, slowly looked up. Grief and guilt hung heavily on his beautiful features. 

“Koschei,” he croaked. “We were monitoring Pentalos, and I left him alone for all of twenty minutes, and when I returned to our meeting spot he was gone. And I couldn’t leave, I couldn’t move without my shadows, and then I saw him on the beach, and he was bleeding so much, and he hasn’t -” but Azriel cut himself off, breathing heavily. 

“It’s not your fault, Azriel,” Feyre said quietly, but the spymaster gave no sign that he heard her. There was an emptiness in his hazel eyes that Elain had never seen before. She bit her lip in an effort to keep her tears at bay. She wanted so badly to go to Azriel and wrap him up in her arms, to provide him what little comfort she could, that it was a physical struggle to resist the urge. Instead she wrapped her arms around herself and squeezed tightly, as if that would keep her pain at bay.

Lucien, who had immediately walked to her side after placing Cassian on the bed, seemed to sense her sorrow. He placed a hesitant hand on her shoulder and squeezed once; she sent him a grateful but sad smile. 

Almost instinctively, her gaze darted to Azriel, and to her surprise he was staring at her. Well, not at her. He was staring at Lucien’s hand curled around her shoulder, and his shadows seemed to be swirling faster and faster by the second. 

Elain averted her attention from the shadowsinger at the same time Lucien’s hand fell back to his side. 

“How is he, Majda?” Rhys asked, his voice tight. 

Majda, who had been examining Cassian, turned toward the others. At the sorrowful expression on her face, Elain’s stomach turned upside down. 

“There is nothing I can do for him,” she said. “The venom in his wounds…it is made of something much stronger than my magic. It is the kind of poison that worsens over time.” A heavy, pregnant pause. “I’m so sorry.”

“No,” Nesta snarled. “I do not accept that.” She turned to Lucien. “You,” she pointed, “You are a healer. Heal him.”

Lucien’s gaze flicked down to Elain before he slowly approached the unconscious warrior. Gently, he laid his hands on Cassian’s chest, closing his eyes and inhaling deeply. They all waited with bated breath.

A moment later, Lucien looked up. “I’m sorry,” he said. “There is nothing I can do, either.”

The following silence was deafening. It was broken when Nesta let out a heart wrenching sob and buried her head in Cassian’s shoulder, hiding her face from the rest of them. 

Without another word or glance at any of them, Azriel strode out the doors. They slammed shut with a resounding finality. 

“What do we do, then?” Feyre whispered. “Just sit and wait for him to die?”

“No,” Rhys responded, violet eyes glowing with fear and fury. “We will find a way. We need to contact Helion, see if there’s any magic he knows of that we don’t…we’ll have Nuala or Cerridwen tell the priestesses in the library to start scouring every book on healing magic they can find. We will try and find a cure until - ” but he cut himself off, swallowing deeply. 

The intangible string around her lung tugged sharply, startling her. She looked up to find Lucien staring at her intently, both his normal russet-colored eye and the golden, artificial one pinning her in place. “Yes,” he said out loud. “We will do all of that. And we will pray to the gods for the miracle of life,” he said.

The miracle of life. 

She knew what he was telling her. What Lucien didn’t know was that he was telling her something she already knew. Something she already planned to do. 

But to do it in front of everybody else…anxiety twisted in her gut. Why she was still so hesitant to share her healing powers with the rest of her family, she could not say. No matter her reason - or lack thereof - the fact remained that she could simply not fathom announcing the capabilities of her magic to everyone in this way.

Thankfully, Lucien seemed to understand this without having to be told. 

“Come,” Lucien said. “You contact your priestesses, and I’ll contact Helion. It will go faster that way.”

Hesitantly, Rhys and Feyre murmured their agreement and, along with Majda and the rest of the room, followed Lucien out the door. Nesta, however, grabbed a nearby chair and pulled it next to Cassian’s bed. She sat, entwining her fingers with his.

“I’m staying,” she said harshly, voice slightly muffled, face nestled against Cassian’s motionless form. 

Lucien glanced warily at Elain, who gave a subtle nod. 

“I’ll stay with her,” she said quietly, and the others departed, leaving the two eldest Archeron sisters alone. When their footsteps faded entirely, Elain turned to Nesta. An overwhelming scent of worry and grief emanated from her sister in waves. 

For the first time in a long time, Elain felt the desire to comfort Nesta. To wrap her in her arms and promise that everything would be fine, just like they used to do when they were children with empty bellies, shaking from the bitter cold. But there were no promises she could make that would ease Nesta’s ache.

She could, however, provide her momentary peace. 

Elain inhaled deeply, magic writhing inside of her like a snake, and allowed herself to plunge into that depthless reservoir of power. When her fingertips began to glow, she carefully rested a hand atop her sister’s tense shoulder. “Sleep, Nesta,” she murmured, and a second later, the eldest Archeron sister’s body went limp and languid as she fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. 

To sleep is, after all, just one way the body makes itself whole again. One way it heals itself.

When she was sure Nesta had passed out, Elain walked to the other side of the bed and stared down at Cassian’s handsome, weather-beaten face. For a male who looked carved of stone, who laughed as he slaughtered formidable enemies on the battlefield, he appeared unnervingly fragile right now. Vulnerable. 

She placed a hand in the center of Cassian’s broad chest, right above the worst of his wounds. The bright light gleaming in her hands traveled across his sternum, his torso; it grew brighter and brighter until she could hardly see; she was trembling from the top of her head to the tips of her toes, summoning more of her magic than she ever had before, pushing herself to the point where black spots appeared in her vision and she was on the verge of passing out. But still, she did not stop. But still, she did not yield. 

Only when the chest beneath her suddenly surged upward, only when a burst of air - of life - escaped from the sleeping male’s lips, did she step back and sink to the floor. Heavy breaths percolated through her lungs. Beads of sweat dripped down the back of her neck and ran over the knobs of her spine, and her limbs felt like jelly, weak and trembling.

But on the bed, fresh life flowed through Cassian’s newly-healed body. 

***

Sitting in the den of the Mortal Manor, Azriel nursed a glass of - well, he wasn't quite sure which liquor he was consuming at the moment. Just knew it was dark and bitter and strong enough to numb the debilitating ache in his chest ever so slightly. Throwing back another sip, he stared ceaselessly into the fireplace, where roaring flames licked and danced, and tried his very best not to think. 

It was pointless, of course. He could not quiet the voices in his head any more than he could quiet the buzzing of his shadows as they circled him anxiously, far too aware of the guilt and grief consuming him. Even his shadows knew that he was past reprieve. 

He’d found Cassian on his fourth lap around the island. He was flying above when he saw a motionless body lying on the shore. Heart in this throat, he dove toward it. Cassian was lying on his back, the lower half of his body in the water and the upper in the sand, waves lapping gently over him. A single large stab wound lay right above his heart, and the blood seeping through his leathers turned the water around him a light red.

He shoved the mental image away, unable to stomach it any longer. How could he have allowed this to happen? How could he have been so distracted, so focused on other, less important things that he allowed the very fucking enemy he’d been trying to track for months kidnap and harm his brother right under his nose? It was a failure beyond comprehension. And if Cassian -  Azriel could not even bear to think of the word. But if the worst was to come of this, he would never forgive himself. 

With white knuckles, he tossed back the rest of his drink, refilled it and returned to hating himself. 

He heard Elain before he saw her. 

“I thought I’d find you here,” she said, a note of exhaustion in her voice. Her presence, which usually brought him inexplicable comfort, now incited a rush of anger. What the fuck did she have to feel exhausted about? Cassian was in the other room dying, and she had the audacity to act tired and overwhelmed? 

Not bothering to turn around, he said, “What do you want?” 

Elain paused, her confusion tangible. 

“I came to tell you something,” she said after a long moment.

“Spit it out, then.”

“Why are you treating me like this?” she demanded, her tone aghast. As if she couldn't believe he would ever speak to her this way. “What is the matter?”

“What is the matter?” he repeated darkly. Coldly. “What in the hells do you think is the matter? Cassian was taken from right under my nose. Then he almost died. He could still die.” He let out a humorless laugh. “He probably will die. And when he does, it will be all my fault.” 

“Azriel, none of this is your fault.”

Ignoring her, he swiftly stood and crossed the room to the bar cart. Poured himself yet another glass, scarred hands shaking with barely restrained emotion. In one swift gulp, he downed the contents, welcoming the burn as it traveled down his throat and into his veins, imbibing him with sweet, sweet numbness. Then he poured himself another one. 

“I felt you,” she said quietly. 

“What?”

“When you were in Pentalos. I felt our bargain tattoo burning. I knew you were in danger.” A pause, then a whisper. “I was so scared for you.”

“Hmm.” He took another heavy sip, still refusing to look at her. “Would have been helpful for you to do something about it.”

Another tense silence followed his venomous words. He didn’t care. Barely even registered what he’d said; barely even comprehended what was happening right now. All he could see, all he could think of, was Cassian’s body lying motionless on the beach, waves washing over him again and again.

“I tried to get to you,” she said, sounding close to tears. “I tried so hard, Azriel. But by the time I’d convinced Feyre to leave, you had already returned with Cassian and -”

At the sound of Cassian’s name, Azriel’s fist clenched so hard against the glass he held that it shattered. Little glass shards fell to the floor, catching the firelight and glinting like diamonds. 

Surely now Elain would leave him alone. Surely now she would understand that he was in no mental state to have a productive conversation. 

But still she remained, her jasmine and honey scent fluttering in the air, taunting him.

“Is that why you are angry at me?” she asked. “Because I did not come to your aid?” She sounded genuinely curious and concerned. 

Unwarranted and misplaced wrath burst forth from him with a mighty vengeance. In the span of a second, he’d crossed the room, stopping inches away from Elain. He towered over her with wings taut and fully extended. “No, that’s not why I’m angry with you,” he hissed. His shadows pressed so close into him that even he could not tell where they ended and he began. “I’m angry because if it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t have been so distracted. If it wasn’t for you, I wouldn’t be unraveling at the goddamn seams. Wouldn’t be so out of my head that I don’t even notice when a Death Lord tries to kill my brother!” He was screaming now, fury and guilt swallowing him whole. Again, he saw Cassian’s body; again, he saw the relentless, punishing waves. 

To her credit, she did not retreat. How many fae warriors, who spouted valor and fearlessness, had balked at his deathly temper? At the dangerous essence that ran through his veins like a drug? And yet Elain Archeron in her simple green dress, the ubiquitous smell of flowers wafting around her, stood steady. And yet she remained, staring his darkness right in its face. 

There was no fear in her expression. In fact, her face was as smooth as marble.

And just as cold.

“You’re being mean,” she said, lips barely moving.

He laughed, cruelly, because that was all he knew to do.

“And you’re being useless, like always.”

Azriel thought that nothing could make him feel worse than he did right now, but the devastation in Elain’s big brown eyes did the trick. He regretted his words as soon as he said them, but they were out, they were said; how could he take them back? Of course he didn’t mean them. But he hadn’t meant for Cassian to get hurt, and it had happened, anyway. It was all his fault, all of it, all of it -

“I came to tell you that Cassian has woken up,” Elain said, her face once again unreadable, the sadness that had been splashed across it just moments before gone. “He is expected to make a full recovery.”

Azriel froze as her words resonated. The very next moment, hot and dizzy relief flowed through him, and then he was melting, legs going weak and the debilitating fear rushing out of him like water down a drain. He let out a strange sound, something between a sob and a laugh. Ran his hands through his hair as he continued to chuckle wetly.

“How?” he croaked out. “I don’t…how is that possible? An hour ago, he was dying. An hour ago, he was as good as gone. What changed?”

When Elain’s eyes darted to the floor, clearly avoiding his gaze, understanding dawned on him. 

“You…It was you?” he whispered. “Elain?” he questioned as she continued to remain silent. His giddiness dimmed as he recalled the venomous words he’d spat at her only moments before, regret replacing it. “Elain, baby, I’m so fucking sorry,” he whispered, reaching for her hand, but she stepped back, pulling out of his reach. 

“You should go speak to Cassian,” she said, still speaking in that detached voice. Still refusing to look at him. “He was asking for you.” 

Before he could begin to process her words, she had walked out. The light floral scent of her remained, though, a reminder of the ruin and rot he continued to bring to those who deserved it least.

Azriel sunk into a nearby chair. Buried his hands in his face.

Let the waves wash over him. 

TAGS

@sakurakittypeach @shedoessoshedoes @courtofjurdan @lesolehabitantdelalune @suntoksabuwan @sweet-pea1 @ireneherondale24 @supernaturallynerdy @dreaming-of-azriel @bookstaninthesoul @cuppamelia @fawnandshadows @offtorivendell @impossiblescissorspeachpaper @nikethestatue @reverie-tales @nyaxxe @casuallivi @protectorofvel @briar-reads @creatureofnightmares @swankii-art-teacher @the-laughing-bubble @gracie-rosee @cntrol @magnolia-blossom87 @ela-ivp @potassium-boron @freepandahugs

[danydragons21]

here i am, patiently waiting for the next chapter of TSTS

can we maybe get a sneek peek? 🤭🤭

You are all the most patient and wonderful and I'm SO sorry the next chapter is taking me ages. Life has been kicking my ass lately. But It really should not be much longer now.

Here's a spoiler to tide you over:

In all honesty, the whole scenario sounded utterly dreadful. He was going to be living in the Mortal Manor for the next few weeks with: 

A mortal queen who turned into a bird during sunlit hours,

An annoyingly chipper human who never knew when to shut up,

His best friend and adopted brother who also never knew when to shut up,

His other best friend, a spirited blonde he’d loved for centuries, who had once slept with aforementioned brother,

The female he was currently in a - well, in a something with, who dominated his thoughts day in and day out, and who was currently keeping her very strong and potentially dangerous magic a secret,

...And the male she was eternally bonded to, who just so happened to be the son of not one but two High Lords, and who Azriel could barely look at without feeling like kicking something. Or, sometimes, if he were to be completely frank killing something.

Yeah. This was going to be a blast.

[danydragons21]

Can we have a sneak peek of the next chapter? Please?

Anything for you, anon!!!

(Okay disclaimer, this spoiler will either be in chapter 32 OR chapter 33; I haven't figured out exact organization yet. But either way you can look forward to this soon).

Chapter 32 Spoiler:

The two females hurried through the woods. Leaves crackled beneath their feet; a heavy breeze whooshed over their bodies, leaving a trail of goosebumps in its wake; moonlight streamed through the gaps in the lush forest canopy, lighting their way.

“We are nearly there,” Vassa said, and though she spoke quietly, the sound still had Elain jolting slightly. Being this deep in the woods, no one around but the creatures who lived here, no sound but for the whispering wind and the rustling of foliage, had words themselves feeling foreign. Alien.

[danydragons21]

I love your work and I love it every time you come back, I hope you are having a good time you forget how great you are honey

Truly this made my week. Month, perhaps. My autumn??? I digress. Thank you so much - those are words I appreciate so much, especially right now! Thanks for reminding me why I love writing.

Anddddd because I'm a sucker for compliments...here's a juicy little teaser for u:

If Elain hadn’t been so preoccupied with her most recent vision, she would have noticed how ominously quiet the Manor was upon entering. As it was, her head was so entirely filled with what she’d just seen that she barely noticed where she was going. It wasn’t until she was mere feet away from the throne room that she realized where she was; a moment later she heard Lucien's deep voice sounding from behind the arched doors. Huh. Her subconscious must have led her straight to the person she wanted to talk to. 

Perhaps she should have been a little more aware of her surroundings and registered that there were other voices inside the room, as well. Instead, she barged straight in, throwing the double doors wide open in her haste, and strode right for Lucien.

“We need to talk,” she told him. He blinked down at her in surprise.

“What?” he asked after a moment, his voice strangely hoarse. 

“We need to talk,” she repeated, more urgently this time. “I just had a vision.”

“Elain.” It was Nesta who had spoken. The eldest Archeron sister wrung her hands nervously. “Elain, something has happened.”

[danydragons21]

Can we have a sneak peek of chapter 26?

“Do you remember it?” 

Azriel’s chest moved up and down as he swallowed, Elain’s head bobbing along with the motion. She found it quite fitting that with every move he made, her body responded in kind. A planet orbiting the sun.

“I remember every word,” he breathed. And then, so hesitantly, so unexpectedly - “Would you like me to sing it for you?” 

Pressure suffocated her chest as she took in the vulnerability in his expression. As she fully comprehended the immense weight of his offer and the intrinsic trust it displayed. 

Months ago, she had teased him about this very moment. Told him she’d get him to sing for her before the year was up. But teasing him was the last thing she wanted to do now. She couldn’t quite pinpoint why this seemed so pivotal, so monumental, but she’d be damned if she would shatter the delicate beauty of this moment.

Endless virtual kudos to anyone who can guess the chapter title based on the teaser ;)

[danydragons21]

ahhhhh!!!! I just had a gut feeling to check for a new chapter and there it was!!!! I love it and this story, thank you for sharing your gift with us!! i’m glad to see az groveling a little bit after what he said to elain. “and you’re being useless, as always” still pops up in my head every now and then and my stomach aches as if he said it to me!! I also love the relationship building between elain and lucien. I really do think it’s possible for them to have a friendship even if their mating bond doesn’t work out (because he’s clearly in love with another too right?) 🥹

Ahh thank you so much for the kind words! 🥹 I am so glad you are liking the story and even more glad you are liking the characterizations and relationships!!! I have tried to remain as true as possible to the characters SJM has created while also putting them in situations and plots that allow them to grow, evolve and change in a way that is in line with their inherent attributes. It means so much to me that you appreciate that!

Sometimes I remember how shitty Az was to Elain when he said that and I physically cringe, too (and then I remember the chapters that have yet to be posted yet but that I've written scenes from and I get even sadder because if you know me at all, you know that the drama is far from over). But if you like this story, it's cause you like the angst too, so I'm not too worried ;)

Thank you for reading and for the incredibly lovely message! Hope you like the newest chapter!!

xoxo,

dany

[danydragons21]

I really really love TSTS and I hate to bother you, but do you already know when the next chapter could be out? The end of the last one was just to good. 🙈😁

I'm so glad you are liking the story! And no bother at all.

I'm actually working on it right now and came on Tumblr to post a teaser, so perfect timing!

CHAPTER 25 TEASER

“Gods,” he muttered, “I have no control when it comes to you. You could ask me for the fucking moon and I’d probably fly into space and bring you back a piece.” 

“I don’t want the moon,” she said, closing her eyes and circling her hips on his lap. “I just want you.” 

“Fuck,” he swore. “Lean forward again.”

Hehehehheheheh

I hope to have the chapter out in the next week - maybe sooner! TY for reading!

[danydragons21]

Hello! I love tsts soo much, so much that i legit refreshed ao3 every single hour everyday (no i'm not kidding).

The last chapter is killing me with curiousity, perhaps any spoiler(s) for when the next chapter is coming out? Hehe

Sending lots of love and a MAJOR thankyou for creating this wonderful story to keep us elriel stans occupied until acotar5 🫶🏻

🥰 the way this ask made my entire day!!!! I absolutely love hearing that you love TSTS - and I hope you love hearing that I've been writing a TON these past few days, so it won't be much longer till the next chapter is posted.

Here's a teaser to tide you over:

They arrived seconds later, materializing in the darkness like they’d been there all along. 

“Greetings, Spymaster,” the twins said in unison, their voices melding together like smoke, both wearing impassive expressions. Then they noticed Elain, and the nonchalance transformed into excitement.

“Elain!” Nuala cried happily. She stepped forward into the shadows and appeared directly in front of Elain before bestowing a bone-crushing hug on her. “We didn’t know you would be here, too!”

“Thanks for the heads up,” Cerridwen said to Azriel with a dirty glance before embracing her friend as well. 

He rolled his eyes. The twins loved blaming him for things he had no control over.

Thank you again for the lovely compliments - means so much more than I can convey! #ElrielForever

xoxo, dany

[danydragons21]

TSTS Chapter 24: More

Read on ao3 here.

Chapter 24: More

Elain awoke to shimmery sunlight streaming through the curtains. She watched the dust motes float in the silvery shafts for a moment, lamenting the fact that she was awake. Her dream last night had been so lovely, so perfect, that she wished she could have stayed asleep just a bit longer. Maybe if she went back to sleep, she could pick up where she left off? She was incredibly comfortable, so it shouldn’t be too difficult. As she wiggled further into the cocoon of blankets, her back pressed against something hard and solid.

She twisted over, coming face to face with Azriel. He was still asleep and looked more peaceful than she’d ever seen him look before.

Her heart leapt with joy. It hadn’t been a dream at all. It had been real, all of it, and best of all, he was still here beside her. She felt her whole body grow warm with pure and utter contentment.

A moment later, he stirred, eyes blinking open lazily. He looked confused for a second, as if he had forgotten whose bed he was in, but when his gaze landed on Elain, the fogginess cleared, replaced by an affectionate glow.

“Good morning,” he said, his voice thick and raspy with sleep.

If her body was warm before, it was now burning red. “Good morning,” she said shyly, ducking her head and nuzzling into the crook of his neck, unable to hold his golden gaze. “How did you sleep?” she breathed against his skin. Good gods, he smelled delectable. Even after all the… extracurricular activities they’d undertaken last night, she still wanted to bottle up his scent and hold on to it for safekeeping.

“Very well.” She lifted her head up to see him frowning, as if a good night’s sleep was something out-of-the-ordinary. Something to be concerned over.

She settled her torso over his chest and interlocked her fingers under her chin. “I’ve heard that strenuous exercise helps you sleep better.”

He raised an eyebrow, lazily wrapping his arms around her back. “I’d like to think I exercise strenuously everyday. But I still rarely sleep well.”

Ignoring the swooping sensation in her belly at the unspoken implication that he had slept well next to her, as opposed to so many other nights alone, she dragged a finger down the drastic curve of his bicep. She bit her lip as his muscles tensed slightly. Every part of him was rock-solid. It made her soft, supple body feel even more so in comparison.

“It’s your age, then,” she said, now tracing one of the many spidery veins that laced his enormous arms, bulging out from underneath his bronzed skin. She resisted the urge to follow the lightning-like path with her tongue. “I’ve heard that as you get older, you need more and more sleep. That must be it.”

She felt his length harden between them and a moment later, he spun her around. Her back was flat on the mattress and he was hovering above her, each of her wrists clutched in his massive hands and a knee spreading her legs apart.

“You know, Elain,” he said, staring down at her, “I’m starting to think you like provoking me.”

“Who, me?” She batted her eyelashes innocently. She knew he could hear her racing heart, could probably feel it pounding against his own chest, but she was determined to maintain the facade. Determined to make him break before she did.

“Mhhm, you,” he said, bending forward to delicately nose the skin of her throat. “Some might say you’re taking advantage of my competitive nature.”

“How could I possibly take advantage of you?” She managed to hold in the gasp that threatened to escape as he licked down her neck. “You’re the teacher. I’m only your obedient, willing and eager student.”

He groaned against her skin. Threw his head up, dark and large pupils ringed by a small halo of hazel. Transferred the grip of both of her wrists into one hand and reached between her legs with the other. His fingers caressed her slippery folds.

Elain might have been embarrassed by how wet she already was—they hadn’t even done anything yet, for gods sake—but Azriel didn’t seem to mind.

“Eager is right,” he rasped, shaking his head with wonder. He kissed her on the lips, then, hard and hot, like he couldn’t resist. His talented fingers continued circling her, refusing to give into what he knew she wanted, until finally he slid a finger in, meeting no resistance.

It wasn’t enough.

She arched her back. “More,” she pleaded.

He added a second finger.

She winced, just slightly; it had been a long time since she’d had sex, after all, and he was certainly larger than the average male, so it didn’t surprise her that she was rather sore. But that didn’t mean she wanted to stop.

No. No, she didn’t want to stop at all. Not until he was buried deep inside her again. Not until she was once again experiencing the unparalleled ecstasy that came from their physical connection.

“More,” she breathed.

“More? You want another finger?”

She shook her head.

“My tongue?” he very nearly growled.

As good as that sounded…it wasn’t quite what she had in mind. So she shook her head again.

Releasing her wrists and removing his hand from between her legs, he grabbed her breasts, massaging and pushing them together.

“Use your words, sweet girl,” he murmured, dipping down. She thought he was going to focus on her nipple again, but he did something much better, sucking her breast into his mouth. Her entire breast.

“Aaaaazzz,” she moaned, his name a lusty and elongated sigh.

He released her with a pop. “Fuck, your little tits are so gorgeous.” His eyes were glazed. “Do you see how perfectly they fit in my mouth?” His teeth grazed against a taut peak. “I just want to eat you up.”

Holy hells, he was so good at talking dirty. She could barely think in coherent sentences, let alone form the wonderfully wicked words that came to him so easily.

But she had to try, didn’t she?

“Are you going to make me beg for your cock, or are you going to just give me what I want?”

He froze, then let out a dark chuckle. Slowly removed his hands from her chest and sat back on his knees, eyeing her thoughtfully.

“You know, I was going to be sweet with you this morning,” he murmured, drinking in her languid nude body sprawled across the bed. “Was going to treat you like a gentleman would treat a lady.”

“But not anymore?”

“Not anymore,” he repeated. Tilted his head to the side slightly, as if trying to decide what to do with her. A devious smile blossomed on his face.

Little did he know that Elain had absolutely no interest in being treated like a lady.

“Roll over.”

“What?” She furrowed her brows in confusion.

“Roll. Over.”

Full of trepidation and still puzzling over his intentions, she carefully rolled over onto her stomach.

“Knees up,” he said, tapping her leg.

Blushing furiously at the position, but unwilling to disobey an order, she pushed up until the top part of her body lay against the bed while the bottom part angled upwards.

A strangled noise came from Azriel’s throat. “Holy Mother of…” he said hoarsely. Without warning, his cool hands cupped her lower cheeks, pushing them together and apart, together and apart. Elain was moaning unrestrainedly.

“Please, Az,” she whined.

“Please, what?”

“Please. I want you.” Her voice was a desperate little whimper.

“I’m right here, though.”

She huffed with frustration, at his infuriating refusal and the teasing tone of his voice. He was really going to make her say it, wasn’t he?

“Come on, ‘Lain,” he whispered in her ear, his hot breath sending sparks to her brain.

Godsdamn him. “Az. I want you to fuck me. Please .”

“That wasn’t so hard now, was it?” He pressed a searing kiss to the tattoo on the back of her neck. Their tattoo. Waves of pleasure emanated from where his lips met her skin to the rest of her body.

“But I’m not going to fuck you.”

“What?” she gasped. She looked over her shoulder to find Azriel on his knees behind her, still staring at her ass while his hands slowly massaged the area. “Why not?” she demanded.

“You think I didn’t see you wince earlier?”

She ducked her head. Of course he saw. Stupid, all-seeing Spymaster.

His hand gently cupped her sex. “And I can see how swollen you are,” he said, running a finger down her seam. “Can feel how tender you are. I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I don’t care,” Elain said. And she didn’t. Not at all. She wanted the pain as much as she wanted the pleasure. With Azriel, the two were one and the same, anyway.

He placed another kiss against her tattoo, as if he knew how much she loved it when did that. As if he knew it was her weakness.

She sat back on her heels. Azriel let out a low sound of disappointment, probably because her ass was now out of sight, but he got over it a moment later when she nestled her back against his chest. She could feel his length, hard and thick, underneath her. His broad hands reached around and caressed her chest, twisting the turgid peaks.

“I don’t think it’s very fair that you get to decide if I’m okay enough to have sex,” she said.

She could hear the frown in his voice as he said, “Elain. I’m not going to do something I know will cause you pain.”

She looked over her shoulder, meeting his genuine, worried gaze. It melted her heart a little bit.

“I know,” she said softly. “But like I said. You don’t get to decide that.” She rolled her hips, and as Azriel’s length slid between her legs, meeting no friction whatsoever, he moaned brokenly. “I’ll tell you if it’s more than I can take. I promise.”

For a moment, he didn’t respond, and Elain held her breath in anticipation. But when Azriel tightened his grip on her breasts, she knew she’d won.

“Gods,” he muttered, “I have no control when it comes to you. You could ask me for the fucking moon and I’d probably fly into space and bring you back a piece.”

“I don’t want the moon,” she said, closing her eyes and circling her hips on his lap. “I just want you.”

“Fuck,” he swore. “Lean forward again.” And with a broad hand on her back, he pushed her into the previous position. Elain shivered slightly in anticipation. Moaned raggedly when he drew his length up and down against her slit.

Bliss. That’s what she felt as he shoved inside of her. Pure and utter bliss. They moaned in tandem at how smoothly he slid into her soaking depths. Even though she’d just felt him last night, she’d forgotten how incredible the sensation was. How perfectly they fit together. She was so full, sated to the very brim with his delicious cock.

“Gods save me,” he murmured, cupping a cheek in each hand and spreading her wide, so wide she thought he could look right through her, if he wanted. “This ass, Elain,” he said, lazily thrusting in and out of her, “this ass will be the death of me.” Whimpering at his words and the tortuously slow rhythm, she pushed back against him, silently begging him to pick up the pace. He only chuckled, knowing exactly what she was asking for but refusing to give it to her.

But slow was not the speed she wanted to go.

“If you’re afraid to go fast because you think you’ll finish too quickly, I promise I won’t judge you.” Azriel froze mid-thrust as her words hit him. She grinned into the pillow; provocation was such an underestimated weapon of manipulation. Truly.

Slender fingers wound through the strands of her hair and tugged roughly, pulling her flush against his chest. Elain’s breathing grew even more ragged as his hot lips caressed her neck.

“Has anyone ever told you how absolutely devilish you are?”

“No. Tell me.”

“You’re fucking evil, Elain. You’ll be my goddamn undoing.”

She’d never heard such delicious words.

“Elain?”

Oh gods. Someone was at the door.

In a flash, Azriel slapped a hand over her mouth. Just in time, too, for Elain couldn’t keep in her gasp of surprise. His cock was still inside of her, hot and throbbing.

“Elain, I know you’re awake. Are you still mad at me?”

It was Vassa. Of course. She needed to have a serious chat with her friend about a little something called timing .

Azriel’s hand loosened over her mouth. She glanced at him over her shoulder.

“Reply to her ,” he mouthed.

“No! ” she mouthed back, shaking her head. “ I can’t!”

His eyes narrowed and he pushed his hips further against hers. In the effort to remain quiet, she bit her lip so hard she broke skin.

“You can,” he whispered in her ear.

“I’m awake, Vassa,” Elain finally managed, her voice only shaking…well, a lot. “No, I’m not mad. Just…just a little tired is all.” She met Azriel’s gaze over her shoulder.

“ Tired ?” he arched a brow. She shrugged mischievously, then nearly screamed when he began thrusting into her again, slow and steady. Fuck, he felt so deep like this. One arm was hooked around her chest, fastening her body against his. Holding her right where he wanted her.

“So you’re good? You promise?”

Elain was finding it quite difficult to hold a conversation while stars were exploding in her head. “I’m…I’m good.”

“Okay,” Vassa said doubtfully. “You sound weird.”

Azriel bit down on her shoulder to stifle his laughter.

“I’m good, Vass. So good.”

“ Good, good, good ,” Azriel mimicked, far too quietly for Vassa’s human ears to hear. “You’re such a hard girl to please, ‘Lain. I guess I’ll have to work harder to get more than a ‘good’ from you.”

He didn’t go faster. He didn’t go harder. No. With a gentle but firm hand against her back, he pushed her down until her torso was pressed against the mattress, her ass high in the air, her legs nearly folded beneath her. Honestly, she’d had no idea she was flexible enough for something like this. She was practically bent in half.

Before she could fully register the change in position, he was pushing back into her, and holy hells above. How was he even deeper this way? She was going to explode. She was going to crack into a million little pieces. She was—

“Will you please come out and talk to me, Elain? I’m just…I’m still really worried about last night. Please?”

She was not going to last even a second longer.

“I’m coming!” she cried out, just as her body began to shake.

Hands twisted in her hair, Azriel tugged her back up against his chest and swallowed her scream with a punishing kiss. Devoured her like it was his last meal.

Fucked her mouth as hard as he was fucking her between the legs.

Pleasure, blinding and fierce, wracked through her body. For several glittering moments, she lost track of herself, of her surroundings: the only thing grounding her was the mouth still gently moving against her own.

When she finally came to, Azriel’s lips were hovering over her cheek, his hot breath searing her skin as he panted heavily.

“Elain? Hello?”

She was going to kill Vassa.

“Just give me a moment,” she snapped. “I’ll meet you downstairs in a few, okay?”

A slight pause, just enough to make Elain feel a little guilty, and then Vassa was walking away. Elain and Azriel stayed still until her footsteps faded entirely.

Gently, Azriel extricated himself, separating their bodies. She wrapped a sheet loosely around her body and faced him. He was staring at her with a wary expression on his handsome face.

The full impact of their changed dynamic hit her all at once. They had slept together. Twice. They weren’t even dating! Did Fae even “date,” anyway? She probably should have asked about that beforehand. Neither of them had ever explicitly stated the full extent of their feelings, though Elain thought it was quite obvious how she felt about him. It was his feelings she was still unsure about.

Uncertainty ran its hands down her back. What did this mean for them?

“What are you thinking?” Azriel was observing her intently.

She bit her lip. “I suppose I’m wondering what happens now.”

“What happens now?” he repeated.

She nodded. “Yes. I mean,” she cleared her throat, “In terms of, like, us .”

“Us,” he echoed.

Another nod. “Yeah. I mean, was this a one time thing, or should I expect it to happen again?”

He cocked his head to the side. “Do you want it to happen again?”

“Yes.” There was no hesitation in her response. “Do you?” She looked down and studied her interlocked hands, rather nervous to hear his response.

He caught her chin between two fingers. Forced her to meet his gaze. “Of course I do.” His voice was low and smoky. “I have plenty of other lessons planned,” he added.

She went lightheaded, a mixture of release and arousal swarming at his words. “Okay,” she whispered, a shy smile blossoming on her face.

The corner of his lip twitched up, his version of a smile. Then his eyes dipped down to her lips, and when they flicked back up, there was a dark and renewed intent burning in them. It didn’t matter that she’d come so recently—she could already feel herself growing wet between the legs again. Honestly, she wasn’t sure she’d ever stopped.

The tension stretched between them, fragile as glass. But who would crack first?

Without warning, Azriel released her chin and climbed off the bed. The moment was gone as quickly as it had come. She would have frowned dramatically if it wasn’t for the utterly glorious sight of his sculpted body illuminated in the dusty dawn light.

When he’d donned his pants, he spoke again. “I have a meeting in Velaris,” he said apologetically.

“It’s okay,” she said. “Is it an Inner Circle meeting?”

“No. You would be there if it was.” She didn’t realize how much she needed to hear those words of assurance until he said them aloud.

“Well, then what’s the meeting for?” Perhaps she was prying too much, but he did just have his cock inside of her, and while there were still no guidelines in place for this—this relationship , or whatever the hell was happening between them—she thought, at the very least, she was entitled to a bit of nosiness.

Azriel exhaled loudly, but she could tell his frustration wasn’t directed at her. He was fully dressed by the time he finally replied. “It’s with Rhys.”

“Oh.” She chewed her lip. “I suppose I should warn you, then.”

“Warn me?”

“Yeah. About…about my confrontation with Rhys. I know I sort of mentioned it to you, but I never went into details. Anyway…I may or may not have yelled at him. A lot. In front of other people.” She winced internally at the memory. While she didn’t necessarily regret what she’d said to Rhys (and while she still wanted to give him a swift kick up the ass), she did wish that she’d kept her temper better. Important words should never be said while in a fit of rage. If Nesta and Feyre had taught her one thing, it was that.

“It’s okay. I’ve already heard about it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Spymaster, remember?”

“I don’t, actually. Remind me?”

He shook his head, smiling. “You’re too much.”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“No.”

“ Good .” She couldn’t fight the bright and wide smile that lit up her face.

Azriel pinched his nose and closed his eyes for a brief moment. “Elain, I swear to the gods…” He inhaled deeply. “I really do have to go. But before I do, I want to tell you three things.

“One: Be on your guard. Don’t take any risks. With the threat of Koschei, and whatever damn shit the Autumn Court is trying to pull, things are precarious right now. Dangerous. If you have a troubling vision, or if you overhear anything suspicious from the Band of Exiles, or if you feel unsafe in any way, summon me. Immediately .” He raised his hand and tapped the back of his neck—the bargain tattoo—in demonstration. “I’ll come right away.”

Elain simply nodded. It seemed unnecessary to tell him that would be her first instinct, anyway.

“Two: I’m going to have to disguise your scent.”

“Pardon?”

He coughed uncomfortably. “If any Fae were to come near you right now, they’d smell me all over you. And you all over me.”

Shit. She had not even considered that very important detail. Even after two years, she still wasn’t entirely settled with all the aspects of her newfound Fae heritage. At least the only other beings near them right now were humans…but Lucien was expected to return today.

Her stomach turned to ice at the thought. The horror must have shown on her face, because Azriel said, “It’s fine. I’ll just cover up our scents, like we did for Nesta and Cassian at the Hewn City. No one will know.” His jaw worked, any softness in his expression gone entirely.

She didn’t know how to explain to him that it wasn’t that she didn’t want people to know about what they’d done; she just didn’t necessarily want them to know, either. But she couldn’t seem to find the words, so she remained quiet.

After disguising her scent, Azriel called his shadows to him.

“Where have they been?” she asked, registering that she hadn’t seen them in a while. Hadn’t seen them since last night, in fact. She grinned as one of the shadows twirled around her wrist playfully before joining its master.

“They were minding their own business,” he said. “As they should.”

Elain laughed. Azriel smiled again. She loved making him smile.

“I really do have to go,” he told her.

“Okay.” As he began to wrap his shadows around himself, she said, “Wait! What was the third thing? What did you want to tell me?”

His eyes gleamed. She began to suspect that he had intentionally omitted the third thing, if only for her to ask. If only for him to get his last wicked word in.

He crossed the distance between them in two long strides, leaning over her where she knelt on the bed, still cocooned in bed sheets. “Three,” he murmured, lightly caressing her face, “Try not to miss me too much.”

Azriel blinked down at her, wearing a ridiculously sinful smirk. For whatever reason, the sight made her heart twist with affection. She loved him when he was confident. Cocky. It was enticing as hell.

But she also knew it was a bit of an act. And despite the fact that she still had no idea where they stood, she wanted him to know that he was just as sexy—just as desirable—with all his proverbial armor thrown off. That she loved every piece of him she was offered.

So Elain sat up on her knees and lightly pressed her lips against his. Didn’t break the soft kiss as she breathed, “Impossible.”

***

The River House was empty when Azriel arrived. He sent his shadows to every room in search of Rhys to no avail. Annoyed that he’d left Elain only to be stood up by Rhys, but knowing he had to wait until the High Lord returned so they could have the meeting, he grumbled and sat down in the living room.

As per usual these days, his thoughts drifted toward Elain. Toward what had happened between them last night…and this morning. He still had trouble believing it had really occurred, that it wasn’t just a secret fantasy that lived in the depths of his dirty, twisted mind. But beneath the cover of magic, he could still smell her scent intertwined with his own, a tangible reminder of what had transpired between them.

He didn’t regret it. Of course he didn’t. No matter what mess came from this (and he was sure beyond reasonable belief that there would be a horrific mess to deal with, one way or another), he knew he’d never regret what they’d done. Some gifts are more costly than others. He’d gladly face the consequences.

No, he didn’t regret it. But he would be lying if he said he was perfectly composed.

It was easy to forget about the potential fallout of his actions when he was with Elain. When she was curled up in his arms, when he was balls deep inside of her, when her sweet mouth sang his name…Elain had a way of making him forget about all of his responsibilities. Made him forget about all the reasons why they shouldn’t be together until all he saw, all he could focus on, was her.

But here, now, alone in the River House with only his thoughts and half-hard cock and busybody shadows for company, apprehension swept in like the tide.

He and Elain had done something irreversible. Not just in the joining of their bodies, though that had been…Azriel shook his head in disbelief. It had been fucking unreal. It had shaken something loose inside of him that he doubted could ever be put back together entirely.

He had no idea what came after this. He had no idea what he even wanted to come from this, let alone what she wanted. All he knew was that the mere thought of never kissing Elain again made his blood boil and his hands shake and some beast deep in his belly growl with uncontrolled fury.

Fucking gods. A distraction. That’s what she was, a beautiful and dangerous distraction. He was the Spymaster of the Night Court, for Cauldron’s sake, and here he was, clenching his fists because he might not ever get to taste the Elain’s Archeron’s sweet mouth again? Pathetic. He was pathetic, and she was a distraction, and this was all going to blow up in his face, and -

“For someone so handsome, you look really constipated when you’re lost in thought like that.”

He stood up and whipped around. “Mor,” he said, and let out a bark of a laugh. Some of the heavy worry in his chest melted away.

They embraced, and Azriel felt his face grow slightly red when she kissed him on both cheeks. Mor, of course, thought nothing of it, and merely fell backwards onto the couch, propping her long, golden legs up on the ottoman and reclining luxuriously.

He sat beside her, smiling softly.

“So,” she began, and his smile fell. He knew that tone of voice like he knew the back of his scarred hand. “Care to share what’s on your mind?”

“Not particularly.”

“Az,” she whined, “I know something is wrong. And you know I’m not going to rest until you tell me, so why don’t we skip the usual song and dance where I beg pathetically and eventually cry out of pure frustration until you feel guilty enough to finally spill your guts and let your best friend know what’s bothering you?”

“Nah.”

Mor glowered at him, and Azriel just barely resisted the urge to laugh. She was funny when she was mad, if only because she never really got angry. At least not with him.

It had always been like this with him and Mor. One look and she was able to know if something was up with him—and vice versa. Sure, she was the Morrigan, and truth was her nature, but it was more than that. She was his best friend, and he hers, and that was that.

Well. That and the fact that Azriel had been hopelessly enamored with her for the past five centuries.

He fell in love with Mor the very first day he met her. Not when he first saw her, necessarily, though she was the most gorgeous female— being —he had ever seen. He remembered that day so clearly: he, Cas and Rhys were in between daily training sessions in Illyria and had a rare moment of rest. They were standing near the water spout when a herd of Fae appeared over the hill. All men, all fearsome, wearing the signature helms of the Court of Nightmares. All men, except for the figure in the middle.

His breath caught in his throat. He had been an Illyrian warrior-in-training for many years at this point, and before then the only females he saw were his mother and his horrendous step-mother. Sometimes, he and his fellow trainees would catch a glimpse of Illyrian females from the nearby towns, but they never stayed long once Azriel came around. Whenever they noticed his shadows, the females would scurry away in fear.

When Mor finished hugging Rhys and greeting Cassian with a big smile, he fully expected her to cringe away from him like all the rest. But her smile only grew wider as she exclaimed, “A shadowsinger! Oh, how wonderful!”

And just like that, he was smitten.

Mor was only visiting for a few days, and he only spent time with her when they weren’t training (which was hardly ever), but with every moment he spent in her presence, he fell in love a little more. She was engaging and kind and strikingly beautiful, inside and out, but most importantly, she looked at him like he was normal . Like he wasn’t some shadow-covered freak with scarred hands and wings he’d just learned how to use. She looked at him and all she saw was Azriel. And with Mor, for the first time in his life, he thought that just being Azriel wasn’t such a bad thing, after all.

Of course, then the whole debacle with Cassian happened, and Rhys had almost killed him in his anger. And Azriel…something broke in him that day. When he found out Mor had chosen Cassian over him, he knew, without a doubt, that love would never find him. It hadn’t surprised him, but it had certainly changed him. And he accepted that day that he would never be worthy of anyone, least of all Mor.

But it hadn’t stopped him loving her from afar. Hadn’t stopped his heart aching whenever he saw her and Cassian laughing and snuggling together. Hadn’t stopped the centuries of pining and self-deprecation and continuous refusal to open up his heart to anyone.

And it hadn’t stopped him from falling for someone else entirely, 500 years later. And the fact that he had fallen for someone who was irrevocably destined for another male…well, that didn’t surprise Azriel in the least.

Mor regarded him with undisguised worry in her brown eyes. “Spit it out, Az.”

“You’re annoying, you know.”

“I know. Now tell me. You know I’ll get it out of you eventually.”

He hesitated. Truth be told, he did kind of want to talk about his situation with someone. There was so much he wanted to sort out, so much confusion weaving tangled webs in his mind, that it wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world to get some advice. But he’d be damned if he was about to tell Mor every detail. No, that was between him and Elain.

“Have you ever done something that you knew you shouldn’t do, but just wanted to do it so badly you didn't care about the consequences?” He was speaking very quietly, even though there was no one else in the house.

Her eyes softened. “Of course I have. I think everyone has.”

“But what if it’s something that affects other people? A lot of other people? What if it’s something that won’t end well no matter what? How do I justify that selfishness if it puts others at risk?”

“Azriel,” Mor said seriously, taking his hand, “if this is about—”

She was cut off as one of his shadows flew in quickly, alerting them to Rhys’ presence mere seconds before the High Lord strode through the front doors.

“Mor,” Rhys said, surprise ringing in his voice. Clearly her presence was unexpected. “Az.” An awkward nod from both males. “Sorry I’m late. Feyre asked me to bring Nyx to her studio in the Rainbow—she wants him to start painting with her—and of course the second we let him loose, he flies right into her supply of paints and destroys at least three easels. He is an absolute monster,” Rhys recounted affectionately, violet eyes glowing like embers.

“Nyx isn’t even here?” Mor exclaimed. “Well, I’m off then. I only have a few hours before I have to return to Vallahan and I’ll be damned if I’m spending it in the presence of you two grouchy males.”

“Cheers, Mor.”

“Ta ta,” she wiggled her hand, then pointed sternly at Azriel. “Don’t think we’re done with our conversation. To be continued.” Then she winnowed away.

“What conversation?” Rhys asked.

“Nothing important.”

“Alright,” Rhys said eventually, though Az could tell he wasn’t fully okay with being kept in the dark. But obviously their relationship was precarious enough that Rhys wasn’t willing to push him for any further information.

The two males eyed each other warily.

“I was hoping to get updates from you about what your spies have been up to,” Rhys began, and Azriel recognized his voice as not that of his friend or brother, but of his High Lord. Well. If that’s how it was going to be…

He took a subtle sniff of his own skin. There, beneath the layer of magic, far too disguised for Rhys to detect, was Elain’s scent mixed with his own. He breathed it in. Let that glorious combination of jasmine and honey fill his heart with something like strength.

“Of course.” Azriel schooled his face into its usual icy and stoic expression. “Let’s begin.”

***

Following Azriel’s departure, Elain bathed and dressed quickly before heading out to find Vassa. Her whole body was still buzzing with energy; she doubted she’d be able to fully relax for the next few hours, she was so worked up.

As she walked through the Manor, Elain looked for her friend half heartedly, her thoughts mostly preoccupied with the events that had transpired over the last 12 hours.

She couldn’t wait for Azriel to return. Sure, they’d have to be careful, would have to take precautions to ensure no one else knew what they were up to, but she was positive they’d find a way to continue her “lessons” discreetly.

Lessons . She remembered, then, that Lucien had also promised her lessons. Promised to teach her how to use her healing magic. Guilt gnawed at her. Even though she knew they did not owe each other anything, she couldn't help but feel like she was wronging him. Like she was betraying him.

Lost in her thoughts, she nearly ran into a wall. “Get a grip, Elain,” she muttered to herself. She was about to continue her search for Vassa when she heard whispers coming from a few doors down.

Inching closer on silent feet, she covertly listened to the murmured voices with her powerful Fae ears.

“...I just don’t understand what you’re waiting for.” That was Jurian.

“I’m waiting for the right time,” another voice—Vassa—said.

“And when exactly will that be?”

A sigh from Vassa, long and weary. “I don’t know.”

Quiet, for a brief moment, and then Jurian spoke again. “None of us know how much longer you have, Vassa. If you wait too long to tell her, it will be too late. And then we will all be doomed.”

“I know. I know . But how can I tell her something like this? How can I tell her of the inevitable horror she will have to face?”

“It won’t be easy. Of course it won’t. But she deserves to know. She has to know.”

“I’ll tell her. Soon. I promise.” A pause. “I just want to enjoy these last few weeks with her. Want to enjoy being her friend before she hates me. Before Lucien finds out and hates me, as well.”

“Give them both more credit. They love you.”

“They don’t know the truth I have been withholding from them. They won’t love me then.”

“You don’t know that.”

Vassa let out a dark laugh. “I don’t know a great many things, Jurian, but I know that they will find it difficult to forgive a betrayal like this.” Footsteps sounded as Vassa neared the door. “I’ll tell Elain soon. Just…give me a little longer, okay?”

Elain’s fingers gripped the wall so hard her knuckles went white. She heard the door open and before Vassa could even begin walking her way, raced silently down the hall with immortal speed and back into her quarters.

As soon as her door closed, she leaned against it, a cold sweat coating her skin. Her heart thundered in her chest.

Vassa was keeping something from her. Something big, something…something that would change everything.

Cold rage vibrated through her bones. She’d thought Vassa was her friend. Thought they shared a special bond. But if the conversation she’d just overheard was any indication, Vassa had been lying to her from the very beginning. Had been holding imperative information over her head, entirely unbeknownst to Elain, who had never felt more foolish. She’d been blinded by Vassa’s gregarious nature, taken in completely by her fraudulent friendship and misleading words, and the entire time Vassa had been keeping something from her that would seemingly affect every aspect of Elain’s life. That would apparently endanger her life.

What should she do now? It was obvious that she wasn’t entirely safe at the Mortal Manor. Not with Vassa and Jurian keeping such a secret from her. Not with the inevitable danger of Koschei and all the complications he brought with him.

But would she be safer at the Night Court? Koschei had managed to break through the boundaries in Velaris, as well. And while she no longer trusted Vassa and Jurian, their conversation made it clear that Lucien was just as unaware of the secrets the mortals were keeping as Elain was. And she knew without a sliver of doubt that Lucien would never hurt her. That he would protect her at all costs.

And if Lucien wasn’t at the Manor, then Azriel would be. The very thought of something happening to her while Azriel was around was laughable.

She recalled their conversation from this morning. If you overhear anything suspicious from the Band of Exiles, or if you feel unsafe in any way, summon me. Immediately.

Azriel would want to know about this. Of course he would. But Elain did not know what he would do with the information. He might decide it wasn’t safe for her at the Manor anymore. He might tell Rhys and Feyre, who would surely make her leave if her safety was no longer ensured.

And she was a spy. This was her duty. Her responsibility. She was placed at the Manor to find out what the mortal queen was hiding, and she was closer than ever in discovering what that was.

And most of all, whatever this secret was, it was about her. She deserved the truth. And she deserved to be the one to uncover it.

The pace of her heartbeat slowed significantly. She straightened up. Smoothed down her skirt. Took in a deep, calming breath. Exited her room with her head held high and a soft, serene expression on her face.

By the time she found the mortal queen, Elain’s smile was as believable as ever. “Hello, my dear,” she cooed, wrapping her arms around Vassa and ignoring the ache in her chest as Vassa hugged her back.

“Oh, Elain!” Vassa said, and if Elain didn’t know better, she’d think the relief in the queen’s voice was genuine. “I’m so glad you aren’t angry with me.”

Vassa’s words from weeks ago echoed in her head. “What good are secrets between those you love the most?”

The memory further confirmed what she already knew: Vassa did not care about her. She never had.

“I could never be angry with you,” Elain said.

No lie had ever tasted so sweet.

Please let me know your thoughts <3

[danydragons21]

When will you be submitting another chapter for The Shadows That Sing…I’m dying for the next one!!!

so freaking soon. i promise!!!

here's a teaser to get you through the last few days before I post the next chapter:

Elain’s eyes latched onto a volume at the end of the row. It was sticking out just a touch further than the rest of its bookmates. Silvery script danced down the dark indigo spine, spelling out a title in a language she didn’t recognize. 

The voice in her head had gone quiet, but it didn’t matter. This book was the one she was supposed to find. She knew it, knew it like she knew flowers and soil and growth. 

She reached out to grab the book. 

However, as she began to slide it off the shelf, the strangest thing happened. The book - and it felt strangely light, oddly hollow - wouldn’t come off the shelf. Not fully. She was only able to tip the upper part of it backward. 

And then, to her utter amazement, the shelf itself opened ever so slightly, revealing a thin gap. A chilly draft blew out of it.

A hidden passageway.

[danydragons21]

Any sneak peeks for chapter 25?

Chapter 25 Sneak Peek:

“Let it. Let it out, Elain.”

“I don’t want to hurt anyone.” Because that was part of it, perhaps the biggest part; that if she wasn’t perfect and lovely and kind and sweet Elain who never upset anyone and stayed silent even when a better person would have screamed - what kind of ruin would occur? If they peeled back her shiny, duplicitous layers and discovered what rotted beneath, who would she hurt? Would anyone still love her, then? Would she herself ever be able to grow from the decay?

“You won’t hurt anyone.” He sounded so sure that a tear slipped down her cheek. “You’ll heal.”