Chapter 2
CHAPTER 2
Up in the Illyrian Mountains, Azriel and Cassian were patrolling the grounds. The cold, harsh wind cut through them as they were making their last round before calling it a day and flying back to Velaris. Azriels boots were drenched after walking in the snow for hours. His scarred hands aching from tightness after being outside for so long.
“I don’t think we’re going to find anything’, Cassian said as he blew warmth in his cold hands. “We have been walking for hours and nothing seems wrong here.” Annoyance seeping through his voice.
Azriel turned his attention to his brother, walking a few steps ahead and inspecting the snow covered rough ground.
“I much rather be at home too brother, but we can never be too careful. His shadows were swirling around him, constantly on the lookout for something. The Illyrian Mountains were one the most dangerous places in the Night Court. A treacherous place where dark creatures were lurking and only the strongest survived.
“And besides, he smirked, knowing it would piss him off even more, “Rhys wouldn’t just send us here for no reason.”.
‘No, Rhys is just being a paranoid mate”, Cassian grumbled, rubbing his hands together to keep them warm. Not that it did anything for him. The Illyrian Mountains were always chilly, but in the winter, they were freezing.
Tension between the three brothers were at an all-time high. With Nesta’s forced relocation to the House of Wind, Rhys pulling rank on Azriel to stop his pining after the middle Acheron sister and the worst of all, the matter of Feyre’s pregnancy…
“I understand with Feyre being pregnant, his protective mating instincts have been in overdrive,” Cassian sighed, his wings twitching, “but we have been patrolling every week and there has been no sign of any threat at all. Frustration could be heard in the generals voice. They were treading on dangerous grounds, literally and figuratively.
“And we all know … he started, his voice shaky, but then stopped himself as if speaking the words would make it all too real. “We all know that the real threat to Feyre is not outside, but…” he trailed off, still not being able to finish the sentence.
Azriel closed his eyes and sighed, thinking about his brother and his mate. He still couldn’t wrap his mind around it. How things could change so fast. What should have been the most joyous news quickly became a thing of nightmares. Feyre, his High Lady, and his nephew, would most likely not survive the birth.
The babe in her womb had wings and the survival of a non-Illyrian female giving birth to a winged baby was almost non-existent. Her anatomy was simply not made for it. Life certainly could be cruel.
“We shouldn’t speak of it”, Azriel said sharply, stopping to fully turn to Cassian. “It invites bad luck. And there might be a solution we haven’t come across. You know Rhys, he would stop at nothing to save her. Defy fate itself. That’s why he’s in Dawn right now”, he said, reminding his brother.
“All we can do is pray to the Mother all will be well”, his shadows, so in tuned with his emotions, deepened.
Hoping everything would be right was one of the only things he could do, which frustrated him to no end. The Shadowsinger cared deeply for his family. He spent centuries spying, dealing with the lowest of the low among faekind and humankind alike and fighting literal wars to make sure they were save.
Being the Spymaster and Head Torturer of the Night Court was not easy, but it was a necessary evil he was willing to commit. Even if he felt utterly worthless after every mission, even when there were days he hated himself so much that he wished he had never survived past age eleven and even when he’d spent hours in the bathroom scrubbing his scarred hands raw because he was convinced he still had blood on his hands. All of It would be worth it if his family were happy, save and healthy. He could endure it. No, he had to endure it.
“Do you think what we’re doing is right? With not telling her of the risk?”, Cassian whispered.
His stomach tightened. The air around them thick with tension. It was a conversation that was waiting to happened. They both had skirted around the subject for too long, ashamed of their decision in following Rhysands order.
The truth was, Azriel didn’t agree at all with Rhys’s decision. And he argued with him over it until the color of his face was as blue as his siphons. Azriel couldn’t understand his brother’s hypocrisy. He always preached about females being equal to males and how they should be able to make their own choices in life. How was this any different? How didn’t he understand a lie by omission is still a lie and refusing to tell his mate was the worst kind of betrayal?
On some level he understood him. The protective, irrational part of him. Rhys didn’t want to frighten his mate or add more stress. Especially while she was in such a delicate condition. But Feyre wasn’t just someone, she was a warrior in her own right. Feyre ‘Cursebreaker’, who died for them. She was not just a delicate female at all and he felt strongly that by not telling her, Rhys didn’t respect her fully. Didn’t truly regard her as an equal and the High Lady of the Night Court.
“No”, Azriel said looking up at the sky, jaw tightening. It was getting dark and he could hear the wind breeze behind him. “But.. he gave us an order and you know we can’t do anything but follow it. Doesn’t matter what we think or don’t”.
He couldn’t stop the bitterness that he was feeling from seeping through his voice. If Azriel would one day be blessed by the Mother to have a mate, he couldn’t imagine making the same decision as Rhysand.
To deceive the one the Mother made for you, your equal, your love would be inconceivable to him. To let them think nothing was wrong to then pulling the rug directly underneath them when it was too late was just cruel.
Azriel scoffed internally. As if HE of all people would be given a mate. Someone unworthy as him would only be good for killing and fucking.
He knew he was undeserving of a sacred bond like that. The blood on his hands, the stain on his soul, even the circumstances of his birth made him someone who could never be truly loved. Never be chosen. Forced to always be alone.
And even though it was out of the realm of possibility, Azriel craved love fiercely. He himself wasn’t born of it. His worthless father forced himself on his poor mother and then punished them both for years. His existence should have never happened. A bastard was al he was.
And when he was finally released of his birth family’s tyranny and found his chosen family, he still felt like he needed to earn a place among them. That’s why he desired the mating bond so much. In his mind, his mate would be the only person that could accept every ugly, dark part of him. It was the only way for him.
When he met The Morrigan, she was like a breath of fresh air. Completely different from any female he had ever met. She was beautiful, bubbly, outgoing and a warrior herself. He fell in love instantly. So overcome with it, that he was convinced a mating bond would appear between them. Kept the hope alive for five centuries. Even when everything happened with Cassian and Eris, he stayed patient. When she would sleep with any male but him, he stayed patient.
Through the years it became apparent that the romance was but a delusion in his head. He had put her on a pedestal so far above him, that after a while she truly became untouchable. Every time he tried to confess his feelings, she would find a way to reject him. This only worsened his own self-worth and self-esteem. She was never comfortable around him if there wasn’t a buffer with them, like Cassian. A declaration of love from him was truly so offensive to her.
He had no choice but to move on. He forced himself. Kept his distance and even did some deep self-reflecting on the many nights he wasn’t able to sleep. He didn’t deserve the way Mor treated him. Didn’t deserve the years of agony and doubt. She never entertained the idea of them being together, but she did enjoy the attention. She kept stringing him along, giving him just enough crumbs that would feed his unhealthy infatuation. It was cruel, especially after finding out she preferred females. That was truly a dagger to the heart. Painful as it was, it was also the straw that broke the camels back. After centuries he could finally close the Mor chapter.
And then Elain Archeron happened. He flinched just thinking of her. At first he only cared for her because she was his High Lady’s elder sister. But when both of his brothers found their mates with two of the Archeron sisters, a seed was planted in his mind. What if the Cauldron was wrong? What if he was supposed to be her mate instead of Lucien?
From then on he started to pay more attention to her. She wasn’t as fierce and outspoken as her sisters were, but she possessed a gentle kind of strength. A rose with thorns with a kindness that should never be mistaken for weakness. Her gentle disposition and her beauty captivated him. And even when he knew it was wrong, their small secret touches and soft spoken words excited him. If someone so pure could want him, then perhaps he wasn’t so unworthy after all.
But the cracks in the glass were there before Rhys ordered him to stay away. His self-reflection with Mor stayed with him. Him and Elain were doomed from the start. He was just repeating the cycle again. Putting a female on a pedestal, but ultimately never be able to touch her.
Maybe that’s why he kept falling for unattainable females. If external circumstances prevented them from choosing him, than it wasn’t really him they were rejecting. The mating bond between Elain and the Autumn Court male was perhaps a blessing in disguise. He simply knew he couldn’t compete with a mating bond. Even if she acted like she wanted nothing to do with Lucien he knew deep down, he was not the one suited for her.
Elain Archeron was sunshine personified and Azriel the Shadowsinger, thrived in the darkness. He would only dim her light with all of his inner demons. No, Vanserra was the better choice for her.
And what if one day he found his own mate? It would be wrong to pursue Elain and her rejecting the bond with Lucien for him, to then be with his mate. Because he knew deep down, that the pull of the bond would be something he couldn’t ignore. Especially after he spent centuries on his knees praying to the Mother for a mate.
He would leave Elain for his mate, he was sure of it. He felt ashamed to even think it, but it was true. He desired and cared for her, but he didn’t love her. They were both hurting and trying to find solace in each other. But this wasn’t the way. When he realised that, keeping his distance from her became a lot easier. She deserved to have someone that wasn’t so broken like him.
Azriel shook off all thoughts of Mor and Elain. It wouldn’t do him well to start thinking about them. He needed to stay focussed on their mission.
He looked around scanning the area once more. “I think we’re done here. It’s getting dark and…”, suddenly something felt off. A shift in the air. His shadows grew larger than normal and abruptly became frantic.
“Master we found something…” a shadow whispered in his ear. Azriel immediately became alert and signalled to Cassian.
“ A female lying unconscious on the ground, two miles up north” Another shadow said giving more information. A sinking feeling of dread filled his body. The hairs on his back stood up and wings flared out behind him.
“What happened”, said Cassian grabbing his sword from behind his back, eyes scanning the area. A warrior ready for battle.
“A female lying on the ground. Up north”, repeated Azriel trying to communicate with him and his shadows at the same time. Something was wrong. He had never seen his shadows act like this.
“Is she alone?”, Cassian asked, trying to asses of the situation.
“Yes”, cried the shadow.
“You must make haste Master!”, Azriel had never seen his shadows so agitated. It shocked him.
“Is she hurt?”
“Yes!”, they all but screamed, “Quick master before it’s too late, before everything is lost!”
Acting on instinct and with the help of his shadows Azriel and Cassian shadowwalked to the destination. Lying on the ground, almost completely covered by snow, lay a female.
No…not a female, a woman.
Her ears were not pointed like the High fae, but were round just like his. Darkhaired and dressed in a black robe in a style he had never seen before. On her shoulder was a small beaded bag and in her hand, clutched like a lifeline, was a wooden stick.
Her face was as white as snow with almost no sign of life. Azriel could hear a faint heartbeat, but the woman needed immediate medical attention or she wouldn’t make it.
“A human?”, Cassian said in confusion. “What in the Mothers name is a human doing all up here in these mountains?”
It was very strange. The Human lands were so far removed from the Night Court, it was impossible for a human to travel all that way. Illyrians had a difficult chance in surviving these mountains let alone a human, who physically were more fragile and weaker than any fae.
Rushing to the woman, they found her almost frozen to death. If they didn’t act quickly she would freeze to death. His shadows covered her whole body , a nervous energy surrounding them.
Wasting no time, Azriel took of his cloak and draped it over her body. He then picked her up in his arms and yelled to his brother to take hold of him. He needed to shadowwalk them back to Velaris immediately. He had never shadowwalked such a big distance before, but somehow they made it. It completely drained him and he didn’t understand where he found the strength, but somehow his body refused to slow down.
In Velaris they immediately took flight to the House of Wind.
“I’ll go and get Madja”, yelled Cassian over the wind.
But Azriel couldn’t think past getting the woman in his arms to a warmer location. The fear that consumed him took him completely by surprise. As if his body was overrun by instinct and the only thing on his mind was to save this unknown female. It perplexed him, he didn’t know her at all, so why was he feeling this way.
Reaching the House of Wind, he kicked the front door open in a hurry. Nesta, who was having dinner, gasped. Astonished by the frantic look in his eyes and the unconscious female in his arms, she immediately got up.
“What happened? Nesta said, rushing to help him put the woman on the couch.
“We found her lying on the ground up in the Mountains, Azriel said, his voice raspy. The exhaustion was taking over, but somehow he was still standing.
It took her by surprise how Azriel, normally so composed and stoic in any circumstance, was now acting like a male possessed. His hair was dishevelled by the wind, hands were shaking from the cold and his shadows, who normally were calm around him, were out of control.
“We have to remove her wet clothing”, Nesta said taking charge, seeing that the Shadowsinger was about to collapse from draining his magic.
“House, can you please supply us with towels, warm clothing, thick blankets and warm, dry compresses.”
Nesta had never been more grateful that she was living in a half sentient house.
The house immediately put al the things on the coffee table next to the couch.
“We need to make sure we warm her up slowly, otherwise we could do more harm than good”, she said picking up the thick towel. Nesta knew a thing or two about hyperthermia, having spent many winters in the cabin huddled up with her sisters sharing warmth.
“You need to turn around Azriel”, Nesta said while trying to take off the clothes and making sure she was protecting the woman’s modesty. Putting the beaded bag the woman came with on the table and prying the wooden stick from her cold hands, Nesta waited until he turned his back. When his back was turned she stripped her naked and did her best to dry her off.
She couldn’t stop herself from gasping at what she saw.
“What?!”, Azriel cried and tried to turn around.
“Don’t”, Nesta’s voice was sharp. “I’m not done yet”.
On the woman’s arm, coated in dry blood, was a nasty deep cut. It looked like someone carved into the poor woman. Nesta couldn’t make out what it said, as it looked like the words were written in a language she had never seen before. But is unsettled her. It felt like the wound was infected with a dark energy. Who would do such a thing? And why?
Deep in thought, she got to working. After Nesta was done, the young woman was dressed and multiple thick blankets were draped over her, but she was still unconscious. Her lips were still blue and she still felt like ice to the touch.
After what felt like an eternity, Cassian, with Madja in his arms, entered the house.
Madja immediately started to work. Using her healing magic to warm the woman slowly. After what felt like hours to Azriel, he finally saw some change. Her breathing wasn’t as shallow, her heartbeat grew stronger and even her lips slowly returned to a soft pink. She was still pale and still felt a little cold to the touch, but Madja reassured them that they needed to keep her warm with blankets and to have her drink enough warm beverages when she woke up.
If she woke up.
Because that still hadn’t happened.
They moved the young woman to one of the many guestrooms in the house. Making sure that the fire was lit and she was tucked in the bed. They decided that it was for the best that Nesta stayed with the woman for the night. As waking up in a strange house in a strange bed with an unknown male by her bedside would probably upset her more. Even though he was reluctant to leave her for the night, he agreed that it was for the best. His shadows however refused to leave her side.
“Before you go Madja,” Nesta started, not forgetting the deep cut that she had seen on the strangers upper arm.
“When I was changing her out of her wet clothes, I saw that she was cut in her left arm.”
Madja lifted the woman’s arm and took a look. The cut was very deep indeed and was coated in dry blood. Azriel furrowed his brows, taking a look over Madjas shoulder as she tried to heal the wound. His stomach dropped seeing that nothing happened. Even after Madja tried at least three times.
“Why isn’t it healing”, Cassian said confused.
I don’t know, Madja murmured, all her energy focussed on the wound and trying different healing spells.
“I have never come across something like it. It’s as if the cut was imbedded with a dark kind of magic. Magic I have never come across in all my centuries as a healer”, she said giving up.
“I need to do more research and I need to know what happened. But she has to wake up first though.”
All four of them were looking at the young woman who still hadn’t stirred. A complete mystery is what she was.
Not being able to help any more, Madja left with the help from Cassian.
Nesta and Azriel both took a chair by the womans bedside. Hours had passed since Madja left them.
“She’s be alright Az,” Nesta said softly. She could sense that the Shadowsinger needed reassuring.
Azriel nodded, Madjas confidence that she would make a recovery did comfort him.
Sitting by her bed, Azriel was finally able to really take a good look at the woman.
And what he saw made his breath hitch. Brown, curly hair surrounded the most beautiful person he had ever seen.
She had a heart shaped face with the most loveliest freckles. Her lips were neither too full or small and she had almond shaped eyes. He wondered what colour her eyes would be. Would it be a striking blue or a warm brown? Or perhaps a mesmerizing green?
Deep in thought over the potential colour of her eyes, he missed the slight twitch in her hands. But his shadows hadn’t.
“Master, she’s waking”, one rebel shadow whispered excitedly as it made its way to her and caressed her face.
Shifting a little closer, he could see her eyelids fluttering.
And when she finally opened her eyes and looked at him with the most enchanting brown eyes he had ever seen, Azriel felt something shift inside him.
A warmth he had never felt before entered his heart and the thread in his chest finally snapped after 500 years leading to the unknown human woman in front of him.
Mate.