Chapter 3 - Fair Enough
Chapter 3 – Fair Enough
-Gwyn-
Gwyn was determined to arrive on time for the girls’ night that she, Emerie and Nesta had planned for that evening before Nesta’s mating ceremony the next day. Apparently, it was customary in the mortal lands to have a “last celebration” of sorts before marriage. Even though it was a mating ceremony and not a wedding, Nesta’s two younger sisters insisted she have a similar experience.
Since Nesta still abstained from alcohol, however, the plan had been to spend that entire day pampering Nesta. Shopping, lunch, manicures/pedicures, and massages were just some of the indulgences the High Lady and Elain had planned for their eldest sister, and Gwyn and Emerie were invited as well, along with the other females of the Inner Circle.
Gwyn, however, had been unable to get out of working her shift at the Library, unfortunately, to join in the day’s festivities.
“You’re already taking off an entire day for the mating ceremony—and you want another day off to engage in some foolish human tradition?” Merrill had sneered when she’d asked. She didn’t fight her—there was no point.
Emerie would also not attend the daytime activities, as she couldn't afford to close her shop down for an entire day. Since she and Gwyn had won the Blood Rite a little over two months ago, many of the Illyrian warriors and their families refused to patronize her shop. While Nesta was disappointed that her two best friends could not attend, she understood.
So, while Nesta would spend the day with her two sisters, Mor, and Amren, tonight would be just the three Valkyries, enjoying a girls’ night in. Cassian would be off with Azriel and Rhys, spending Cassian’s last night as a “bachelor” male drinking, gambling and other shenanigans, leaving the House of Wind male-free for the night.
Gwyn hated being late, and definitely didn’t want to be tardy for their girls’ night, especially since she’d had to miss out on the day’s activities. She flitted around the research wing, trying to finish up, quickly shelving books, straightening up papers, and restocking items. Her mind drifted to Azriel, as it tended to do during mundane tasks like this, while when she hummed a soft melody to herself.
“Gwyn?”
She whipped around, startled by the strong, deep voice that cut through her thoughts. His voice.
“Azriel,” she breathed out as her hand flew to her chest, feeling like she had been caught doing something illicit. There he was, in his beautiful glory, the black, scaled armor plates of his fighting leathers outlining his strong, muscular body. His large, membranous wings were tucked in, the faint raised lines of old scars the only imperfection they bore, and if she was being honest, Gwyn thought they made him all the more perfect. She had seen pretty males before, ones that had flawlessly smooth skin and impeccably symmetrical features, but Azriel’s battle-honed body and little blemishes made him so much more striking. His shadows peeked at her from behind his wings, giving her a slight wiggle as if greeting her.
“Sorry, I…” she began stammering like a common fool. “I was…just finishing up. I didn’t hear you come in.”
His smile curved up one side of his face, a dimple appearing at the corner of his mouth. “Habits of a Spymaster, I suppose,” he chuckled. “I didn’t mean to startle you, I just…I…” He trailed off, seeming to have lost his words, his shadows almost looking like they were shaking their heads at their hopeless master.
“Took off without a place to land, huh, Shadowsinger?” she teased.
He blushed, and it was then that she figured out her new personal goal: Make Azriel blush.
He rubbed the back of his thick neck nervously. “I, uh, just…well, I assumed you wouldn’t be showing up tonight to train?” He posed the last sentence as a fumbled question.
Gwyn swallowed. “No, probably not. I’m sure we’ll be far too tired by the end of our girls’ night that I’ll fall asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow.” It was a lie, of course. No amount of girls’ night merriments would tire her enough to bring an easy slumber—not while knowing Azriel was out enjoying a night of drunken debauchery.
“Right,” he replied. “I figured.” Something edged along the words, though Gwyn couldn’t quite place it.
Was that…was he…disappointed?
She shook off the ridiculous thought and forced a small grin. “Besides, I’m sure you’ll be too drunk to fly straight, let alone review battle techniques with me.” Or be preoccupied with a pretty female, she didn’t say out loud. She tried not to let jealousy shroud her gaze, but it was difficult not to. She could handle him drinking and gambling, but she loathed the idea of him finding company with a pretty female while out with his friends.
He owes you nothing, Gwyn. He’s your friend. That’s all.
He chuckled. “I’m sure Cassian and Rhysand will be. It’s Cassian’s last night as an unmated male—so to speak, anyways—and Rhysand doesn’t get out much since Nyx was born, so I figure I’ll play chaperone so those two can live it up.”
Gwyn’s brows rose and a more genuine smile spread across her face. “So, no fun for you?” She didn’t want him to not have fun, she just didn’t want him to have the kind of fun that involved getting intimate with a pretty female.
“I may indulge in an ale or two, but my plan is to be sober, and make sure those two keep their pants on, billfolds in their pockets, and don’t engage in a game of Chicken.”
“I’m sorry? ‘Chicken’?”
There was that deep, sexy rumble of a laugh. “Yeah. You and someone else start out a good distance away from one another, when you only look like a speck to the other.” He spread his arms wide apart, his wings also expanding, and she wondered if he was aware that he’d done that. “Then, you start flying towards each other as fast as you can.” He started bringing his hands closer together, his wings simultaneously folding in. “You try to not lose your nerve and chicken out before you crash into each other. Whoever swerves from the flight path to avoid the collision first, loses.” He started laughing even harder at the horrified look on Gwyn’s face.
“That’s so dangerous!” she exclaimed. “You could break something, knock yourselves out, or fall to the ground and be killed!”
“All true.” Azriel ran a hand through his hair. “And all of that has happened before. Once, Cassian knocked into Rhys so hard, Rhys flew several hundred yards away and got stuck in a tree. He was unconscious, and we couldn’t find him for hours. We had actually started to panic a little—how we were going to explain to his poor mother that we fucking lost him in the trees.” He smiled wistfully at the memory, though whether it was the events of the story or the fondness he still carried for Rhy’s mother, she wasn’t sure. His eyes went back to her, and his smile turned more devilish. “We were about to draw straws for who would tell his parents that we lost the heir to the Night Court, when we finally found him. We heard him holler and crash into a heap on the ground. When he’d come to, he was so startled by his surroundings that he fell out of the tree.” His rumbling laugh became louder, and his dimples deepened. “You should have seen him, sitting on his bruised ass, all disoriented with twigs sticking out of his hair, and then, a squirrel ran out of his pant leg!”
Gwyn burst out laughing then, doubling over at the image he had described, her hands clutching her abdomen. “Damn you Azriel! You know that’s all I’m going to think of when I see him now, right? How am I supposed to respectfully address my High Lord when I have that image in my head?!”
His eyes danced with mirth, his laughter still deep and rumbling as he shrugged his shoulder. “For what it’s worth, he wasn’t the High Lord when that happened.”
“That doesn’t matter!” Azriel’s shadows rippled, as though they were laughing too. “I’m going to blame you when I burst into giggles the next time I see him, and he looks at me like I’m insane!”
“I hope I’m there for that.” His smile turned more thoughtful as he gazed at her. “I love seeing you happy, Gwyn.”
His comment had caught her off guard, and she froze, her lips parting slightly in surprise. He too, seemed like he wanted to take back his words, and his wings tucked in tighter. His shadows peeked at her from behind his wings, like they were waiting for her reaction.
He cleared his throat with a little cough, and his face resumed its usual mask of neutrality. “So, yeah, those two can get rip-roaring drunk and I’ll just try to keep them in line.”
She, too, tried to recover, and smiled, though even she could feel it was a weak one. “Sounds like a good plan.”
He nodded. “I just didn’t, you know, want you to be in the training ring, alone, at night…uh, waiting for me. So, I was, um, just making sure you didn’t plan to go.”
“Ah. Well, I’ve been up there alone before at night, Shadowsinger, and I’m still in one piece.” She gestured down her body with a sweep of her hand as if to prove it. Something passed over his features then, though she wasn’t sure what it was.
“Right.” He shoved his hands into his trouser pockets. “Well, I should leave you to finish up.”
She nodded. “Alright. Enjoy your night, Azriel.”
“You as well. Bye, Gwyn.”
Her heart stalled at his parting words. “No goodbyes, Shadowsinger,” she chastised him before he could fully turn to leave. “It’s ‘see you later’. We’ve been over this.” And they had. Several times. He’d tried to tell her goodbye a few times after she’d confronted him after last Winter Solstice, and she ‘d told him, unambiguously, it was always “See you later” between them—never “Goodbye”. Her fingers began toying with the charm on her necklace that laid just under the collar of her robes.
His eyes softened, and he turned back to face her. He opened his mouth, but shut it quickly, closing his eyes as if he thought better of what he had been about to say to her, instead taking a few steps towards her. She held her breath, waiting to see how close to her he would come. Much to her disappointment, he stopped when there was little less than an arm’s length between them, though she could see his hazel eyes more clearly now, the domineering gold of his irises glinting in the floating faelights.
“Alright, Berdara. No goodbyes. I’ll…see you later.” He said the final three words with a teasing smirk.
She gave a single, quick nod. “That’s more like it, Shadowsinger.” She reached out and lightly grasped his hand with her small fingers. He tensed, something he always did when she touched his hands, though he no longer flinched or recoiled—not like he had that first time at Sangravah. She was slowly trying to break him of his uneasiness with her touching them.
“Be careful tonight, alright? No tavern brawls, no broken bones, no idiotic games of Chicken. I need y—” She stopped before she said something that was sure to make him uncomfortable. Since she couldn’t just leave it hanging there, unfinished, she tried to amend it. “I still need you as my teacher. I, uh, have a long way to go and a lot to learn yet.”
It was the truth, and it also wasn’t. She’d accomplished so much since she first entered that training ring—she was a Valkyrie, a Carynthean, plus she was a hairsbreadth away from breaking free of the Library for good—she just needed a plan.
Thankfully, he didn’t argue with her logic for being concerned for his safety. His eyes softened and a gentle smile graced his lush lips. “Fair enough, Berdara.”
-Azriel-
Azriel had tried to talk himself out of going to the Library that afternoon. He was normally a very calm and controlled male, resistant to temptation. That didn’t seem to matter when it came to Gwyneth Berdara, however.
Once he saw her from behind, her pale priestess robes swaying with her movements, red hair in a fishtail braid today, he stopped just behind a bookshelf, wanting just to watch her for a little while before announcing himself. He should probably teach her a thing or two about spy work though—in case it wasn’t him trying to sneak around her.
She’d been humming a melody he wasn’t familiar with, but it didn’t matter—he loved listening to her regardless of what songs she flitted around to. His shadows had begun to sway to the sweet sound of her, their murmuring becoming a little louder than usual, answering her song with their own. One had even started towards her, but he bade it to come back, not wanting to give himself away. Not yet.
When her pace quickened, he knew she was trying to finish her task and would soon turn around, finding him standing there like some kind of creep. He didn’t want to scare her, so he called out to her, “Gwyn?”
She jumped a little, her hand flying to her heaving chest as she whirled around.
“Azriel,” she said breathily. He almost groaned at hearing his name on her lips, something he had come to enjoy far too much, though the breathy way in which she said it just then made an ache form in his lower abdomen and his cock twitch.
It occurred to him only after she said his name that he hadn’t really thought this through. Fuck. He needed to come up with a plausible reason for having come to the Library. He hadn’t wanted to tell her the truth—that he just wanted to see her.
That’s all he wanted to do lately—to see Gwyn. When he wasn’t with her, he was thinking of her. Whether he was training the novice Valkyries, having a meeting with Rhysand and Cassian, eating a meal at the dining table, flying around Velaris—he thought of her. What she might be doing, how she might be feeling, if she was thinking about him too. It was ridiculous how much he’d come to care about her.
Then, there were those nights, especially after they parted ways following their midnight meetups, that his hand would drift down to wrap around his hard cock, pumping himself to thoughts of the beautiful copper-haired priestess. Sometimes he had to pleasure himself twice or more just to settle enough to sleep for a couple of hours. He always felt guilty after he had climaxed to thoughts of her—he was her friend, someone she had come to trust. Yet there he’d be, stroking his cock to impure thoughts of Gwyneth Berdara.
He'd think about the perfect swell of her breasts, and how he would give anything to take what he imagined were small, dusky-pink nipples into his mouth, sucking and nipping them while she writhed beneath him. He imagined how sweet her cunt would taste, and how he wanted to beg her to sit on his face so he could run his tongue along the seam of her heat before plunging it inside and curling it, massaging that hidden spot inside her while he grabbed her pert ass. He wanted to take her clit into his mouth, rolling it between his lips, flick it with his tongue, and suck on it lightly while he hummed, the vibrations of his mouth bringing her to brink of sanity, before she shattered and came into his mouth while screaming his name. These were the fantasies he conjured while he fisted himself, stroking up and down until he came all over his stomach muscles and hand. He had never come as hard as he did when he thought of Gwyn—never, in all his centuries alive.
SHADOWSINGER.
His shadows’ murmured addressment brought him back to the present, where Gwyn was standing there staring at him, those gorgeous ocean eyes gazing at him with amusement.
“Took off without a place to land, huh, Shadowsinger?” she teased him, causing his cheeks to warm in embarrassment.
He rubbed the back of his thick neck nervously. “I, uh, just…well, I assumed you wouldn’t be showing up tonight to train?” Perfect. You sound like an idiot.
YES, his shadows snickered.
Be quiet.
Gwyn’s throat bobbed with a swallow. “No, probably not. I’m sure we’ll be far too tired by the end of our girls’ night that I’ll fall asleep as soon as my head hits the pillow.”
Truthfully, he was a little disappointed that she said she wouldn’t be at the training pit tonight, though he would have been shocked if she’d said she would be. He would leave Cassian and Rhys drunk and naked in an alley dumpster if that meant he got to see her that night.
Alright, he probably wouldn’t do that, if only because Nesta would castrate him with a rusty spoon if he lost her mate the night before their mating ceremony.
“Right. I figured.” He tried to inject an air of boredom into his words, which of course, he failed at. He could not be the apathetic Spymaster with her—never with her.
“Besides, I’m sure you’ll be too drunk to fly straight, let alone review battle techniques with me.”
What…what is that? Why did she say it like that?
THE PRIESTESS IS HOLDING BACK.
Holding back what?
SHE IS WARY.
Of what?
MALES OFTEN FIND THE COMPANY OF FEMALES WHEN THEY GO OUT TOGETHER AND DRINK.
So?
THE LORD OF BLOODSHED HAS A MATE. THE HIGH LORD HAS A MATE.
You’re talking in circles.
YOU HAVE NOT COMMITTED TO ANOTHER.
So you’re saying…she’s jealous?
The shadows didn’t respond, and he took that as confirmation. They usually did that, when it came to Gwyn anyway; like if they didn’t answer, they weren’t betraying her.
She stood there, digging the toe of her shoe into the floor, looking adorably nervous. “I’m sure Cassian and Rhysand will be,” he told her. “It’s Cassian’s last night as an unmated male—so to speak, anyways—and Rhysand doesn’t get out much since Nyx was born, so I figure I’ll play chaperone so those two can live it up.”
Gwyn’s brows rose and a sincere smile spread across her face. “So, no fun for you?”
“I may indulge in an ale or two,” he replied. “But my plan is to be sober, and make sure those two keep their pants on, billfolds in their pockets, and don’t engage in a game of Chicken.”
Her brows knit together in confusion. “I’m sorry? ‘Chicken’?”
He laughed. “Yeah. You and someone else start out a good distance away from one another, when you only look like a speck to the other.” He spread his arms wide apart. “Then, you start flying towards each other as fast as you can.” He started bringing his hands closer together. “You try to not lose your nerve and chicken out before you crash into each other. Whoever swerves from the flight path to avoid the collision first, loses.” Gwyn looked absolutely horrified, and it caused him to bark out a laugh. Gods, she made him laugh—something not many others could accomplish, yet it was so easy for him to do with her.
“That’s so dangerous!” she exclaimed. “You could break something, knock yourselves out and fall to the ground and be killed!”
“All true.” He then proceeded to tell her what happened once when Cassian and Rhys faced off all those centuries ago. He smiled when he got to the part about who would tell Rhys’ mother that they’d lost him, thinking of the kind female that had taken him in as a young boy in Windhaven. He and Gwyn were both laughing by the end of the story, and his chest warmed like it always did when he saw her this way.
Gwyn was doubled over with laughter, hands clutching her abdomen. Azriel’s shadows rippled, as though they were laughing too. She finally caught enough breath to playfully scold him. “I’m going to blame you when I burst into giggles the next time I see him, and he looks at me like I’m insane!”
“I hope I’m there for that. I love seeing you happy, Gwyn.” The words had left his mouth before he knew what he had said, that laugh of hers having scrambled his Godsdamn brain. It had clearly freaked her out; she stood there looking stunned, mouth slightly agape, and he wanted to snatch the words back and shove them down his throat.
Since he couldn’t do that, he tried to move on. Clearing his throat and feigning a little cough, he told her, “So, yeah, those two can get rip-roaring drunk and I’ll just try to keep them in line.”
She gave him a wan smile. “Sounds like a good plan.”
“I just didn’t, you know, want you to be in the training ring, alone, at night…” Great, he was stammering again. “…uh, waiting for me. So, I was, um, just making sure you didn’t plan to go.”
He mentally slapped himself on the forehead. He sounded so…chauvinistic, like he was implying that she was some helpless female that wouldn’t know how to protect herself. She was a fucking Valkyrie, a Carynthian, a survivor of one of the most horrific raids he'd ever seen in his five centuries of existence. She was anything but helpless.
Thankfully, his fabricated reason didn’t seem to irk her in the slightest.
“Ah,” she replied with amusement. “Well, I’ve been up there alone before at night, Shadowsinger, and I’m still in one piece.” He had to be extra mindful to school his features and not blurt out the truth at hearing those words.
The truth was that she had never been there alone, not since she’d confronted him after Winter Solstice about not looking for her after he saved her in Sangravah. When she’d told him how she almost killed herself, until…until she had seen him. After that, he couldn’t leave her alone up there, not because he had been afraid that she might decide to take her life after all, but because he just…couldn’t.
When he was unable to be there due to his obligations as Spymaster, he left at least two of his shadows behind to watch over her. One was enough to subdue an attacker while the second could go for help. The other times that he didn’t join her were when he was feeling especially low—usually after a trip to the Hewn City to torture enemies. He didn’t want to bring her mood down, so, instead, he just watched her as she trained. He’d even watched her from up in the sky before, his shadows morphing to blend him into the clouds above—a trick he’d mastered during his work as a Spymaster.
“Right,” he said, not wanting the silence to stretch too long and become awkward. He shoved his hands into his trouser pockets, trying to appear unfettered by this beautiful creature before him. “Well, I should leave you to finish up.”
She nodded. “Alright. Enjoy your night, Azriel.”
“You as well. Bye, Gwyn.”
The exasperation lacing her voice stopped him. “No goodbyes, Shadowsinger.” He turned back towards her and met those intense, ocean eyes. “It’s ‘see you later’. We’ve been over this.”
She was right, of course; they had. It started after that day in the Library after Winter Solstice; he’d told her “Bye” as they both departed one of those first nighttime workouts together, both of them unable to sleep. She’d halted him by grabbing his hand—the first time she had since Sangravah—and told him from then on, it was always “See you later” between them, and never “Goodbye”. He remembered having to actively resist the instinct to pull his hand away from her, not wanting her to feel the marbled skin of his burn scars, though he could tell she noticed his flinch at her touch. At least she knew then why he did it, and that it had nothing to do with her. Rather than drop his hand, though, she’d given it a little squeeze and lowered it slowly between them, releasing it only once their hands were almost fully descended. Most wouldn’t have noticed the difference in dropping his hand versus lowering it, but he did. It was the most thoughtful thing anyone had ever done when it came to his scars.
He noticed then: Her nervous tell of fiddling with the rose charm of that damned necklace. The one he should have never given Clotho to give her; not that she was undeserving of such a lovely piece of jewelry, but because she deserved something that was bought with only her in mind.
He had to tell her. Had to tell her the truth about the necklace. He opened his mouth to confess, but…what then? He wasn’t sure he could take her rejection. Never again meet up with her atop the House of Wind to just talk to her, learn about her, just be near her.
He closed his eyes. He would tell her, just…not now. Not yet.
He took several steps towards her, only close enough to reach out and touch her if he wanted. He wanted to of course, but he didn’t. Instead, he told her, “Alright, Berdara. No goodbyes. I’ll…see you later.” He infused those last three words with playfulness, hoping to elicit just one more smile from her.
She did him one better. “That’s more like it, Shadowsinger,” she said, before she reached out and gently gripped his hand with her small fingers. He tensed, a reflex that he constantly resisted doing whenever she touched his hands. It was no longer a battle to not flinch or withdraw though. Slowly, that trust had built between them, and he no longer felt uncomfortable with her feeling his scars.
“Be careful tonight, alright?” she told him, sincere concern in her voice. “No tavern brawls, no broken bones, no idiotic games of Chicken. I need y—” She stopped.
What do you need? he wanted to ask her.
“I still need you as my teacher. I have a long way to go and a lot to learn yet.”
He used a small smile to hide his disappointment. “Fair enough, Berdara,” he told her, before making his way out of the Library, wishing so badly that he didn’t have to leave, because he fucking missed her already.
He would just have to wait to see her at the ceremony tomorrow.