Chapter Text
Gwyneth Berdara was many things.
A sister.
A Priestess.
A Valkyrie.
A Carynthian.
And, most importantly in this moment, the only person who could beat the High Lord of the Night Court at chess.
Sitting across from him at the small table, a smirk tugged at her lips as she moved her pieces into their final position, one that was inescapable.
“Check.”
Rhysand was leaned forward on his elbows, brows furrowed. It had been 12 weeks since they began these meetings, and during that time Gwyn had won 9 matches, settled for two draws, and conceded only a single loss. By clinching this victory, she would officially have a 10-game winning streak.
The High Lord moved one of his final pieces, but the knowledge that he was facing defeat was clear in his eyes. As Gwyn moved in for the final kill, a grin spread across her features as he let out a sigh, leaning back in his chair and shaking his head slightly.
“This is getting embarrassing,” he said, and there was genuine puzzlement on his face. In his 500 years of life, there had only been two people who could reliably defeat him at his favored game. The first was his sister, who never yielded a match to him after he taught her the rules, and the second was the young Priestess before him, triumphant and smug in her victory.
Gwyn laughed, watching as he waved a hand to clear the table and replacing it with the ceremonial tea they shared afterwards. She had begun to look forward to these meetings, every Wednesday just after breakfast in one of the private alcoves on the top floor of the library.
It had been Clotho’s idea, in the beginning. After they had woken Nesta from near-death after her sacrifice to save Feyre, there had been a shift in the dynamics of the Inner Circle. For Rhys, that included being more open about his visits to the library, which had once been a desperate, secret solace when the memories of Under the Mountain became too much. The week after Nesta returned to the House of Wind, he had approached the Priestess, asking formally for permission to seek the treatment of the counselors within the sacred walls.
Clotho had, of course, granted the wish, but instead directed him towards another form of healing. While he would sometimes consult with one of the many mind healers within the library, he mostly sat with Gwyn in a space where they could discuss their traumas, their thoughts, and feelings about moving forward. It was a tactic many of the priestesses utilized, to lean on each other to find common ground, and to support each other as they all found the healing that had long been denied them, and he had come to treasure it.
For Rhys, Clotho had recommended Gwyn immediately, aware of her new status as both Carynthian and Valkyrie, and her relationship with the rest of the Inner Circle. Gwyn had been happy to accept, any original distrust between them in the weeks after Nesta’s sacrifice melting away into conversations about anything and everything. And so, for an hour every week, the two of them would meet like this, play a round of chess over a cup of tea, and talk. Sometimes it was about their traumas, the conversations heavy with sadness, but other times it was simply having company with someone who understood how one’s perception of the world changed after such violence.
“Defeating you is just part of my mating ceremony present to Nesta and Cassian.”
Rhys smiled. His brothers had been attempting to beat him at chess their entire lives, and Nesta still held firm in her belief that he could use a bit of humbling. She was right, but he wouldn’t give her the satisfaction that easily.
“That’s fair enough,” he conceded, heart warming at the thought of the impending ceremony, just days away. “Have you decided to attend?”
Gwyn took a sip of her tea and let out a sigh. “It feels wrong not too. Azriel promised to be my date, so I suppose I’m in safe hands. It will just be strange, to leave here for something not related to life and death.”
Rhys nodded in understanding. “Anyone will be happy to winnow you home if it becomes too much, no one will fault you for it. But I daresay there is no one you’d be safer with than my brother, he likely won’t let you out of his sight.”
A sense of satisfaction spread throughout his chest at the light blush that spread across her cheeks. What his brother and his newfound friend were to each other was still a mystery. Azriel didn’t keep his affection for her a secret, but he was always a private male and wouldn’t have been particularly forthcoming even if they were known to be together.
But Gwyn was not so secretive, and the trust that had built between them over the past three months gave him the privilege of her thoughts. Gwyn was a friend he didn’t knew he needed, someone who wouldn’t take his assurances about his wellbeing without proof that he meant it, and she wasn’t afraid to tell him if she disagreed with how he treated his trauma or the process of resolidifying the relationships with his family. But she was also warm and understanding, encouraging him to show the vulnerability that he had hidden from most since returning after 50 years of suffering, and rewarded his efforts with vulnerability of her own.
“I don’t want to dominate his entire evening, I’m sure there are other things he wants to do,” Gwyn finally responded, so selfless that it still took the High Lord by surprise.
Nevertheless, he let a smile spread across his face. As selfless as the Priestess was, she was also painfully oblivious. Though perhaps, not as oblivious as his brother.
“Something tells me he won’t mind,” he said, his smile growing at the raised eyebrow Gwyn gave him.
Setting her cup down she changed the subject.
“Any progress with Nesta?”
Rhys sighed and leaned back in his chair. It was a topic they had been throwing back and forth for a while now, how to properly address the incidents Rhys discovered in Velaris, when Nesta had been taken advantage of against her will. Cassian was chomping at the bit to dispense justice to the males who hurt her, but Nesta had been firm in her reluctance to accept she wasn’t at fault, that she didn’t deserve it. And with that reluctance meant that she wouldn’t yield any details. Rhys had been attempting to discuss it with her for months, respecting her pace while also trying to break the beliefs she held about her trauma, to minimal results.
“Not yet. It’s delicate. I figure now we should wait until after she and Cassian return from Day after the ceremony.”
Gwyn nodded. Helion had insisted that Nesta and Cassian vacation in the Day Court after their ceremony, and once Nesta learned she’d have full access to his libraries, her excitement was so palpable, and new, that Cassian would never consider denying her. None of them would.
“We just have to be patient with her. Nesta will open up when she’s ready,” she replied.
Rhys hummed in agreement as they finished their tea, Gwyn already buzzing with anxious energy as her remaining tasks for the day loomed closer, most of them having to do with preparing said sister for the mating ceremony. As they rose, he squeezed her hand and placed a gentle kiss to her cheek, the gesture becoming customary at the end of their sessions.
“I will see you at the ceremony, Priestess. Azriel will be honored to be on your arm for the evening.”
Laughing at the new blush that spread across her cheeks, he took his leave before she could get back at him for his teasing. Leaving the library, he went to find his other brother, who was more at ease than any of them about finally getting the chance to accept the bond to his mate, but who would require thorough distraction as to not keep her within his sights all the way until the aisle.
---
Azriel had always known who he was.
Bastard.
Shadowsinger.
Spymaster.
Brother.
He had long accepted his role, both in this Court and within his family. He was who kept things together when the rest of his family fell apart, he was the one who got his hands dirty so that they could sleep peacefully at night. He was the monster who had so much blood on his grotesque hands that he didn’t even remember what they looked like before all of this.
Most of all, though, he was the one who accepted a life of perpetual loneliness. It was dangerous to tie one’s life to that of someone like him. Beyond the target it would place on their back, it would also taint their souls, to be constantly drowned by the shadows he knew as his lifelong companions.
The moon was rising high over Velaris’ skyline, and he took it in from his perch on one of the windowsills in the hallways of the House. The windows spanned high from floor to ceiling, open so that one could launch out of them into flight. With one leg dangling over the edge to the cliff side below, he leaned his back against the old brick of the frame. In one hand was a glass of whiskey, and he rested the other on his knee, flexing his fingers in an attempt to mediate the stiffness that often plagued him at higher altitudes. If it was too cold, too hot, too high up or too far below the ground, these cursed extremities of his would lock up, denying him the agility required of any worthwhile Illyrian warrior. It was only through gritted teeth and sheer spite that he had made it this long without the limitations resulting in a fatal error. But, he supposed, it was only a matter of time.
The night had been full of celebration, the eve before the anticipated mating ceremony that would finally bind Nesta and Cassian’s souls together. It was the first event in ages that wasn’t tainted by having someone missing, being at war, or being the moment between life and death. Rhys had insisted on the three of them celebrating together, with well-used decks of cards and only the finest of the High Lord’s liquor cabinet at their disposal.
The air was thick with nostalgia, heavy with the knowledge that they were well and truly old and settled. But there was also hope that happiness and healing would come along with it, and after Nyx’s birth, everyone seemed to be on their way. All except for Azriel, who remained just as he had been for the last few centuries, in endless darkness with only the knowledge that his family was at peace pulling him along. He couldn’t say it was bitterness that weighed down on him, but rather the overwhelming self-loathing at his actions, anger and sadness at himself for being such a wretched creature. But as long as his brothers and his sisters were safe, as long as his nephew grew up in a world better than he was raised in, then he would continue to do his duty, to protect them. He didn’t know any other way.
His inner thoughts were interrupted by the sound of soft feet padding on the floor, and he felt another body settle onto the windowsill beside him, letting out a long breath. His shadows whispered all the information about her they could muster, from the fact that her hair was unbound, and her feet were bare, to her being clad only in a nightgown and robe, tied tightly to protect her modesty.
He turned his head to assess his companion and smiled when she reached to take the whiskey out of his hands to take a sip for herself.
“Aren’t you supposed to be wrapped up in your mate the night before your ceremony?”
Nesta’s lips twitched into a small smile. “It’s a human tradition to spend the night before apart. Cassian insisted we incorporate some elements of a human ceremony into ours, including this.”
Azriel knew the eldest Archeron well enough to read between the lines: that in truth, it was Nesta who wanted to have components of a human ceremony, but she never would have asked. And so, Cassian, knowing she expected to be shamed for such things, had taken the initiative himself to grant his mate her wish. There wasn’t a doubt in Azriel’s mind that in Cassian’s arms, this female, whose struggles were so like his own, would find her first sentiments of peace.
“You are particularly broody, shadowsinger,” she said to him, a single eyebrow raised as she assessed him. Her scrutiny being the only that could make him squirm.
He sat up, shifting so both legs hung off the edge of the window, and Nesta joined him, shifting close enough that they could continue sharing the glass of amber liquid between them.
“I’m not broody,” he said, “and your mate will not appreciate it if you fall from these windows hours before you’re supposed to finally accept the bond.”
Nesta laughed. “I have faith that my brother would catch me, should I be so clumsy.”
The title warmed something deep within him. He was the first to earn that title, of brother, and it was perhaps one of the highest honors of his life, to be chosen as family by Nesta Archeron. In response to her comment, he smiled slightly and leaned to press a gentle kiss to her temple, his shadows swirling happily between them. They had always liked Nesta.
“I’m not letting you off that easy, though,” she continued after a moment, “you’re melancholic. Why?”
Azriel took a breath and continued to stare out at the city, watching the lights flicker as the citizens of Velaris settled for the night.
“Just the usual demons coming to taunt me, nothing more.”
Nesta watched him closely, likely searching for any sign that he was contemplating throwing himself off the window ledge to let the rocks below end his misery, as she herself had contemplated that night on the bridge all those months ago. To assure her, he nudged his shoulder against hers, one of his shadows skittering out to muss the loose strands of her hair.
“What about you?” he asked, “How are you feeling? You’re up late for someone who has a big day ahead.”
Nesta sighed and took a sip of their whiskey. “Just the usual demons, nothing more.”
“Are you nervous for tomorrow?”
She shook her head. “Not nervous, just undeserving. I want him to be happy. I don’t want my struggles to bring him down. Every time he looks sad, I want to throw myself off the balcony.”
Azriel turned his eyes to her, his own concern catching at the statement, and she picked up on it immediately.
“A joke, shadowsinger. I have not been in that place for some time,” she assured, squeezing his hand, “but, you have.”
Azriel was quiet for a long moment. When he’d first opened up to Nesta to get her off of that teetering edge, he never expected she would have committed to learning when he was in a similar state. But Nesta never did things by halves and instead learned all the tells he had so meticulously hidden.
“I have too much to do to ponder such things,” he said, “it’s just a moment of weakness, that’s all.”
Nesta’s silence betrayed her anxiety on the matter as she contemplated his words, and he squeezed her hand back, meeting her gaze.
“I’m not going anywhere, Nes, I promise.”
Her shoulders relaxed and she nodded, offering him a tiny smile.
“Are you ready for tomorrow?” she asked then, in an effort to lighten the mood, “you have a very important date.”
The spark in Azriel’s chest should not have overwhelmed him as much as it did.
“I’m just making sure Gwyn feels safe, she doesn’t want to be associated with me like that.”
Nesta’s expression was distinctly unamused. “For a spymaster, you’re shit at lying.”
Azriel sighed and tilted his head back. “I don’t want to cause any more grief than I already have, not in the least at your mating ceremony. The last thing I want is for Rhys to ream my ass again for overstepping.”
Nesta’s eyes filled with understanding. He had confided in her, eventually, what had happened with Elain, after she made it known that she was fully aware of the feelings between them. And though she wasn’t happy with him for the catastrophe at Solstice, and was even more furious about the necklace, she was also angry at Rhys for his words. It was only after extensive convincing and talking down on Azriel and Cassian’s part that she relented in her determination to confront their brother, reluctantly agreeing to include the incident as part of the greater period of irrationality that defined Feyre’s pregnancy.
“You know that won’t happen,” Nesta assured, “Gwyn is much more assertive than Elain, she would never allow someone to dictate who she can and cannot be with, not even Rhys. You have feelings for her, do you not?”
Azriel’s cheeks warmed. “You know the answer to that,” he mumbled, looking away to save himself the satisfaction that was surely on her face.
Nesta smirked, finishing off their drink. “How is the special project you told me about?”
Azriel sighed. Ever since Nesta’s long sleep, the infamous necklace had haunted him at every turn. He should have known Gwyn was too perceptive not to realize it wasn’t originally for her, especially when sharing a home with Elain for the weeks they were trying to wake the eldest Archeron. Ever since then, things had been strained between them, awkward. Azriel had been working endlessly to mend it.
“I picked it up this morning,” he replied, feeling the weight of the tiny box in his pocket.
“Good.” Nesta replied, “Don’t fuck it up, I have faith in you.”
Lifting her hand so that one of his shadows could dance between her fingers, she continued, “You do deserve it though, Az. And you’re allowed to want a relationship with her.
Azriel sighed. “It’s not about what I want,” he replied, “I won’t make her uncomfortable. She isn’t obligated to spare me a second glance. Besides, she’s everything that’s good and I’m…” he cut himself off, unable to finish the sentence.
Nesta frowned and shifted to rest her head on his shoulder. “Oh Az…” she said, slipping her arm through his, “you truly are oblivious. And hypocritical.” At his scoff, she continued, “you can’t spend the last few months telling me I’m deserving of Cassian and then say the opposite about yourself. I told you in your letter that you deserved happiness too, and I meant it. If whatever you have with Gwyn makes you happy, then be happy.”
Az shifted a wing, wrapping it around her shoulders as a cool breeze blew through, making her shiver.
“It does,” he admitted after a long time. And though every voice in his head was telling him that he was undeserving of it, that pursuing Gwyn would only taint her light, her spirit, he couldn’t lie to his sister. It did make him happy that she had chosen him to escort her to the mating ceremony, even after his catastrophic handling of Solstice. It made him happy to spend almost every evening with her, training, reading, or playing chess. And it made him happy to know that she still trusted him to confide in, and to protect her. He just didn’t think there would ever be a world in which he could keep such happiness without great sacrifice.
“I know,” Nesta teased, content to spend this eve before securing her own happiness with him, comforting him. After a moment she let out a long sigh. “We’re a mess, the pair of us,” she said quietly, and he couldn’t help the laugh that tumbled from his chest, matched by her own.
On that point, he couldn’t refute her.
---
The morning of Nesta and Cassian’s mating ceremony flew by in a flurry of activity, from seeing to last minute details and mitigating any nerves, to ensuring that the two mates actually made it to the temple on time without a catastrophe getting in the way. Azriel lost count of how many times Rhys winnowed back and forth between their homes and the venue, and Feyre and Mor had been decorating and redecorating for so long that it took Nesta’s firm approval to convince them to finally go get dressed. Elain dutifully oversaw the food, and Gwyn and Emerie waited at the House, prepared to help Nesta maintain her courage to walk down the aisle in a room full of people who, at one point, had been at odds with her entirely. Though, if the way Rhys had pulled her aside, speaking quietly to her for the better part of half an hour before placing a gentle kiss to her forehead, was any indication, they weren’t the only ones determined to make her feel at ease. His family wanted this to be perfect for them, and they would do anything to see it through.
In the end, when Nesta’s tendency for self-loathing did rear its head, it was Azriel who took it upon himself to soothe her by arranging for the mates to meet privately before the ceremony, away from the others. It was unorthodox and would be kept secret from their family, who would no doubt fret over it for weeks, but Nesta and Cassian’s relationship had always been above the norm. Besides, there was only one person in this world who could ever truly calm the storm that was Nesta Archeron.
Cassian, much to his surprise, had been fully at ease the entire week leading up to today. His smiles were infectious, and when Azriel approached him with the recommendation to see his mate beforehand, he laughed almost as if he had expected it. Perhaps he had. Azriel had to work quickly to pull both away without the others noticing and was quite proud of his handiwork as he stood outside the door to the House’s library, keeping watch to ensure their privacy. Though, he couldn’t help but listen in himself, something he would chalk up to the centuries spent serving as spymaster.
His brother’s voice was thick with emotion as he took in the sight of Nesta in her dress, with long sleeves of lace and billowing skirts, white buttons lining down her back. Azriel turned his head slightly, peeking through the cracked door to take in the scene.
“Oh, my love, you look…” Cassian said, nothing short of awe etched across his face.
Nesta’s cheeks turned pink as she averted her gaze, smoothing her white gown for probably the millionth time that morning. “Overdressed?” she answered, displaying a rare sense of nervousness in her eyes.
Cassian shook his head and took a few steps forward so he could cup her face.
“Radiant,” He corrected, resting his forehead against hers. “My beautiful, glorious, stunning mate.”
A small smile tugged on her lips. “You aren’t so bad yourself,” she said, and he laughed, sliding his hands down to wrap around her waist.
“You know, we could still fly off to somewhere, accept the bond in private and start the honeymoon early,” he teased, staring deeply into her eyes, conveying the unspoken words that should she desire it, he would call the whole thing off, guest list be damned.
Nesta laughed softly and shook her head. “Our family would be furious, and besides, you love a party.”
Cassian smiled, reaching up to tuck a stray strand of hair behind her ear, which she had allowed to be on full display, delicate strands of diamonds dangling from them. “We’ll just get them really nice solstice presents.”
His comments drew another laugh from Nesta, and he pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. “What do we need to feel safe today, sweetheart? Anything?”
Nesta took a deep breath and reached up to straighten his lapels and tie. “Just you,” she said, and the tension that melted from her was palpable as she leaned into his chest. “Are you sure this is what you want?” she asked, finally allowing her insecurities to show themselves.
“Am I sure that I want to be mated to the most incredible female alive? I would be a fool to say no.”
Nesta scoffed at him. “Cass, be serious.”
“I am being serious, Nes. There is nothing I want more than to accept our bond and spend the rest of my life making you laugh or making you furious. You’re stunning either way. And if it means letting our family dress us up and stand up in front of all of Velaris, I will do it. If you want us to jump out the window right now and fly away to get mated somewhere else, just say the word. All I want is you, sweetheart, in whatever way you’ll have me. You deserve to be treated like a queen, and tonight, you will be, whether it’s here or in a cabin hidden away from the world. And afterwards, you and I will hole up in one of Helion’s libraries for as long as you want, and we can bet on how long it takes for me to successfully distract you from whatever research project you’re sure to begin.”
Nesta smiled, tears lining her eyes. “I love you,” she whispered, brushing their noses together.
Cassian lifted his hands to stroke his thumbs across her cheeks. “I love you too, beautiful.” Gripping their hands, he lifted them to his lips, brushing kisses to her knuckles. “I’ll be right by your side the entire time. Promise.”
Nesta nodded, squeezing his hands. “Okay,” she said, and the courage, the unwavering confidence that had defined her began returning to her eyes. Cassian pressed a gentle kiss to her lips before walking over to the door, where he reached through to squeeze Azriel’s shoulder in thanks. With one last smile at his mate, he climbed up to the window and leapt out of it, making his escape before any of their family caught wind that the pair of them had been missing.
Peaking his head in, he offered Nesta a soft smile as he walked over, pressing a gentle kiss to her temple. “Better?” he asked, and she nodded, her shoulders sagging in the relief of her mate’s assurance. Satisfied, he let his shadows transport them back to her dressing room, which he had checked was empty.
After making sure his sister was steady, he slipped out into the hall, ready for whatever task his frantic High Lord and Lady would likely assign him, but instead found he was about to be derailed entirely.
“I know what you did, shadowsinger,” came a voice, and he snapped his head to assess the Priestess as she made her way down the hall.
This time, it was Azriel whose breath caught, and throat tightened. Gwyn was a vision in the blue gown she had selected, her hair falling in gentle waves, framing her face. She smirked, knowing she had caught him off guard. If only she knew the reason.
“Kidnapping the happy couple merely an hour before the ceremony. Very risky indeed. You’re lucky I kept this room empty for you to safely return our sister.”
Azriel stared blankly at her for several moments.
Answer our Valkyrie, his shadows pestered, you give yourself away.
The warning brought him back into reality, and he straightened, meeting her with a smirk of his own.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Berdara.”
Gwyn’s smirk melted into a smile as she approached him fully. “Is she alright now?” she asked, fiddling with the bracelet permanently around her wrist, fighting the urge to check on Nesta herself.
Azriel nodded. “Cassian was what she needed, as suspected.”
Gwyn grinned, pleased that the mission had been successful.
“You look…” he started, and his breath caught, making him stutter over his words. “You look beautiful, Gwyn.”
Gwyn’s cheeks flushed the loveliest shade of pink Azriel had ever seen. “I figured since you were so kind to escort me, we should at least match.”
Azriel’s chest tightened. He supposed it was now or never. “I, um, I have something for you,” he said, and mother above, if he didn’t sound like a teenager talking to his first crush.
Gwyn’s eyebrows raised, curiosity sparking in her eyes. “And what might that be?”
Awkwardly, Azriel reached into his pocket, pulling out the small box that had weighed on him for the past several hours. “You thoroughly put me in my place when you received my first sorry attempt at a gift, so I figured it was well passed time I get you something properly.”
Gwyn’s eyes widened as he opened the box, revealing a silver pendant, in the shape of a dagger, not all that unlike Truth Teller, a bright blue sapphire shining brightly in the center.
The incident with the necklace had been awkward, at best, and any steps they had taken towards romance had been halted in the aftermath. Gwyn had known right away that it was him who had gifted it to her, but it was only after Nesta awoke from her stasis that she suspected it wasn’t intentionally bought for her. It had only taken the surprise filling Elain’s eyes at the sight of it around her neck to reveal the truth to her, paired with what she knew from what Nesta told her and Emerie about the shadowsinger’s feelings for the middle Archeron. Unable to lie to her, Azriel had come clean after she defeated him in a late-night round of sparring, and, though hurt at the realization that there was another who held his heart, Gwyn had understood, after all she had expected it. She had promptly returned the necklace to him, asserting that if he wanted to gift her something, it should be original, and had returned to the library, dashing any hopes that he saw them as anything more than a fling.
But that was months ago. Looking down at the necklace before her, that foolish heart of hers fluttered. “Azriel…” she breathed, reaching out to touch the pendant.
“You said you wanted something original, so I had this commissioned. It was completed only yesterday. I’m sorry it took so long, but I wanted it to be something sharp and as prone to violence as you.”
Letting out a laugh, she raised her eyes to his, searching for anything to suggest this wasn’t genuine, but instead all she saw was emotion. He was gazing at her so intently that it was almost indecent. She swallowed.
“It’s beautiful,” she whispered, and her blush deepened when he removed it from the box and silently asked to put it on her. Once the necklace settled against her chest, there was a permanent warmth that coiled within her.
“Thank you,” she said, offering him a small smile, one that widened when his shadows swirled over his shoulders to wrap around her arms.
It was Azriel’s turn to blush, and he dipped his head, almost bashful. “It should have been like this from the start, so please don’t thank me. It was the bare minimum. But I still stand by what I thought initially: that you deserved something beautiful. But it had to resemble strength, like you.”
Gwyn’s heart leapt and she slipped her arm through his as time drew closer for the ceremony to begin. “Who would have thought the Night Court’s spymaster was so thoughtful?” she teased, if only to see that flush on his face deepen.
---
The mating ceremony went off without a hitch, everything as perfect as the Inner Circle had planned it to be. Nesta was ethereal in her gown, and Cassian was every bit as valiant in a suit as he was in his leathers. There wasn’t a dry eye in the room during the ceremony, the High Lord himself being the least composed, overcome by the joy that filled the hall. Cassian’s eyes never strayed from Nesta throughout the night, and once the celebrations following the ceremony had gotten underway, he always kept a hand on her, never straying from her side. Nesta’s eyes shown with an affection that had never been public before, and she allowed herself to be swept away by her mate, dancing for hours as the stars rose in the sky over Velaris.
The nerves Gwyn had been feeling in the hours leading up to the ceremony were gone, eased by the male beside her. She didn’t think it was possible, for the shadowsinger to have a smile on his face, not an ounce of broodiness in his expression. It was endlessly amusing.
He had diligently kept by her side all evening, the pair of them entertaining themselves by watching the dancing couples. At present, Gwyn was watching Emerie, who was dancing in a circle with several fae, including Morrigan. The pair’s eyes kept wandering back to each other, and she wondered when her sister would come clean about whatever was brewing between them. Nesta had been speculating for months.
Azriel, forever diligent, scanned for any signs of threat, anything that was out of place. He was determined to ensure that Nesta and Cassian wouldn’t have a worry in the world when they departed. But Rhys had been adamant that he was to enjoy himself that evening, and he had only scanned the perimeter three times before his brother pressed into his mind.
If you don’t dance with your date, brother, I will.
Azriel flushed and narrowed his eyes at Rhys, who was smirking right back at him from his place beside Feyre, who was bouncing Nyx on her lap. The friendship between Gwyn and his brother had been unexpected, but there was something lighter to Rhys these days that had been missing the past few years since his return. Whatever they worked through in the library, they were all eternally grateful for it.
Turning to Gwyn, he let out a breath. She was flawless in her beauty, and he felt incredibly unworthy to even be able to look upon her.
“A dance, Priestess?” he asked, tentative.
Gwyn turned her gaze to him, eyebrows raised. She hadn’t expected Azriel to do more than stand by her side, and quite frankly, she didn’t even know he could dance.
“You want to dance with me?” she blurted, and internally cringed at the surprise in her voice.
Azriel’s lips twitched upwards. “That is the custom for events like this, is it not?”
Gwyn stared at him for another moment, still processing his offer.
“Do you doubt my abilities, Berdara?” he asked, a grin spreading over his features, “Or is it your abilities that you lack confidence in?”
Gwyn scoffed at the insinuation and promptly reached out a hand for him. “You’ve seen what I can do in the sparring ring, shadowsinger, how dare you question if I can dance.”
Azriel laughed, and led her to the dance floor, remaining closer to the edge in case she wanted a quick departure. Gwyn’s breath hitched as she set her hands in his and smiled shyly as he began leading them in a simple sequence.
He was smooth in his motions, flawless, hundreds of years of practice guiding him. It was easy for the world to fall away from them, and Gwyn allowed herself to be swept away in the moment. The necklace was warm between her collarbones as he twirled them, and she let herself bask in it.
She met him at every step, matching his smile with one of her own, laughing as he spun her again and again. It was a side of Azriel few were privy to, and she was warmed by the knowledge that he allowed himself simple pleasures like this with her. As the song changed and she returned to his arms, the pair of them swayed gently, shifting to match the slower tempo.
“Impressive,” he said with a smirk, and she laughed.
“You weren’t terrible,” she conceded, grinning at his scoff in response.
She would treasure this, she decided. This chance to dance with him, even if it was the only opportunity, made everything worth it.
It made loving him from afar worth it.
Because even if he never realized, and they stayed in this grey area between friends and something else, it was still more time than she ever hoped for. More time than she probably deserved.
And so, Gwyn allowed him to sway her until the late hours of the evening, content to keep close to the male she loved.
To the male who was her equal, the other piece of her soul.
Her mate.