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You need to come and get him. He is sick. A

Azriel stared at the parchment, still smoking from fire magic. Almonds and nutmeg. Wrong scent. It was not the first time the second youngest Vanserra brother has messaged him, but typically his messages didn’t ignite a pit of anxiety in Azriel’s stomach. He took a deep breath. If his mate would truly be in danger, he would feel it. He only sent two words as an answer.

When, where?

Eris Vanserra concentrated very hard not to throw up on the mane of his favourite horse he was currently riding. Trotting by his side, on a majestic chestnut mare, rode his brother Ayden in uncharacteristic silence. Eris was incredibly grateful for his silent company as all of his energy was focused on remaining in the saddle.

They’ve been riding for hours, travelling through village after village with the occasional forest trails in-between. The leaves shone brightly from droplets of drying rainwater and the earth smelled of petrichor. A beautiful morning any other day, except Eris had never been less fascinated about his court. Thankfully, their destination was the next town in sight. The thought gave him enough strength to sit up straighter and grip the reins tighter. He could do this. He swallowed thickly. He was stronger than some minor illness.

It all started with a mild wave of nausea the morning before, that unfortunately never ceased. Instead, it seemed to lodge itself firmly in his throat and was soon followed by constant shivering that Eris assumed was a sign of a rising fever. Others may have taken that as a sign to take a day off, but certainly, none of those people worked under the hands of Beron Vanserra. For Eris’ father, sickness meant weakness, shameful for a prince of Autumn, and of course punishable by more work, no matter how little control Eris had over the situation.

So, the second Eris felt the illness crawling up, he swallowed some pills from his secret stash, threw on an extra layer of glamour to disguise his paleness and made sure his father didn’t catch a glimpse of how shitty he truly felt.

His mask lasted until dinner. The table was stacked with an array of dishes, filling the room with varying spicy scents. Scents, Eris would have found delicious any other day. Today, they nearly sent him gagging the second he sat down. His hand involuntarily flew up to his mouth whilst his throat worked convulsively to push down the bile Eris was fighting against the whole day.

“Is something not up to your taste?” His father’s eyes were piercing. His tone flat with an underlying false cheeriness. It could have been an innocent question. But Eris knew better. He was caught.

“No, father. Everything looks delicious.” All of his acting talent was necessary to plaster his usual polite smile on.

“I wouldn’t call this overcooked piece of wood delicious, but you couldn’t tell until you’ve tried. I would be devastated if you didn’t.” Beron pointed at the piece of perfect looking steak on his plate, and Eris felt his throat tightening.

It might have been the longest meal of his life. He felt five pairs of eyes, one maliciously and four with concern, stare at him struggling through a slice of meat and a too large heap of potatoes. Somehow, he survived without an incident. The second the doors closed behind him Eris winnowed into his personal bathroom. He allowed himself to throw up once, then quickly downed two pills with a mouthful of water before falling face first in his bed. He spent the night tossing and turning with cold sweat running down his back and perpetual nausea.

The next day he was not at all surprised when his father announced that, alongside his little brother Ayden, he was to travel to one of the northern towns, to settle some matter about the crops that couldn’t fucking wait anymore. Of course, it was just a stupid petty punishment for Eris, a little more torture, so his father could pat himself on the shoulder for securing another win against his son. On top of that he had to sit through and participate in a lavish breakfast.

And now, here he was, swaying and shivering from the wind, in a damp forest bordering Winter. At least he got five days to spend far from the Forest House. Never better, he thought bitterly. Eris hoped, at least he managed to infect Beron before he left.

He pulled his high collared jacket tighter around himself as the wind turned cutting. It carried the promise of snow. Just what he needed. They reached a clearing from the trees. Suddenly, his brother, who had taken the lead, pulled his reins, stopping so abruptly Eris had to change directions to avoid crashing into him.

“What was that for?” He snapped as the motions made his upset stomach churn more furiously.

“We stopped to catch up with your ride.” Ayden said lightly, like his words made any fucking sense.

“My ride? I am sitting on a horse. What are you talking about?” Eris was getting seriously irritated. He was cold, tired, and sick and the only thing he craved was a warm bed, or at this point any horizontal surface he could curl up on. Well, that and maybe…

“He means me.” Said Azriel stepping out from behind a tree. Eris involuntarily let out a little gasp at the sight of his mate. His conflicting needs to jump into his arms, run as far away from him as he could or to demand answers were racing inside his brain, until the latter won.

“What are you doing here? It’s not safe for you to be in Autumn.” They’ve discussed this multiple times. If his father ever discovered Azriel, that would definitely come with horrific consequences.

“Sorry to intervene. I might have called for him.” Ayden chimed in with a not overly apologetic expression on his face.

“Why would you do that?” Eris asked in confusion, crossing his arms over his chest.

“Because you are obviously sick and need to get better. No, don’t you pull that face brother.” He frowned shutting down Eris’ disapproval. “You can’t heal whilst working yourself to death and I know if it is up to you, you wouldn’t rest so I called for reinforcement. Besides, it’s time you get a break from Autumn.” Eris’ head spun.

“I’m not leaving.” He couldn’t. He had to do his job in that town, otherwise Beron would release an even worse punishment on him. His brother had to know this. Or Azriel. His mate, who walked closer and was standing right next to his horse. Eris wanted to bury his face into his shoulder and cuddle him until his trembling bones have warmed back up. But he couldn’t.

“It’s fine. I will handle everything.” Ayden said.

“You can’t- “

“Yes, I can Eris. What do you think why did we need to travel so far? Loren and Ren helped me pull some threads and mother made sure Beron sent you away for days. The problem we are supposed to be solving? It’s not an issue. I made it up. Well, not completely, but it has been sorted out months ago and Azriel helped me to make it seem like it’s still unsettled. What I am trying to say is, everything is alright. We are covering for you, but you need to get better, because brother, believe me when I tell you, you look like shit.” Eris had no words. He glanced at his mate and Azriel nodded, confirming what Ayden just said. His family organised an escape for him, risking the wrath of Beron, just so Eris could take a short brake.

“I-I can’t… I” Even his wit abandoned him. He didn’t have a good argument. He was so tired.

“Yes, you can.” Azriel rubbed his knee comfortingly. “Please, love.”

Eris’ resolve broke. He couldn’t resist his mate’s words. Carefully, he swung one foot over the horse and promptly slid into Azriel’s embrace. One lungful of his cedar and mist smell made Eris feel loved and safe, and he practically melted into the other male, whilst Azriel pressed a soft kiss onto his temple.

He had never allowed himself this level of public intimacy, not even in front of his brothers. Looking up, he caught Ayden staring in surprise, then his expression immediately morphed into a self-satisfied grin.

Eris let go of Azriel to pass the reins of his horse to his brother.

“Are you sure you are going to be alright?” Ayden rolled his eyes.

“Yes, you idiot. I chose a town with great taverns to spend my vacation in.” He winked. In a softer voice he added. “Please let him take care of you and try to rest. Fuck father and his bullshit. You need it. I’m not going to hug you, as I have no intention of figuring out whether you are contagious or not.”

“Asshole.” Eris hoped the insult somehow conveyed his gratitude. Ayden flashed a warm smile before starting to lead away the two horses. Eris stood for a moment, watching his brother disappear into the foliage.

“Can we go?” Eris turned around. Azriel was slightly dishevelled from the wind, his cheeks blown red. Cauldron knows how long he had been waiting for their arrival. His hazel eyes were running up and down Eris’s body, no doubt searching for symptoms. He was beautiful. And so irresponsible, Eris wanted to scream at him.

“I can’t believe you came here.”

“I know, danger and everything, and I assure you I was very careful.  But can we talk about this somewhere warmer? I can see you trembling.” Eris was, actually. So hard, his teeth were chattering. Suddenly, he was aware of all of his earlier symptoms too. The nausea, the tiredness, and the pressure of a building headache.

“Okay. But I am not done with this topic yet.” He surrendered.

“Are you going to be okay with shadow walking?” Azriel asked, putting his arms around Eris. His concern was valid. Even on the best days travelling through his mate’s shadows was disorienting. But they had no other choice. Flying would be a hundred precent worse. So, Eris nodded uncertainly before burying his face back into Azriel’s shoulder. He supposed, better if he couldn’t see. He felt a couple of shadows coming to rest in his hair.

In a second they were squeezing through suffocating darkness before being deposited… in the air? Eris felt more than saw the steady pumping of Azriel’s wings. He hoped they would land soon, because the void agitated his stomach and by the time, they landed he was swallowing convulsively.

He managed to keep it in, even if he had to take multiple deep breaths. Finally, he opened his eyes and was welcomed by the cosy living room of the House of the Wind. Before he could have asked Azriel already answered his questions.

“Cass and Nesta are in Illyria for the next two weeks. The place is ours. Come on, you can lay down in my room.” Azriel never let go of his hand, gently pulling him along. They walked down the long hallway, the wooden floor creaking under their feet.   

The gears in Eris’ brain had suddenly stopped in a screeching halt. He couldn’t do this. What has he agreed to? He untangled his fingers from Azriel’s taking a step back.

“You don’t have to burden yourself with this. Ayden was just overreacting. I am fine.” Could have been more convincing if he didn’t sway on his feet, but really, Eris was always alone when he was ill. He could take care of himself. However nice it would be, Azriel didn’t need to bother with him. He didn’t need to see him at his lowest. Eris shouldn’t have come here at all.

His mate seemed to think otherwise. He linked one of their hands back together, and cupped Eris’s face with the other.

“Burden? Eris, you are not a burden. This is not a chore for me. I want to take care of you because I love you. And no, I know you. You are not fine. Don’t try to downplay it. In fact, can you tell me what hurts?” His mate was a male of few words. And this speech wasn’t an exception, brief but precise. Efficient and quick to move on to the practical bits like he didn’t just tilt Eris’ world on its axis.     

“I still can’t believe you just walked right into Autumn.”

“Please don’t change the topic. It’s not very subtle. Your brother told me you are sick, and Beron is being an asshole about it, so I came. Now, what hurts?” They’ve been together for over three years and Eris was still blown away by how easily Azriel could blurt out casual declarations of love. For Eris, it was much harder. They’ve discussed it, multiple times. Some ended ugly with horrible things hurled each other, others with slow, loving sex and cuddles. Until his mate became an expert at sensing the walls Eris was not able to lower yet. Like now, patiently waiting for his answer.

“I- No-It…Stomach and head. But it’s not that bad I swear.” At least his head wasn’t. His stomach hurt like hell, churning angrily from the forced down meals. Eris resisted the urge to clamp an arm around his middle. Azriel didn’t seem to be buying it. He raised a hand to lay on Eris’ forehead. “You are such a mother hen.” Eris groaned.

“Pot calling the cattle back. You are feverish as well.”

“I have fire in my blood. I run hotter than most.” Eris retorted.

“Not that hot.” Azriel said in an uncompromising tone. He was probably right because his cool fingers felt heavenly on Eris’ temple. As the cold seeped into his bones, his joints began to ache and there was a thin layer of cold sweat covering his body, making him shiver. “Change while I get medicine. I doubt you want to spend the day in riding pants, and I think a shower would do you some good.”

Eris sighed, accepting defeat. He did desperately want to get rid of his riding gear and he did smell slightly of wet horse.

“Care to join?” He tried cheekily, sending a weak wink in Azriel’s way.

“You are unbelievable.” Azriel grumbled, but Eris could see a faint smell pulling at his mouth.

The hot water was glorious on his skin, making Eris’ shivering finally subside. He spent more time than necessary standing under the spray, the warmth relaxing his tight muscles. He leant his head against the tiled wall, attempting to quell his headache which was getting stronger and stronger. It didn’t help much.

Finally, he decided to climb out. Drying himself quickly with his magic, he has taken to dressing up. If someone were to see him, they wouldn’t believe their eyes, but going through the wardrobe Eris choose comfort over fashion. He borrowed one of Azriel’s grey sweatpants and a black t-shirt. They were both quite loose, and he had to roll up the legs no to trip over them, but they were warm and smelled just like his mate.

He curled up at the end of a comfortable sofa resting his head on his right hand, trying to massage the pain away. Azriel’s room was cosy if a bit minimalist for Eris’ taste. A desk, a wardrobe, multiple bookshelves a fluffy brown rug and a huge bed, designed to fit at least two people with Illyrian wings. Although something has changed since his last visit.

“You’ve got new pictures?” He asked his entering mate.

“Nyx discovered Feyre’s paints, and he has been on an artistic high ever since.” Azriel hummed sliding a tray onto Eris’ lap before sitting next to him.

“Takes after her mother. Thank the Cauldron.” Azriel playfully flicked his shoulder. “And what do we have here?” On the tray Eris found a steaming mug, three slices of plain toast and something he assumed was fever reducer.

“It’s ginger tea. Might help with the nausea.” Azriel answered when he saw Eris sniff the liquid suspiciously. “Why aren’t you in bed?”

Eris simply shrugged. He didn’t want to say, that climbing in the bed would have felt like admitting defeat. Yes, he was exhausted to the bone, but he could have ridden all the way to the town, participated in long meetings whilst not giving away a single sign about his illness. Like he always did. He wasn’t used to resting whilst sick and he was not ready to seem weak.  

Instead, he popped the pills into his mouth and swallowed them down with scalding tea. Azriel grimaced.

“Those shouldn’t be taken on an empty stomach. That’s why I brought the toast.”

“I’ve eaten before.” He shouldn’t have said that, because at the memory of his mandatory breakfast, his stomach began to roil. Eris felt uncomfortably full and doubted he would have been able to keep the toast down anyways. His left hand unconsciously drifted towards his middle as he curled tighter around himself.

Azriel put an arm and a wing around his body, and Eris leaned into his side, resting his aching head on his chest.

"So, I am abducted for the next five days whatever happens?" Eris sighed.

“Yep.” He smiled as a light kiss was placed into his hair.

They sat like that, cuddled together, chatting quietly about nothing with Eris sipping his tea, for a while. He was close to nodding off when he began to feel it. A wave of nausea, washing over him, sending a shiver down his spine, and leaving his mouth with a taste of bile.

Azriel felt Eris’ body grow tense in his arms.

He was furious to learn how the sadistic High Lord of Autumn planned to torture his mate with more work whilst sick. Expanding his long list of reasons he wanted the fucker dead. The sooner the better. Thanks to Eris’ actual family he was able to snatch him away. If only for five days. But in those five days, Azriel could make sure Eris was properly looked after.

His mate tried to downplay and hide his symptoms but Azriel was the best spymaster in Prythian for a reason. Not to mention their bond Eris forgot to block. That was his first clue.

He was pale and shaky from the beginning and when he came out dressed in Azriel’s clothes, Azriel noticed he had taken off a layer of glamour too. The thought of Eris being comfortable enough to show his real face in front of him set off some happy sparks in his chest. What didn’t delight him was the dark bags and glossy eyes the glamour revealed.

Apart from his sluggishness, Azriel could tell Eris’ level of exhaustion from his unbound hair and lack of jewellery. Others would have blamed it on the fact he was travelling, but Azriel knew his mate was practically obsessed with complicated hairstyles and dousing himself in shiny, overly detailed attires. Even if he was riding alone in a forest. Yet Eris hadn’t worn a single piece of jewellery apart from the earrings he never took off.

And of course, there was the way Eris discreetly tried to curl around his stomach or occasionally had to take a deep breath through his nose.

Azriel didn’t want to force more details out of him even as he suspected his mate felt much worse than he let on. Instead, he held him close and hoped either Eris would confess, or the medicine would start working. Unfortunately, neither of those things happened.

“Are you okay?” Azriel asked when Eris gulped loudly for the second time, his face taking up a greenish tint.

“Yes.” The answer was way too wobbly to be true. Azriel moved the tray out of their laps, noting the untouched pieces of toast. There was a clammy layer appearing on Eris’ temple. He was getting tenser by the second and his lips were pressed together tightly.

“Do you need the bathing room?” Azriel asked again gently.

“No, I’m fine.” Eris gritted out. He immediately closed his eyes, taking rapid breaths and swallowing thickly, but he didn’t give in. He was so goddamn stubborn.

He struggled for another minute, before he flinched, then ripped himself out of Azriel’s embrace and dashed for the bathroom. Azriel followed swiftly. Fortunately, his room had an attached bathroom, so Eris didn’t have to run far.

He found his mate collapsed in front of the toilet, one hand grabbing the seat for support, the other clutching his abdomen. Head hovering over the bowl, Eris was panting and wincing with a pained expression. His muscles kept tensing up and every time, his throat worked convulsively. Azriel could see he was fighting a losing battle and yet, he kept trying to push through. Even if it visibly hurt him to do so.

Azriel was sure, Beron was somehow to blame. His mate’s uncertainty towards being taken care of was blaringly obvious. But bloodthirsty plans could wait. Eris needed his support more. Quickly, Azriel sank onto his knees by his side placing a tentative palm on his lower back.  

“Don’t fight it. You are going to hurt yourself.” Eris squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head. He wasn’t able to supress a wet burp, that sent a string of saliva drip into the water. But he was still keeping himself stiff as a board. “Please Eris! You are safe here. You will feel much better.” Azriel desperately tried to make him feel more comfortable.

His shadows joined, drifting around his mate’s trembling form, settling into the folds of his clothes. “Please love, try to relax.”

“My hair. Tie it.” Eris somehow gritted out without losing it. This time Azriel could feel how overwhelming his nausea was through their bond.

Of course, he should have thought of that. Eris’ lovely auburn hair ended just below his shoulder blades. Wonderful at any other time, currently a disaster waiting to happen. Quickly, Azriel gathered all the strands in one hand, pulled a piece of leather from his pocket between worlds and tied it efficiently at his nape.

He has just finished tying, when Eris lurched forward with a gurgle, sending a torrent of vomit into the bowl. Azriel returned his hand to his mate’s back and when there was no rejection, he started rubbing soothing circles over his spine, trying to provide as much comfort as possible.    

After that first productive wave, there was no stopping. Eris kept violently throwing up for long minutes, choking on half-digested chunks and quaking miserably. He used both of his hands, crossed over the seat, to pillow his head. His body seemed to be furious with him, causing his muscles to convulse relentlessly.

After what felt like an eternity for both of them, his stomach must have run out of more substance to purge, finally letting his mate slump over and relax.

Eris’ breathing was yet to return to normal from ragged gasps. Bits of vomit were still lingering on his lips and chin, the taste and texture doing nothing to get rid of the queasiness that was still stubbornly keeping him in a chokehold. Throwing up, whilst a horrible feeling, was a relief from the uncomfortable fullness Eris was haunted by since the awful family dinner.

With that said, he knew he wasn’t done for the night. He was simply granted a break, as his stomach was still tender and irritated.

Having Azriel’s hand on his back for the whole time was both a curse and a blessing. His mate had seen his scars, seen him cry and fall apart, heard his ugly, snorting, non-court appropriate laugh and seen him completely undone, overwhelmed with pleasure during mind-boggling, incredible sex. He never left.

But this was yet another kind of vulnerability Eris was somewhat nervous about sharing. And Azriel’s steady presence by his side made him feel safe. So, when he felt the hand leave his back Eris couldn’t help but lean back, trying to follow his warmth.

Where did he go? Did he finally get fed up with Eris’ mess? Before his sluggish and apprehensive mind could have come up with a worse scenario, he heard the tap being turned on, off, then a glass of water entered his peripheral vision.

With shaking fingers, Eris pried the glass from Azriel’s scarred hands and raised it to his lips. He rinsed his mouth, and accepted a washcloth pressed into his hand to clean his face. When he was ready, he took a hesitant glance to the side. Eris didn’t know what he expected. Maybe anger. In his life, he usually expected anger. Or disappointment. Rejection. Rationally, he knew Azriel was different. But he had never thrown up his stomach’s contents in a particularly disgusting way in front of him. He got none of the expected things.

His mate looked… worried.

“I fear we have to settle on no sex for tonight.” It was a very low effort joke, but Eris’ need to say something was overwhelming. His heart was beating frantically. A second. Two. Three.

Azriel cocked his head to the side. And then he snorted.

“Not to sound rude, but sex was absolutely not on the table to begin with. I doubt there was even a table.” He put his gloriously warm palm back on the small of his back. “What do you think, are you done?” Eris felt a weight lift from his heart.

“I think so. For now.” He said uncertainly. Understanding sparkled in Azriel’s eyes as he nodded.

“Okay, I’ll keep that in mind.” They sat silently for a second, until Azriel simply asked. “Bed?”

And Eris gave in. He just couldn’t delay it, couldn’t pretend any longer. He desperately wanted to lay down and just… rest. Close his eyes, get rid of the past two days, and hopefully wake up in a future where this stupid illness was gone.

He nodded tiredly.

The last scraps of his façade fell away the second his head hit the pillow. As Azriel moved around the bed, fiddling with something, Eris allowed himself to curl into a tight ball and press one hand against his stomach. He summoned a bit of his power to add heat to his palm. It wasn’t a comfortable position to lie in, but the soothing effects overpowered awkwardness. His stomach began to unknot at last.

“Would you like to try this instead.” Eris cracked an eye open only enough to see Azriel holding a medium sized pouch. It seemed to be filled with some type of grains. “Nesta tends to use these on her cycles and the house just passed it to me. You can heat it with your magic. It might be more comfortable.” Eris took the thing, infusing it with his fire. Hugging it to his middle, he could have wept. It was perfect.

“There is a bucket on your side, right next to the bed.” Azriel finished, settling down behind Eris. His fingers sunk into Eris’ hair, massaging his scalp gently. “Do you need anything?” He asked. 

With tremendous effort, Eris turned his head towards his mate.

“I’m sorry. I know this is not how you wanted to spend this evening but- “Azriel didn’t give him a chance to finish his apology.

“No, you aren’t. Or if you are, you shouldn’t. As I said, I happen to love you. Which means, I want to spend all of my evenings with you. Even if you puke in my lap.”

“What? I absolutely did not do such a thing.” Eris objected, mildly offended. Azriel held his hands up in defence.

“Sorry, I grew up with Cassian and Mor... I’ve seen stuff.”

“Do I want to know?”

“Definitely not. And for your own good, never ask what happened on Rhys’ 350^th birthday.” Azriel shook his head firmly. He stopped for a second his voice returning to serious. “What I meant to say is, I want to take care of you Eris. Not because it’s polite to do, or no one else was available. But because I want to.”

Eris was slightly overtaken by the sheer strength of affectionate feelings pouring down their bond. For a while, he could only gape like a fish, before uttering a soft ‘thank you’ blaming his lack of wit on the fever.

Closing his eyes came much easier with the words ‘I want to’ still echoing in his head. Eris smiled a little when Azriel laid down behind him, his front pressed tightly to Eris’ back. His hand came to rest carefully over the heating pad, his nose burrowing into Eris’ hair. The lights turned off without either of them lifting a finger. Must have been the house.

‘Maybe getting sick has some benefits.’ Was Eris’ last thought before dozing off.   

He regretted even thinking about those words the next time he opened his eyes. He didn’t expect an immediate punishment from the Mother for being too cocky.

It must have been around two in the morning, and Eris Vanserra had never felt more nauseous in his entire life. In an instant he dived for the bucket, fingers pressed firmly over his mouth, silently blessing Azriel for his foresight. Thankfully, even in the dark he found it right away. Pulling it into his lap Eris hunched over, lowered his hand from his mouth, and… nothing happened.

Eris sat, dumbfounded, clutching the bucket with parted lips. He felt rather dizzy and worn out but the overpowering need to be sick passed as swiftly as it came. He decided to remain in the same position until he could be sure laying down was safe.

He heard the rustling of sheets and Azriel’s sleepy voice called out. “Are you being sick?” There was a tickling sensation around Eris’ neck. A couple of shadows caressed his skin, and no doubt reported his condition to their master. Eris didn’t mind. He adored the little shadow creatures, they were cute and caring, if a tad nosey.    

“No. I thought I was going to, but it passed.” Opening his mouth still made Eris feel like he was in danger of losing his breakfast, but somewhere deep down he knew he wasn’t going to. It was a weird sensation. “I think I am ready to get back to sleep. Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

Azriel grumbled something about no more apologies but he was clearly still half-asleep. Eris laid his head onto the pillow and was ready to be pulled under when his queasiness skyrocketed. He bolted back up. Shit.

He tried to turn around, now facing his mate, but the result was the same. After his third attempt Azriel stirred again. “What are you doing?”

“Trying to sleep but laying down makes me feel nauseous.” His voice had a bit of a whining tone, but Eris couldn’t help it. He was so exhausted. He pulled his legs to his chest and tried to rest his head on his knees, but it was horribly uncomfortable.

Azriel let out a non-committal grunt and Eris thought he would leave it at that. Until he heard the rustling of sheets. His mate has taken Eris’ pillow. He was about to ask why, when Azriel lightly touched his back and said. “Come on.”

Eris didn’t understand Azriel’s plan but let himself be manipulated and soon he found his upper body propped up against Azriel’s chest, his head nesting comfortably against the crook of his neck.  

“This cannot be comfortable for you.” Eris frowned. Azriel piled some pillows to the headboard and was leaning against them in a position close to fully sitting up, effectively holding Eris in his lap. His wings must have been squashed.   

“I’ve slept in worse places.” Azriel hummed.

“That does not reassure me whatsoever.”

“Too bad, I can’t hear you because I’m falling asleep.” Azriel whispered in a ghost-like fading voice. Idiot. Eris poked him in the chest.

He wated to dispute. Wanted to argue back and convince Azriel he wasn’t worth the hassle. To tell him he didn’t need to disturb his sleep and risk cramped wings because of Eris’ stupid stomach ache. But his mate has genuinely seemed to have drifted off, and before Eris could have overthought the situation, he felt himself being pulled under too.

______

Azriel woke to frantic shuffling for the second time that night. There was an ugly noise of someone being sick and liquid splashing on fabric. He fumbled around blindly, instinctively reaching for Eris. Instead of him, Azriel’s fingers touched something wet and slimy. He shuddered from disgust, pulling his hand away instantly.

There was another choking sound followed by a wheezing cough, then Eris’ panicky voice muttering the phrase ‘I’m sorry’ over and over again. Azriel’s heart clenched. He wished it weren’t so damn dark and as if sensing his thoughts, the house turned the faelights on.

The sight greeting him was miserable. A puddle of vomit covered the blanket and Azriel’s lap. Eris, clearly distressed and blinking from the sudden brightness, sat in front of him trembling from head to toe. He kept repeating his broken apology and from the river of emotions cascading down the bond he was on the verge of an anxiety attack.

Azriel reached out internally to soothe the jumbled mess inside Eris’ brain and at the same time called out to him.

“Eris.”

No reaction. Eris’ gaze was glued to the ruined blanket, his cheeks flushed with fever and sweat lining his hairline. He was completely lost in his own head.

When Eris remained unresponsive to his calls, Azriel considered his next step. He opted out of touching him knowing his mate’s apprehension towards unexpected contact. Azriel didn’t want to worsen his distress.

Instead, he tried to gently tug on the bond. It might have been the wrong thing to do. Eris jolted slightly, his face losing all colour, then despite his sickness lightning fast on his feet, he sprinted towards the bathroom.

Azriel tried to follow, but his legs got tangled in the sheets. He tore it all away with a forceful tug and jumped up, running after him.

As he reached the door Eris slammed shut, he heard a purposefully loud click.

The house turned the key twice, locking Azriel out.

Fuck.

The house locked Azriel out of his own bathroom. She probably locked him out on Eris’ behalf. She must have felt the same surge of misery that practically flooded the bond, topped with streaks of shame and mortification.

Azriel knew, behind that door Eris was going through it. Being in a state he didn’t want even for his mate to see, and the house simply respected his wish. He understood, he really did. But nothing could quell his worry and his annoyance at being rendered useless. Azriel itched to help.

A little shadow crawled out from the crack under the door, flying to Azriel’s ear ready to report. In the last second, he reached for the smidge of darkness, so it ended up curled around his finger instead.

“Don’t show me. He asked for privacy and I intend to respect that.” The shadow twisted in confusion but obeyed Azriel’s command. “Just notify me if he is fine with me entering or his condition gets dangerous.” The shadow nodded, before gliding off his finger and disappeared in the pack.

Looking at his hand, there was a stain on his thumb. Vomit. Azriel suddenly remembered his clothes were soaked in vomit and so was the bed. Long years spent as Head Torturer made him desensitized to the smell. Or any foul smell really. But being numb to the smell and being used to disgusting stuff getting all over him didn’t mean Azriel wanted to be covered in puke for another second.

He decided to strip the bed before changing but the house beat him to it. The sheets looked freshly made up and immaculate, not a single spot to be seen. Even the pillows were more shaken up and fluffy.

Azriel thanked her profusely, promising to repay her somehow. He had no idea how to please a sentient house. Nesta mentioned something about smutty romance books, and how the house somehow also indulged in them, so that was a lead. Currently though, Azriel had other problems to deal with.

He grabbed another set of clothes, carefully peeled off his soiled ones, and ducked into Cassian’s room to take a quick shower. Upon returning, he found the state of the bathroom door unchanged.

He quickly realized that anxiously pacing up and down would not help anyone, so he gave himself a new mission. Getting supplies.

Azriel just strolled back into his room when he heard the lock click. He waited. Then waited some more. Eris didn’t emerge. So Azriel turned inwards, reaching for the golden thread in his chest and gave it a gentle, inquiring tug. The answer came slowly. Hesitant and uncertain, but a single small tug echoed down the bond. Permission to enter.

Carefully opening the door, Azriel took a step inside. He expected the situation to be bad. He wasn’t prepared for the sight to break his heart into pieces.

Eris sat on the closed toilet lid his face buried in his hands. Between his legs, on the floor was the bucket from before, undoubtedly deposited by the house, albeit a tad late, as it was surrounded by a puddle of sick. There was a towel haphazardly thrown over the mess, a desperate attempt at cleaning up. Eris’ body trembled from hiccupping breaths and when he finally looked up, Azriel’s heart clenched painfully.

Rivulets of tears were rolling down Eris’ face, dripping steadily into the bucket. His complexion turned pallid save for his cheeks which were flushed with fever. At some point his hair became unbound. Normally silky and shining, the strands were now dull, tangled and plastered to his skin with sweat and Azriel realized in horror, vomit. So was his shirt. For such a meticulously clean fae like his mate it must have felt like torture. But by far the worst were his eyes. Glossed over and red from crying they held nothing but raw panic.

“I’m sorry-… I’m so- “

“Eris.”

“-sorry. For… “

“Eris.”

“on you…I’ll clean- up. I’ll clean it up.”  

“Eris.”

“in a second- “

“Eris.”

Azriel kneeled in front of Eris, taking hold of his hands to stop their nervous picking at his skin. He swallowed the white-hot anger he felt towards Beron Vanserra. Because who else would cause Eris to have a meltdown over something he had no control over? Why else would he be flinching away from Azriel clearly expecting a blow?  Not to mention his panicked fixation on clean-up. Let’s just say, there was a special level of hell Azriel planned to unleash on Beron once he got his hands on him. 

“Eris.” Azriel repeated for the umpteenth time until recognition sparkled in Eris’ unfocused eyes and his rambling quieted to uneasy sniffles. “That’s it. Very good. Try to take some deep breaths.”

With visible effort, Eris obeyed, however his body remained tense. Azriel ran his thumbs along the back of his hands in a soothing motion.

“Sorry.” Eris whispered again his voice paper thin.

“It’s okay love. But you’ve got nothing to apologise for. You are sick, you couldn’t help it.” When Eris tried to protest, Azriel didn’t let him. “I am not angry with you as none of this is your fault. Is that clear?”

Slowly, very slowly Eris nodded. He didn’t look overly convinced but Azriel deemed it good enough for the time being. They will have this conversation when Eris wasn’t sitting covered in his own vomit with a dangerously high fever.

“Okay. Let’s start with some water.”

Eris’ hand trembled so badly it took two tries until he was able to grab the glass securely enough not to spill the whole thing over his lap. Leaning over the bucket he rinsed his mouth thoroughly but when it came to swallowing any of it his face took up a greenish tint.

“I can’t.” He croaked.

“Just two sips. Please, try it.” Azriel rubbed comforting circles on his knees. He hated pleading, hated forcing this on Eris, especially seeing his pained expression, but Eris lost so much fluid, and Azriel was worried about dehydration.

Eris had to stifle a gag. Then another. After exactly two too-small sips he lowered the glass, his eyes begging for mercy. Azriel wanted him to drink more, but he knew any further tries would be fruitless.  

“You did great. I’ll run you a bath in a second.” Eris nodded tiredly.

It was inherently wrong, seeing him so defeated. His mate, usually proud, radiant, and fiery in every sense of the word, whose best and most deadly weapon was his silver tongue being overtaken by weary silence.

Azriel helped Eris undress surrounded by the same heavy silence. Under the sweat-soaked layers, his skin was scorching, yet covered in goosebumps from coming in contact with the cool air.

Stepping into the bath Eris inhaled sharply, a full-body shiver running through him. It physically hurt for Azriel to catch his hands and murmur ‘please don’t’ before he could use his magic to heat up the water.

“-s too cold.” Eris’ eyes were welling up with tears of stress and sheer exhaustion.

“I know and I’m incredibly sorry, but we must get your fever down a bit. I swear it will be as quick as possible. Please. It will help to make you feel better.” Fuck everything. Azriel’s heart couldn’t take anymore. Never mind that he just showered, he quickly got rid of his clothes and climbed into the lukewarm water. 

Coaxing Eris to lay back and relax as much as he could, Azriel washed his hair using an excessive amount of his favourite cinnamon apple scented shampoo. Although his body was still wrecked with tiny shivers, the bath’s cooling effects seemed to have worked on his fever. Some colour had returned to his cheeks and his eyes appeared clearer. Azriel was close to finishing, rinsing out the last residue of shampoo, when Eris quietly spoke.

“Have you changed your opinion about wanting to spend a lovely evening with me?” He was attempting their usual playfully witty tone, but it came out a lot more self-deprecating.

“No.” Azriel answered without hesitation.

“But I ended up puking in your lap.” Eris pointed out.    

“Still no.” Hummed Azriel. And to further hammer his point home, he leaned forward to press kiss on Eris’ nose.

“Ew. Disgusting. Do you want to catch this nightmare?” Azriel’s heart fluttered. The real Eris was rapidly coming back.

“If I haven’t so far, I doubt a kiss would change anything.”

“Still not worth the risk.” Eris scoffed.

“One, yes it does.” Azriel gave his mate a second kiss. “Two, I have Illyrian healing, which thankfully applies to regular sicknesses too.” He didn’t want to mention how growing up in a filthy cellar then immediately after being tossed into a similarly dirty war camp made his immune system better than even most Illyrians’. It had Eris rolling his eyes as it was.

“Of course, it does.”

Eris stood frozen in front of the bed. Having Azriel see him cry over a bucket of his own vomit and washing said vomit out of his hair should have been the worst thing happening in his life. The event that he feared could sever their mating bond. Yet, it wasn’t. It was definitely on the list, but nowhere near as high as it was realistically supposed to be.

All thanks to his wonderful mate who didn’t waver, didn’t get impatient, didn’t pull away once. He managed to keep Eris more comfortable and safe, than he had ever been whilst ill. And what did he get in turn? Being thrown up on and having to clean up Eris’ mess. He said he wanted to, but that was before Eris had actually thrown up all over him.

Azriel laid in bed on his dedicated side, raising the blanked with an anticipating gaze. And Eris was stuck. He couldn’t, with good conscience climb back into his embrace after what had just happened. Why would Azriel even risk laying next to him again? Eris glared at the blanket for too long while trying to come up with an appropriate apology and excuse as to why he should just take the couch.

“I can hear you overthinking.”

“I shouldn’t get so close to you. Shouldn’t have done in the first place. What was I thinking?” Eris blurted out. “You don’t deserve to be dealing with all of this.” He gestured all over himself.

Azriel’s sad eyes lingered on him as he bit his bottom lip.

“Eris. Can I ask a question?”  

“Yeah.”

“What would you do if the roles were reversed? If you needed to clean up my sick and hold my hair. Would you do the same for me?”

“Of course, but- “Eris said.

“Then why can’t I feel like that about you?” His question hung heavy in the air. Eris cast his eyes on his toes, unable to meet Azriel’s gaze.

“Because it’s just me.” He whispered.

“Exactly, it’s you.” There was so much love imbued in those three words, Eris swayed on his feet and a lump appeared in his throat. “Now come here.”

He did. His muscles obeyed without his permission. He craved his mate’s steadying warmth like a lifeline. At first, they sat, holding each other tightly. Eris’ nose was burrowed in Azriel’s collarbone, while his wings encircled both of them in a leathery cocoon. Then Azriel turned him around, his fingers sinking into Eris’ hair, until his red curls were secured in a loose braid.

“So it doesn’t get dirty again.” He said. He said other things too, but Eris couldn’t recall them, being pulled under by the irresistible haze of sleep.

Eris managed to sleep through the rest of the night. And half of the next day. When he finally stirred, the sun was already high in the sky, its glowing silken rays streaming through the huge window. Blearily opening his eyes, he blinked against the offending light.

Azriel acknowledged with great satisfaction that he looked much better than the previous day. Tiredness was still evident on his face but the dark bags under his eyes had considerably faded. He wasn’t unnaturally pale anymore, just typically pale, his millions of freckles accentuated by the sunlight. Some shorter strands in the front had escaped his braid and his hair was noticeably flatter on the side pressed into the pillow, resulting in an adorably messy bedhead.

“Good morning.” Azriel greeted from his position, leaning against the headboard.

Eris rubbed a hand over his eyes and yawned before he answered with a sleepy.

“-od morning. How long have you been up?” His voice was hoarse.

“Couple of hours. I’ve made breakfast. Well, at least what I was allowed. The house is weirdly touchy about the boiling time of eggs.”

“Can I guess? Your idiot of a brother would eat them raw, and she is worried if he dies, Nesta would be upset?” Eris scoffed, turning on his side to face Azriel. Well, Azriel’s hip.  

“That is… surprisingly accurate.” 

“I have too many brothers.”

Azriel hummed in agreement as Eris propped himself up and began to climb out of bed.

“Where are you going?” He asked.

“To the kitchen? You know, room with a table and chairs where meals are usually eaten.” Eris gestured towards the hallway, aiming to distract form the fact that he had to use the bed frame to steady himself. Azriel’s eyes narrowed.  

“Smartass. I know what a kitchen is, but why put in the effort when we have a perfectly nice bed to our service?” Azriel patted the now empty bedsheets by his side, as the house delivered a tray of sliced apples, plain toast, the aforementioned eggs, although presented in scrambled form, and a mug of tea in his lap.  

“Oh? I could never refuse such a meal.” A mischievous smile appeared on Eris face and Azriel raised his gaze towards the ceiling at the innuendo.

“If your father ever heard just how persistently horny you can be in my presence…”

“Ideally, he would get a heart attack.” Eris debated, plopping back onto the bed.

“Maybe we should try that next time.” Azriel suggested.

“The ancient High Lord of Autumn murdered by his heir’s inappropriate lusting after Night’s Spymaster. I would be the star of court gossip and history books for the following ten centuries.” Eris’ eyes sparkled as he laid his head against the headboard.

“Also famous for being humble.” Azriel added dryly drawing a snorting laugh from Eris that soon turned into a cough.

“Guess I have to survive this first.” He rasped when he was finally able to take a full breath. Azriel knew about Eris’ borderline unhealthy relationship with tea, so he was not at all surprised when his mate reached for the mug first.

“Are you feeling well?” He asked after they sat for a while.

“Splendid, why?”

“Because, you haven’t touched anything else from the tray. You need to eat something.” Azriel couldn’t help but notice, how Eris’ throat bobbed uncomfortably.

Azriel was looking at him with so much concern. Fuck. Eris took a glace at the tray. How could a slice of his favourite cinnamon apple look so unappetising? His morning was going so well why did his perfect, attentive mate need to bring up food.

Eris wasn’t exactly nauseous, he was actually quite hungry, but he could also feel that if he put anything more than the tea in his mouth, it was going to come back up sooner than later. That’s why he usually opted out of eating altogether when he was ill. He could keep his body moving, conserving energy even, by not having anything to throw up. He was aware of the dangers, but it was a lesser of two evils, compared to the consequences of being sick in front of his father.

He glanced at Azriel. Azriel loved him. It was safe. He wasn’t alone. Eris swallowed again.

“I might have lied about feeling splendid.” He tried to keep his voice light and cheery.

“What does that exactly mean?”

“I’m not sure, anything is going to… stay down for very long.” Eris confessed. He tried to hide the blush creeping up his face, but it was pointless. Maybe he could disguise it as fever?

Azriel blinked twice then answered calmly.

“I have a tonic there on the desk that will help settle your stomach.”

Oh.

That was it.

The words coming from Azriel’s mouth were so simple.

Now that he confessed, Eris felt a bit silly for lying. He could have asked for the medicine himself. Of course, Azriel wouldn’t have made fun of him for asking. Instead, Eris managed to make a fool of himself. Before he could sink further into the swamp of his traitorous mind, a warm thigh pressed against his own under the blanket.

“Hey, I am familiar with that face. No self-deprecating in the bed.”

“I would never.” Eris gave a half-hearted chuckle.

“Good.”

Eris drank the medicine. Started nibbling on the apples and some toast until he was able to finish two slices under Azriel’s watchful gaze. After their quiet breakfast they continued to lay in bed, lazily staring out the window. Whilst Eris felt marginally better than he did in days, the sickness was still lingering under his skin. Like his veins were filled with slow-flowing, molten lead, anchoring his body to the fluffy pillows. Eris debated falling back asleep, but despite the eventful night, he was wide awake.

“What is it?” Azriel asked when Eris sighed and changed position for the fourth time.

“I feel like I should be doing something.” Eris muttered into his pillow, despite his body language showing quite the opposite.

“Yes, resting.”

“I’ve tried it. It’s boring.” Eris complained.

Azriel understood. They were a Cauldron-mated pair of constantly overworked idiots. Both of them found it hard to fully take advantage of off days, work hardly ever leaving their minds.

Suddenly, Azriel jumped out of bed, an idea popping up in his head.

“Is that one of Nesta’s books?” Eris squinted at the newfound loot in his hand upon his return.

“Exactly.”

“Won’t she take your balls for stealing this.”

“Only if I dog-ear the pages. Besides, I am her favourite.” Azriel waved dismissively.

“Sometimes I feel sorry for your brother.”

“Share a house with them after accepting the bond and your opinion would drastically change.” Eris snorted.

“I’ll skip it, thank you. Now, what do we have?” He asked pointing at the book.

“A young fae woman, torn away from her family of travelling musicians by a wild, four-horned beast. On the brink of death, Amalina uses the only gift she has. Her voice. What she doesn’t expect is an answer, calling out to her from the darkness.”

“Sounds… interesting?” Eris wrinkled his nose. Azriel wasn’t convinced by the description either, but he remembered Nesta praising the book to the skies. It couldn’t be that bad.

They settled in, Azriel propped up on a heap of pillows, Eris cuddled against his side. He read the first four chapters aloud. Even his shadows had calmed down, lying scattered around the room. A bunch of them remained by the bed, perched on the sheets, and hiding in the folds of their clothes. They became drawn into the mystical world of the book, completely lost in their peaceful bubble.

Until Eris’ stomach let out a low gurgle. His body tensed, his hand darting to his lips, and from the urgency in his amber eyes Azriel knew he had to act fast.

This time he was able to grab and shove the bucket under Eris’ chin in time to catch his meager breakfast making a reappearance. The fit didn’t last long, Eris’ stomach was nearly empty and by the end, he was mostly dry heaving.

“Cauldron fucking boil me.” He mumbled, his voice sounding as if it had been through a grater. He peeled his white-knuckled grip away from the bucket, and his nose wrinkled in disgust at the sight of the contents. “Sorry.” He glanced up at Azriel.

“Eris.”

“Sorry for saying sorry?” He tried again.

“You are the worst.” Azriel huffed a laugh, running his left hand up and down Eris’ back. “I’ll take care of that.” He reached for the bucket, and to his satisfaction, Eris let him. He stood up, and offered a hand to his mate, pulling him to his feet.

They both took off, to clean the bucket, and in Eris’ case, brush his teeth. Azriel did a detour towards the kitchen to grab a bowl of small, dry biscuits and more tea.

He found his mate in bed, re-braiding his hair with a cranky expression on his face.

“My precious mate. My darling, lovely Shadowsinger.” Oh no. Nowadays, he only called Azriel Shadowsinger when he was annoyed.

“Yes?” He asked innocently.

“Why in the world, would you neglect to tell me that I looked like I lost a fight to a nesting owl?” Eris demanded his eyes filled with burning irritation.

Well. His mate was right, and it made him look very endearing. But voicing that opinion would likely not help Azriel’s case.

Lacking a sufficient answer, he offered the hot tea with a not-entirely-honest apologetic smile.

“You are lucky you make a great pillow.” Eris huffed but accepted the beverage without protest. In fact, he immediately curled around it reminding Azriel of a ferocious dragon, guarding his treasure.

The day drifted by in a quiet, sleepy haze with the uncomfortable, sticky feeling of sickness lingering at the edge of Eris’ consciousness. He pecked himself through the biscuits and some fruit and then proceeded to be sick once more, at least this time in the toilet. He was getting tired of vomiting. Thankfully, vomiting seemed to be getting tired of Eris too, and by the evening he was able to keep down a small meal.

In exchange, his fever returned. Less high than yesterday, but still strong enough to have him burrowing firmer into Azriel’s side, trying to leech as much of his body heat as possible. Quite counterproductive, his mate pointed out. Eris ignored him as he simply wanted his shivering to cease. In the end, he was plied with more medicine and given a cold cloth to lay over his forehead. (Azriel offered the cooling bath again but Eris rejected it firmly, including a threat of violence, should he dare to try.)

Azriel kept reading the book. He could have read a list of ingredients or tax reports, Eris wouldn’t have complained. He cherished Azriel’s voice, took every opportunity to submerge himself in the deep, melodic flow of words Azriel usually kept for himself with his quiet nature. The reason Eris began to target him with pointed quips in the first place, long before they became a thing, was often to get him to talk, to hear that intoxicating deep voice. Something he was not going to admit to his mate anytime soon.

The book turned out to be much better than what the description implied. The first chapters were off to a rough start, but by the time Azriel reached the halfway point Eris was completely, unashamedly invested. The story was getting more and more twisted, with the protagonist stranded between getting her love interest handed over to the villain or her family losing their memories of her. She was about to make her choice, when…

“The end.” Azriel read.

“What do you mean the end?!” Eris tore the cloth away from his face. It fell into his lap with a wet plop as Eris was furiously scrambling for the book. “Surely, it cannot end like that!”

Azriel showed him the last page, his face just as confused.

“Wait, I found something.” He said, brows furrowing as another page fell away, sticking to the one they thought to be the last. Azriel’s brows furrowed as he read the couple of lines. “Oh. Apparently, this is a series of three.” He explained.

“Thank the Cauldron.” Eris flopped back onto the bed. “Nesta better has the other two, or else I’ll uninvite her from the next Autumn Equinox Ball.”

“I would be more careful with my threats, considering I didn’t ask for permission to borrow any of the books.” Azriel pointed out, his words slightly contradicted by the fact he was already climbing off the bed, on his way to find the sequel.

Eris didn’t remember falling asleep, but he awoke the next day with his head pillowed on Azriel’s chest, his face marked with the same lines as the wrinkles of his mate’s shirt, feeling much better, although drenched in sweat. During the night he must have sweated out his fever.

Azriel still made him spend the day lounging in bed, getting through the next two books and overall taking it easy. Eris didn’t mind.

By the fourth day Eris was marginally better, all of his symptoms gone aside from a residual headache. They took a short walk along the river as both of them started to crave fresh air, then ended up on the roof of the House of the Wind, in the little alcove created by the Night Court brothers, watching the stars.

As the final day arrived Eris had to bitterly acknowledge that his break with Azriel had come to an end. They spent the morning tangled in each other’s embrace, soaking up every second they got, knowing they wouldn’t be able to meet in person for an uncertain amount of time.

They opted for a bath instead of a shower. Eris spent a pathetically long time drying and braiding his hair. Then Azriel decided to cook up an entire three course meal for breakfast. Although neither of them said in out loud, it was obvious they were both delaying Eris’ departure with increasingly worse excuses. The final straw was the twenty minutes they spent looking for Eris’ coat, which was visibly draped over the only chair in Azriel’s room.

Eris put on his riding attire with a sigh, as Azriel dressed himself in his usual black leathers.

“Azriel.” Eris cleared his throat, facing his mate. “Thank you. For-“ Everything. His endless patience, his stubborn insistence on staying by his side, dealing with Eris’ insecurities and the whole ordeal he had to go through to organise this getaway. Eris wanted to thank him for all of it. But he couldn’t get any of the remaining words out as Azriel pulled him into a deep, loving kiss, effectively shutting him up. So, Eris transformed his words into feelings, collected them into a warm and radiant ball of energy and let it pour down their bond with full intensity.

The second Azriel’s lovely hazel eyes opened to stare, slightly taken aback, at Eris, he knew his message was understood. Azriel leaned in for a second kiss.

“No kisses for me?” Ayden teased, as him and Eris left the clearing.

“I can ask the dogs when we get back.” Eris offered, riding in front. His voice firm, but with an unusual playful undertone.

“Aaand, he has returned.” His little brother clicked his tongue.

For the next hour, Ayden proceeded to share the juicier details about his vacation. Apparently, he was able to get drunk enough to wake up to a stolen goat licking his face, in the middle of a corn field, without a shirt, boots and memories of the previous night. He was about to jump into another story, when suddenly, a sly grin appeared on his face.

“On, and I’ve heard a little rumour in the town, that the High Lord hadn’t been to a single meeting in three days. I hope it’s not some awful sickness.”