F A U X D E T T E

Last updated: 25th April 2026

OF COURSE since we’ve heard from Feyre and Nesta we would hear from Elain.

OF COURSE SJM has laid the foundation for the next storyline in ACOFAS and ACOSF.

OF COURSE Lucien would be a part of Elain’s story (he’s her mate).

OF COURSE Azriel would be a part of Elain’s story (they wanna fuuuuck).

Gwyn is not a part of Azriel’s story she’s a part of NESTA’S story! “But Azriel was a part of Nesta’s story in HOFA—“DO YOU KNOW WHO ELSE IS A PART OF NESTAS STORY ALWAYS?? ELAIN!

everyone mistook her

for a flower.

(flowers,after all,

bow)

they simply forgot

that gardens

have always known

how to bury

kingdoms

“I hear congratulations are in order.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Well, I was planning on sleeping here.”

His gaze swept slowly across the familiar sitting room.

“I didn’t realise it was occupied.”

She stared at him.

“Not here, Az.”

A beat.

“Here. In Velaris.”

He regarded her for a long moment, as though deciding whether she deserved an answer.

“I was invited.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“I usually am.”

She let out a brittle laugh, shaking her head.

“This is hardly the first invitation you’ve received in the last five years.”

“No.”

“But it’s the first you’ve accepted.”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

He didn’t reply.

Instead, his attention drifted past her shoulder.

The books stacked neatly beside the sofa.

Fresh flowers on the windowsill.

A cardigan draped over the armchair.

Signs of a life lived.

A home.

“You live here.”

Her brows knitted together.

“Of course I live here.”

“Not with him?”

Her mouth parted.

For one absurd heartbeat, she couldn’t think how to answer.

“My living arrangements are none of your concern.”

“No. I suppose not.”

Silence stretched between them.

She hated that he could still do this. Make her feel as though every secret she’d ever kept was written across her face.

“What are you doing here, Az?”

He waited a long moment before answering.

“I was commanded to come.”

“Commanded?”

“By my High Lady.”

Ah.

Not because he wanted to.

Not because he’d chosen to.

Because he’d been ordered.

Her fingers curled into her palms.

She forced them to unfurl.

“I see.”

She looked away.

“Well… like you said. I live here. So…” She gestured towards the still-open front door.

“Why do you live here, Elain?”

“We are not doing this.”

“Doing what? Having a polite conversation?”

“You’ve got some nerve.”

“So I’ve been told.”

Something hot and sharp twisted beneath her ribs.

“This isn’t some mission for you to pick apart. This is my home. My family. My life.”

She took a step towards him.

“I don’t know what you’ve convinced yourself you’ve deduced in the five seconds you’ve been standing here, and I don’t particularly care. Whatever you’re looking for, Azriel…”

She held his gaze.

“Leave me out of it.”

A muscle ticked in his jaw.

Then he bent, lifting his pack from where he’d left it beside the door. He shrugged it onto one shoulder, then reached down for the pair of gloves he’d dropped on the hall table, tugging them back over his scarred hands with slow, practiced movements.

At the door, he paused, and when he finally spoke, his voice was so quiet she almost thought she’d imagined it.

“I’m trying to.”

The latch clicked softly behind him.

Sleep had abandoned her weeks ago.

It circled just beyond reach, waiting until exhaustion dragged her under for an hour or two before another dream—or the absence of one—wrenched her awake.

Tonight was no different.

So Elain wandered.

Barefoot, wrapped in a thin robe against the cool night air, she slipped downstairs in search of tea. Silence. Anything that belonged only to her for a little while longer.

The entrance hall lay in darkness, moonlight spilling through the tall windows onto polished marble.

She was halfway across it when the front door opened.

A rush of cool air drifted inside.

Someone stepped over the threshold.

Broad shoulders.

Black leather.

A travel pack lowered to the floor.

Her heart lurched.

No…

Not again.

She closed her eyes.

For years, she’d caught glimpses of him everywhere.

A male with dark hair disappearing into a crowd.

Shadows stretching across a rooftop at dusk.

A familiar laugh carried on the wind before she remembered his laugh had always been too quiet to travel that far.

Her mind had become cruel in the years he’d been gone.

She counted a single breath.

Then another.

When she looked again…

He hadn’t vanished.

Real.

Every impossible inch of him.

Her breath snagged somewhere beneath her ribs.

He stilled.

As though he’d heard it.

And looked up.

Time had not softened him.

It had made him dangerous.

Harder around the mouth. Broader through the shoulders. Dark stubble shadowed the face she’d spent years forcing herself not to remember. New scars traced skin she’d once imagined tracing herself.

Her pulse stumbled.

She should have felt anger.

Resentment.

Instead, something long buried stirred painfully back to life.

Five years.

Five years of teaching herself not to look for him whenever a room fell quiet.

Five years of trading away tiny pieces of herself until she’d almost forgotten who she’d been before he left.

And one look was all it took for her to realise she’d only been pretending.

“Az?”

His expression didn’t change. But something dark flickered behind his hazel eyes.

His gaze drifted over her face as though committing it to memory.

Then lower.

To the diamond glinting against her left hand.

He looked at it for only a heartbeat.

When his eyes returned to hers, whatever she’d glimpsed had disappeared behind the same unreadable mask he’d always worn.

Today I saw someone suggest that Mor is Elain’s love interest because Elain told Graysen, “I don’t want a mate. I don’t want a male.”

Sarah has spent multiple books building the connection between Elain and Azriel: the charged moments, the stolen glances, the gift exchange, the bonus chapter, the constant parallels, the way other characters notice what’s happening before they do.

Meanwhile, Elain saying she doesn’t want a male in the immediate aftermath of her engagement ending and being thrown into a mating bond she never asked for feels less like a clue about Mor and more like… exactly what she said it was.

Not wanting a mate ≠ not wanting love.

Not wanting a male assigned to you by fate ≠ not wanting Azriel.

Sometimes it feels like fandom will consider literally every possible outcome except the one the books have been steadily setting up for years.

Chapter 6: Escape Route preview

Feyre is first.

She crosses straight to Elain, pulling her into another hug—tighter this time.

“I’ll see you soon,” she says quietly, brushing her thumb once along Elain’s cheek.

Elain nods. “Be careful.”

Feyre steps away and moves straight to Rhys.

“Don’t be late home, agent.”

He smirks. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

She kisses him—palm flat against his chest.

Nesta lingers a fraction longer.

Her attention moves over Elain—measured, unreadable—then her gaze flicks, just once, to Azriel.

“Go easy on her, Shadow.”

He blinks.

It’s not what he expects.

Before he can parse it further, Nesta tilts her head in a small, efficient gesture toward her handler.

“Let’s go.”

They pass Cassian on their way out.

He straightens immediately, like he’s been waiting for her trajectory.

“Anvil?”

“Mm?”

“Drive safely.”

His grin widens like it’s been handed to him personally.

“Shouldn’t be a problem without you in the car to distract me.”

Nesta huffs a quiet laugh through her nose—barely there, almost unwilling—and then turns away quickly.

He watches her go for half a second longer than necessary.

Then he follows, falling into step with Rhys’s convoy, Isaac and the last two handlers moving with him into the dark.

Rhys pauses last.

“Bring her home.”

Azriel knows the words are for him.

“I will.”

And just like that—it’s only the two of them.

Azriel reaches for the duffel at his feet and slings it over his shoulder.

I

Don’t

Fucking

Know

You

Tell

Me