pro peace and quiet

Azriel's interactions with Gwyn are almost entirely circumstantial. They happen because she's present during training or because he encounters her while carrying out his duties. Even when he sees her alone, his thought is simply whether it's too late to bank on her. With Elain, however, the pattern is completely different. Azriel consistently chooses to move toward her, seek her out, and initiate the interaction himself.

With Gwyn: He found it already occupied. His shadows had not warned him. It was too late to bank without appearing like he was running. Azriel landed in the ring a few feet from where Gwyn practiced in the chill night, her sword glimmering like ice in the moonlight.

With Elain: Azriel emerged from the sitting room, a glass of wine in hand and wings tucked back to reveal his fine, yet simple black jacket and pants. I felt, more than saw, my sister go still as he approached. [...] in time to see Elain say to Azriel, “Hello.” Az said nothing. No, he just moved toward her.

I found Elain studying it, beautiful in her amethyst-colored gown. I made to move toward her, but someone beat me to it. The shadowsinger was clad in a black jacket and pants similar to Rhysand’s—the fabric immaculately tailored and built to fit his wings. He still wore his Siphons atop either hand, and shadows trailed his footsteps, curling like swirled embers, but there was little sign of the warrior otherwise. Especially as he gently said to my sister, “Happy Solstice.”

Azriel smiled faintly. “Would you like me to show you the garden?”

“Can I set you up in the garden? The herbs you planted are coming in nicely.” “I can help her,” said Azriel, stepping to the table as Elain silently rose. No shadows at his ear, no darkness ringing his fingers as he extended a hand

When Gwyn asks about his powers, Azriel answers politely, but the narration doesn't frame the conversation as something he's particularly invested in. With Elain? He puts his fork down, gives her his undivided attention, and suddenly becomes the Night Court's resident poet.

With Gwyn: She shrugged again, irreverently. Az narrowed his eyes, studying her. “Do you, though?” she pressed. “Sing?” Azriel couldn’t help his soft chuckle. “Yes.” She opened her mouth to ask more, but he didn’t feel like explaining

With Elain: Elain said to Azriel, perhaps the only two civilized ones here, “Can you truly fly?” He set down his fork, blinking. I might have even called him self-conscious. He said, “Yes. Cassian and I hail from a race of faeries called Illyrians. We’re born hearing the song of the wind.” “That’s very beautiful,” she said. “Is it not—frightening, though? To fly so high?” “It is sometimes,” Azriel said.

The rescue scenes are another major contrast. During the Blood Rite, Azriel stays composed and mission-focused despite Gwyn being among those in danger. You'd see Cassian losing his mind over Nesta's safety while Az was way too logical for someone who's supposed "mate" is in danger. But when Elain is taken, his reaction is immediate and deeply personal. That man doesn't care if he dies as long as he go after her.

With Gwyn: “There are plenty of other unspeakable things that could be happening to her,” Cassian said, voice thickening. “To Emerie and Gwyn.” The shadows deepened around Azriel, his Siphons gleaming like cobalt fire. “You—we—trained them well, Cassian. Trust in that. It’s all we can do.”

With Elain: Azriel said, as if in answer to some unspoken debate, “I’m getting her back.” Nesta slid her gaze to the shadowsinger. Azriel’s hazel eyes glowed golden in the shadows. Nesta said, “Then you will die.” Azriel only repeated, rage glazing that stare, “I’m getting her back.”

The aftermath of each rescue also matters. Saving the priestesses is part of Azriel's mission, and once they're safe, he continues pursuing the remaining enemies. When he rescues Elain, despite his own injuries, he refuses to let her go. His attention remains entirely on her, even making sure her chains are removed before anything else.

During the priestesses rescue: Azriel slaughtered all of them within moments. He didn’t hesitate. But I could barely move, and when I tried to get up … He gave me his cloak and wrapped me in it. Morrigan arrived a few minutes later, and then Rhysand appeared, and it became clear some of the soldiers had gotten away with the piece of the Cauldron, so Azriel headed after them. Mor healed me as best she could, then brought me to the library

With Elain: Azriel gently removed the gag from her mouth. “Are you hurt?” She shook her head, devouring the sight of him as if not quite believing it. “You came for me.” The shadowsinger only inclined his head. [...] Azriel still cradling Elain to his chest. He dripped blood behind him the entire time—a trickle compared to the torrent that should be leaking out. [...]One saw Azriel and shouted for a healer to hurry for the spymaster’s tent.[...]Rhys lunged for Azriel, taking Elain from him and gently setting my sister down. Azriel rasped, swaying on his feet, “We need Helion to get these chains off her.”

Then there's the necklace. It wasn't "Gwyn's necklace." It was Elain's necklace. Azriel bought it specifically for Elain. When she returned it, he didn't suddenly decide it belonged to Gwyn. He simply wanted to get rid of a painful reminder, that man doesn't give a single fuck if it goes to another priestess.

With Gwyn: “Look, I . . .” Az searched for the words, his voice becoming quiet. “If there’s another priestess here who might appreciate it, give it to them. But I’m not taking that necklace with me when I leave.”

With Elain: He pulled the small velvet box from the shadows around him. Opened it for her. [...]The golden necklace seemed ordinary—it’s chain unremarkable, the amulet tiny enough that it could be dismissed as an everyday charm. It was a small, flat rose fashioned of stained glass, designed so that when held to the light, the true depth of the colors would become visible. A thing of secret, lovely beauty.[...] He found Elain’s necklace amid the pile.

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“Lucien will become High Lord of Day!”

It wasn’t a guarantee that a High Lord’s firstborn would be his heir. The magic sometimes took a while to decide, and often jumped around the birth order completely. Sometimes it found a cousin instead. Sometimes it abandoned the bloodline entirely. Or chose the heir in that moment of birth, in the echoes of a newborn’s first cries. It wouldn’t matter to Cassian, though, if Rhys’s son inherited his world-shaking power, or barely a drop. 22

“Azriel felt a spark for Gywn! That means they are endgame!”

“Would you like me to grovel with gratitude for bringing me here, High Lord?” “Ah. The Suriel told you nothing important, did it?” That smile of his sparked something bold in my chest. feylin 18

“Gwyn will be with Az because she has flexible bones for Illyrian babies!”

sicko freaks

Gwyn gestured to her large eyes—blue so clear it could have been the shallow sea—and her lithe body. “My bones are slightly more pliant than ordinary High Fae’s, but who cares about that?” Perhaps that was why Gwyn was so good at the balancing and movement. 29

“Azriel is toxic for being jealous of the mating bond Rhys and Cassian have!”

Rhys threw him a wicked smile. “It’s not the fighting I don’t want them hearing.” Cassian grinned right back, even as something like jealousy tugged on his gut. He didn’t begrudge them their happiness—not at all. There were plenty of times when he’d see the joy on Rhys’s face and have to walk away to keep from weeping, because his brother had waited for that love, earned it. Rhys had gone to the mat again and again to fight for that future with Feyre. For this. But sometimes, Cassian saw that mating ring, and the portrait behind the desk, and this house, and just … wanted. 3

“Elain needed sunlight because she doesn’t fit in the darkness of The Night Court!”

Cerridwen moved to shut the curtains, sealing the room in darkness. My heart stumbled, taking my anger with it, and I blurted, “Leave them open.” I couldn’t be sealed up and shut in darkness—not yet. Cerridwen nodded and left the curtains open, both of the twins telling me to send word if I needed anything before they departed. 14

“Elain will live in The Spring Court because she likes to garden!”

“There is a garden—at my other house, ” I said. “I’d like for you to come tend it, if you’re willing.” Elain only turned toward the sunny windows again, the light dancing in her hair. 24

“What now?” Elain mused, at last answering my question from moments ago as her attention drifted to the windows facing the sunny street. That smile grew, bright enough that it lit up even Azriel’s shadows across the room. “I would like to build a garden,” she declared. “After all of this … I think the world needs more gardens.” 80

Azriel and Elain remained in the sitting room, my sister showing him the plans she’d sketched to expand the garden in the back of the town house, using the seeds and tools my family had given her tonight. 22

Another kiss, this time to my cheek. “Build a house with rooms for all our family.” He kissed my other cheek. “Build a house with a garden for Elain, ..” 22

Elain was happily ensconced in the new riverfront estate, and had spent the spring and summer planning and nurturing its spectacular gardens—all while avoiding her mate—.. sneak peek at the back of acofas for acosf!

Elain had walked in halfway through. She’d been toiling in the estate gardens since dawn, and had been solemn as Rhys filled her in. 2

Elain, mourn as she might for the life she would have had with Graysen, had found a place, a role here. Tending to the gardens of Feyre’s veritable palace on the river, helping other residents of Velaris restore their own destroyed gardens—she had purpose, and joy, and friends: those two half-wraiths who worked in Rhysand’s household. 3

Elain wrung her slender fingers, nails kept trimmed short for her work in the gardens. 17

“SJM is a fated mates author and they are always endgame!”

“At least he liked you," Rhys countered, then clarified for me, "my father and mother, despite being mates, were wrong for each other." 16

“You said your mother and father were wrong for each other; Tamlin said his own parents were wrong for each other.” 24

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