🌙✨Shadow Queen✨🌙

Help! Somebody please help me!

Azriel fumbled through the darkness, his senses failing him. He ran and ran toward the sound of that screaming, a child’s screaming.

Please, the child sobbed and begged, over and over. Please please please

“I’m coming!” Azriel shouted into the abyss. “Where are you?!”

His lungs burned as he ran and ran through the darkness, chasing the screams and sobs.

The hallway was so utterly dark even his shadows couldn’t help him navigate, the cold metal floor biting into his bare feet as he sprinted toward the desperate pleas.

Screams pierced through the darkness.

Then it hit him, the scent curling into his nose.

He nearly choked on the smell of burning flesh.

There—flames and smoke at the end of the hallway. Azriel barreled toward it, skidding to a stop at the source of the screaming.

A young child, no older than eight or nine, crouched on the ground of a filthy cell, his hands ablaze.

“Please, help me!” the child begged, tears staining his soft, pale cheeks.

Azriel gripped the metal bars, pulling and pushing. “I’m trying, just hold on,” he ground out through clenched teeth, fear pulsing through his veins.

The dirty, windowless cell was barely big enough to hold the child and his growing wings.

“Please,” he whispered, oil dripping from his hands as the flames began to sputter.

“No!” Azriel bellowed, tugging at the metal bars with all his strength. Tears rolled from his hazel eyes, the child’s eyes.

“No no no no no”

Azriel sank to his knees as the child curled over. “I’m sorry,” he said through shuddering sobs, his voice breaking as he reached through the bars to the child. “I’m so sorry,” Azriel wept, the weight of guilt heavy on his aching chest.

The child reached out with a limp, burnt hand, and Azriel grabbed it gently, laying it down on the cool ground.

Azriel

A voice far, far away beckoned.

Azriel, wake up

He couldn’t, wouldn’t leave this child. “Who did this to you?” he roared. “Who was it?”

Azriel

He knew that voice—ethereal, lilting, the voice of a beautiful girl singing a sweet melody in a sunny springtime garden.

Azriel, wake up, it’s just a—

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Within a second, Azriel grabbed your outstretched hand and had it pinned behind your back with the other as he got on his knees, towering behind you, Truth Teller flat against your neck. Your heart raced as the cold steel pressed harder against your throat. You froze, too stunned and terrified to move or speak. Azriel’s grip was immovable, the tension in his muscles taut as he pressed your back against him, your head resting on his shoulder.

“Who are you,” he growled in your ear, his voice low and menacing, cold and distant.

You couldn’t move. One flinch and Azriel would slice your throat.

“Azriel, it’s me,” you managed to choke out, Truth Teller splitting your skin open against the bob of your throat, warm blood pooling and trickling down the front of your neck.

He didn’t move.

You struggled to breathe. All your years of training and instinct failed you as Azriel’s grip tightened even further. The edge of the blade pressed harder against your skin, and you wondered if you would die at the hands of the Shadowsinger.

“It’s me, Y/N,” you tried again, wincing at the grip he had on your wrists.

As if the sound of your name woke him from his living nightmare, Azriel scrambled back, releasing you as Truth Teller clattered to the floor. Horror, rage and despair flashed across his savage, beautiful features.

“I’m—I’m so sorry,” he whispered, his voice raspy and guttural.

“I’m so so sorry.”

“It’s okay.” You dabbed at the slice across your throat with a trembling hand. “I’m okay, you—you were having a nightmare, I think.”

Exhaustion, emptiness and sorrow flickered as he made sense of what happened. He sat back on the sheets of his makeshift bed, rubbing a scarred hand across his face and through his silky onyx hair, glimmering in the moonlight. The storm had passed, replaced with a clear sky and the last sliver of a crescent moon. The whorls of inky black tattoos spanning his chest shifted as he moved closer to you. “Are you okay?” he asked.

“I’m okay,” you repeated.

For a moment, you both sat in silence. You had never seen the Shadowsinger act with anything but cool indifference. To see him now like this, you…

“Is everything…Do you wanna talk about it?”

Gods-damn you. Why did you care?

Azriel looked up, vulnerability and grief shining in his eyes.

Without thinking, you reached out, your hand lingering halfway between you two. You didn’t know if it was appropriate, or what to do in this situation, especially after what you said to each other a few hours ago.

You extended and laid your hand atop his scarred one.

Azriel stiffened under your touch, looking down at your entwined hands, then lifted his exhausted gaze back up to you. He shifted closer, his shadows creating a solid barrier between his wings and the fire at his back.

“I have two half-brothers,” he said too softly, his golden eyes glimmering like amber in the starlight. “My father had two legitimate sons before me. Cruel and spoiled. I was bastard-born, so they kept me locked up in a cell in my father’s keep for eleven years. No windows, no light. My Illyrian instincts would roar at me to fly, to escape, to fight, but I couldn’t.”

You didn’t know if you were breathing.

You were going to rip Lucien’s head off for putting you in this fucked up situation. What the hell were you doing here, comforting this brute who had been nothing but dismissive of you since you two met?

“When I was eight, my brothers decided it would be fun to see what happened when they mixed my quick healing gifts with oil—and fire.”

You froze.

Icy, primal wrath flickered in your blood, your bones.

“You were a child,” you breathed, voice trembling, fear now replaced with rage.

Azriel nodded in agreement. His dark hair was tousled, shadows smudged under his eyes.

“I still get nightmares from time to time. I hear myself screaming as a child, but I can’t save him. I’m always too late.”

It finally made sense. You were such an idiot.

His shadows’ reaction when you lit up the hearth…Was it fear when you flickered your magic toward the fireplace? Fear that you had miscalculated as shock and surprise?

That pang of guilt grew, gnawing and writhing.

“I’m so sorry,” you whispered, suddenly aware of the scars swirling his hand, right underneath your palm. As if he, too, became aware of it, Azriel pulled back.

Whatever he did to survive, whatever he did from spite or rage…it made sense. He had gone through unbelievable pain and grief, and was still haunted by the shadows of those memories centuries later.

You took him in as he sat across from you, a fallen prince. His wings, iridescent in the moonlight, hung limp behind him. He sat with preternatural stillness, his presence stealing the air from the tiny room, from your lungs. His shadows curled around and around, protecting and soothing from the horrors that he dreamt of.

“Your sheets, your shirt…they’re soaked.” Indeed, he must have been sweating, whether from the heat of the fire that you foolishly allowed him to sleep next to, or from the nightmare, or both.

Azriel studied the floor, then lifted his gaze to you.

He read the question in your eyes before you could ask it.

So you didn’t ask, and instead kept your voice firm and unwavering as you said, “You can sleep next to me.”

Azriel hesitated, unmoving, hazel eyes locked on yours.

Idiot. You were a stupid, foolish idiot.

You shifted under the weight of his intense stare, immediately regretting your words. With a wave of your hand, the fire died down to glowing embers, and you made to crack open the window a little more.

Azriel peeled off his sweaty cotton shirt. “I don’t have any more clothes,” he said, his voice hoarse. The icy, guarded demeanor had melted away, revealing the real, raw male beneath.

“That’s okay, the bed is warm enough.” You spoke softly, trying to hide the skipping beat of your heart at the sight of his exposed skin. You held your gaze, not allowing your eyes to betray you and drift lower than his, down toward the inky whorls of Illyrian tattoos that spanned his golden skin, his long, muscular arms and torso, the low cut of his pants slung just below his hipbones.

You crawled back into bed, pressing your back against the wall to make room for his wings to hang over the edge of the small frame. Despite his massive size, you managed to fit together, and with the storm finally passed, you knew it would only be a few more hours until you could leave this cramped room.

Azriel climbed in behind you, the bed creaking under his tall muscular build. As he settled in, you inched imperceptibly closer, nestling in the warmth radiating off him.

Yes, you were definitely going to have a word with Lucien about this trip.

His eyes were wide, sleepless and haunted, but the rage and grief that had filled them only moments ago had dissipated. Azriel’s breathing had deepened and slowed, and some small, stupid part of you was relieved that you could provide him that comfort.

You laid together in silence for a beat, then you reached out again, wrapping your fingers around his rough, calloused hand and pulling it close. You didn’t know what possessed you, but you kissed the back of his hand, his scarred skin warm beneath your mouth. Azriel’s eyes went wide, his nostrils flaring delicately, but he didn’t pull away this time. You kept your hand wrapped around his, shutting your eyes in a silent command for him to do the same.

And so he did.

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Azriel awoke with a start, his heart racing.

Safe. He was safe.

He rubbed at his gritty, sleepy eyes, slowly opening them to the morning sunrise filtering in through the tiny window.

He forgot he wasn’t alone.

He turned his head to find her still asleep, her chest rising and falling slowly with each breath. She was close, closer than when she had fallen asleep, her forehead pressed against his shoulder. He watched her for a few moments, his mind replaying the events of last night. A sense of relief washed over him.

The nightmare had been brutal, its claws digging deep into the wounds of his past, ripping them open once again. It was likely triggered by the fire she had brought to life, but he didn’t blame her—she couldn’t have known.

But she had been there, holding his hand and offering comfort. He had never felt so vulnerable, so exposed, had never bared his soul like he did last night. It was an intimacy that he hadn’t shared with anyone else—not even his brothers knew of the torment that still haunted him. But with her, he felt an inexplicable sense of safety. There were no reservations about sharing that side of himself.

Overwhelming guilt slammed into him.

She was right. He had been unkind toward her without reason. He should’ve dug more, learned why she was at the Spring Court, learned about her relationship with the Vanserra brothers and her obvious disdain towards Eris.

But he hadn’t. And instead, he had been a prick, as she rightfully claimed.  

He turned to her, sleeping soundly, and suddenly felt drawn to her. Felt the urge to be close, to relish in her warmth. He shook his head, clearing the thought from his mind.

Azriel let out a heavy sigh and gently shifted his body, releasing his hand from hers, trying not to wake her. He swung his legs over the edge, feeling the cool wood floor beneath his feet. Azriel glanced over his shoulder, checking that she was still asleep before standing up and making his way to the tiny cracked window. The room was still dim, but he could see the first light of the day peeking through the low clouds. The soft glow of the sunrise painted the icy landscape outside in a pink and gold hue.

Azriel began to pack his clothes, his eyes flickering to her sleeping form from time to time. The sight of her, cocooned in the blankets with her hair fanning out over the pillow, made his heart skip a beat. His eyes lingered on her lips, full and soft like a ripe fruit. A blush rose high on his cheeks as he shoved away the embarrassing thought.

Last night had been the first time he had ever let someone comfort him like that. He wasn’t sure how to feel about it, but he knew he wanted to be close to her, to feel her warmth, to hear the steady beat of her heart. It was a foreign feeling, one that he couldn’t quite understand, but he didn’t want to let it go.

“Y/N,” he said gently, and she stirred, rubbing her eyes and looking up to him. The thin straps of her top had fallen off her shoulders, revealing her delicate collarbone, the soft skin of her upper chest.

“Good morning,” she murmured.

“Good morning.”

“How did you sleep?”

Azriel raked his gaze over her body, still tucked under the sheets. “Like a baby,” he replied, amusement dancing in his eyes.

Her answering chuckle sent ice skittering over his bones.

She quickly got dressed and they headed downstairs to the dining room, feasting on the inn’s breakfast assortment of eggs and pastries, fruit and toast, juice and coffee.

As they ate, Azriel was relieved that she didn’t mention anything about the events of the previous night. He knew it was unlikely that they would continue to share that level of intimacy, and for some reason, he couldn’t help the regret and sadness settling in his chest at the thought.

They made their way outside and he scooped her up, trying not to think about how her body was pressed against his similarly last night, her lithe form barely covered by her thin satin pajamas.

Azriel launched up into the clear winter sky, the wind whipping through his hair as they soared toward the horizon.

He flew swiftly over the remainder of the Winter Court, navigating through the icy winds that lashed at his exposed wings. From up above, it was a vast expanse of icy landscape, blanketed in snow and ice as far as they could see. The trees were bare and frost-covered, rivers and lakes frozen solid. The sky was a stunning shade of pale blue as they flew across, the air crisp and biting. Despite the frigid temperatures, there was a stark beauty to the Winter Court, the snow and ice glistening like diamonds in the morning sunlight.

To his surprise, she offered interesting tidbits about the different Courts and their histories, revealing small parts of her past and stories about her travels.

The snow stretched out for miles before the warm glow of the Dawn Court countryside came into view. The sprawling countryside was awash in soft, golden light, with fields of vibrant wildflowers stretching out far, rolling hills dotted with pale stone castles and lush forests, the air filled with the sweet scent of blooming roses.

Y/N continued on with stories of her childhood, her training as a spy. Azriel countered with his own stories of the brutal Illyrian camps, his training so different, yet so similar to hers.

A part of him was grateful for the change, the difference between the silent journey to the inn and the casual conversation they were making now.

The lush greenery of Dawn continued and blended into the Day Court, a massive, sprawling dense forest dotted with clearings and meadows, crystal clear rivers reflecting the bright blue sky above. The warm, humid air carried the scent of fresh leaves and abundant lavender, forests of emerald green and sparkling lakes that glimmered in the sun.

Hours passed as they exchanged stories, some filled with laughter and some with quiet contemplation. Azriel flew tirelessly, soaring on and on as his mighty wings carried them north.

And finally, as the sun was setting, they arrived at the border to the Night Court—his home. Azriel felt at ease, finally coming to the end of this journey and looking forward to reuniting with his family at Solstice.

As he descended toward the base of the harsh, jutting mountains at the border, Azriel explained that there were indeed two sides to the Night Court, so they would have to winnow into the House of Wind, where she would be staying until the party tomorrow. Azriel landed gracefully, setting her down on the ground. Once she steadied herself, he grabbed her slender, soft hand, winnowing them to the warm, red-stone balcony of the House of Wind.

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A sense of awe washed over you. It was your first time in the Night Court, and the sheer size and intricate design of the House of Wind, carved right into the pale red cliff face of the mountain towering over the bustling city of Velaris, were unlike anything you had ever seen before.

You met Nesta at the front door, the High Lady’s intimidatingly gorgeous older sister. She led you through the grand entrance hall, adorned with glittering chandeliers and towering stone columns, up the winding staircase to your room.

As she opened the massive carved wooden door, your breath caught in your throat. The room was fit for a queen: a massive four-poster bed draped in luxurious silky fabrics, a seating area with plush velvet armchairs and a stone fireplace that crackled with warmth. The walls were pained in deep shades of purple and blue, and the ceiling was adorned with glittering stars that twinkled in the soft glow of the fire.

Nesta left to give you privacy, but not without summoning a glass of delicious red wine and a soft set of silky Night Court sleeping clothes. You indulged in a long, steaming bath and sipped the wine as you sorted through everything that had happened since you left Tamlin’s manor.

Azriel’s vulnerability left you stunned, as did the unexpected urge to comfort him. Never in a million years would you have imagined ending up sleeping side by side with the Shadowsinger, hands entwined. But you knew that it was just a fleeting moment.

Nothing would happen further. Nothing could happen.

You were bred to be a ruthless killer, a cunning spy. Not for things like love and intimacy.

The morning came quickly, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee filling your nostrils as you made your way down to the dining room. The table was set, and Cassian was already sipping from his cup. The High Lord’s other brother—Azriel had filled you in with plenty of stories of the three of them on your way here.

“Good morning,” Cassian greeted with a warm smile, his voice deep and rumbling.

You took a seat next to him, making small talk, and Nesta and Azriel walked in a few minutes later.

The four of you discussed the Solstice party and the High Lady’s birthday tonight. Cassian and Nesta would head over early to finish decorating and setting the food with caterers. As the conversation continued, you found your gaze occasionally drawn towards the Shadowsinger, but he appeared entirely focused on his siblings. You hated the small part of you that wished he would acknowledge you and your presence at the table.

As you all finished eating, you noticed the warm, full feeling in your belly—both from the delicious food and the company. But there was also a twinge of sadness and envy as you longed for the close-knit family bond that the Night Court seemed to have—something you had searched for your entire life.

You savored the lively conversation over breakfast, which ended up lasting longer than expected. You offered to help Nesta pick out an outfit for the night, digging through her wardrobe until you found the perfect dress: a deep-emerald gown that hugged her curves in all the right places. She looked stunning. You then joined Cassian for his afternoon training session, admiring his grace and strength as he moved through the air with ease. He offered to show you around the House, and you eagerly agreed, appreciating the opportunity to explore the breathtaking architecture and beauty of the stone-carved home.

As the sun began to dip below the horizon, you climbed back up to your room to get ready for the evening’s festivities. As you opened the door, you gasped at the stunning, flowing gown draped over your bed like a shimmering waterfall. The midnight blue fabric seemed to dance in the soft light, each fold and crease a work of art. You quickly bathed and got dressed, admiring the fine silky fabric as it slid and hung perfectly over your frame. The neckline was a modest v-neck that dipped into a subtle curve, drawing the eyes to the sparkling silver chain that rested just above your collarbone. The long sleeves were delicate and sheer, with silver embroidery that ran down the length of each arm. You never had the opportunity to wear something so beautiful, always reaching for your leathers out of comfort and habit. But this dress…You felt like a queen.

You made your way downstairs, Azriel already waiting on the balcony.

His eyes widened as he took you in.  

“You look beautiful,” he breathed, his eyes locking with yours.

Your cheeks flushed at his admiration.

“Thank you, Azriel.”

He looked absolutely striking himself. His dark black hair was swept back and his massive wings, shimmering in the glow of the setting sun, were tucked in behind him. He wore a perfectly tailored deep navy suit that hugged his broad shoulders and lean frame, paired with a crisp white shirt. The simplicity and elegance of his attire complemented his reserved nature perfectly. His deep hazel eyes, which were already stunning, were practically glowing, and his golden skin sparkled and shone under the stars, as if being at home brought a renewed sense of life back into him.

Ease and comfort settled over you, calming any nerves you had for tonight.

As you both stood in silence, taking in each other’s beauty under the twinkling stars above, your heart skipped a beat. You were completely in awe of his captivating beauty.

Azriel took a step closer, his scent suddenly intoxicating, then grabbed your hand as he winnowed you to the High Lord and Lady’s home.

The sound of music and laughter filled the air as you arrived at the River House. The vibrant atmosphere was in full swing, enveloping the entire space with an infectious energy. As you navigated your way through the lively crowd, Azriel’s reassuring hand rested gently on your back, providing a comforting anchor amidst the frenzied chaos.

The tantalizing scent of food and drink lured you further into the revelry, drawing you towards an inviting spread. You quickly grabbed a few small bites to nibble on, washing them down with a glass of wine. The sparkling liquid danced on your tongue, unlike any wine you had before, prompting you to reach for a second glass, then a third. Azriel excused himself to mingle with the other guests, leaving you to navigate the sea of people alone. Your eyes darted through the crowd, landing on Feyre and Rhysand. You made your way over to them, the train of your gown floating behind you.

As you approached, you felt a twinge of uncertainty, unsure whether to bow or curtsy in the presence of the High Lady. “Happy birthday—” before you could finish, Feyre pulled you in for a hug. “No need for formalities, Y/N,” she beamed, her gray-blue eyes sparkling under the Faelight orbs strung throughout the massive gallery. “I’m so happy you’re finally here.” You quickly caught them up on your journey, noticing the flicker of amusement and mischief in the High Lord’s eyes.

As the night went on, you were swept up in the magical, enchanting atmosphere of Solstice, indulging in glass after glass of sparkling pink wine. Surrounded by friends old and new, you felt a sense of belonging and joy that you hadn’t experienced in a very long time. As you swayed to the rhythm of the music, your dress flowed around you, the starlight catching the sparkling jewels at your neck and ears.

Every now and then, you caught a glimpse of Azriel in the crowd, his eyes occasionally flickering to yours as he watched you dance. A warm, comforting sensation spread throughout your chest as you met his gaze. Or was it the wine? You weren’t sure.

A flash of long bright-red hair caught your attention. You knew who it belonged to before he turned around, his amber and golden eyes fixing on yours, crinkling as his full lips broke out into a wicked grin.

Lucien sauntered over to you, glass of wine in hand, and leaned in to kiss your hand.

“Hello, my dear,” he purred. “Long time no see.”

You rolled your eyes at him.

“What do you want, Lucien?”

He feigned offense. “Can’t a friend ask for a dance?”

You finished your glass, setting it on the gilded tray of a passing server. Lucien grabbed you by the waist and pulled you into the bustling crowd, moving rhythmically to the beat of the lilting music.

As the two of you danced, Lucien asked about your journey with Azriel. You gave him an incredulous look, as if he truly thought you were stupid enough to not know he orchestrated the entire thing.

“Oh, it’s been delightful,” you replied. “The bat is my best friend now.” Lucien chuckled in response. “I’m quite pleased to hear that,” he said, his expression softening. “I’ve been trying to get you out of the Spring Court for some time now, you know.” You brushed back a loose strand of silky red hair, tucking it behind a pointed ear.

“I knew you would get along with him, you both just needed the opportunity to get over your egos and get to know each other,” he teased. You nodded, grateful for his meddling despite your irritation. “I won’t lie, I was ready to throttle you within the first hour of the flight up here.” He tipped his head back and laughed, the sound deep and hearty. “Well, I’m glad to know I made the right decision, then. You two make quite the formidable pair,” he said with a playful wink. “For the record, I had some help,” he added, his eyes flickering towards a certain smirking, violet-eyed High Lord. You gaped as you shook your head at him, and he raised his champagne flute from across the room in silent cheers, stars twinkling in his eyes.

“I need to get some damn air and away from you busybodies.”

Lucien pointed out the way to a private balcony where you could escape the crowd. You gave him a kiss on the cheek, promising his tipsy ass another dance that you knew wasn’t happening. You found a path out through the swarms of Fae, relishing the cool breeze wafting off the Sidra, the icy metal railing refreshing and cool against your palms.

“Can I join?” a familiar, deep voice asked from behind you.

You turned to find Azriel standing in the doorway, his wings spread behind him, his shadows curling lazily around.

“Of course,” you replied, turning back to admire the Sidra and the sparkling lights of Velaris reflecting in the water.

“How are you enjoying the night?”

You tilted your head back, gazing up at the strong cut of his jawline. “It’s been lovely,” you breathed. The wine had your head spinning, your cheeks flushed. Fuck. The endless glasses of wine hit you like a Gods-damned brick wall.

“I think the wine is getting to me, too,” he laughed, turning fully to face you.

Your stomach fluttered as you realized just how damn handsome he was. He had forgone the suit and now stood in his shirt and pants, stunning in the starlight.

You wondered what he had been thinking as he looked at you through the crowd, his eyes dark and intense.

You had shared a bed with this male, and although nothing happened, you felt a strange connection, a bond forming.

“Azriel,” you breathed, a jolt of nervous energy shooting through you. You lifted a hand, brushing it along the smooth skin of his cheek.

You weren’t thinking straight.

Azriel leaned into your touch, cupping his hand around yours.

“What is it?”

“I…I need to say something.” You couldn’t help the tipsy giggle that escaped your lips.

Mother above. What were you doing? This was not stealthy, brutal or lethal.

Azriel smiled softly, waiting for you to continue.

“We were just at each other’s throats a few days ago. Now look,” you said, pulling your hand back before you did anything even more stupid. “It’s crazy how things change, isn’t it?” You turned back toward the Sidra, needing to tear your gaze away from his.

“I know,” he said gently. “We’ve only known each other for such a short time, but…I feel this connection with you. It’s…so strange.”

“Stay,” he whispered, his voice low and intense.

“What?”

Your heart pounded in your chest.

He gently grabbed your chin, turning you to face him once again, his hand warm and strong against your skin. “Stay here, with me. In Velaris, as Spymaster. We could do it together. I could use your help.” He glanced down at the sharpened blade strapped against your thigh, its outline pressing against the silky dress hugging your body.

You took a step back, out of his touch.

There was no way this was real. What was in the wine you chugged?

“I—what?”

Azriel stood still, waiting for your response.

Your blood raced at the overwhelming intensity of his words. “I—Eris said I could have a new posting, that my time in the Spring Court was done.” Azriel nodded, a radiant smile spreading across his beautiful face.

“It’s settled, then.”

You held your breath as he leaned in and kissed you softly, his plush lips pressed against yours, his warm hands wrapping around your waist. A sudden sense of peace and contentment washed over you, and as you pulled away, you noticed Azriel’s wings had wrapped around you, enfolding you in a warm embrace against the cool night air.

“I’m so glad you’re here,” he whispered, his voice full of love and adoration. His breath brushed against your ear, sending shivers down your spine. “Thank you.”

And as you leaned back into him, you sent a silent prayer of gratitude to the Mother at the beautiful future that unfolded before you, with the Shadowsinger at your side.

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As you flew over the massive span of rolling green hills, you couldn’t help but marvel at the breathtaking view. Pink and yellow patches of wildflowers dotted the landscape, creating a stunning contrast against the verdant green. Eventually, the bright colors gave way to a familiar thick forest, with vibrant hues of deep red and sunset orange. The air was crisp, with the lingering scent of an eternal fall.

Despite the beauty of the Autumn Court, it never quite felt like home, but more of a cage under the constant scrutiny of your parents and the other High Fae’s political games. Although you were excited to finally have a chance to travel and get out, the Spring Court’s endless warmth had also become stifling.

Fortunately, the Shadowsinger didn’t need any directions, sparing you from any and all conversation. You had been dreading the thought of making small talk with Azriel, so you stayed quiet throughout the flight, taking in the sights and sounds of the world below.

And appreciating his muscles that shifted underneath your arms and legs as he soared gracefully for miles and miles. As much as you despised the male and his attitude, you didn’t mind savoring the warmth radiating off his body in the freezing air high above.

As you neared Eris’s manor, hidden beneath the dense foliage, Azriel began his descent. He had slowed down considerably as if sensing your discomfort during the initial takeoff. Catching a current and riding it down gently toward the roof of the manor, he expertly banked and landed with barely a sound. You stifled the surge of admiration for his impressive flying skills.

You didn’t miss the glint of exhaustion in his eyes as you hopped out of his arms. Azriel stretched and fluttered his massive wings, his muscular form silhouetted against the clear autumn sky. Despite his weariness, he managed to fly without stopping for hours, and landed with such quiet ease it was clear he had mastered the skies and honed his skills over countless flights.

Your mind cleared as you locked eyes with Eris, who was already waiting on the roof, greeting you with a smug smile and a wink that made your skin crawl. Even though you had grown up alongside Eris and the Vanserra brothers, you couldn’t shake the feeling of disgust and unease he provoked. The heir always had eyes for you.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself against the nausea and irritation that churned in your gut, before sauntering your way toward the red-headed lordling. The Shadowsinger knew better than to follow, keeping his distance toward the cream-colored ceramic fencing at the edge of the roof.

“Welcome home, darling,” Eris drawled, his voice dripping with sweet sarcasm. “What do you have for me?”

For weeks now, you had been diligently gathering information about the Spring Court spies and Rhysand’s plans to travel throughout Prythian. Despite your efforts, there wasn’t much to report other than the usual border disputes with the mortal realm. You knew Eris was anticipating some significant intel, but you had done your job, and you were eager to request a new posting. Let someone else handle the monotony of the Spring Court.

“Nothing out of the ordinary,” you replied coolly, fully aware that Lucien had likely already briefed his brother on this stupid little stunt of his, forcing you to play nice with the Shadowsinger. The glint in Eris’s eyes confirmed your suspicion. “Aside from what Lucien already told you.”

His smirk widened into a wicked grin. “Well, enjoy your ride to the Night Court,” he teased, his deep hazel eyes flickering toward the winged male standing far behind you. “I’ll see you at the party.”

You met his gaze head-on, refusing to let his words embarrass or intimidate you. Letting your lethal stare do the talking, you silently turned on your heel and stalked back to Azriel.

“Let’s go,” you growled, your anger simmering just below the surface. Without hesitation, Azriel scooped you up in his arms and shot up into the sky. Whether he was smart enough to not ask about your short encounter with Eris, or indifferent to it all, you didn’t care. Though he likely didn’t care for Eris given his history with The Morrigan, the High Lord’s notoriously stunning cousin.

Another conversation avoided.

Thank the Gods, the Mother and the Cauldron.

You needed to get away from all of this bullshit.

Azriel’s shadows provided a warm cocoon against the chill wind, so you didn’t notice as the multicolored forest became barren, the trees covered in a thin layer of sparkling ice and a soft dusting of bright white snow coated the ground. You also didn’t see the massive winter storm miles ahead, blocking any sight or visibility for miles. As Azriel soared closer to the edge of the Winter Court, it became evident that there was no way you would make it through the whiteout.

“We have to stop,” he said, his voice barely audible above the shrieking winds. His hands tightened around you as he pulled you closer into his chest and nosedived toward the snowy forest floor.

“There’s an inn between the borders of the two courts. We’ll spend the night there and head back out in the morning. I’m sure Kallias has already given Rhysand word of the storm, so he should know we’re running late.” You didn’t bother responding as you grabbed your pack from his and trekked through the ice behind him.

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As the innkeeper cautiously slid over the key to Azriel, who requested a room for two, you couldn’t help the knot forming in your stomach at the thought of sharing a room together. But after hiking through two miles of slushy snow and ice, your feet near-frostbitten, the prospect of a cozy inn and a warm bed for the night was more than welcome, even if it meant spending more time than you had planned with the Spymaster.

The downstairs level of the inn was packed with travelers seeking refuge from the storm, their laughter and chatter filling the air. You both kept your hoods down to avoid drawing attention, the tension between you palpable as you followed him up the narrow staircase.

The hallway upstairs was dimly lit, the flickering candles casting shadows on the wall, and lined with rooms on either side. Azriel ducked his head and tucked in his wings as he unlocked the small creaky door to your room, and you followed behind quickly, ready to tear off your soaked boots and hop into a boiling bath.

Your heart sank at the sight of a single bed tucked into the corner of the room, with only a thin dusty rug by the fireplace.

You locked eyes with him, unsure of what to say, but before you could speak, he offered, “I’ll take the floor.”

You didn’t argue.

He left the room after lighting the two small candles on the mantle above the fireplace, presumably to get extra bedding for himself, leaving you alone to run a bath. The scorching hot water was a welcome relief from the cold, and you soaked and scrubbed your tired body, feeling the tension in your muscles ease.

A pang of guilt writhed in your gut at you at the thought of using up the hot water for yourself, instead of letting the male who flew your ass out here go first. The male who just offered to sleep on the cold hard ground so you could sleep in a cozy bed.

You shoved the thought aside and sunk deeper into the tub.

Finally emerging from the steaming tub once it ran cold, you tugged on a clean pair of pajamas, the thin satin material hardly suitable for the freezing cold. Better than sleeping in dirty leathers, you supposed. Braiding your wet hair back into a plait, you walked out of the bathing room to a delicious aroma. Azriel was sitting on his makeshift bed on the floor, with piles of thin sheets and a fraying blanket for a pillow, and two bowls of steaming hot stew.

You mumbled your gratitude as you took your bowl and perched up on the bed, wrapping a blanket around your shoulders. You both ate in silence, but as the storm raged outside, the dilapidated window did nothing to keep the howling wind and freezing cold out. Azriel attempted to fix the windowpane and tighten the rusting latch but to no avail.

The chill threatened to seep into your bones, forcing you to take matters into your own hands. As much as you loved to run away from the confinements of the Autumn Court, you sent a silent prayer of thanks to the Mother for the gift you were granted because of it.

With a flick of your fingers, the fireplace roared to life, casting a warm glow throughout the room.

Azriel whirled around from the window, the only indication of his surprise. His cold, golden eyes revealed nothing.

You rolled your eyes at his ignorance. “Someone didn’t do his homework,” you said into your bowl as you sipped from the rim.

His shadows seemed to squirm under the heat, writhing faster around his shoulders and arms as if to protect him from the flames. You didn’t question it.

“We leave as soon as the storm dies down.” His voice was like life given to shadows, deep and rich and commanding against the incessant howling of the wind outside. “I’ll be up every few hours to check on the weather. I’ll wake you when it’s time to go.”

“I can check on the weather. You should rest, you must be exhausted from flying,” you said, trying your best to sound as amiable as possible, hoping it would end the nagging guilt you felt.

“I’m fine,” he snapped back. “I don’t need you to babysit me.” Violence danced across his beautiful, brutal features.

Anger coated your veins.

“What the fuck is your problem with me?” you said with calm lethality. “You’ve been nothing but a brooding, egotistical, dismissive asshole since the moment you stepped foot in the Spring Court. We don’t need to be friends, but you don’t need to be a pretentious, condescending dick toward me, either.”

His face was a mask of stone, but his eyes flickered in the light of the hearth like molten gold. “You are loyal to my enemies,” he seethed, his shadows like asps at his back. “I have no reason to like you, no reason to trust you. Once I drop you off at Rhysand’s doorstep you are no longer my problem.”

Rage licked its way up your spine and into your bones, the heat of the fire matching the intensity of your anger. “Hate me all you want, Shadowsinger,” you spat, “It doesn’t change anything. Do you agree with every decision your High Lord makes?” He went still, shadows of death dancing in his eyes. The dim, gold light of the fire caressed his tan skin, the tips of his tattoos flickering just above the collar of his black sweater.

“I didn’t think so. And since you seem to be unaware, I was sent to the Spring Court as a favor to Lucien, not because I’ve sworn loyalty to Tamlin. You may think your shadows tell you all, but there are some things even they don’t know.” His shadows rippled around him, as if reacting to your words.

For a moment, the room was silent except for the crackling of the fire and the shrieking wind outside.

He let out a harsh laugh, full of the dark, swaggering male arrogance, but didn’t respond.

He knew you were right.

His shadows curled protectively around him, dark as night and soaking up every bit of light glowing from the fireplace.

So you turned your back to him, pulling the blankets and sheets up over your head, and let the deep, long-awaited sleep claim you.

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I just updated the tag list so I’m sorry if you got tagged twice! Xx