#wtsd

Eris rolled his shoulders, seemingly at ease despite being surrounded by the Night Court's most deadly warriors. "I am not entirely sure what he wants, but I assume it has something to do with my sister, Y/n."

Y/n, the only daughter of the High Lord of Autumn. She was quite young, by Fae standards – only seventy-nine. She had not fought in the war against Hybern, and had very little training according to Azriel's knowledge.

"Why her?" Feyre asked carefully.

Azriel heard the shift in her tone. She was wondering, as they all were, what Beron intended to do with her. The Autumn Court was just as backwards as the Court Of Nightmares, and females were considered little more than property. 

Eris simply shrugged, either not hearing the implications in the High Lady's tone, or simply not caring. "That is all I know, I'm afraid."

Cassian grunted, his eyes still on the heir to the Autumn throne. No one was particularly happy about the bargain they had struck with him, but he seemed to be a willing ally. For now.

"What can you tell us about her?" Feyre inquired.

Eris watched her for a moment, before responding, "She is… wild. Untamed, and unpredictable."

Despite his words, Azriel sensed a flicker of admiration in his tone. Azriel stored that piece of information away. It could be a weakness of Eris's, his sister. They may need to exploit it one day.

"Sounds like my kind of lady," Mor grinned.

The fact that Mor bothered speak in Eris's presence was a gift that the heir did not appreciate enough. Azriel glanced sidelong at her, noticing the way her unbound golden hair cascaded down her back, and the amount of skin her low-cut red dress revealed. Once, looking at her like that would have sent Azriel mad with longing. But after she had confided in him, after she had revealed she could never love him back because she preferred females… some part of him had been relieved to let her go.

Eris scoffed at Mor's comment. "Yes, well, she irritates my father to no end."

There was a silence, and Azriel wondered whether Y/n annoyed Eris as well, before Rhys sighed, "Well, if that's all, Eris, I'm sure you have places to be."

The dismissal was clear in the High Lord's tone, and Eris rose from his chair with a nod before leaving the council room. Everyone was silent as the male left, all eyeing each other. Feyre and Rhys were looking at each other, a clear indication of their telepathic conversation, and Azriel watched the two with a hint of jealousy. Of course he was happy from them – finding one's mate was one of the most fulfilling things one could experience. But he couldn't help but feel a sense of longing for his own. It seemed he was the last of the court to find his mate, and he had a fear that he would never find them.

"Has anyone heard much about this Princess?" Cassian asked, looking towards Azriel.

Azriel shook his head. "She is one of the most guarded individuals in Prythian. My sources struggle to even see her."

"Very guarded indeed," Rhysand murmured.

The Court of Dreams debated between themselves the possibilities of what the High Lord of Autumn could want regarding his daughter. Azriel had a few of his own suspicions – to have her taken away, or perhaps trained in combat – but none of them seemed accurate. 

After a while of debating plausible explanations for Beron's offer, the court decided to head home to the City of Starlight in order to get a good night's rest before their meeting tomorrow. The High Lord and High Lady were going, as well as Cassian and Azriel. Morrigan was not permitted in the Autumn Court, so she would stay behind with Nesta to hold down the fort while they were gone. Amren would also be travelling to the Autumn Court, and although the monster she was no longer crawled beneath her skin, she made most people wary.

As he lay in his bed, Azriel couldn't help but wonder what awaited him tomorrow. He was curious about what the Autumn High Lord wanted, especially regarding his daughter, although he was also wary. Although Autumn had helped them in the war, they couldn't be trusted. Azriel fell into an uneasy sleep, cautious of the days to come.

Azriel awoke at dawn the next day. They weren't due in the Autumn Court until the evening, so Azriel decided to go through his morning exercises. The Valkyries weren't up yet, so he went through his warm ups, taking his shirt off halfway through. The morning was uneventful, and Azriel ran over the information they had in his head. Eris had suggested that Beron may be seeking a favour of some sort, so perhaps it had something to do with that.

The day passed by quickly, and soon enough, those travelling to the Autumn Court had gathered in the living room of the River House, just as they had planned. Azriel and Cassian wore their scaled, black armour, while Rhys and Feyre wore their finery. Rhysand held his mate's arm, and Azriel grabbed onto Cassian, before winnowing to the entrance of the Autumn Court castle.

It was big, and made of stone. It was quite majestic, if Azriel was being honest – high towers and red and orange flags waving in the wind, large windows showcasing rich carpets and tapestries inside.

Rhys led the way, Feyre on his arm and Cassian and Azriel following closely, and Amren trailing behind. Guards monitored them as they passed through the halls, their armour heavier the closer they got to the throne room. Azriel marked each one as they passed, something he was sure Cassian and Rhysand were also doing.

The doors to the throne room opened, and revealed the High Lord of the Autumn Court sat atop a dais, the Lady of Autumn seated beside him. Beron's sons stood on his left, and his daughter was seated to her mother's right.

Azriel paused at the sight of her. She was beautiful, even by Fae standards. Her h/c hair shone in the Fae light liming the walls, piled neatly on her head in a braid crown. Y/n’s e/c eyes sparked with mischief and curiosity, skimming over the members of Azriel's Court, until they finally landed on him. Her gaze was mesmerising, and Azriel couldn't find it in himself to break it. A small smirk played at the corners of her mouth, as if she were aware of the effect she had on him, although Azriel's mask of icy cold had not budged even an inch. Azriel quickly tore his eyes away from the Daughter of Autumn, marking the guards posted by the doors and the dais, and counting the weapons each of Beron's sons carried. 

"Beron," Rhysand purred, ever the arrogant High Lord, the mask back up despite the High Lords' meeting all those months ago. "So lovely to see you again. Thank you for inviting us to stay."

Beron rose from his dias and stalked towards the High Lord of the Night Court. Everyone tensed as he stepped closer and closer, and Azriel subtly reached for the dagger at his side. Beron's blood would spray across the marble floors the second Azriel suspected he would harm his High Lord or Lady. But Beron simply held his hand out, and Rhys gripped it tightly, his eyes holding a small amount of surprise.

"Rhysand. A pleasure to have you here," Beron replied. Azriel didn't miss the slight strain in his voice. "You must be hungry. Shall we?"

Beron inclined his head to the dining room and led the way with Rhysand and Feyre at his side. He hadn't even acknowledged the High Lady, something that made Azriel want to rip the male’s head off, but Rhys got there first.

“And what about my High Lady?” Rhys purred, a dangerous edge to his voice.

Beron’s smile faltered slightly, and he glanced at Feyre with a barely concealed look of distaste, as if he would rather rip off his own toenails than address a female with the same amount of respect that he would expect. Azriel felt a protective anger surge through him, and he watched carefully, curious as to what the High Lord’s next move would be.

“Of course,” Beron said, his voice dripping with fake courtesy. “My apologies, Lady Feyre. Of course it is wonderful to have you both visit.”

Cassian gave Azriel a look that said, And-what-about-us? Aren't-we-wonderful?

Azriel sent him a look back that said, Shut-the-fuck-up.

Beron led them all to the dining room, the Autumn colours present everywhere they looked. The chairs were all high-backed, and Azriel knew that Beron did not care if he and Cassian would be comfortable with their wings. Everyone took their seats — Beron at the head, Rhysand to his left, and Feyre beside him. Azriel sat next to his High Lady, Cassian taking his seat adjacent to the shadowsinger. The Lady of Autumn (still not a High Lady, despite the fact that Viviane was also now a High Lady) sat to Beron’s right, Eris beside her, and Y/n next to him, and across from Azriel. Azriel felt Y/n’s eyes on him, and he met her gaze. There was a curious look in her eyes, a look of anticipation mixed with mischief.

Dinner was served, an array of meats and vegetables placed on the table by servants, mostly lesser fairies. None of them looked Azriel in the eye, and he wondered if it was because they knew who and what he was, or if they’d been trained not to. Y/n, however, had no such qualms about this, and stared at the shadowsinger unabashedly.

Beron struck up a conversation with Rhys — small talk, something that Azriel internally cringed at, because it was definitely just to fill the silence. Ever the gracious guest, Rhysand responded in kind, although Azriel knew he was wondering what Beron’s ulterior motives were.

“How do your siphons work?”

The table went silent as Y/n spoke, her cunning eyes trained on Azriel. Beron looked at his daughter with a hint of irritation gleaming in his eyes, as if it was unacceptable for her to speak without permission. Azriel glanced at Rhysand, who was watching the daughter of Autumn with a hint of suspicion in his eyes.

“How do you know that is what they are called?” Rhys asked, his eyes trained on the only daughter of Autumn.

She shrugged, and answered, “I read a lot in my spare time. I remember reading about the Illyrians, and their siphons. If I remember correctly, Illyrians tend to possess only one, yet the two of you hold several.”

“There is no need to question our guests, Y/n,” Beron scolded firmly.

Y/n frowned. “I was simply curious.”

“Do not speak back to me,” Beron reprimanded, a burning fury now evident in his eyes.

Y/n slumped back into her chair slightly and bowed her head. “My apologies, Father.”

Beron didn’t even acknowledge his daughter before he turned back to Rhys, as if her mere existence didn’t deserve another moment of his time. Azriel watched the female in front of him as she stared at her plate, and felt a sense of sympathy for her. Azriel owed her nothing — he did not know the female in front of him, did not know if she even deserved his sympathy — and yet he felt the need to protect, to wipe that blank expression off of her face.

“Our siphons act as a conduit for our raw power,” Azriel offered, causing Y/n to look up. Beron paused, glancing at the shadowsinger and the Autumn daughter, and Azriel continued, “It helps to control our magic, to make it precise and nimble, rather than a messy outburst of power.”

Cassian gaped at his brother, as if he had never heard that many words come out of Azriel’s mouth in one sitting. While that was an inaccurate statement, it was true that Azriel never tended to speak in front of new people. He wasn’t sure why he had done so anyway. But Y/n bowed her head in thanks at the information, perhaps still wary of answering and speaking without her father’s permission, but Azriel had observed a small, triumphant light in the female’s eyes at his reply.

Azriel watched as that gleam faded when Beron cleared his throat, gaining the attention from everyone in the room.

“There is a reason why I have asked you here,” Beron stated.

“Surprise, surprise,” Cassian muttered, and Azriel elbowed him.

Beron glanced at Cassian for all of a second before continuing, “There has been an attempt on my daughter’s life.” Stunned silence met Beron’s words, and Azriel caught Y/n rolling her eyes. That raised his suspicion — were Beron’s words false, or did she simply believe it was not an issue? “If it appeals to you,” Beron went on, “I seek to employ one of your Night Court warriors as her personal bodyguard.”

Rhys blinked once, his only sign of surprise. Beron looked at Rhys expectantly, and Azriel could have guessed the thoughts that flew around Rhys’s head.

“Why one of my warriors?” Rhys inquired carefully.

“I hoped it might help strengthen bonds between our courts,” Beron expressed.

Azriel watched the High Lord of the Autumn Court carefully. There seemed to be no ulterior motives hidden within his demeanour — he did not shift nervously, none of his facial features even so much as twitched.

“And say I agree to this,” Rhys said casually, “how long would you hold onto one of my warriors?”

“Until the threat against my daughter’s life is eliminated,” Beron answered.

There was silence for a few moments while everyone processed what was happening. Azriel looked at Eris to see the male’s eyes on his father. They were carefully guarded, a mask in place to ensure no one was able to discern what he was thinking. Azriel turned his gaze to Y/n, and a shadow slithered up by his ear.

She does not believe it to be such a serious matter, the shadow whispered. She wishes for this dinner to be over so she may go back to her quarters and finish her novel.

Azriel blinked in surprise at the information from his shadow. Usually, his shadows would tell him what others could not see and hear — but this felt almost like too much. Yes, his shadows had a tendency to recognise when someone was lying, or what weapons they were concealing, but to give him a person’s unvoiced opinion on a matter was something new.

But indeed, with her chin propped up on her delicate hand, and twirling her dessert fork in the other, she appeared to be completely disinterested. Azriel turned his gaze back to the male beside her, to see Eris already watching his sister. His eyes were cold and calculating as he regarded her, as if he was mentally playing out how this ‘bodyguard’ situation would go. With the slight frown tugging the corners of his lips downwards, Azriel assumed Eris did not believe it would end well.

“Please, do take time to come to a decision,” Beron offered. “I do understand this is a lot to ask.”

“We shall have an answer by the end of the week,” Rhys said with a nod.

Beron nodded back, and Azriel wondered what they were getting themselves into.

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So he had distanced himself after the inner circle had left. He could tell it had hurt and surprised her, and of course he felt horrible, but it was the only thing he could do. The longer he spent with the Autumn Daughter, the more the attraction grew, so he decided that if he did not speak or engage with her, then maybe that would halt the growth.

But sometimes, he couldn’t help but ask her questions, to answer hers, or to just talk to her. It must have been confusing for Y/n, with how much Azriel seemed to switch between being interested, and then ‘broody’, as she tended to put it.

“Lady Vanserra?” Azriel called, knocking on the wooden door. “Are you alright?”

He thought of how he had followed the princess into the bathroom earlier, and physically cringed. By the Cauldron, that had been embarrassing. He hadn’t even been thinking — he was too occupied with what she had said earlier, the way she had looked at him as she tried to seduce him. It probably would have worked if Azriel didn’t have centuries of training.

There was no answer, and Azriel’ worry grew. What if she had been assassinated? His shadows roamed the room beyond and… nothing.

Azriel opened the door, and what he saw made his blood boil. A pair of scissors lay on the ground beside what he assumed was parts of the princess’s gown, which had been transformed into a makeshift rope. It hung out of the window, and upon further inspection, she was not waiting at the bottom. Worst of all, though, was the guards stationed beneath her window were nowhere to be seen.

Where had they gone? Had they pursued the princess, or had she dealt with them otherwise? Azriel was beginning to see why the Daughter of the Autumn Court was constantly described as difficult.

Azriel took a deep breath. He needed to find her, and quickly. If Beron or anyone else discovered that she was missing…

The walls, his shadows whispered. She climbed over the castle walls.

Well, fuck. Azriel rushed to the window, intending on jumping out of it and dragging her back home, kicking and screaming, when a sly voice said, “Lost her already?”

Azriel whirled and found Eris leaning against the doorway of the bathroom, arms crossed and a small smirk on his face. Fuck fuck fuck. What was he supposed to say? Oh yeah, I lost your sister and she’s climbed over the castle gates, my bad I’ll just go grab her.

Eris chuckled and shook his head, a single strand of his hair swinging in front of his face. “You need not to worry, shadowsinger. My sister is perfectly capable of taking care of herself.”

“I’m here to protect her,” Azriel ground out, although he was surprised at how calm Eris was.

Eris raised an eyebrow, the gesture mirroring the way his sister did it. “Are you sure about that?”

Azriel paused and glared at the heir. That was what he was here for, wasn’t it? To be the Autumn Daughter’s bodyguard, to protect her from harm. That was why he was here, in this damned court, rather than at home.

“What are you talking about?” Azriel demanded.

Eris sighed and walked over to the other side of Y/n’s bathroom. He felt around for a moment, and Azriel wondered if the heir had lost his mind before part of the wallpaper popped out, as if there had been a secret door. Azriel’s shadows fluttered towards it, and inside, squirrelled away, were…

“Tunics and pants?” Azriel stated, unimpressed.

Eris rolled his eyes and waved his hand, causing the glamour to disappear. There were still a few pairs of folded pants and tunics, but they were accompanied with jewelled daggers and small bags of gold.

Why would Y/n need to hide bags of gold? Her father was a High Lord, and she appeared to have every material thing her heart desired.

“Why are you showing me this?” Azriel questioned.

“When my sister musters up the courage to finally leave this place, I want you to protect her,” Eris stated plainly, folding his hands behind his back. Before Azriel could even speak, the heir continued, “But I also want you to know that it will not be an arduous task. I have been quietly training her in defensive combat for decades… but still, she is young, and untried. She will need someone to protect her from my father’s wrath, to give him pause if he considers going after her.”

Azriel watched the heir carefully. His shadows detected no lies, but… why? Did Eris truly care this much for his sister? Azriel had to admit, Y/n seemed to be able to worm her way into anyone’s heart, but…

“Why me?” Azriel inquired. “Why not yourself?”

“Trust me, shadowsinger, should my father show any inkling of wanting my sister dead, I will kill him myself,” Eris said sharply, his eyes flashing. “She just needs to be safe during that time.”

Azriel found himself considering it. He could take Y/n to the Night Court, he could show her Velaris, he could—

“Wait. When we uphold our part of the bargain… you want us to watch over your sister as well?” Azriel asked.

A nod was all he got in response. Azriel opened his mouth, ready to say something, anything, when Eris commented, “You should probably go find my sister now. The Cauldron knows where she’s ended up.”

And, fuck, Azriel should be searching for her right now, but he was still dissecting what the fuck was going on here. What Eris was asking of him, and the Night Court. It would be considered an act of war if they harboured her — at least until Eris killed his father.

Azriel gave Eris one final glare before shadow-winnowing to the castle walls. From there, he followed Y/n’s scent, his shadows tracking her when her glamour was too strong for his immortal senses. Darkness had fallen by the time he had reached the main street, and his shadows led him to a tavern. It appeared to be similar to Velaris’s Pleasure Hall, and Azriel steeled himself as he entered.

Loud music assaulted his ears, the floor thrumming with the intensity of it. People danced everywhere, their bodies a large, twining mass. Azriel searched for the Autumn Princess, and his shadows found her before he did. She was in the middle of the dance floor, and had he not been so pissed at her in that moment, he may have stopped to marvel at her beauty. Her hair was loose, the top of her tunic unbuttoned, and she looked so free.

Did the people around her know that they danced and drank with their princess? As Azriel looked closer, he realised that her face looked slightly different — her eyes were larger, and her lips were lower. In fact, her skin was a few shades darker, and her hair was even a different tone. She had glamoured herself, even though no one knew what she really looked like.

Before he knew what he was doing, Azriel stalked through the sea of bodies, all the way to the princess. Her eyes lit up when she noticed him, a massive smile covering her face.

“Azriel!” she beamed, her voice slightly slurred. “You made it!”

Azriel narrowed his eyes at the princess. “What are you doing here?”

The princess snorted and downed the rest of her drink before he could stop her. “What does it look like, silly? I’m dancing!”

She threw her hands above her head, hips swaying to the beat of the music. People danced around her, as drunk as she was, almost as if they were some sort of hive-mind, and their only thought was to let loose.

“We’re going home,” Azriel ordered.

That seemed to sober the princess up slightly, causing her to frown and shake her head. “No. I don’t want to. I’m having fun.”

“Lady Va— Y/n, we need to leave,” Azriel urged.

Because, in this crowded tavern, anyone could be an enemy. Indeed, Azriel had already spotted several males eyeing her, although in their defence, there did not seem to be anything in their gazes beyond lust. Still, it infuriated the shadowsinger.

“Azriel,” Y/n groaned, as if he was being unreasonable.

“Please,” Azriel tried. “I’ll get into so much trouble if your father finds that we’re missing.”

It was the correct tactic, guilt tripping her, because it worked. She sighed deeply and hung her head, defeated. He felt slightly bad, but if Beron did discover that they were currently breaking at least seven of his rules… well, Azriel didn’t want to find out how he’d respond to that.

Y/n walked out with him, albeit a little drunkenly, stumbling and waving goodbye to people. When they started on the road to the castle, Azriel asked, “How often do you do this?”

Y/n shrugged and kicked a rock. “Every few weeks?”

“Every few weeks?” Azriel repeated, eyebrows raised. “How do you not get caught?”

“It’s easier when I don’t have a broody shadowsinger following me into my bathroom,” Y/n snickered.

Azriel frowned and refused to let his face flush. He looked around at the road, and he realised just how far they were from the castle. In his frantic search for Y/n, he hadn’t even noticed it was a relatively lengthy journey…

Y/n suddenly halted, hand clamped over her mouth, before she turned to the side of the road and emptied her guts into a bush. Azriel acted on instinct, gently grabbing her hair in one hand, and rubbing the other in soothing circles on her back. He remembered when he was her age, when he used to binge drink with Rhys and Cass… none of them would have even made it out of the tavern without puking, so she was doing better than all of them combined.

“I hope that wasn’t from the thought of me following you to your bathroom,” Azriel said, trying to lighten the mood.

Y/n laughed, wiping her mouth on the back of her hand. “No. Just at the thought of going back to the castle.”

She must have still been drunk to admit that so easily. Of course, she wasn’t entirely secretive about her distaste of her home, but still.

“You think you’re okay to walk?” Azriel asked.

The princess nodded, and Azriel thanked the Mother, because he really didn’t want her to throw up on him if he had to carry her. Azriel took his glove off and pressed the back of his hand to the princess’s forehead. She was warm, but not too warm, so she’d probably purged the sickness from her by now. Indeed, after doing that, Rhys, Cass, and Az would continue drinking, but that was not the case in this scenario.

As he pulled his hand back, she grabbed onto it suddenly. He was so shocked that he didn’t move when she pulled his hand closer and inspected it. Her fingertips were soft as they ran over the burn scars, and Azriel wished he’d never taken his glove off.

“Pretty,” she murmured. “Like art.” Azriel tried to pull his hand away, but Y/n held firm. “Really. There is a story behind every piece of art. And this art looks painful, but it’s beautiful.”

“Spoken like a true drunk,” Azriel muttered, finally yanking his hand away.

Y/n smiled sadly, and they walked back to the castle in silence.

A soft knock on the door prompted everyone to look towards the sound. After a moment, the door opened, revealing Eris, a small smile on his face.

“It is lovely to see you all in a different scenery,” Eris commented after he had closed the door.

“Eris,” Rhysand greeted. “How can we help you?”

Eris went ahead and took a seat in a scarlet chair beside the fireplace, relaxing with ease. Azriel supposed it would be easier to do so now that he was in his own home, but the sight still frustrated the shadowsinger.

“I just wanted to see what you all thought of my father’s… proposition,” Eris said casually.

“Did you know?” Cassian questioned.

Eris shrugged. “I did tell you that it had something to do with my sister.”

“There was an attempt on her life, which you failed to mention,” Azriel stated.

Eris just smiled calmly. “Must have slipped my mind.”

This was exactly what Cassian had been talking about before, Azriel knew. They were cunning and sly in the Autumn Court, and that made them dangerous.

“Anything else that may have ‘slipped your mind’?” Azriel inquired.

Eris turned his gaze to the shadowsinger, a small smirk on his face. Azriel wanted to punch the male, and he remembered the feel of his neck beneath his hands, and how close he could have come to killing the heir before him. He sort of wished he had.

“My father has already chosen which member of your court he wants as Y/n’s bodyguard,” Eris revealed.

Azriel blinked. Despite the fact that Beron had given them the illusion of free choice, of course the male had already decided. After looking at Eris expectantly, Rhysand realised the male would not freely give up this information.

“Who?” the High Lord asked.

Eris glanced at Azriel. “The shadowsinger, of course.”

Everyone looked at Azriel, and the Illyrian wanted to shrink away from the attention. Why him? Yes, perhaps he appeared more gentlemanly than Cassian, as he knew how to keep his mouth shut, but what else? Yes, he was the Spymaster for the Night Court, but Cassian was the general of the armies. Amren terrified everyone, and yes, she’d be more than capable to be a bodyguard, but then again, Amren might kill the princess if she annoyed her.

“Why Azriel?” Rhys questioned.

Eris looked at the High Lord as if he was incompetent. “Is he not the most obvious choice? That one–” he nodded to Cassian, “–has already tainted a female promised to the Autumn Court.”

Rage, icy cold, flowed through Azriel at the implications behind Eris's words. ‘A female promised to the Autumn Court’ was very obviously Mor, and the entitlement in his tone…

“First of all, I have a mate–” Cassian growled, but Rhysand cut him off.

“Let's not argue,” the High Lord said firmly, although silent fury shone in his eyes at Eris's words. “We're all allies here.”

Eris rolled his eyes but said nothing more, and Cassian glared at the Autumn Court heir, clearly imagining all the ways he could rip him apart.

“Didn't Azriel try to kill you at the High Lord's meeting?” Amren mused.

Eris glowered at the female. “Well, we certainly can't have you here. Your mere presence makes the courtiers uneasy.”

“I did save your asses during the war,” Amren reminded him, but she seemed more than pleased that she still terrified people. 

Azriel let out a breath. He had guessed that it would be himself who would have to play bodyguard, but how could he do so when his job was one of utmost importance to the Night Court? Even now, with Nyx only half a year old, there were so many threats that needed to be uncovered and eliminated.

Azriel glanced at Rhysand and Feyre. Both had been reluctant to leave their son behind for a week, but they knew it would be much too dangerous to bring him to the Autumn Court. Nesta, Elain, and Mor had promised to take care of him while they were gone, and Nyx was probably having the time of his life with his Aunts.

What do you think? Rhys asked Azriel, mind to mind.

Azriel pondered his answer for a moment. I would be willing to do it, but to leave you without a Spymaster for the Cauldron knows how long…

I think we can manage for a little while, Rhys replied, a grin twinkling in his eyes.

Azriel nodded his confirmation. It was true — his court members were not truly useless without him. Just slightly disadvantaged, but they knew how to take care of themselves.

“I'll do it,” Azriel said aloud.

Cassian looked at his brother, eyes widened slightly with silent warning. Amren appeared disinterested in the conversation, but Azriel knew she was listening to every word. Eris simply nodded, as if he already knew Azriel would agree.

“Good,” Eris replied. “I will allow you to share the news with my father in your own time.”

The heir then got up and exited the room, leaving the Night Court members by themselves.

“I need a drink,” Amren muttered.

The following week was a whirlwind. Every morning, afternoon, and evening, the Night Court members dined with the Autumn Court, and the Autumn Court members also showed them their home. It was mostly Y/n showing them around the palace and the grounds, with Autumn guards trailing closely behind.

Y/n was a different person when she was not around her father. She was much more talkative, and quick to joke and tease. After a few days, it was clear that Cassian adored the princess and her witty comebacks, and she clearly enjoyed the freedom of banter with him. It was almost as if they were destined to be best friends. But whenever any member of her family was present, she would go quiet, and exhibit “lady-like” speech and actions.

Azriel had heard many of the Autumn Court’s opinions of her through his shadows, and none of them were particularly fond. Wild, untamed, unlady-like, and irritating, were the words most commonly used to describe the princess in secret, but Azriel had a feeling she did not care what she thought about them. He could tell that she only cared what her father thought — perhaps not for praise, but rather in fear of punishment.

“So, have you decided which of you will be protecting me after this week?” she asked the Night Court members as they walked through the Royal apple orchard. The apples were the finest Azriel had ever tasted, and he wondered whether there was some kind of magic behind it to make them so.

“We have discussed it,” Rhysand replied, plucking an apple from a tree and handing it to his mate. Feyre took the apple with a smile.

Y/n sighed deeply. “I wish I could go to the Night Court with you. It sounds beautiful.”

While the Night Court members had told the princess a little bit about their home, the Autumn daughter was an avid reader, and had mentioned that she’d always been interested in The Night Court. She would read any book on their court a hundred times, and had learned about Starfall, Illyrians, and many other Night Court customs. When Rhys questioned her on the books she had read, she had become slightly evasive in her answers.

“I borrowed them,” Y/n had said casually.

Azriel had raised an eyebrow. “Borrowed, or stole?”

The grin the princess threw his way had set his heart racing, but he had no idea why. “I prefer the term 'mischievously possess.’”

Cassian had barked out a laugh, and even Amren had smiled slightly.

But as well as spending time with the princess, Azriel had other things to do. When she showed him the castle, he memorised it. He marked every exit, window, door, hiding place — everything. If he was to be her bodyguard, he would have to have the entire layout memorised. For her protection, but also for his. He didn’t doubt for one second that if he let his guard down, one of her brothers, maybe even Eris himself, would try to stab him in the back. Literally.

Eventually, the week came to an end, and the members of the Night Court gathered in the Autumn Court throne room. Azriel supposed that bonds had been slightly strengthened between the courts, but not by much. Mistrust was hard to get rid of, especially when there were centuries and generations of it.

“We have come to a decision,” Rhy told Beron, his hands resting in his pockets. “And my High Lady and I shall allow you to employ one of my warriors as your daughter’s bodyguard.”

Beron nodded, his gaze flicking to Azriel for a brief moment before going back to Rhys. “And have you decided which warrior shall be protecting my daughter?”

That glance told Azriel that Eris had been telling the truth. Beron hoped that it was the shadowsinger who would be playing bodyguard, and it made sense now. Although what didn’t make sense was the fact that Eris had not lied.

“Azriel shall remain behind to guard your daughter,” Rhys promised. 

“Wonderful,” Beron said with a nod. “Thank you for this, Rhysand. The Autumn Court shall never forget this favour.”

Rhys nodded at the High Lord, and both of them shook hands, their goodbye quick and brief. The Night Court's goodbyes to Azriel were lengthy in comparison.

“Stay safe,” Rhys told Az, clapping him on the back. “Our mental bridge will be open at all times. Let me know if there’s any trouble.”

“You act as if I can’t take care of myself,” Azriel replied, a half smirk on his face.

Rhys rolled his eyes and brought his brother into a hug, the eyes on them be damned. When Rhys pulled away, Cassian was there next, squeezing the shadowsinger into a hug that nearly crushed his bones.

“I’ll miss you, Azzie,” Cassian whispered in Azriel’s ear, which set him scowling. Cassian grinned and pulled away, Feyre replacing him. She pressed a quick kiss to his cheek in farewell, and before Az knew it, the Night Court disappeared into the void, leaving him alone in the Autumn Court.