Let You Down |Azriel|

.11.

We walked through the city streets at a casual pace. Mor and Cassian were nowhere to be found and I gathered that that was probably thanks to her.

"Tell me your story," a request from Azriel.

I shoved my hands in my jacket pockets to prevent them from freezing up. "Uh, okay. I grew up with parents who were Winter Court natives. Rhys seems to think that my mother was Illyrian and my father was Tamlin's father. He said it's just a hunch, that the only way to know for sure is to trap a Suriel. Nonetheless, I wasn't allowed out of the house until I could hide my wings on command. My parents were ashamed of me, said it was disgraceful. Once I gained control over that aspect, I was allowed out. My parents and siblings treated me like shit the entire time I'd lived with them.

"When I was twenty, they kicked me out of the house. I went to work in a tavern in the village and lived in the basement for about forty years. One day, I'd had a short shift and decided to stretch my legs afterward. Um, I was walking in the woods just outside of the village and Amarantha's guard snatched me up. As soon as I was thrown at her feet, she waved her hand and chains went around my neck and wrists. They suppressed all of my magic. She had me continue to serve.

"I was stupid when I had first gotten there. I'd taken every chance I could find to escape. One of those times, I was caught by her guard. Thrown at her feet once again. She set a fire in the center of the room and I'd assumed it was to taunt me with what she'd taken away from me. I wish that's all it was. She shoved my hands into the fire. It took them months to heal," I lifted my hands out of my jacket pocket and turned them from side to side to show all of the scarring.

"Rhys showed up a few months after that. The 49 years he had been there were filled with vicious torment by her hand. I guess I could tell you that the things that sent me into a panic episode the other day had come from her. Cutting me up and breaking my bones seemed to be her favorite past time. I'm sure Rhys told you about everything since Feyre arrived Under the Mountain.

"In truth, there's not much. Just a lot of torture. But that kind of seems like the norm around here. Or at least with most of the people I've met since leaving that place," as I finished my rambling, a tear slipped down my cheek, over my lips, and crashed onto the sleeve of my jacket.

"Hey," he stopped us and gently took my arm in his hand. My arm was so small it probably could have snapped like a twig if he'd do much as sneezed. "I am so sorry that all of that has happened to you."

I shook my head and tucked my chin to my chest, taking a shaky breath before answering. "It's not your fault."

"No one should have to go through something like that."

My shoulders pulled up in a shrug, "No one should, but here we are."

He pulled both of his hands into my line of site, gems adorned his wrists and they gleamed in the moonlight. Then I noticed the scarring. All too familiar. I took his hands in mine and traced some of the lines.

"When I was a child, my brothers decided they wanted to know what would happen if you mixed the accelerated healing powers of Illyrians with oil and fire. By the time the guards reached me, it was too late to avoid the scarring."

I took one of his hands and placed his palm on my cheek. It covered nearly half of my face. His touch was warm. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath and that cedar and night scent flowed through my system. I could have become that scent, my heart fluttered in response. But then my eyes widened and I dropped my hands.

"I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me, that's not a normal thing normal people do. I'm sorry," I looked at my feet because I knew I would be mortified if I had looked at his face and seen the confusion or distaste.

"Cecelia," he whispered, taking his fingers and lifting my chin ever so slightly.

Any eye contact sent my heart searching for an escape. My breath caught in my throat as I looked at him, as he looked at me. He inched closer and my eyes fluttered closed. My lips parted just a touch.

"Az! Lia!" I could hear Cass calling out from far off.

My shoulders dropped and any air that was residing in my lungs flew out. When I opened my eyes, Az had offered a gentle smile and traced my jawline with his thumb before dropping his hand and shoving both in his jacket pockets.

"There you are!" It was Mor, "we've been looking for you guys!"

My hands found their way into my pockets and I tried to laugh, "I guess you guys aren't so good at tracking after all."

"Hey, you're the one standing with the spy master. If anything, you've got an unfair advantage that you're not even using," Cass chuckled and slung an arm around Az's shoulders, tugging him violently to one side.

I glanced at Mor to find an apologetic look scrawled on her face. As if to say she tried to keep him busy for longer. I was grateful she didn't tell Cassian what was happening. It felt like there was less pressure when only Mor knew about the whole ordeal. I watched Az being marched down the street by a happy Cassian, my heart holding onto that touch for dear life and not wanting to let go.