A Court of Light and Melody

Chapter 59 - Back to You

"No one ever told me that grief felt so like fear."

- C.S. Lewis

Song: Gravity - Sara Bareilles

AZRIEL

- the spring court -

When Azriel woke and found Gwyn's side of the bed cold, he frowned.

Last night had been a first for her. He would've liked to have made things nice this morning. Special. He would've preferred to have woken before her and been there to provide reassurances. Maybe even bring her tea or breakfast. Some healthy aftercare.

How was she feeling? How was she reacting to taking such a huge leap in her healing...

Was she berating herself? Did she regret what they'd done? When exactly had she left him and how long had she been gone?

Azriel's bleary eyes drifted to the dusty windows. The sun was blazing, the pink light of dawn vanished.

Gods, what time was it?

"Find her," he murmured groggily to his shadows. "Let her see you. So she knows I'm coming."

But no plume of darkness heeded his orders. There was no whisper of confirmation from them. They skittered about the duvet anxiously. Their words a jumble of frantic pleas.

Azriel's jaw clenched.

Something was wrong.

The shadowsinger slipped out of bed, in one fluid motion, tucking in his wings and pulling on his trousers as his feet hit the floor.

His scarred hands trembled as he snatched his grey tunic off of the armchair in the corner and yanked it over his head.

Gwyn. Gwyn. Gwyn.

...Gwyn, Gwyn, Gwyn... his shadows harmonized.

She was fine. She had to be fine. What reason did Azriel have to believe she was anything but? Judging by the position of the sun in the sky, he had slept through dawn patrols and Gwyn was likely having breakfast with Nesta.

Gods, how long had they stayed up last night talking?

Talking about the future. About accepting the mating bond. About meeting his mother and having a life together. As mates.

Yes, Gwyn was fine, he told himself, exiting his chambers.

His shadows were just being needy. It had been a long time since Azriel had opened himself up to someone and his shadows had always been overly affectionate towards Gwyn. They were overreacting. And so was he.

It's just the bond making you anxious. Just the bond.

But as Azriel descended the stairs, he couldn't suppress that nagging feeling that there was something more. That it wasn't "just the bond." Something had gone wrong. It was in his bones. It was the same feeling one got when a storm was on the horizon or when there was one less stair than you thought there would be.

The main floor of the manor was abuzz with reinforcements that had made use of Tamlin's kitchen. Soldiers milled about, having lunch and conversing in low voices. The air teemed with anticipation and a healthy dose of apprehension. As was customary before any major confrontation.

Azriel nodded subtly to a few of the soldiers he recognized and started towards the dining area. His knees felt wobbly, his shadows once again restless. Where was Gwyn? Why hadn't he heard her bubbling laugh? Why hadn't she pranced lithely into the room with a quip on her lips? Why didn't he feel that song in his blood that had only been growing louder over the months?