Rules for Spies

11

Gwyn had fallen asleep easily, Azriel's arm around her waist and his body warm against her back, and though she'd hoped that the exertion of the day would keep her asleep until morning, she wakes in the dead of night. His breathing is quiet and even, his arm still banded over her waist, and Gwyn tries to calm her pounding heart.

The men had loomed over her again, but this time they'd laughed with Koschei's voice. Azriel had not appeared out of the shadows, and instead of rutting between her legs, they'd lunged for her head, cutting into her skull with daggers and their fingernails.

She was so glad to wake up but now she is stuck in his embrace. He's never admitted it directly, but she knows how little Azriel sleeps. The fact that he hasn't woken is probably a miracle.

While Gwyn debates whether there's a way to slide through his arms and replace the bulk of her body with her pillow before Azriel notices, a shadow moves from the corner and directly into her field of vision.

Then, softly, the shadow begins to sing.

It's a folk lullaby, Gwyn thinks to herself, wondering if perhaps she's dreaming again, until another shadow joins the first, undulating across the sheets. Gradually, she is wreathed in the shadows that normally circle Azriel, who join together in a gentle chorus, and although something in her mind insists that she needs to stay awake, that there's a revelation nearly at hand, Gwyn falls instead into a dreamless sleep.

"The House sent me with food," Mor announces from another room, perky and cheerful as only Mor can be, even too early in the morning, and Azriel nearly crashes into Gwyn as he tries to jump out of bed at the same time she does.

"You're not supposed to be here," he grumbles through the door, pulling on his armor. A glance through the window, at the blinding sunlight off fresh snow, tells him that he slept longer than intended, longer than he has in years. And in the flashes he's seen of her face, he notices that the dark circles under Gwyn's eyes have faded considerably.

"The House and Rhys don't agree with that," Mor says, her footsteps approaching the bedroom door. "You know you need to eat fresh fruits and vegetables, right? Not just meat and bread."

"The House sent us plenty of juice. And cheese." Gwyn speaks in a sleepy voice that makes Azriel want to drag her right back to bed.

In the silence before Mor speaks, he can hear her calculating just how much she's going to tease him about sharing a bedroom with Gwyn, but thankfully she only says, "Well, I might eat this all if you two don't hurry."

"Let me adjust the spell first," Gwyn calls as she finishes adjusting her armor, and then, as soon as Azriel's shield is in place, she lets out the commanding melody and, if he reads her lips correctly, tells them to ignore anybody in the apartment.

"I've been here plenty of times, you know," Mor says as soon as he drops the shield and opens the bedroom door, only for her eyes to go wide and a little afraid. Azriel looks over his shoulder, wondering if some monster had appeared in the night.

"You come here to pick up Emerie for training, right?" Gwyn enunciates every word too clearly.

Mor sighs, shaking her head. Her shoulders tense and then relax.

"Emerie and I are involved with each other," she says, her golden eyes intent on Azriel. "That's why I come here. And to take her to training. I haven't told anyone yet. Except for Gwyn."