Rules for Spies

16

Nesta and Rhys had both invited Gwyn to the river house for solstice, but she had turned them both down, pleading her commitment to sing at evening services. Rhys had offered to send someone to winnow her, and Nesta had said she'd be willing to get Azriel banned altogether, but Gwyn had smiled and managed to assure them both that with all of her responsibilities, what she really needed was a quiet night alone with a book and the solstice chocolate she purchased specially days ago. Even if it had taken nearly two hours to assure Nesta that everything was fine between her and Azriel.

Still, when Gwyn files out with the other priestesses to begin the winter solstice service, she's glad when she sees Nesta and Emerie, along with Mor and Cassian, in the benches towards the back. Next to them, his Siphons gleaming cobalt even through the clustering shadows, Azriel watches her, his eyes so intent on hers, his expression so hesitant, that Gwyn is certain that she could get him to leave the temple with only a flick of her eyelids.

Instead, she smiles at him, wider than is likely proper for a priestess presiding over such a holy service. Because as glad as she is to see her friends here, putting off the evening meal and merriment, something settles inside Gwyn when she sees Azriel waiting for her. The melodies float from her, shining in the darkness like constellations, and though she tries to prevent all but the barest trickle of her powers from escaping, she wonders how much of the joyous reverence that suffuses the temple was created by her the song of her power. Then she lets herself fall into the music, the songs that welcome the darkness and the songs that ask the light to make a safe return. In all the temple hymns, there is a constant set of praises for equilibrium, but they're especially poignant to Gwyn during the solstice services, when the balance of the world seems most sorely absent.

She does not know what she will do when the service is over and she faces Azriel on the one night when they cannot discuss the mission or the thorny new myths of Koschei, but she lets herself fall deep enough inside the music, inside its ancient rhythms, that when the final chord resolves and the final blessing spoken, Gwyn finds herself surprised by the applause.

"You were wonderful," Ros tells her, and Clotho squeezes her shoulder, and then Gwyn is surrounded by Nesta and Emerie, their arms surrounding her and Emerie's wings wrapping them up tightly.

"There's still time to become a famous singer," Nesta tells her, grinning.

"Only if you'll take to the stage with me and dance," Gwyn retorts.

"I suppose I'll have to do flying tricks?" Emerie adds.

"You'll recommend romance novels to the skeptical masses while performing aerial feats," Gwyn decides. "You'll be the real sensation."

Then Mor and Cassian approach with congratulations, another invitation to the river estate, where, apparently, Nuala and Cerridwen have been baking for three days and delaying some of Azriel's investigations, at which point he finally approaches to say that, as the most hardworking members of the Night Court, naturally he's given them time off to celebrate the solstice. Nesta rolls her eyes and Gwyn smothers her indulgent laugh with her fingers, her heart beating a little faster.

Finally, Azriel turns to her.

"Would it be all right if we talked?"

Gwyn had anticipated this moment as soon as she'd seen him. They've been seeing each other again for a little over a week, poring over the legends they've discovered in the early morning hours before training. There's always a steaming mug of coffee and a plate of pastries waiting on the table for her, and though she technically should report this to the other priestesses out of respect for the ancient manuscripts, Gwyn has instead savored every bite as she studies away the early morning. Then they walk together to training, their conversation absorbed by their findings, the thorny and mostly contradictory legends about Koschei the Deathless and the ways in which he was bound to the lake. She works with Cassian in training as she always has, conspiring and sparring with Emerie and Nesta, especially after they convinced the House to leave some snow in the training ring. But sometimes her eyes will catch on Azriel, and he will turn to her as if he feels her gaze, and Gwyn can't help smiling at him. When he offers to fly or winnow her to the river estate for her training with Rhys, she doesn't object. The High Lord is busy, after all. And then there are the late hours in the library, before and after evening services, when they're holed up again in the reading room, scouring the old dialects for a hint that will help them fight against Koschei. At night she dreams of Azriel's scent, the cedar and petrichor surrounding her, and sometimes, in the midst of certain heady dreams, the spiced musk that signals his arousal. But still she has not let him speak of anything outside the mission. Maybe she was waiting for tonight.