Touched by the Flame || Azriel Shadowsinger [EDITING]

Chapter 11

Azriel cringed, turning his back to the biting wind. He tucked Soraya closer to his chest and peeked down at her. Her brown-eyed gaze was fixed over his shoulder, wide and unblinking. Her hands were curled into fists and pressed tight against her ribs.

"Azriel?" His heart cracked when her raw voice gave out. "There is no fire, is there?"

"No, Raya," he answered softly as he shifted his hold to push open the door, "there is no fire."

She nodded numbly, still not meeting his eyes. A snowflake melted against her tear-stained cheek when Azriel stepped inside and pushed the door shut with his boot. The comfortable warmth of the cabin settled over him.

"I fell asleep in the bed." The words came out as a whisper, all her voice had left to offer. 

A weight sunk in his gut at the words left unsaid. She tried. She had tried to sleep in the bed for him and this was what it got her. A nightmare that haunted her after she woke.

"I'm going to put you down now, alright?" Azriel said after hesitating long enough that if he held onto her even a second longer it would start to seem strange.

"Okay."

He slowly lowered her feet to the floor and reluctantly pulled his arms away until she was standing on her own. Soraya shifted her weight off of her left leg and Azriel's breath hitched.

"I didn't hurt you, did I?" 

"No," was all she said. No further elaboration, but no reason for him not to believe her. He decided not to push the subject.

Azriel wrung his scarred hands, watching Soraya limp forward a few steps before eventually giving up. She sat herself on the floor and rubbed at her left hip, almost absentmindedly. Without knowing what to do for her, Azriel strode into the kitchen. He fished a glass out of the cupboard and filled it with cold water.

When he returned to where Soraya had seated herself on the floor of the sitting room, he sat cross-legged before her. She only looked up from the floorboards when he placed the glass of water between them and scooted it toward her.

For the first time since trying to free herself, Soraya uncurled her white-knuckled fists. She cringed slightly, making Azriel wonder if she had hurt herself. Resting her right hand in her lap, she reached forward with the left and grabbed the water. She was still trembling as she tipped the glass to her lips.

"Are you afraid of me?" Azriel asked shyly. He couldn't help but remember the look in her eyes when she saw him come crashing through the door. 

Soraya stiffened, shoulders hunching. She swallowed and set the glass of water in front of her once more. Her head shook lightly.

"No." Azriel sighed in relief. "Your wings."

He blanched. 

"I'm afraid of your wings," Soraya clarified, looking embarrassed at the admission.

He didn't like thinking of Illyrians as "his people," but like them, he had always taken pride in his wings. Azriel had never felt so ashamed of them as he did in that moment. He subtly shifted them further behind him, trying to make them unseen.

"The attor had your wings," she explained. Just when he thought his heart couldn't possibly ache any more.

"The attor. Is that what happened?" Azriel tapped his eyebrow. "Here?"

Soraya dragged a finger over the scar severing her brow with a shallow nod. She worried her lip between her teeth like perhaps she was debating something.

"I got close to making it out that night," she began. Azriel sat up straighter at the realization that she was trusting him with another piece of her story. "I made it to the door, but the attor stopped me before I could get out. All I saw was a flash of wings."