Touched by the Flame || Azriel Shadowsinger

Chapter 18

Soraya curled her hands into the soft sleeves of her sweater before scooping a cube of potato into her spoon.

A day after their unsuccessful "shopping trip" to Velaris, Soraya had been surprised to wake up to a full wardrobe's worth of clothes folded neatly on the kitchen table. It didn't take long for her to realize it was a collection of every little thing that had caught her eye for more than a few seconds during their outing.

It must have taken ages for Azriel to go back to each store and sort through their inventory. Truthfully, that he was paying such close attention was sort of amazing. But then, he was the spymaster after all. 

It had made her feel guilty as well. How much did the lot of it cost him?

He was lucky to have left early that morning, because she might have forced him to return everything. Instead, she had crinkled up the "Don't fight me on this" note and hauled the clothes into the room she was staying in.

She was grudgingly thankful for the new wardrobe now though, with her long sleeves blocking the heat of the bowl in her hands. Steam wafted up from the rich stew, tickling her nose.

"Tell me about mates," Soraya threw into the cabin's silence.

She plopped herself down on the sofa and lifted her legs onto the cushions, folding them neatly. Her eyes bounced up expectantly as she blew on another spoonful of stew. Her brows pinched in confusion upon seeing Azriel standing perfectly still.

His wings pulled in tight to his body and the shadows clinging to him slowed to a crawl. His face was a perfect mask of stone. But it was just that. A mask.

Azriel was good at hiding things that he wanted hidden, Soraya had come to learn. It was his job to be secretive. So it was when he went utterly neutral that she was able to tell something was the matter.

"What do you want to know?" He asked in a deep voice that skittered all through her. She shifted in place.

"How do you choose a mate?"

Azriel was quiet for a moment, debating something. She used it as an opportunity to spoon some stew into her mouth.

"Mates are not like human spouses," he eventually settled on.

He changed into his Illyrian leathers which made her think he had somewhere else to be. Something important to do. The armor made him look even larger than normal. Bringing to life the warrior laying dormant. His weight shifted until his hip was leaned against the chair across from her.

"They are not chosen. They are given," Azriel finished.

Soraya frowned and set the bowl in her lap. At her obvious confusion, the shadowsinger continued. 

"The mating bond is precious and rare, and is shared between two individuals the Cauldron deems equals." He watched her closely.

Soraya wiped her face clean of the sour look it had taken on. Azriel had already given her a quick rundown on Prythian's history. Of the Cauldron that spilled life across the land. This was something that he deeply believed in and she hated herself for being judgmental of it. 

"Like an arranged marriage?" Soraya grimaced at the reminder of the man she had almost been married to.

Azriel shook his head, noting her disgust. "It is much deeper than that. Two souls cut from the same cloth."

"Made for each other?" Soraya idly stirred the cooling stew in her lap.

"Yes," he agreed. The room fell silent and she looked up to see him staring at her without shame. Heat flooded her cheeks.