Soraya stood at her bedroom door for a long while. Trying to decide whether she was hungry enough to warrant getting out of bed. Eventually, though, she yanked open the door and shuffled down the hall.
Azriel was there in the dining room, dressed in his fine Illyrian leathers. She hadn't made it one step into the kitchen before his hazel eyes zipped toward her. He wore a hard look on his face, brows slightly pinched. Soraya shifted uncomfortably in place.
"Are you alright?" He asked suddenly, worry lacing his tone.
Soraya nodded and opened up the cabinet closest to her. She tried to avoid his gaze as she pulled out a neatly wrapped loaf of bread. He didn't relent.
"Something happened." A statement, not a question.
"Excuse me?" Soraya, crippled with embarrassment, twisted at the waist to see that Azriel was still frowning.
He tilted his head, eyes raking down her form. "You feel different."
She felt different?
"Well, if you must know," she chopped her knife through the loaf with a bit more force than necessary, cutting the slice lopsided. "My cycle began this morning."
Her face blazed. She didn't need a mirror to see the color spilling across her cheeks. Creeping its way down the back of her neck. Soraya dropped the knife again, cutting a second, slightly more even, piece from the loaf.
It was one of, if not the only, advantage to being unhealthy. While malnourished, her monthly cycle had ground to a halt. For so long, it was something that she didn't need to think about. Now, being taken care of once more, the dreaded thing returned in full force. And with a vengeance, it seemed.
Setting the knife aside, her hand rubbed anxiously at her bad hip. A huff rolled out of her. Soraya looked up from glaring at the bread on the countertop.
Azriel had gone still as death across the room. Panic flared in his eyes, strong enough that she could feel it radiating off of him.
"You should be resting," he hurried, starting toward her. From the look on his face, one would think she'd been stabbed.
Soraya waved off the comment and turned to search the other cabinets for jam. There was a specific jar she was looking for, though she wasn't quite sure what it was made from. Or who made it, for that matter. But the berries in it were perfectly sweet with the slightest tang-
She jumped when Azriel's hand closed around her wrist, and he spun her to face him. He was so close to her now that if she sucked in a deep enough breath, their chests would likely touch. A lump formed in her throat. Soraya worked to swallow it down while she blinked up at him.
"Go back to bed," he said carefully, "I'll bring you something to eat."
"Azriel, I'm fine," she laughed awkwardly.
Sure, she felt gross and a little lightheaded. Her hands shook a tad and a familiar cramp had nestled into her gut. All of which was normal for her cycle. It was just as annoying as she remembered. But it wasn't, at the moment, enough to leave her bedridden.
Azriel's lips thinned when he pressed them together, apparently unconvinced. His eyes gouged into hers, almost in search of something. A few long seconds passed. Slowly, his fingers melted away from her wrist.
"You don't hurt?" He asked quietly. Confusion left a wrinkle between his brows.
"A little. Nothing out of the ordinary." Soraya shrugged and tipped her head side to side in a "meh" type fashion. She smoothed back her hair.
YOU ARE READING
Touched by the Flame || Azriel Shadowsinger
Fantasy|A COURT OF THORNS AND ROSES| Perhaps it was her own fault that the people around her always ended up hurt. Perhaps she had done something, stumbled upon some curse that doomed everything she cared about to be touched by the flame. ~ Soraya Beddo...
