A Court of Golden Shadow || Elain x Azriel

Chapter 17 - Daughter of The Cauldron

"Is that not why you're here brother?" Elain stared up at Rhys, her resolve to be ladylike or kind, or whatever the hells everyone wanted her to be suddenly falling away. "Are you not here, spinning me around this damned Calanmai dance floor, to save me from the public humiliation and disgrace of being abandoned by my mate?"

Rhys swallowed, looking back toward Elain's hard stare. "Feyre and I had many complicated times when we—"

"I am NOT FEYRE." Elain spat out, stopping the dance, and wrenching her hand from his grasp.

"I only meant—" Rhys continued to speak, his eyes wide with concern, but Elain was not listening.

She turned on her golden high heel, marching toward the edge of the dance floor and grabbing a glass of champagne as she passed an attendant, setting her eyes upon one of the arched columns leading into the corridor of Helion's palace and away from the party.

ﾟ☆: *.☽ ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─── ☽ .* :☆ﾟ

That damned fool.

That dragon-fucking fool.

Azriel felt his shadows fuming around him, rage seething from his body as he watched the princeling twirl Vassa, laughing and idiotic and completely selfishly oblivious to the knife he had just wrenched through Elain's gut.

The Shadowsinger had half a mind to winnow directly behind the fox and snap his neck.

Snarling, he watched as Rhysand took Elain into his arms, gracefully leading her through the rest of the choreography. Nesta and Feyre were dancing nearby with Cassian and Jurrian, seemingly oblivious to the drama that had just unfolded. It felt like a minor victory, that she had been spared the public humiliation Lucien had exposed her to, but it did not quell the rage he felt coursing through his body.

Azriel watched as Rhys began speaking to Elain while they danced, her hand reaching down, seemingly trying to close one of the slits climbing up her thigh. She was panicked, he realized, but soon her anxiety transferred to anger as she stopped the dance with Rhys, ripping her hand from his and storming toward a columned archway, snatching a glass of champagne.

Stunned by her outburst, Rhys froze momentarily before his eyes shot toward Azriel.

The Shadowsinger winnowed to his High Lord's side, a question on his eyes.

"I don't know what I said to upset her, but..." Rhys took his hand to his forehead, worry knotting his brows. "Lucien and Vassa..."

"I think this past month has not been as successful as we assumed," Azriel spoke quietly, his eyes staring after Elain as she burst through the curtained archway, downing the champagne.

"I didn't know that she would—" Rhys' sentence broke off, unable to form a coherent thought.

"I'm going to go after her. I know your orders, but—" Azriel's voice dropped off.

"No, yes, I mean. That's not important right now. This is different. Elain is family. At least send a shadow after her." Rhys' voice sounded defeated as Azriel nodded solemnly, the High Lord turning and heading to the edge of the dance floor toward Lucien and Vassa, wending through the fae bodies in various states of nudity.

Azriel winnowed to the archway he had seen Elain disappear through, thanking the stars he had won the race to Patras.

ﾟ☆: *.☽ ─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ─── ☽ .* :☆ﾟ

Elain squinted into the sunset, willing the tears back down, pulling her hair around her shoulders and folding her arms in front of her. She had burst through the corridor to the other side of the palace, catching the last bit of sun as it lowered over the horizon.