Touched by the Flame || Azriel Shadowsinger

Chapter 26

Soraya grunted and bit into her bottom lip as she hauled herself upward once more. Her fingers curled tighter around the metal bar, palms slicked with sweat. 

Azriel hadn't yet returned to the House of Wind, though it was well into the afternoon. Training had ended hours ago, leaving the training room entirely empty bar herself.

With nothing better to do, Soraya waited. For a while, she merely stared out the window, watching the snow fall over the City of Starlight. She'd fallen asleep on the bench shortly after, only waking when the door creaked open.

Cassian had returned, face pinched in a frown when he asked why she hadn't left. He offered to take her back to the cabin himself if Azriel was running late. Soraya declined the offer, deciding to wait for the shadowsinger's return.

As the hours ticked by, she began to grow increasingly worried. She wasn't sure what business he'd had to attend to but hoped whatever it was hadn't brought him any harm.

Finally, when she was ready to give in and ask Cassian to fly her back, she decided to train some more. 

As it turned out, she was horrible at pull ups. After three, she was left dangling.

Her hands slipped on the bar a little more, the weight of her body dragging her toward the floor. She huffed, readying to let go when a shiver of awareness traced down her spine.

Soraya gasped in surprise when warm hands settled on either side of her waist. Firm yet gentle in their hold.

"Two more," Azriel's voice was a whisper of breath against her skin. 

She couldn't help herself when she glanced down at his scarred hands.

"Chin up," he instructed.

Soraya pinched her lips together and adjusted her grip again. She tugged herself up, arms shaking with the strain. Azriel's hands guided her carefully, lifting when she needed the smallest nudge.

A breath fell out of her when she lowered once more.

"Good. Again."

Her face scrunched when she lifted her chin to the bar one final time, Azriel providing aid when needed. When she was left tired and dangling, his hands tightened on her waist. Her fingers slipped from the bar when he slowly lowered her feet to the ground.

She was barely given a moment to breathe before he stepped away and said, "I need to talk to you."

Soraya frowned at the strange look on his face. "Okay." She swiped at the sweat on her forehead.

"Your dagger," he waited until she hesitantly nodded to continue, "where did you get it?"

Did he know that Rhysand had returned it to her? Did he know she'd buried it at the bottom of a drawer in her wardrobe? Hoping to forget about the dreaded thing. To leave that piece of her in the past.

Her eyes narrowed. "Why?"

"Soraya," Azriel pressed.

"I stole it," she answered simply. He already knew she was a thief. This was nothing new.

She remembered the man she took it from as well. He was short and round with a scraggly beard that swallowed his chin. He'd been flaunting it in the market, and she decided she wouldn't mind having such a weapon for herself. So she'd plucked it from the sheath at his hip in passing. She remembered wondering how long it would take for him to notice.

Azriel's jaw clenched. "You're sure?"

"Yes," Soraya confirmed, annoyed now. Did he not believe her?

"It's ash wood," he added. As if she didn't know that.