Touched by the Flame || Azriel Shadowsinger

Chapter 36

Soraya hated that she'd decided to wear gloves. If only because the thick material ensured that she couldn't feel the warmth of Azriel's hand in hers. She gave his fingers a squeeze, just because she could. It didn't take long for him to return the gesture.

He seemed more relaxed since they woke that morning. Still a bit rigid whenever the topic of the rebels came up, but more lax than he had been the days prior. She wasn't sure if she had anything to do with that, but it was nice to think so.

Soraya kicked at a pile of melting snow along the fallen tree she paraded. The old trunk raised her no more than a foot from the ground, where Azriel walked at her side, head nearly level with hers. It was strange seeing him from a different point of view.

She sniffled, wiping at her nose with her free hand.

The world around them was already beginning to thaw. Bitter cold expanding into tepid warmth. Azriel told her that it was normal for the snow to leave just as quickly as it appeared. The Night Court had fairly warm, mild winters. Not that Soraya was upset about that in the slightest. She'd gotten her fill of snow from the mortal lands.

Overhead, a bird flitted between branches, curiously exploring the changing world. Sunbeams pierced through the gnarled boughs of trees overhead, heating her reddened cheeks. Clouds peaked through as well. Clumps of angry gray drawing nearer.

"You have yet to tell me why we're out here," Soraya huffed, cringing when she tipped a bit too far to one side of her log. Her boot slipped on the wet bark, giving out beneath slush.

Azriel looped an arm around her waist and effortlessly lifted her off of the fallen tree. He murmured something about being careful before setting her back on the ground beside him.

"Training," was Azriel's easy answer.

Soraya frowned in confusion, peeking over.

Cassian had taken over her training, seeing as how Azriel had been so busy. It was probably for the best. No doubt, Azriel would have been a constant distraction whether or not he intended to be. Even at home, lounging about the cabin, she could hardly focus on breathing when he was there.

"Chances are," he continued, "you will never end up fighting for your life in a padded training room."

Soraya quirked a confused brow when their feet slowed upon reaching a small clearing in the trees.

Azriel pressed his toe into a spot of mud and melting slush. "The elements put up as much of a fight as your opponent."

She stole a glance around before her gaze ultimately returned to the Illyrian before her. "Okay," she drawled, slowly.

Azriel, clad in Illyrian armor and looking all the warrior that he was, gave a shrug. "Show me what you've learned."

Soraya gaped for a moment before clamping her mouth shut. She straightened, shifting uneasily between her feet. He was serious if his expression was any indication.

Finally, she was beginning to progress somewhere with her training. Cassian had taken to showing her one fighting maneuver at a time. Before she knew it, she could begin to string them together. Slowly, clumsily, but they were fighting moves all the same. It certainly felt good to be learning something of use.

"Um..." She clenched her fingers and then let them loose again.

Azriel raised a questioning brow at her obvious discomfort. "Surely Cassian hasn't been wasting all of your time."

With a choked laugh that died in her throat, she hesitantly lowered herself into the fighting stance that the general had drilled into her. "I don't want to hurt you."