A Court of Fate and Failure | Azriel

4: Silence and Sympathy

Naoise overlooked the city of Velaris for the eighth night in a row. It'd just been over a week there and she already felt such a connection to the beating hearts within those walls that it pained her to think of those she could not help, not yet at least. Then she let out a breath, and returned inside. 

As she entered her room and changed out of the familiar leathers into what seemed to be standard Night Court fashion in black that flattered her toned muscles and complemented the swirls of black covering tanned skin, darkness swirled about the room, as tangled and chaotic as her thoughts. She despised the jittery sensation of nerves bundled in her gut.

Just as she finished up, securing her ebony siphon to her wrist, and staring at her reflection, trying to wrap her mind around the female staring back, a knock sounded on the door. On the other side awaited warmth, anticipation, and patience. In a billow of black, her darkness was tucked away once again and she crossed the room to open it. 

Mor stood there, a dress of deep silky red and a dangerous slit hugging her tight.

She was smiling. "Ready for your first official dinner with the inner circle?" she asked.

Naoise shrugged a shoulder, wings flared and shifting with every subtle gust of air. "I've stalled enough."

"I would say. A week is quite some time among our group," Mor laughed. As they began their venture down the hall, she nudged her lightly. "How well do you know them? The others?"

"Not well."

"Then tonight might just change that."

Naoise deigned only to nod and tucked her dark wings in self-consciously as they neared chatter and she could feel the individual heartbeats of three fae, knowledge of Azriel also pressing into the edges in a way she not yet recognized. Not surprisingly, the only two she heard were Rhys and Cassian, bickering over something that was clearly familiar to them. She felt the warmth of an old debate spanning back years in their hearts. 

Before she even laid eyes on her, Naoise knew Mor hadn't lied about Amren. Something was so inherently off about her heartbeat and the flitting feelings sent through their connection that she suppressed a shiver. It was almost murky, as if the land itself were confused about her place in the Court.

When Mor stepped over the threshold, soon followed by Naoise's looming shadow, conversation halted where it ran and all attention fell on her. That was when she saw the eerie glow of silver eyes and she had to tense to keep from showing any outward sign of alarm. Something was seriously wrong about that female.

Not letting the sudden silence shake her, Naoise offered a steady nod and took a seat at the expansive table where six remained empty, settling in with pleasant surprise to the cut favoring the bulk of her wings. Food already sat before every place setting. All but before Amren, where there was only a single cup, a deep chalice with dark liquid glimmering under the light, a tint of scarlet and maroon and pain. She was sat beside Cassian, and across from Amren, whose eyes dug into her like freshly sharpened blades raised to strike. Azriel sat beside the deceivingly simple fae, casting cool glances their way every so often. Mor settled in beside her, lightly squeezing her arm in silent greeting, and Rhys lounged back in his chair across from Cassian. The one at the head of the table remained empty.

No one spoke for a long moment, simply eating in a bated silence. For a fraction of that time, Naoise made bold eye contact with Azriel in that same kind of cool observation. Then Cassian shifted beside her and cleared his throat. When she glanced at him, she realized how she'd failed before to see how truly massive this male was. It settled a familiar warmth in the pit of her stomach that managed to churn like acid, nonetheless.