What if I lived? ✔️

A Stern talk

"Good morning you two" Azriel yawned, a cup of coffee in his hand.

The male looked good when he had just gotten out of bed, clad in a white shirt with loose, grey pants and his short black locks messy... No surprise that he was so effective as a spy, if a male like that asked, people would fall over themselves to please.

Elain gave him a kiss on the cheek, rising onto her toes: "I'll go see why Lucien is taking so long to get breakfast."

Azriel blinked tiredly: "He's upstairs, playing with Canna."

Last night must've been very long judging by the rings under his eyes.

She frowned: "Okay, thanks" then vanished inside the house, leaving me alone with the shadow singer. Suddenly he didn't seem so tired anymore.

I couldn't look at him, couldn't even pin-point why. Instead I took the now cold cup of tea and examined the peppermint leaves floating in the green water.

Azriel had different plans, dragging up a chair, gesturing for me to take a seat too. Oh, boy, what would come now?

"When did you last get a full night of sleep?" I could feel his eyes on me.

I placed the cup back on the table, carefully watching the porcelain hit the overthrow on the table. Much saver than anything else I could watch right now.

"Funnily enough when I was still in Vallahan, for some reason I never had any problems with nightmares there, but since I got onto that ship headed for home all those... scenes have come back. Things I didn't even know I remembered, like the sound of-" I cut myself of, bile coating my tongue.

He said nothing for such a long time I thought he would just stay silent, but then he decided to continue his pestering: "And when did you relax the last time?"

"You know the answer to that question" I glared at him.

He tilted his head, like a cat surveying an exotic bird, determining whether it would be a delicious dinner or instead poison: "I don't think I do."

I bared my teeth: "I've been pushed around enough Azriel."

"And still got some fight in you, I'm impressed" the cup rose back to his lips again.

I never pecked Azriel for a male enjoying unnecessary cruelty, so I just stood up and bit out: "Go to hell."

"Sorry, it's just, we've all thought that you were dead for two centuries. Now you turn up at some Illyrian War-camp? It just all seems a bit too good" he put the cup back down, baring his palms, "I don't mean you any harm. I just have to make sure..."

I blinked slowly: "...that if I get close to the people you love, I'm not an imposter who'll destroy everything."

He nodded, his eyes wandering to the flowerbeds.

Taking a deep breath, I sat back down. It was hard not to ask. There had been rumors of course, that a daughter of the Night Court had defected to Vallahan, all of them bogus and overblown, since none mentioned exactly how useless I could be in real combat.

No one from Prythian had ever come looking. As Spy-master, that would've been his department., especially since I had clearly left a calling card.

My powers were unique, the ability to manipulate light in a way that anyone can see anything, a cell becoming a peaceful meadow, a clearing, suddenly tinted in the red of blood, looking remarkably like a battlefield. Particularly in the night, when the shadows did all the work for me, the small amount of power I reigned over was enough to make anything seem real. My powers had been rumored about, if he had heard about them, why didn't he at least keep an eye out for someone looking like me? But I wasn't really sure that I even wanted to know the answer to that question. Not to mention that walloping in self-pity never did anyone any good.