It seemed just about everyone had to depart to grab their gifts for Elain. Eblis merely sidled up to her brother as he began to walk away as well. He sent a warm violet gaze down to her. With a wave of his hand, as if knowing what it was she wanted, the wrapped flower brooch landed in her hands. She blinked and smiled up at him.
“I’m sorry I have been too busy to spend time with you,” he said. Her smile faltered, but she plastered it back on, brushing her hair out of her eye.
“Don’t worry about it,” she replied comfortingly. “Azriel has been great company.” Almost too great of a company, but she pushed the thought away before he could see it in her eyes. He only laughed, the sound rich and heart-warming, as she unintentionally followed him all the way to his and Feyre’s bedroom. She paused on the threshold, suddenly embarrassed.
The room was lavish and wide, one wall almost entirely consumed by windows framed with beautiful dark curtains. It splashed light along the otherwise midnight furniture, their large bed big enough for three Illyrians to sleep with their wings relaxed, the frame carved with suns and starry skies. A diaphanous fabric draped across it, hiding the majority of the bed from view. Her eyes caught on a dresser, one with three drawers all painted with different patterns. One was of flames, one of flowers, and one of a night sky. The sisters, she thought, studying the beautiful work.
“Feyre did it,” Rhysand said, following her gaze. He opened a closet and pulled out a wrapped box. “She mirrored it after a piece of furniture she had in her old house.”
“The one before or after Tamlin?” she asked, stepping closer to the paint work. It was gorgeous and delicate and yet sharp and powerful. It depicted each of them masterfully without even painting a face.
Rhysand’s voice startled her as it came from right behind her. “So she told you?”
“Yes.” Feyre had told her her whole story, painstaking part for painstaking part. Of course some stuff had been left out, she could tell, but it was still enough for her to understand the female a whole lot better. Her and the other sisters. “I’m very glad you found her, Rhysand,” she said.
She turned to Rhysand, finding his eyes swarmed with emotion. Her own eyes almost burned at the sight. “You deserve her, and she deserves you. You have created a beautiful family since I’ve been gone.” And there it was; the hint of guilt in his violet gaze. She shuddered, feeling as if she’d been punched in the gut. “I don’t blame you for moving on, Rhysand, if that is why you’ve been avoiding me.”
Because he had. She knew that was what it was—that he felt guilty for letting her and her mother go, for not doing more after their death even if there was nothing else he could do. Even after five centuries, she understood her brother impeccably well. It doesn’t always have to be your fault, she whispered to him, in her mind. She didn’t expect him to hear, for some reason forgetting being daemati, but he nodded, eyes clenched shut.
“I’m sorry,” he breathed. It was enough to make her realize she never wanted to see her brother this way again. Ever.
She swallowed hard. “Let’s join the others before they become suspicious that I’ve killed you,” she said, and a soft laugh raked out of her brother.
“Amren does seem to have it out for you,” he replied after a moment of breath. He drew himself tall and offered her a dazzling, warm smile. She returned it, putting all her emotions into one expression. Everything; except for the guilt.
He led her from the room and back to the study they’d originally met in. She brushed a comforting hand against her brother’s before settling into a seat next to Azriel. In his lap, a strangely oblong wrapped gift also waited, and he glanced at hers curiously.
“I’ll only tell you if you tell me,” she joked, sending a look to his present for Elain. Humour danced in his hazel eyes as he shook his head, yet a shadow twirled around her hand and inspected the present. Azriel’s scent wrapped around her pleasantly as she swatted the thing away with a laugh. “Cheater.”
He shrugged with a smile, turning to watch as Elain entered the room.
She’d changed into a gown, one of soft violet and gold. Her hair had been let down from their braids so it draped along her shoulders in soft, heat-fizzed waves. Still beautiful, Eblis thought, and offered Elain a smile.
She returned it, gaze going to the male at her side. Something shone in her gaze, enough to make Eblis sit forward in her seat a little more even as Azriel gave her a curious glance. Jealousy. Elain...she liked Azriel. Cared for him.
But did he…?
She studied him for a moment before his shadow touched against the ones that had gathered along her neck in question. Eblis bit the inside of her cheek and shook her head in answer. No. Azriel had already said he...that he loved her. However calming the thought was, she realized she had also pushed him away afterwards and forced friendliness between them—though she’d failed miserably at doing so. She took a very deep breath and pushed it away. Now was not the time.
Elain settled into a chair as everyone joined them once more, gifts in their hands. The female blushed prettily, ears turning bright pink as the room filled, even the wraiths entering with food and wine and their own presents. It was a rushed gathering, tinged with the panic of a war on the horizon, but they all offered the female her own little piece of calm amidst the storm.
She wondered what part Elain would play; what part she would play. She was no warrior or Spymaster—nor did she have any special magical abilities besides her small bite of night and a sweeping mass of shadows, which she’d only had her time with Azriel to practice in. Eblis would be but an informant of Hybern’s secrets, which she knew so little of to give them. All she wanted to be happy was for her Princess Madalyn to be on the throne of Hybern. Once that happened, everything would settle, and she could let loose a little.
Be free.
She just needed a little more time.
“Happy birthday, Elain!” Mor said, and a loud pop echoed that sent Eblis startling from her thoughts. Rhysand hissed and swept forward as fizzy liquor made to spill onto the rug, his hands summoning a towel to catch it before it actually did. Despite his small warning, he laughed along with his cousin as Cassian proffered glasses. Cerridwen opened a wine bottle and offered it around as well.
To Eblis—and, surprisingly, to Nesta—they were given flavored water to drink. Amren’s teeth were soon stained blood red with wine as they settled down to eat around a center table that had appeared from nowhere it seemed. A cloth draped along the wooden space, several bunches of food that the wraiths had somehow made settling along its length, the aromas heavenly in her nose.
Feyre laughed, the sound a tinkling softness that made Rhysand at her side smile. “I know this was rushed, but I do hope it is enough, Elain,” she said.
Elain blushed. “Of course. This is more than I could’ve ever asked for given the circumstances.”
“Well,” Amren huffed, “I see now that Illyrians really are having a lazy streak.” It seemed the whole table turned to her with a look of disbelief. The female gave a serpentine smile. “First with the sparring in front of the Townhouse, and now with the dinner in the library? If I didn’t see your hulking wings, I would almost think you incapable of movement.”
Cassian barked a laugh, and raised his glass of wine. “I think I liked you better when you never left your apartment,” he said with a playful nudge to the female at his side. Amren hissed at him, baring her teeth in a half-smile half-snarl.
“Watch it, boy. Your bones are dust beneath my feet.” Eblis softly laughed, having heard the taunt several times before. It seemed that even after five centuries, Amren still attempted to impede her age over them. Not for any malicious behavior; just to scold them like the children they were compared to her. She was ancient, and she used to be not-of-this-world, one of the beasts who lived beneath the crust of the ground. But, from what she’d heard, Amren had given it all up to stay with them. Her family.
“Perhaps it was just convenient,” Cassian continued, “to use this room. We all gathered here in the first place.”
“You know what is convenient?” Mor leaned forward, drink in hand.
Cassian made a dramatic gasp that made her smile. “No, what could it be?”
“How about the whole dining room that Feyre designed for this very purpose?” The male rolled his eyes even as Amren harrumphed, her point proven without even speaking.
Feyre laughed, and said, “I should’ve realized a party could happen anywhere with you two here. Design flaw on my part.” At Eblis’s side, Azriel chuckled, and she smiled at the sound.
“Look at what you’ve done, Cassian.” The male guffawed hilariously. Nesta grinned as both Mor and Amren seemed to tear into the male.
Through his laughter, Rhysand stood and the table fell silent. “Enough of that. Let’s do presents.” He held out his first, despite Feyre’s playful smack to his side with a murmured laugh of, “I was supposed to go first.”
“Too slow,” was his response, and Elain had his gift in her hand.
She peeled the paper apart hesitantly, and then opened the box. She gasped, lifting what appeared to be a beautifully carved jewelry box. Her hand fluttered to her chest. “Rhysand...it’s beautiful.”
“Open it,” he said, smiling proudly, and the female did as told.
“Oh,” she said, “you didn’t have to do that!” Within, little jewels and earrings and necklaces were laid out masterfully, each one floral in it’s own way. They were a gorgeous plucking of colors and shades, not a single type of flower repeated. Eblis’s single brooch suddenly seemed too little to the masterful gift of her brother.
“I know you like to get your hands dirty, but I really wanted to annoy Amren with this gift,” Rhysand jokingly said, and the tiny, dark-haired female scowled up at him. She had a love for jewelry and expensive ones at that.
Elain laughed and closed the box. “Thank you. For this, and all you have done for me and my sisters,” Elain then said, cheeks red with shyness. Rhysand nodded right as Feyre stood and lifted something from behind her chair. Even Eblis held her breath as Elain took it with a grateful smile and unwrapped the large thing.
It was a painting. One of the three of the sister’s huddled together on a too-small iron-wrought bed, the sheets tangled in their limbs. Their faces were haggard, hair dull and clothes just as ragged as the bed seemed; but they were cuddling together for heat, soft smiles of laughter in their faces. Elain’s own face softened exponentially as she studied it color for color, strand for strand. “It’s from...before.”
“Perhaps one of the few times we actually got along,” Feyre agreed with a small chuckle. She took a deep breath as Nesta leaned over to inspect it as well. “I know that a reminder of our poverty might not be the best gift—”
“I love it, Feyre,” Elain whispered before she could finish. Her brown eyes were lined with silver. “Come, give me a hug.”
Eblis watched as they embraced briefly, before Feyre pulled away slightly and said, “There are also dresses coming, but they have not arrived yet.”
Elain shook her head. “This is more than enough,” she said, voice soft with appreciation. “Thank you, Feyre.”
“My turn.” Nesta stood, seeming to surprise everyone. She proffered a small box which Elain opened with a smile. She pulled out a long hairpin that was sharp enough to spill blood, a wide casting of flowers and flower gems spread on one end, the colors vibrant and bright. Nesta quietly slipped it into her sister’s braids, the sapphires and emeralds blending with her brown-gold hair decadently.
Elain’s hand patted the small bit of jewelry in her hair as she said, “Oh, thank you, Nesta. I love it.” Nesta bobbed her head acquiescence and sat back down.
And around and around they went, giving Elain their gifts. Azriel gave her a new pair of gardening gloves, Cassian a pair of hard-leather boots, Mor pulling out a set of floral scarves for the nearing season of Autumn, and Amren pulled free a knife inlaid with lotus and lily pads. The wraiths made a conjoined effort, the pair having sewn a beautiful gown with a leather bodice and a lacy outer layer, one with a petaled pattern at the bottom that drifted up. It was a soft yellow, like cornsilk, and perhaps the prettiest dress she’d seen. And then it was Eblis’s turn, and she gave Elain her brooch with a slightly embarrassed smile. Her present did not compare to what everyone else had chosen for her, but for how little of time she’d known the female, she still had a good sense that the gift was accurate.
Mor found a nearby blanket and swaddled Elain with it, using the crystal brooch to fasten it around her neck. Elain laughed, and the banter ensued as they goaded the other’s and their presents. Mor claimed to have picked the best one, Azriel murmuring he’d chosen the most practical despite Cassian’s bark of surprise and anger and humor. Amren offered to keep the knife she’d given her if Elain didn’t want it. They’d originally eyed the small female for giving the gentle flower girl a knife, but the comment was a final straw of laughter.
Eblis smiled, letting the words wash over her. She wished the moment could last forever. But war was nearing at a deadly speed, and she knew this small bit of happiness could not last forever.
The thought dampened her mood considerably and she stood, allowing herself to wander the bookshelves and tables with a polite murmur to Elain.
***
It took Azriel several moments to notice the disappearance of the female at his side, so wrapped up in Cassian and Nesta’s frothy argument as he was. They all were, the tension meted out only by the slightest of laughter. He stood as soon as he noticed however and went off to find her, shadows skittering over wood and leather questioningly.
It took him only a few moments to find her sitting at a table, paper before her and an ink and quill set up. She was scribbling furiously, writing the same words and letters and phrases.
“What are you doing?” he asked curiously, and she jolted, knocking the ink over her paper. The words were washed away before he could read them.
She sighed, shaking her head. “I just remembered some old friends I might be able to catch up with, but they...might be dead.” His face softened sympathetically as she drew to a stand, using her paper to mop off the excess ink and throw it away. She turned to him with a soft smile. “Did I miss anything?” There was a focused gleam in her eye, and something else he only barely glimpsed before it was replaced with humor.
“Nesta and Cassian are combating each other,” he said, scanning her face. He found himself smiling, however, as she smiled up at him. It was an expression entirely too infectious to him, and he had to pat her shoulder to avoid the swelling in his chest.
She didn’t avoid his touch, and instead leaned into it. “Azriel,” she said, surprising him, “I want you to know that I care deeply for you. Far more than I should. And of all the emotions that I am able to mask; the one where I smile at you is the hardest.” His heart hammered at the words, even though her voice seemed different as she said it. Melancholy and yet truthful.
“I don’t understand what you are waiting for, Eblis,” he murmured, some intangible line drawing taut between them, “when it seems we both want each other.” His gaze dipped down to hers—lower—right as she very nearly did the same.
The female bit the inside of her cheek, sucking in a breath. “But wait you must.” Her eyes were sad as she stepped away from him. “You will be put to the test very soon, I feel.”
He blinked at her. “What do you mean?”
“You will see. Let’s get back to dinner.” He considered her deeply as she stepped away, the heat that had gathered in his chest dropping away as her calming scent left him. Put to the test?
He joined the others once more, and for the first time in a while, he drank until the solemn words left him, and he was in a honeyed pleasantness where Eblis was not all he ever thought about anymore.
***
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