AN : This chapter is probably going to be much longer because of the dialect.
Buckle your seats kids, Ember is going to off load a whole lot of shit :)
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TW : Bad Language, Descriptions of Gore
Chapter 5 | Let's Talk
Azriel
"Let's Talk"
The statement on it's own was enough to set Azriel into a shudder across his skin.
He didn't know yet wether he did, or didn't want to know the reason behind... well
Her in general.
All he really wanted to do, was to torture her for the minimum of 2 weeks for even laying her eyes in a scowl to his High Lord.
His brother.
They didn't know how dangerous she was yet, and slaughtering over a 100 of their men within 3 days, suggested evidently, that she was maybe a slight threat.
From where he was stood in Cassian's office, he could only glare into the back of her head, in hope that she could see - or more so, sense that he was doing so.
He would never lay a hand on a woman.
But with her.
He wasn't so sure.
Some part of her just caused undiluted fury to build up within his very soul and he had no clue why.
"About what?"
The comment made Azriel physically grind down on his teeth.
They were going to be here for a long time.
Rhys shifted his weight as he crossed his arms, briefly looking up to Azriel with a look of also thinking "we're going to be here a long time"
"Did you notice the quill?"
Azriel only slightly dipped his head in a 'yes'
The bemusement across his brother's face was hard to amiss, which caused the futile female in front of them to turn and stare at him.
Blue eyes boring into his own, with a glare of such hatred the spymaster nearly laughed. Hazel ones bore back.
Let her give in first.
It wasn't long before the impatient shadow singer huffed and turned back to the High Lord, her shoulders drooping in an almost - stropping.
She was actually stropping.
It took Azriel a lot to not even smile a little bit, as he found that her stropping because of a little staring contest beyond pathetic.
"Does he have to be here?"
Rhys looked at Az again before just looking back to her, not saying anything to convey his opinion on the matter.
She turned once more to glare at the shadow singer before slumping in her chair.
God I want to kill this bitch.
He just couldn't understand it.
What could Rhys and his own inner court have done so badly that caused her to rage on an absolute fury?
It wasn't only that, it was also the fact that such arrogance and sarcasm mixed on her tongue, so much so, that he wanted to grip it in his hand to get her to speak with some sort of newly found respect to his brothers and him.
He mentally sighed.
For some reason, he had an inkling it would be harder to get her to not look at their wings with such disgust.
But Azriel didn't think it was all hatred and rage, or maybe even jealousy that she held so dearly to them, the way she looked at them.
He thought that she was scared.
——
"That wasn't necessary." Amren huffed, kicking her legs back off the table before standing and stalking off.
Ember lay in front of him, knocked completely out with the one swift blow.
How fucking dare she throw a dagger at my brother.
He didn't care if they needed answers - he wanted to cut her damned throat out.
Feyre moved round the table to where Rhys and Cassian stood.
"I'll clean this up I-"
Rhys grabbed her forearm.
"No, get Nuala or Cerridwen, you won't be doing anything of the sort whilst pregnant."
Feyre knew better than to argue with Rhys right now, yet a small frown appeared on her face as the spy master was sure she sent an earful down the bond to him.
But azriel couldn't focus on them.
For as he stared at the female's limp body, something ached at his chest that he had done so.
But I want to kill her?
He wanted to kill her because she had killed and rampaged their men, had spat at his court, and had thrown a knife at his brother.
So why in God's name did he feel something odd looking at her body like that.
Because it looked like she was dead.
He knew that she were not.
Something told him that it would take a lot more than him hitting her across the temple to take her down.
Azriel watched as her shadows coiled around her, dark embers bending and circling like springs, almost as if they were -
"Az!"
He had only a split second to gather what they were doing before he leapt out of the building and hovered in the air - her shadows lurching towards him and everyone else in a furious rage.
Darkness swirled, and the ebony storm filtered out even more so towards him.
Him.
The House of Wind was seeping - no - was pouring out with shadows.
It looked like god had reigned Hybern himself inside.
Shit.
What do I do?
Wracking his mind on some way to put the shadows aside for a moment so he could get to her and put the -
The cuffs.
His own shadows flared, attacking each side of her shadows that threatened to come close for protection but hers just kept growing and growing. He could barely hear Cassian and Rhys and the others inside.
Feyre.
Fuck
He took one steadying breath, preparing for the worst and unending darkness as he tucked his wings into his side.
Azriel darted in.
Silence.
Inside her shadows there was pure silence.
He had never felt so terrified in all of his life.
Why were they quiet?
Why does it feel..
No
It wasn't just that that made him physically stop, because the feeling of his own shadows stirring with hers was enough to set his own scream in his throat quiet.
It felt..
Consuming.
Suffocating.
I need to get out.
He couldn't see anything,
Nothing apart from her body, now that he stood 3 feet away.
Gritting his teeth, as he leaned over her body in attempt to reach the cuffs - that's when the screaming began.
Horrifying screaming of her shadows.
They screamed as they twirled themselves around his ears, around his calves, around his wings, around him altogether.
He bit down on his cheek, surpressing the pain of the screams that tore into his ears, shutting his eyes.
It felt horrendous.
It felt like death itself was carving its way into him, and as they got louder and louder his own scream became apparent.
A heart-wrenching scream erupted from his mouth.
He grabbed the cuffs and slammed them back onto her hands, and the sudden opacity of them flying back in to hound her body, and the sudden stillness caused his shoulders to sag.
His throat was hoarse as a burning, aching pain still sat in his ears, in his soul.
What the fuck was that.
He was sat on her back, hands gripping her wrists with the cuffs, fear of if he let go that they would run riot again.
He had never seen that.
Of course, his own shadows could dance in a similiar way, but, to his knowledge they never did that when he was sleeping.
Realising the contact he held with her body, an unfamiliar feeling repelled through his bones.
Her scent filled his nose, filled him.
He hated it. He didn't understand.
Quickly throwing himself off of her, he stood back, wings flaring and chest rising as he looked up to the rest of his court.
The room hadn't been damaged - at all.
It seemed they were only being directed at him - the man that posed danger to their yielder.
Feyre and Rhys stood to the right wall, his brothers body protecting hers in an desperate act of protection.
Cassian was stood, daggers in hand as he wide-eyedly looked at Azriel and back to her.
Mor stood shocked.
Amren burst threw the left hand side door, fury set on those soft features as she took it all in.
"Who locked the door?"
——
The act on its own was enough to set more uncertainty and - Azriel wouldn't admit it, but fear into his soul.
Fear that she had no control over a dark power that seemingly blossomed from her very core.
Mor tucked the young shadow singer into the bed, with a gentleness Azriel could only admire - and want for himself.
Gods when will this unending pining give in?
"I can get her some of my clothes?" Feyre questioned from the doorway where she leant against, gazing her view into the room.
Mor had somehow managed to carry the Shadow singer into the room - they'd figured it'd be best.
Even if she was knocked out cold and wouldn't know, they saw it best that they would have their wings ripped off if any of the bat boys carried her in.
It was out of respect aswell.
For azriel was certain that he never wanted to touch her again.
And he was pretty sure it went the other way around too.
Mor huffed a laugh as she straightened, looking back to Feyre in her upmost beauty. "I think now they would be too far stretched to fit her"
Feyre presented a small smile in return.
Cassian crossed his arms from the end of the bed, gazing to Rhys who stood next to him.
"So when are we going to question her?"
It held a quiet demand of authority.
Rhys just looked at the woman - girl she seemed as she lay in the bed, dark blonde curls splayed out and her mouth set slightly apart, Azriel noticed a small carve of an scar across her left cheekbon- why am I paying that much attention?
"When she wakes up. If Azriel keeps an eye on her, it'll be whenever she wakes up."
Azriel stiffened as his name was mentioned.
Why do I have to do it?
He produced a grimace of displeasure at Rhys' comment, who shrugged his shoulders.
"You are my spymaster after all."
Not for long if I have to do this.
Rhys smiled at his thought.
Fucking hell, get out of my head.
Turning back to the Avilon girl everyone grew silent, only the sound of Amren flipping her knife in boredom heard - he'd almost forgotten she was there.
"Did you see the way she looked at your wings." Mor stated, so quietly Azriel had to strain to hear her say it.
Rhys bowed his head in careful consideration.
"She probably hated them if she was an Illyrian warrior. Bastards are horrible to the females, she might have even had hers clipped." Cassian growled.
Azriel always admired how protective his brother was.
Even if it was on the topic of her.
All of them shared the same thought without having to speak openly with it - they wouldn't check.
Not just out of pure respect but the fact that Azriel wasn't sure if her shadows would react the same again. That she wouldn't react if she found out.
They had taken the cuffs off her, for it was easier to manoeuvre her, extremely carefully and slowly as they took them off to find that the shadows had stilled dramatically.
But Azriel could sense something else within her.
Granted the female was extremely difficult to read but he sensed that it wasn't just hatred because of Illyrian warriors of their wings, but fear aswell.
He felt an mutual understanding that Rhys sensed it too.
"Leave her be, she might be more willing to answer questions when she wakes up" Feyre started to turning around and walked off.
Mor sighed heavily, resting her hands on her hips as she stepped back and turned also, pointing a finger at Az.
"You don't let her out of your sight - senses even." As she stalked out, the wine finally hitting her to go to bed.
Cassian grumbled vicariously to himself that he wouldn't have to if they had locked her in a cell instead of one of the nice spare bedrooms.
Feyre had deemed it fit for her to have an actual bed - for they feared if she woke up in a cell that they would be quartered if they did.
Plus it was easier and quicker to get to if anything happened.
Rhys spared a glance to where Amren stood, who only shared a look of curiosity with a raise of an inch of her eyebrow before silently turning and retreating to her room.
Azriel stared at her, and found himself growing angry yet again, as Rhys turned and walked towards him, resting his hand on his shoulder.
"Don't slit her throat before we talk to her. Would be much appreciated." Smiling a tight smile, to which Azriel knew was holding much anxiety behind , walked off.
And azriel was left for the first time, with the shadow singer alone.
He deemed it weird for him to stand around, so opted for sitting on the roof outside her balcony, his shadows blending into the corners of the room, to be alerted when the shadow singer would eventually stir.
He would be eternally grateful if she never did.
——
Azriel held his stance ethereally still as he continued glaring into the back of the shadow singer.
He hated admitting that she had a name.
Shadow singer was still hard to say, because it meant she was, in some sort of form, similar to him.
Rhys crossed his feet in front of him as the look across his face turned to one of such a demanding scowl of authority - a high lord's demand that it even had the Avilon girl straightening in her seat, her eyes seemingly fixed on his, but Azriel knew her peripheral vision was eyeing the entirety of the room.
And him.
He didn't fail to notice her shadows eyeing his own.
"Where are you from?"
She snorted.
"Ask me for a date first your high lord, I thought you had a mate."
Azriel didn't have to see her face to know a smug smirk sat on it.
The comment made Azriel vocally growl, causing an unbothered Rhys to look up at him before back to her.
He also knew that her smirk probably grew even more.
Rhys seemingly wasn't bothered, he knew she was just trying to divert. He leaned forward.
"I won't ask again. Where are you from? It's not a difficult question."
She leaned back, and Azriel winced as her smell hit him again.
Why can I always smell her?
Better yet, why is it stronger than any other females I have met?
It smelt of pine and rosemary.
Pine?
Fucking focus Azriel.
Who the fuck cares what perfume she uses.
"Or what?"
He nearly made for Truth Teller at her being so god damn irritating.
"Just answer the fucking question"
His comment made her look to him, and for fucks sake, holding a brilliant smirk.
His anger was clear within his statement, and it was clear, that she wasn't taking any of it fucking seriously.
His blood physically boiled.
Her grin stayed adamant, as she cocked her head, opening her mouth but seemingly stopped herself.
Good idea.
The grin still plastered on her face she turned back to Rhys, who was now growing irritated also.
She looked to Rhys, and then back to him.
A look flashed through her eyes, the only way Azriel had noticed was because he was staring right back into them.
She turned back to his brother and seemed even stiffer than before as she replied.
"The Day Court."
A half-truth, Azriel gathered. He knew that her father was Illyrian, which also didn't make sense.
Why would she hate her own father's men, bloodline - brothers?
Granted, majority of the Illyrian soldiers these days were pricks, but still.
Rhys nodded lightly leaning back, clearly seeming it enough of a start to not push further.
"So.." he started walking around the table, grazing his hand across the surface as he did so.
Azriel didn't like that.
"Let's get things straight." He sat down in Cassian's chair sitting up straight as he folded his hands.
The Avilon girl didn't even shift. He could sense that her smirk had long gone to be replaced with one of those godforsaken glares.
"We know of you. The 'supposed' night warrior, slaughterer of kingdoms, and an apparent shadow singer. But there's a lot that we need to know. One of those being, why would the supposed epitome of death put herself up for sacrifice in order to carry out a revenge plan against the High lord, lady, and the entirety of the night Court?"
Deathly still.
Azriel grimaced. The longing, the wanting to see some sort of expression - regret, fear something to flash across her face. He was yearning for it, he needed it.
But from where he stood he could only stare into her back. He dared not to take his gaze off of her in fear she might actually do some damage with that shitting quill.
If it was so much as a scratch he would rip her limbs off of her body.
The Avilon girl shifted in her seat, Rhys not committing to removing his eyes off of hers as she put her hands down to push her slight body upwards to a stand.
Azriel made for her to grab her shoulders and shove her back into the chair, but a raise of Rhys' hand had him stilling in mid lurch.
He silently thanked him, for he wished to never lay a hand on her ever again.
Only if he were ending her sarcastic, arrogant, disrespectful soul.
She didn't pause at all despite the sound of Azriel's body physically moving and stopping dead at Rhys' request. Instead, she slowly moved to the window located on the left, sauntering, as she dragged her hand on the desk before Azriel moved his head to Rhys.
What the fuck? Why did you-
"She causes no imminent danger for now. Keep eye on her, she's feeling vulnerable and may lash out in a while"
That's what you think.
Returning his gaze to the back of her, he was stunned to see arms held behind her back - she stood like a queen.
A queen his arse.
She stood at the window, staring into the dawn rising across Velaris.
Beautiful.
Velaris was beautiful.
Shame she wouldn't be able to see it - appreciate it.
He didn't care.
Her dark blonde hair fell to just the backs of her armpits, sitting in the middle of her back.
She was silent and still, so still Azriel nearly dared a huff of a breath for some sort of reaction.
But then she started.
With a short intake of breath, she stayed staring out as she spoke, in such quiet demand and pain and anger Azriel nearly staggered back as it laced each and every one of her words.
"There's no point in me beating around the cauldron to telling you why I am here. I decided a long time ago, even before coming here that I would tell you everything. For only because I wanted to see the look - that look across your face."
Azriel didn't dare a breath as her scent hit him with - nothing.
She was deathly calm.
The killing calm.
Fuck.
She slowly turned, and Azriel was struck that he had ever once called her a girl, for a woman stared back at him.
Why him?
Her gaze fell to her left where Rhys still leant, before turning back to the window.
And with a breath of air, began.
"I had always hated the idea of the courts. The insufferable, underlying tension of segregation cut deeper into me than any of you would ever know."
She stood still as she continued.
"Not necessarily the courts on their own, but the idea that you only could belong to one. The idea, that if you made the decision to leave your own for whatever reason, even-though it is not frowned upon, but the inevitable knowing that you would never be fully welcome there again, that was what I hated - hate."
What the fuck is she going on about?
Azriel dared a shortness of breath just to be greeted with a few shadows hissing at him.
She didn't flinch.
"I hate the fact that High Lord's and Lady's, mortal's, fae, Illyrians -".
She spat that word.
"Feel that they have to bow down to those of higher authority - bow down to the inevitable, of serving their turn to their court. Feel that they have to belong somewhere - and if not, nowhere at all."
Azriel listened on.
"And even if, they dedicate their life to that court - that family, and still come out of it scathed and broken due to the almighty fact that they are 'not important' because they seemingly decided a different future to the one chosen for them-"
She raised her head and tilted it. Azriel could sense her shadows seemed lighter, opaque as they whisked so lightly - so lightly around her.
"- that is what disgusts me more than anything in my entire, useless existence."
Azriel was starting to wonder whether she was going to get anywhere at all, but his thoughts were struck short as she turned to gaze at Rhys holding an underlying - no.
Not rage... for she held something indifferent in her face as she laid them blue eyes onto him. It was too... solemn to be rage, even though he could tell it did sit there.
Disappointment
Disappointment was splayed across her features, so softly, so softly, Azriel barely had chance to recognise it - appreciate it. For he had never seen her with such gentle grace across them features it made him think twice.
But then he remembered.
And no matter how soft she seemed on the inside, his rage was too over full to not even consider the fact that she had a good reason to kill his men.
But as she looked on at Rhys with such disgrace in her features, of his failure to her, she dared not to let the tear escape from those blue orbs.
For Azriel had already gathered from what she had said that he had failed her somehow.
How?
She set her head high, and the broken rasp that came out showed more to him than anything, that indeed, the cold-hearted bitch was so much more. So much more than he had bargained for.
And he goddamn fucking hated it.
The Avilon girl rasped harshly as she looked at his High Lord.
"My father -" her chin wobbled.
She cleared her throat again before looking back up. And as she did, Azriel held his breath.
"My father - was an Illyrian soldier of your troops. He trained, fought, killed along side you."
She took one step forward. "Who, when captured by Hybern, after being ambushed on a mission out, was tortured and killed because he wouldn't give up the secrets of the Inner Court, and within that, caused my mother to be used as leverage for his answers, to have her stripped to the bone, raped and beaten until she lay on cold stone to die out."
A tear fell down her cheek as she took another step.
"My family was slaughtered, including my brother in one of your camps, for no reason, all purely to the reason of you."
Azriel didn't follow, and he could see Rhys about to open his mouth before she stopped him.
"For when Hybern sent message that he had soldiers - not just my father - 500 soldiers, your Illyrian soldiers at his peril, to assert his hold over you that he had managed to capture 500 of your winged soldiers, you stood by and did nothing. Even knowing this, you claimed that my father and his soldiers were 'not important enough' to drop the one thing you had leverage over, purely for the reason that my father being commander was bastard born and chose to leave the Night Court for my mother"
Azriel saw his High Lord's features soften the slightest of ways.
What?
The Shadow Singer now stood with tears escaping effortlessly from her cheeks, as she stepped forward again, Azriel couldn't see her face anymore - but he was still struck.
Struck completely and utterly still as he watched on in fear that everything she was saying was true .
Fists clenched, she was inches away from his High Lord's face.
But he couldn't move.
Couldn't even inch forward to stop her from being that close as something turned inside of him to having that unexpressed rage begin to be felt towards his brother.
"But even with him being thrown out of his court - his own family, he didn't spit one utter word of your godforsaken reign."
She stared at Rhys, who stiffened and visibly swallowed - he was nervous.
What the fuck?
"For your Camp War lords and Illyrians ripped my wings from my back. Your soldiers at your camps killed my brother and best friend. Your bidding and decision that my father and his soldiers weren't worth saving, resulting in my mother being brutally murdered, caused me to lose everything."
Azriel willed his legs, wings - anything to move forward as he felt like he had been slowed in time.
Quickly.
His shadows emerging as he lurched forward to see her pulling a dagger out from her side -
"And it's time for you to feel that same pain."
And with that she tilted its hilt and threw it backwards into Azriel's stomach, causing him to double over from the force -
And her shadows flew.
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AN : Hi guys! I'm so sorry this chapter took longer to come out, I had a bit of a writers mental block on how to word this chapter and other stuff, plus I was revising for my mocks which I've thankfully finished now so I can fully write more for this story, plus whenever I came to write I was too tired :/
I've just whacked out the last bit, it has been proof-read but I thought it would be a good way to finish it :)
We're actually going to ignore that there was less words in this one than the last chapter, but I feel like more happened here lol :)
What did you guys think? I hope the storyline makes some kind of sense, and don't worry! I'm not going to make Rhys' the bad guy, he will have his reasons/his side of the story lol.
Baby Az getting frustrated was cute lol. I honestly want to make them hate eachother to get the satisfaction of the slow burn.
I know a lot was revealed but there's so much more aswell, which hopefully Ember will decide to keep her cool a little bit for 😂
Hope you guys enjoyed anyway, again so sorry for the late update!
Love you guys
-Sydney 💕
word count : 4528
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