"You can't look back - you just have to put the past behind you, and find something better in your future."
- Jodi Picoult
Song: Pale Blue Eyes - The Velvet Underground
Fifteen minutes later Azriel and Gwyn were seated in a booth at the back of Rita's, sharing a basket of fried dough. Azriel had ordered himself a drink and when he made an attempt to choose something for Gwyn she had quickly interjected that she would have exactly what he had ordered. The server had left with a short nod of her head.
Azriel grimaced. "I don't know that you're going to like it."
"Why? Cause it's a male's drink?"
"No, because it's an acquired taste," the shadowsinger chuckled. "And it's a drink more meant to evoke a certain feeling than tempt the taste buds."
Gwynriel plucked up a piece of dough, raising a brow. "And what feeling is that?"
He grinned abashedly. "Eloquence."
"Oh, I'm not in short supply of that, Shadowsinger."
"Another reason you don't need the drink..."
"With every protest you make towards me not trying this drink, I just want to try it more. This is the obstacle course all over again."
Azriel leaned back in his seat, the side of his lip pulling up just slightly. "I remember how hard you pushed your group. I was... surprised."
"Well, I don't know why," Gwyn snorted. "You knew I wanted to win."
"I did, but I hadn't taken you for someone that could be so assured in their actions," said the shadowsinger apprehensively. "It's one thing to have faith in yourself and another to have faith in your ability to instruct others. You took to it like a fish to water."
She arched a brow. "Is that a river nymph joke?"
Azriel laughed to himself, rubbing the back of his neck. "It wasn't intended to be."
The server returned with two glasses of tall, dark liquid, then left with a cordial smile.
"After you," Azriel said with a crooked grin. "I insist."
Shooting him a quick glare, Gwyn raised the glass to her lips, taking a small sip. It was far more bitter than wine and not in the same sweet way. It was like molasses. There was something equally pleasant as there was unpleasant to the flavor; the warm sensation that followed her swallowing more than made up for the way it tasted.
"What's the verdict?" asked the shadowsinger, taking a drink.
Gwyn shrugged. "Not bad. But I don't feel more eloquent."
"And why would you? As you said, you don't need any aid to be eloquent."
"You sound like you don't believe that..."
"I believe that there's a fine line between being eloquent and being talkative," Azriel said with a teasing smirk. "But you toe that line quite well. Better than Cassian at least."
"Such high praise," she deadpanned.
Azriel laughed again, the sound filling the room and crinkling his eyes. Gwyn felt a smile spread on her lips. She liked making him laugh. She liked being the one who could break his stony expression. Anyone who met Azriel would assume at first glance he was incapable of laughter, but in truth he was more than susceptible. You only had to catch him off guard. Speaking of...
"Weren't you supposed to boast to me today about what it was like to have the bond snap into place?"
Azriel gave her a pointed look. "Snap into place first. "
"Well, what if you tell me what it's like and then I realize it already happened for me and I was first?"
"Then I won't believe you."
"You think I'd lie?"
"I think you'd do anything to best someone," corrected Azriel. "And also, there's no way you would not know. If it had happened for you, you would know. Trust me."
"Gods, Shadowsinger, out with it."
Azriel took a gulp of his drink, supplementing what Gwyn assumed to be courage rather than eloquence - the shadowsinger was not one to wear his heart on his sleeve and he was about to do just that.
"Let me preface, I don't know what triggered it or why it happened at that moment. So before you ask, no, I don't know how it works," Azriel began. He leaned forward on the table, Gwyn matched his posture. The shadowsinger lowered his voice. "It was very sudden and it felt like the earth was moving beneath my feet. It felt like time had slowed and that some sort of tether developed. One I can't see, but I know is meant for you." A shrug. "That's it."
Frowning, Gwyn slouched. "Well, I don't feel any tether..."
"I must like you more then," he snickered.
His words were lighthearted but Gwyn did feel a fraction of guilt, or rather envy that her side of the bond hadn't snapped yet.
"Do you feel any different about me in particular?" Gwyn asked, tracing the rim of her glass with her finger. "Has anything changed?"
Azriel angled his head, a thoughtful expression in his eyes. "I can't quite define the feeling, but it is... different, knowing for certain that you and I are... are mates." He blinked and stared into his drink. "We identified it more than a month ago and I was confident to say the least, but there's something different about the assurance after the bond snapped."
"That's not what I asked," murmured Gwyn. "I asked if anything felt different about me in particular."
If Gwyn was being honest with herself, Tamlin's words had stuck with her. He'd called Azriel a man in love. He'd said the shadowsinger's "love" for Gwyn was "burgeoning." Did Azriel love her? Did that mean she should love him back? Did she already love him? For how long? Wait, what if she loved him now and he didn't love her back?
A shadow on Azriel's shoulder coiled below his jaw and Gwyn noticed the flicker in his eyes. It had told him something.
Gwyn took a swig of the dark liquid, then wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "What did they say?"
"The usual." His tone was nonchalant. "That you are concerned and curious and that I should find out why." Azriel shook his head. "They grow disappointed on the rare instances where you aren't forthcoming about your emotions."
"Did they say what I'm concerned and curious about?"
"No. They are discerning but not quite that discerning, I'm afraid." His expression was free of any judgment. "Do you care to share your thoughts?"
Gwyn inhaled and exhaled. He was her mate. And sometimes that didn't mean anything, but sometimes it did.
"I am curious that since the mating bond has snapped into place for you, if it means that you..." Gods, why was this so hard? Gwyn offered a sheepish smile. "That you love me."
She waited for him to gasp or cough or recoil. But Azriel only sat before her, wings tucked in tight and shadows hovering on his shoulders with anticipation.
"You think the mating bond snapped into place for me yesterday because that is when I realized that I was in love with you?"
"I know it sounds ridiculous," she admitted. "I only know what I've read in books about mating bonds and we've barely known each other, what? Eight months? Nine? So—"
"Eight months." Azriel folded his arms on the table. "Two weeks." He leaned forward. "Five days." The corners of his lips curved up so slightly that she nearly missed it. "That is how long has passed since the first training session I attended. Since I saw you."
Cheeks burning and a smile threatening to break on her lips, Gwyn drank from her glass, the drink warming her and loosening her tongue. "But who's counting?"
Azriel's laugh was quiet, but it reached his eyes. "If I told you that I was in love with you, how would you feel?"
"Do you really need me to tell you that?" Gwyn asked, gesturing to his shadows.
A smoky tendril drifted across the table and playfully twirled around her palm, paying special attention to her injured pinky. Only when the plume retracted did Gwyn withdraw her hand.
"No, I suppose not," Azriel muttered. "I'll say this and leave you to make of it what you will: the mating bond did not snap for me because I realized I loved you yesterday."
So either he'd realized long before yesterday or hadn't realized yet. Neither was bad nor good in Gwyn's opinion, but the answer still somehow satisfied her. As did the way his shadows continued to dance on his shoulders.
After lunch, Azriel flew Gwyn back to the House of Wind. He insisted on carrying the meager supply of toiletries and clothing they'd purchased for her in Velaris. Maybe she imagined it, but Gwyn could've sworn the shadowsinger looked almost honored to be assisting her.
She'd moved her items out of the dormitories and into her new chambers this morning, leaving the library with a promise to still attend dusk services as often as possible.
It was bittersweet to leave the library behind, but with each ascending step towards the House of Wind, Gwyn had felt invisible shackles begin to break. Chains she didn't know existed until then.
"Do you miss Merrill already?" Azriel asked as they walked the corridor leading to Gwyn's chambers. "Did she beg you to stay?"
"You know, she actually did seem disappointed," mused Gwyn. "But she'll have Deirdre. She'll make a fine replacement."
"Will you still be taking your meals with the priestesses?"
"Perhaps sometimes, but I usually dine with Nesta and Cassian now anyway," she shrugged. "What about you? You once said that where you lived depended on your circumstances. Where will you stay now that your mate has quarters in the House of Wind? Will the shadowsinger take up residence in the townhouse or river house now?" Gwyn gave him a wicked smile. "Will sleeping just doors down from me prove to be too much of a temptation? Or will you be unable to stay away?"
Ignoring her jibe, Azriel kept walking, eyes on his boots. "I will continue to reside where I have lived consistently for the past nine months. Here in the House of Wind."
Arriving at Gwyn's room, she took great pleasure in opening the door for Azriel.
The door to her own personal, private chambers.
Maneuvering her shopping bags, Azriel stepped inside and set her parcels on the floor.
She'd purchased two shirts, two sets of leggings, and one casual dress. She'd require more eventually but it could wait until they'd finished their assignment.
"When we get back, I'll need you to accompany me to get more clothing," Gwyn sighed, brushing off her hands. She crossed to the bed that was far too large for one person and plopped down. "Shopping is exhausting."
Azriel smiled wryly and shoved his hands in his pockets. "Yesterday, when I was making preparations for our leave, I took the time to visit my mother."
Gwyn's brows raised. "Oh? How... how was she?"
"It was a good day," the shadowsinger said warmly. "We actually... we spoke about you."
"Me?"
"Forgive me. I never know when her next 'good day' will be, so I wanted to... tell her about you." He grimaced. "She won't breathe a word to anyone. I am... I am her only visitor aside from her caretaker."
"There's nothing to forgive, Azriel. Please." Gwyn fiddled her fingers in her lap. "What did you say about me?"
Azriel strode over to the wardrobe against the western wall, leaning against its side. "I told her that I had found my mate. That she was a brave and fierce female with a kind heart. That she was a remarkable beauty with freckles that I adore."
Gwyn felt herself flush and didn't bother to fight the grin on her face. "What did she say?"
"She can sometimes be difficult to understand. Her words... they can sometimes seem more like poetry than conversation," he explained. "But she said that she had always imagined me meeting a female with freckles. And that she hoped you made me smile. I told her you were the funniest person I knew."
Gwyn hooked a strand of hair behind her ear. "I'd like to meet her sometime. I think we would get along well."
"I'm sure you would," he agreed. "She already likes you. I stayed the night with her and this morning, she asked me to give you something."
Gwyn's eyes brightened. Her mate's mother already liked her? And had sent a gift? Did it truly take so little to be accepted?
"I brought it here while you were with Emerie and Nesta. I hope you don't mind," Azriel said. He stepped in front of the wardrobe and pulled open its doors. "It isn't the trousseau that Rhysand gave to Feyre - my mother is no seamstress - but... it's something."
Gwyn's lips parted as she slid off the bed. Her feet carried her to the wardrobe that was stocked full of clothing. Blouses, sweaters, tunics, leggings, dresses. All of it was of an older fashion, but still beautiful and almost like new.
"My mother had these stored. They're a little dated but they're in a — erm, suitable condition. At least until you're able to purchase more..."
Gwyn removed a silk, blue dress and the softest dove grey sweater she'd ever touched. "They're beautiful. They're perfect. Your mother has wonderful taste."
"I— well, actually, I purchased those for her. In the early days of my employment when she was able to live alone." His smile was reserved. "She prefers the more practical clothing I buy her. Things that allow her to go on walks or garden or sit comfortably for hours while she draws or reads or writes."
Gwyn's eyes stung and the pressure building behind them was enough to make her throat thick. Never had Gwyn imagined she would have a mate, much less such a thoughtful gift from his mother.
"You like it?" Azriel said.
Gwyn looked up from the clothing and beamed, hanging the items back up in the wardrobe. "I really do."
Azriel's hazel eyes lit up and he smiled gratefully. "Like I said, it isn't really a proper tr—"
"Hold on," Gwyn smirked. "You called it a trousseau?"
Azriel lifted a brow.
"Do you know what a trousseau is, Shadowsinger?"
Azriel opened his mouth to respond, then snapped it shut. Try as he might to appear irritated by her mischievous tone, Azriel's smile was apparent.
"Ah, you do know!"
"And you say that I'm unbearable sometimes." Azriel's shadows seemed to laugh at him. "Call it whatever you like."
"Where's my ring, Shadowsinger?" asked Gwyn imperiously.
Azriel snorted, kicking off the wardrobe and heading for the door. "Cauldron, you're incorrigible. I will see you at dinner."
"I'll have a ring for dessert!" called Gwyn.
The male looked over his shoulder at her as he exited. "Don't tempt me."
Azriel did not bring a ring with him to dinner, but eating alongside Nesta and Cassian did supplement a sort of intimacy. Two pairs of mates sharing a meal together (even if one of the couples was unaware the other couple were mates). They traded stories about their assignments and their days. They made lighthearted jabs towards one another. Cassian playfully remarked on Gwyn's newly discovered powers, saying that he may bet money on her finally.
At the end of supper, Cassian asked Azriel for a drunken sparring session in the training ring. To "prepare" for the indefinite time he would have to spend with Tamlin, starting tomorrow. The two males left, and Azriel's fingers brushed the nape of Gwyn's neck as he left.
"Gwyneth..." Nesta purred.
She tried to look innocent. "What?"
"What?" mocked the eldest Archeron with a laugh. "I had no idea you were such an adept flirt."
"Me?" Gwyn nearly choked on her wine.
"You've read enough smut to be proficient, but you made the shadowsinger blush heavily tonight."
Gwyn allowed herself a small smile. The secret between her and Azriel was suddenly too delicious to share. "He's easy enough to fluster once you figure him out."
"And you've figured him out?"
"He isn't the enigma people assume he is," Gwyn said breezily. "If everyone didn't dance around him and spoke to him as they would any other person, they'd see he isn't nearly as imposing as he seems."
"Well, because he 'seems imposing' people are afraid to overstep."
Gwyn scoffed. "Please. Talk to the male for more than one minute and you'll see he's soft as a rose petal."
"You don't need to tell me," Nesta said, raising her palms.
Gwyn and Nesta sat in companionable silence for a few more moments, enjoying their wine. Was this what Gwyn's future held? Dinners with her dearest friends and mate? Glasses of wine and chatting until words ran dry and eyes grew heavy? She could certainly get used to such evenings.
"I have a question... and you don't have to answer," Nesta said, a smile tugging at the edge of her lip.
Gwyn took a quick swig of her wine. "Go on then."
"Is he a good kisser?"
Eyes widening, Gwyn nearly gawked. "Nesta!"
"I caught him looking at your lips twice tonight. I caught you doing the same several times." Nesta folded her arms smugly. "Either you both think about kissing each other, or you've kissed at least once and want to do it again. We've both read Sellyn Drake. We know what 'eyes flitting to lips' means."
Gwyn chewed the inside of her cheek. Would it really be so bad if Nesta knew that she had kissed Azriel?
But Nesta would tell Cassian.
If Cassian knew then he would probably tell Mor...
If Nesta and Cassian knew then Gwyn would have to tell Emerie.
And Nesta would probably want to tell Elain, and gods knew how that would make her feel...
The circle of people who knew was just getting bigger.
"Gwyn, do yourself a favor and stop thinking of everyone else. Just for once," Nesta said with a warm smile. "You don't have to tell me anything, but if you're worried about Elain don't be." Something fond sparked in the female's eyes. "Like I said at lunch, she is happy. Every time she returns from a visit to Lucien she seems brighter... lighter. And if it's Morrigan you're worried about - I mean, we both know she and Emerie are... They are almost as obvious as you and Azriel."
"What exactly is obvious about me and Azriel?" Gwyn asked, trying to keep the wariness out of her voice.
Nesta's hand slid across the table, coming to rest over Gwyn's. "That you both make each other happy. Nothing more. Nothing less." She squeezed her friend's fingers. "I'll drop it. For now. "
Gwyn very suddenly felt that brightness and lightness that Nesta said she saw in Elain.
Gwyn smiled at her sister by heart, if not by blood. "And I'll tell you nothing. For now ."