A/N: This is for my trope girlies. You're welcome.
Azriel flew through most of the night with Callie tucked firmly against his chest. She drifted off a few times, burying her face in the warmth of his neck as they soared through the night skies. She must have done a lot better at repairing his wings than she had thought, because they were making phenomenal time.
They managed to make it all the way to the northern border of Dawn Court when Azriel stopped. He flew by a small inn that seemed to have been abandoned some time ago. Using the heel of his heavy boot, he kicked in the wooden door. Inside was dark and quiet. Whoever had left this place hadn't planned to. The thought kicked her in the gut.
Az went ahead of her to scope out the building. She busied herself with trying to find any supplies that may have been abandoned in the owner's haste to evacuate. She eventually wandered into a kitchen and nearly moaned in relief. The pantry was only half empty, still with plenty of food and supplies left.
Callie found matches in a side drawer and used them to light the stove top. She hummed as she worked, opening two cans of soup from the pantry and dumping them into a pot she'd found. She stirred the soup as it heated, having to fight the urge to just eat it cold. She was so hungry.
Jumping nearly out of her skin, she saw Azriel leaned in the doorway watching her. She gave him a small, nervous smile and busied herself. She found some more canned fruit and opened those, too, handing him an opened can. He gave her a firm nod and walked to the kitchen island she was working on and perching his body on a stool.
They ate the fruit in silence, Callie taking occasional breaks to stir the soup as it began to bubble to avoid it sticking to the bottom of the pot. They'd need to pack up as much of the food as possible to take with them when they left. The more they could carry, the less likely it was that Azriel would have to risk himself again.
"How are you feeling?" Azriel's hesitant words broke the reverberating silence. Her head jerked up, rushing to chew and swallow so she could answer him.
She nodded. "I'm okay."
He watched her for a moment before returning her nod.
"There's an open room upstairs that has a decent enough vantage point for me to keep watch while you get some sleep," he said, shoving his fork back into the can to pierce another piece of fruit before lifting it to his mouth. She tried to ignore the way some of the fruit juice dripped down his chin. She looked away quickly, praying he didn't notice the heat that swirled low in her belly.
If he noticed, he didn't let her know.
"You need to sleep, too," she said.
"I'll be fine," he gruffed.
"Either we both get rest or neither of us do. We've traveled far enough that they won't find us yet. We can barricade the door and take whatever precautions you need, but we both need rest." She wasn't asking for his permission, she was telling him. She halfway expected that to threaten his ego, but he just eyed her for a moment longer before nodding.
Feeling satisfied, she turned back to the stove and poured the hot soup into two bowls to split between the two of them. They ate that in silence as well, but this time, the silence was comfortable and easy. A silence that let them both know they were comfortable just co-occupying space and didn't need to speak if they didn't want to.
When they'd finished eating and the growling in both of their stomachs had faded, he led her upstairs to a small inn room with a double bed and arm chair sat next to a hearth. They knew they couldn't light the hearth for fear of attracting attention, but gods she wished they could. It felt like the cold had burrowed into her bones.
Azriel meticulously checked the room for safety, planting weapons as he went. Once he was done, he shoved the heavy mahogany dresser in front of the door to act as a barricade. They both knew in the plan of escape, the window and Azriel's wings were their best bet regardless. Azriel covered the window so they weren't visible from the outside, but in a way that was quick to remove in case they needed to escape.
He'd refused to split up into separate rooms, claiming he'd sleep on the floor and be fine. She huffed at him, but he wouldn't budge. She crawled into the bed, wrapping herself as tightly in the thin blanket as she could. Her teeth chattered together in her body's desperate attempt to maintain any semblance of warmth.
"Your shivering is distracting," he griped from where he lay on the floor at the foot of the bed. She'd given him a pillow, but he'd refused to take the only blanket. Most of the rooms had been raided for things of the sort, he'd explained. He'd be fine, he told her.
"S-sincerest apologies, asshat," she gruffed between convulsing shivers. She expected him to fire back, but he just chuckled.
Her body convulsed again and she swore. At least in Winter Court, they'd been far enough away to risk a fire. It was the middle of seasonal winter in Prythian, and even outside of Winter Court, it was absolutely freezing. Why they couldn't have been lucky enough to end up in Summer Court, she'd never know.
She turned on the bed with a huff, wrapping herself tighter. "Fuck," she cursed under her breath. "How are you fine?"
"I grew up in snow-capped mountains, Callie," he laughed. She groaned, rolling her eyes. She realized she had no idea where she grew up. Nowhere would ever feel like home to her again. She'd forgotten everything. She fought back the tears that threatened to spill out of her at the thought. He probably thought she was a crybaby.
"Summer," he said quietly.
"Huh?"
"You grew up in Summer Court. I figured you'd be wondering." Her heart squeezed in her chest. He was so perceptive and always highly aware of her experience. He was incredibly in tune with her, even when he tried to pretend that he wasn't. "It's why my body is naturally more equipped than yours. You grew up in heat and I grew up in snow."
"Thank you," she said quietly. He didn't respond. She could feel him thinking, though.
She lay in the quiet for a few moments, trying to figure out how to ask him for what she needed. She knew it was an unfair thing to ask, but she'd never be able to get any rest otherwise, and it would have all been for nothing anyway.
"Azriel," she said softly.
He hesitated. A long moment of pause before he said, "I can't, Callie."
Her brows furrowed and she sat up to look down on him.
"You didn't even know what I was going to ask you," she said, eyes narrowed. He looked back at her, hazel eyes glittering in the darkness.
"Yes, I did," he said.
"What was I going to ask?"
He shook his head, turning away from her. She groaned.
"Either you come up here or I'm coming down there, and one of those options would be much more comfortable so I'd appreciate if you stop being a baby," she said, voice stern. He turned back to her. "I'm not going to get any sleep if I can't stop convulsing."
"Cal, I can't touch you," he said, voice somber.
"And why not?"
"Some guy just tried to assault you, Callie. I'm not going to crawl into bed with you and make you uncomfortable. I promise you, I'm fine. Please, stop worrying about me." Callie blinked at his words. She certainly hadn't forgotten the details of the day, but she'd been trying to. With it back in the forefront of her mind, she once again felt the unsettling feeling in her gut that had settled in earlier.
"I'm fucking freezing, Azriel. You don't have to touch me. Just let me take your body heat. Please," she said, almost embarrassed at how desperate and pathetic she sounded. "I promise it's okay."
With a mumbled curse, Azriel finally stood up, clutching his pillow and moving to stand by the bed. It was a double bed, so it didn't leave much room for them to be very separated from one another. He looked down at the bed, brow furrowed in thought.
She reached out and wrapped her fingers around his. He let her, looking down at where their hands interlinked with a far away look in his eyes.
"Azriel, I trust you. I know you will never hurt me," she said to him, and the way he looked at her ripped her heart clean out of her chest. He'd needed to hear those words more than she'd realized. She was the one who murdered his friends, and he was the one who felt guilty and dirty. Though she had a feeling those were emotions he'd struggled with for a long time.
"Callie, I know it's been a while since an Illyrian has warmed your bed, but I'm gonna need a bit more room than this, sweetheart," he said, trying to lighten the mood. The corners of his mouth quirked up in a smirk that just barely met his eyes.
Her cheeks were on fire at his words and what they suggested. She scooted backwards, lifting the blanket and allowing him to toe off his boots and climb in beside her. The smell of him hit her immediately, and she wasn't sure why her body had such a visceral reaction to it. Tears welled in her eyes, but she forced them back down. The smell of him was like home. A home she couldn't recall, but a home nonetheless. He faced her, his wings hanging off the side of the bed slightly.
They looked at each other, so much left unsaid between them. So much pain and so many haunting memories. Her mate. Her beautiful, beautiful mate. Without thinking, she reached out her hand to cup the side of his face, her thumb rubbing soothing circles across his cheek.
He closed his eyes, leaning into her touch as if he were savoring it, knowing it would be the last time he'd feel it. For him, it probably felt like remnants of a life he'd tried to leave far behind him, but for her it felt brand new.
Butterflies stirred in her stomach as he reopened his eyes to look at her once more.
"Tell me about us," she whispered to him. His eyes flicked back and forth between her, as if trying to read her secrets in their depths. He grabbed her hand from his face, holding it with both of his hands between them. He toyed with her fingers as he began to speak.
"I was Rhysand's spymaster. After the First War, he'd sent me into Summer Court to search for an old friend of his wife. Her handmaiden, Alis, from her time at the Spring Court before Rhysand had sent Morrigan to rescue her. I found her, of course," he grinned, bragging on his own talents, "and she had settled in Summer Court with her children. She'd invited me for dinner, claiming any friend of Feyre Cursebreaker was a friend of hers. Plus, she had beautiful daughters I just had to meet, she had said." Her bond did not like that one bit. The jealously roared like an untamed lion in her chest before she could wrangle it in.
The biggest grin she'd ever seen filled Azriel's face. He could feel her jealousy burning through the bond. "So territorial," he chided, flicking her nose.
"I am not," she snarled at him. His smile only grew, flashing her those deep dimples in his cheeks. She watched the way his face changed when he was happy. He didn't look so scary, then. In fact, he was precious. She wanted to squish his cheeks. Still grinning, he continued messing with her fingers before planting a kiss to her knuckles. Her core heated and she thought she was going to have to throw herself off of the balcony.
The way every single one of his touches had her giggling and kicking her feet like a school girl was mortifying. She didn't even want to think about the fact that he could smell her arousal every time as well as see the rampant blushing of her cheeks.
"So, of course, I went to the dinner. Couldn't pass up the offer of beautiful women," he smirked, biting his lip to hold back a laugh. She smacked his arm roughly, which made him howl with laughter. Gods, he was so beautiful when he let his walls down like this. She wondered how many people had seen him for who he truly was underneath all of his warrior gruffness.
"You're testing my patience, shadowsinger," she rolled her eyes, fighting back a smile of her own. He pressed another kiss to her knuckles, closing his eyes and allowing his lips to linger there a second longer than he had planned to.
"I always have," he said softly, a tinge of sadness in his voice.
"Keep going," she urged him on.
"Alis' daughters were just as beautiful as she'd claimed. The eldest was Persephene and the youngest, well, she was the one who caught my eye. I literally couldn't look away. She had me encapsulated from the moment she first spoke. I knew that no matter how hard I tried or how far I ran, she would always be home to me." Callie's dream of the sun-soaked memory of she and Azriel laying in bed together filled her mind.
"Her name was Calina," he said, caressing my knuckles, "and I knew immediately she was my mate. I knew I would do whatever it took to glue her to my side and worship her my whole life. But she was sassy as hell and gave me a run for my money. Rhysand and Cassian found it beyond hilarious that she had me tripping over my own feet the way she did."
Tears were welling in Calina's eyes just as they were in Azriel's. She couldn't remember these memories, but they felt right. They landed in her chest with a permanence that scared her.
"I'd go visit her every chance I got, and eventually swindled her into moving back to the Night Court with me to live in Velaris with my family and I. They all adored her, perhaps even a little extra because they knew how long I'd waited to find her. She became a steady part of our lives. She and I had decided to not complete the bond until we knew each other completely. See, as sassy as she was and as brilliantly handsome, strong and desirable I am-"
She play punched his arm again and he laughed before continuing. "We're both sentimental saps. So we decided to let the anticipation build and become friends first. And you were my friend, Callie. You were my very best friend." He reached out a hand to brush back a stray strand of hair, tucking it behind her hair.
"When Maeve came, I took you back to Summer Court to get your mom and siblings, but we couldn't find them. It was as though they'd vanished in the middle of their day. We found candles still burning and everything just as they'd left it. We'd only been hours late." This part of the story was difficult for him to talk about, she could tell. "I felt so guilty for not finding them for you. When we got back to Velaris, Rhysand was getting ready to launch the war efforts against Maeve and the Valg. During the last battle, I'd had to leave you for a few moments, and when I came back, you were gone. I was prepared to split the earth in half with my bare hands to find you. Rhysand called a meeting with Maeve to discuss conditional surrender to save his family. When she arrived, you were with her. A member of her small council, actually. We'd assumed from there that you'd been a spy. Maeve, of course, didn't play fair. She agreed to Rhysand's surrender and then had him and his entire family slaughtered in their sleep."
"Their wards hadn't been set off, which meant that it had to have been someone who could enter and exit undetected. And who better than the spymaster's mate, who had been keyed into all the wards? I didn't find you until a couple weeks later. In Maeve's dungeons, no less, so I assume she betrayed you too. I kept you in the cell until I could be sure you weren't going to kill me as well. I certainly wasn't planning for you to tell me you had no memory of me."
Calina's chest ached. She didn't even fight the tears that streamed down her cheeks. He didn't try to comfort her, understandably so. She deserved so much worse than what had happened to her.
"I am so sorry," she sobbed.
He nodded. "I'm beginning to believe there was a lot more to it than I originally knew." She looked at him, eyes wide.
"So you believe me? That my memories are gone?"
His eyes narrowed slightly.
"I want to," he confessed. She nodded. She understood and couldn't expect him to believe her after everything. It wasn't fair to him.
"I understand."
"There is a way for you to prove it to me, but I'm not sure you'll like it," he said, a cheeky grin filling his elegant features.
"I'll do anything," she said, voice broken.
He reached to his hip, unsheathing his favorite dagger. It was a bat-hilted blade with one of his sapphire glowing siphons. He held it up between them, allowing her to inspect the blade closely.
"This is truth-teller. I've had it for most of my life. The siphons glow when someone is lying to me. It's incredibly useful in torture, as I'm sure you can imagine. If I hold the blade to your skin and ask you questions, I will be able to know whether or not you're telling the truth." Her eyes were wide and her heart was racing in her chest, but she nodded. She'd do this to prove it to him. More than anything, this was a practice of trust.
"Lay on your back," he instructed her, sitting up. She obeyed. He shifted, gripping her thighs gently to move to kneel between her legs. He braced an arm next to her head, leaning his body over hers. Her breath hitched and she felt a wetness between her legs involuntarily at being in this position with him.
He looked down between them and back up to her, eyebrow raised. She covered her face with her hands and he chuckled. She lowered them and steadied herself. He raised truth-teller, pressing the dull side of the blade against the fragile skin of her throat. She swallowed, trying to keep from moving as much as possible.
"Let's start with a test question," Azriel purred down to her. Cheeky bastard. He ran the blade down her throat in a feather-light caress. "Is it my body above yours or the knife that has you so turned on?"
She gasped, eyes wide. She couldn't believe he'd just asked her that. He raised his eyebrows at her expectantly. She growled, taking another deep breath. Her nerves were eating her alive inside.
"Both," she answered angrily, and he beamed.
"Mmm, I always had a feeling you'd like it rough," he said, looking back up to her, awaiting her response.
"That wasn't a question."
He laughed. "How are you even difficult when I have a dagger pressed to your throat?"
She rolled her eyes. The dagger dipped lower. Before she could react, he cut her shirt open with a wrist flick. Her hands flew to her chest protectively, but he gently pulled her hands back down to her side. She was only in her black bra, the rest of her chest and the swell of her breasts on display for him.
He dragged truth-teller across the top of her left breast.
"Do you remember anything about who you are?"
"No." The dagger didn't glow. His brows furrowed like part of him had been waiting for it to so he could be done with her.
"Did you work with Maeve to spy on us?"
"I don't know." Still no glow.
"Did you kill Rhysand?"
"I don't know."
"Are you thinking about me fucking you right now?" He asked, his face smug and eyes glittering with wickedness. Her breath felt stuck in her throat. If she lied, he'd know.
She didn't answer and he stared at her expectantly. When she still didn't he turned the blade, barely nicking her breast. She cried out but he gave her no reaction. He'd meant to.
"Answer me," he commanded.
"Yes," she growled. His eyes glazed.
He leaned down, licking the small line of blood he'd summoned. The feeling of his tongue against her breast made her insides turn to molten lava. He noticed.
He gave her another sly feline grin before rolling back over onto his side and re-holstering truth-teller. He fluffed his pillow and laid his head down, closing his eyes with a pleased hum. Her jaw dropped.
One of his eyes cracked a small bit, enough to have his shoulders shaking with laughter at her response. He reached out an arm, pulling her into his warm chest. She oblidged happily, curling into him.
"Goodnight, Cal," he murmured into her hair. She hummed her response, the comfort of his warmth, proximity, and smell beckoning her towards sleep. She fought as hard as she could to ignore the heat stirring in her gut at the thought of his body pressed against hers, and drifted off.