To the Shadowsinger | Azriel

Chapter 77: Confess

After Wylla and Nyxous left, Raisa leaned against the railing and enjoyed the cool breeze against her cheeks. At first, she stood there and watched Nyxous and Wylla fly into the distance, Nyxous with his Illyrian wings and Wylla in her owl form, but then her eyes drifted shut. The only sound in her ears was the wind and with her eyes closed, the whole world seemed to fade away, leaving her alone in a void.

She pushed away from the railing, raking her nails over her arms to shove that fear away. The pain of her grown out nails breaking her skin kept her anchored to reality and when she caught her breath, she hunted down Azriel in the kitchen.

"I thought the kitchen was spelled to clean itself?" Raisa studied her mate washing the dishes. Somehow, Azriel had the power to make a simple chore attractive. His sleeves were rolled up past his elbows, his wings relaxed, and a line had formed between his brows in concentration.

A smile teased at his lips, "It is."

She chuckled, coming up beside him and rolling up her own sleeves. Never in her immortal life had she ever done a chore, she was a queen after all and had servants at her beck and call. But there was something comforting about picking up a rag and drying the dishes Azriel had just washed. They worked in a peaceful silence, brushing against each other, smiling to themselves, until every single dish was washed and put away. Raisa found herself looking around the kitchen for something else to clean with him, but the shining countertops mocked her with her own reflection.

"We don't have to go to dinner if you don't want to," Azriel took a sip of his tea, it must have grown cold by now.

Wylla had been the one to ask her and Azriel to join them for dinner at the riverside home- she practically begged until Raisa intertwined her pinky with the girl's and promised to be there.

"I would never break a pinky promise," Raisa's eyes widened.

Azriel set his tea down, his lips curling, and then settled his hands around her waist. She anticipated him kissing her but hissed in a breath when he lifted her up and onto the counter so that they were eye level. His eyes were tired but he gave her his full attention.

"Plus," Raisa added, looping her arms around his neck. "I have some apologizing to do. Your High Lord and Lady must think I'm crooked."
"For leaving me?" He quirked a brow.

Her laugh was shameful, "That, among other things. I broke into their court, their homes, multiple volts, stole a powerful weapon, brought you into my mess, got Wylla killed, and to top it all off, I almost killed you."

"Wow... you are crooked," Azriel was looking at her with adoration.

Her head collapsed against his chest, making him laugh. He smoothed back her hair, "Don't worry. If it makes you feel better, we've all done our fair share of wrongdoing. Feyre even stole the Book of Breathings from the High Lord of the Summer Court once, so don't worry about her judgement. As for Rhys-" he blew out a long sigh.

"I'm still going to apologize," she mumbled into his chest. "I want them to like me."

He kissed the top of her head, "They'll love you."

Her head shot up, her shiny green eyes meeting his and her bottom lip puckering, "You think so?"

"Yes," he kissed her.

Raisa's nerves were a wreck by the time dinner came. She changed outfits four times, settling on a midnight blue dress with embroidered golden stars.

"Beautiful," Azriel's breath was warm in her ear. He must have given her the compliment a hundred times and yet it still made her stomach flutter.

When Azriel landed and set Raisa down on her feet, he asked her again if she was sure about attending dinner. She knew he wanted her to be comfortable, but she also knew he wanted to keep her to himself for a while.

Her thoughts went back to sex when his fingers brushed down the length of her bare back and settled on a curve to guide her towards the entryway. That was one of the many things she loved about him, he enjoyed touch even in the subtle ways. It was his silent way of showing her affection. As for other forms of intimacy, they hadn't done anything past their fun little session in the bath. She wanted to, he wanted to, but she kept pulling away before they could take that next step again. She had been changing into one of her dresses in the closet when she let those thoughts linger until she figured out why she was really hesitant.

She feared sex would be her vice to distract herself from her problems. Lust would consume her and in the long run, she knew that wouldn't be good for either her nor Azriel. She needed to heal from her trauma, not bury it. That was one of the many things she had learned from the mirror. The mirror had gripped her from the back of the neck and smeared her face in the trauma she spent centuries in denial of. Denial that caused her to punish herself with isolation, submission, and even choking on her own magic rather than let it free. She had seen how different her life would have been if she healed sooner, if she wasn't already drowning in grief and guilt, then Caius would have never been able to push her down even further.

Bryaxis had been the one to tell her to get up. If it wasn't for him... she didn't even want to think about it. He had seen her at her lowest, filled with stale guilt from her mother's death, grief from losing her unborn child, and an ugly hatred. She had pushed everyone away and played the role of a vain and oblivious queen. It wasn't until the night Bryaxis pushed open her bedroom windows and demanded to know what happened to his only daughter, did she confess in hopes he would kill her.

When Raisa was seven years old, she made a mistake. She thought her mother was exaggerating the War until she saw the aftermath of a battlefield. Severed heads, broken wings, flies swarming piles of bodies already beginning to rot in the blazing heat, and of course the smell; it was all branded into her mind. Her nightmares had been so awful that she would wake up to the screams of servants putting out fires, her room destroyed, and her mother's worried expression. The War was still going on when her mother took Raisa to their beach house for a breath of fresh air. Caius was in charge while her mother was away, working with other Faerie lands on easing tension before agreeing to work on a treaty. The War was coming to an end, so Raisa and her mother took three days away to enjoy the beach and forget how ugly the world became.

It didn't work. Raisa's nightmares dug their claws so far into her that she didn't even wake up when her magic exploded, everything and one within three miles was either demolished or turned into dust and charred bones. By the time she woke up, what remains the priestesses could find of the dead Queen was collected into a rune covered box.

"Rai," Azriel tugged on her hand, pulling her from her thoughts.

She shook away the confusion, digging her nails into her forearm, and giving Azriel a smile to tell him she was alright. His eyes were soft and understanding.

It still hurt to think about what happened to her mother. She had spent many centuries suppressing those thoughts and self-loathing. Bryaxis came to mind as they passed under an archway constructed of scaled beasts and as she paused, she did exactly as he demanded she do five years ago. She forgave herself.