In Plain Sight

2. On Thin Ice

The last place you expected to run into the shadowsinger was Neverhaven, a border town between Vallahan and the mortal lands.

You hadn't stopped working for Eris and probably never would, but you'd done your absolute best to avoid Azriel. The last time you'd actually talked to the male had been five years ago — at that disastrous Court of Nightmares party.

Sure, you'd see each other every now and then, but you'd both kept your distance, and while yours had been a personal choice, Azriel's hadn't. Apparently, Rhysand was still remorseful about the shadow incident.

So when you entered a popular tavern in Neverhaven to escape the rain and immediately locked eyes with Azriel, the male scoffed. Like you, he stood by the entrance, plucking at his wet clothes.

"Should I give you some space?" he asked, taking off his leather gloves. "Or perhaps find somewhere else to stay? I don't particularly feel like getting lectured by Rhysand later."

You tsked as you wrung out your cloak. "It's nice to see you too, Azriel. Now, if you'll excuse me, sleep is calling." As you walked toward the front desk, you added, "And don't worry. I wouldn't dream of having a High Lord such as Rhysand waste his breath teaching you the most basic of manners."

Azriel trailed behind you, tucking in his wings so he wouldn't hit anyone. "And since when did you think so highly of Rhysand?"

"I may not like him," you said, "but at the very least, he's well-mannered."

"I can be well-mannered."

As you reached the front desk, you sighed. "If you can be anything, then it's well-annoying."

Azriel raised a brow, yellow-green eyes glimmering in the firelight. "I distinctly remember you being much feistier. What happened? Lost your touch?"

You pinched your nose, already exasperated, when the tavern keeper appeared.

"Ah, perfect timing," you said, reaching for your coin pouch. "I'm looking for a room. It doesn't have to be big."

"Sorry, there's no vacancy," the male faerie said. "This Illyrian took the last one, but I think he's leaving tomorrow. Unless, of course, you want to extend your stay, sir."

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Azriel smirk.

"Never mind," you said, shoving your coin pouch away. "I'll find somewhere else to sleep."

"Unless you can winnow, the only other inn or tavern around here is an hour's ride away, in the mortal lands," the tavern keeper explained. "It seems like you two know each other, so just share a room. The storm's getting worse. I'll get you some blankets."

You tried to explain your situation to the tavern keeper, but he was already walking off, a male on a mission to find you some bedding.

When Azriel hummed in amusement, you took a deep breath.

"This is great," he said, grabbing your shoulder. "You can save your money. And I have a feeling we're here for the same reason anyway."

You slapped his hand away. "Maybe so. Unfortunately."

Azriel narrowed his eyes at you. "You're on thin ice."

"Good. I like it that way."

"On second thought, maybe you should—"

"Here we go!" The tavern keeper returned with a thin, roll-up mattress and blankets. "Let me know if I can help you with anything else."

You took the bedding with a small smile. "Thank you. Good night."