Daisy Blooms - Azriel

Chapter 8

Daisy P.O.V.

I wake up and get ready then head downstairs. I just realized that I don't know where anything is here. I hear some people talking and follow their voices. I find Feyre, and I think one of her sisters in the kitchen. Sounds like they're talking about someone.

"He's not staying for tea," Feyre says. Elain simply removed the kettle from the heat.

"You couldn't say a single word to him? A pleasant greeting?" Feyre asks.

Elain only stared at the steaming kettle as she set it on the stone counter.

"He brought you a present.'' Feyre continues.

"And that entitles him to my time, my affections?" She asks.

"No. But he is a good male. He cares for you."

"He doesn't know me."

"You don't give him the chance to even try to do so."

Her mouth tightened, the only sign of anger in her graceful countenance. "I don't want a mate. I don't want a male."

"I know you don't. But . . . " Feyre says.

"He is a good male," She repeated. "And it...it just...I don't like to see either of you unhappy."

Elain stared at the worktable, baked goods both finished and incomplete arrayed on the surface, the kettle now cooling on the counter. "I know you don't."

Then Feyre strode out. She finds me standing there and says, "Oh, you're Daisy, right?"

"Yes, I am."

"When did you get here?" She asks.

"Depending on what you mean, last night, but right now, I heard a little bit of your conversation. I'm sorry I didn't mean to ease drop."

"It's fine." She says and we walk over to where Mor is sitting on the bottom steps of the stairs wearing a pair of peach-colored loose pants and a heavy white sweater.

Gold earrings flashing, Mor offered a grim smile. "Drink?'' A decanter and pair of glasses appeared in her hands.

"Mother above, yes." Feyre replies.

"Oh, you must be Daisy?" Mor says.

"Yeah. I guess Azriels probably told you guys all about me." I say.

"Actually, he hasn't. He's all clammed up about it, but that may be because he doesn't want to intrude on your privacy or because he doesn't actually know that much about you. For example, he didn't say that you were this hot." 

"So, tell us about yourself." Feyre says.

"Um, I'm the co-general for Thesan's Peregryn armies. I'm only 230 years old and have no family. My parents died when I was young from one of our wars and I have been raised by Soteria, the general." I say.

"Only 230?" Feyre asks.

"Yeah, that's really young for us faeries." Mor says.

"At least you're only about half Azriel's age. Feyre is more than 500 years younger than Rhys. Hey Ferye, how does it feel to know you married an old man?" Mor asks. Feyre just glares at her and Mor downed a mouthful of amber liquid then asked Feyre, "Do you want my advice about Elain?" Feyre nodded.

Mor drank deeply from her glass. "Stay out of it. She's not ready, and neither is he, no matter how many presents he brings." To which Feyre lifted a brow and says, "Snoop." They must be talking about the mystery guy with her sister.

"Let him live with his Band of Exiles. Let him deal with Tamlin in his own way. Let him figure out where he wants to be. Who he wants to be. The same goes with her."