A Court of Scars and Shadows

Weaving and Reconstructing

Gwyn did not know what to do. How to react. She stood frozen, at the doorway, staring at her supposedly dead mate. It shouldn't be possible.

But there he was. She stared and stared at him. He was dressed in his Illyrian leathers that outlined his beautiful body. Unlike when he died, no injuries were present. However, no matter how clean and uninjured he looked, Gwyn's mind flashed with scenes of his death. How pale his face was, how his blood failed to clot.

She was aware of Rhysand closing the door behind.

Tears started to well up in her eyes, but she made no move forward. Afraid that if she made any sudden movements, Azriel would disappear. Afraid that it would be just a dream.

Azriel noticed the tears in her eyes and hesitantly stepped forward. As he took that step forward, Gwyn could feel the bond repaired itself. The gold lines that shone for those few moments months ago, were now reaching for each other, trying to weave together once more.

Neither of them had yet to speak and the tears were now streaming down her face, fogging up her vision. She could see that Azriel too was crying. The bond was pulsing as if it were a drum. It urge for Gwyn and Azriel to touch.

When Azriel took the next step towards her, she took one with him. They were less than a feet away, and Azriel tentatively held his arms out. As if he waiting for Gwyn to make the move. Giving the choice like he always did before he "died."

Craning her neck to look at Azriel, she stepped into his open arms. His shoulders shagged in relief and he slowly wrapped his arms around her. His scent overwhelmed her scenes and made her shake with sobs. She finally came to terms with his death, going through all that grief. She came to terms that she would never see him again, never feel him again, never touch him again.

The final gold lines weaved together, creating such wonderful harmonies. It glowed and glowed. The contact between the mates had satisfied the drums.

She rested her head where his shoulder met his neck, focused on the pulse that thrummed there, each pulse that made the bond between them shine bright. Azriel rested his chin on the top of her neck.

Gwyn didn't know how long they stayed like that, silent but basking in each other's presence after such horrible events. Gwyn mostly wanted to keep a hold of him, still believing that this was all some twisted dream.

Azriel was the first to let go, but he cupped her face with his beautiful scarred hands. "Gwyn," he murmured, the first they said to each other since she walked into the room.

"Shadowsinger," she murmured back. Azriel used his thumbs to wipe the tears that had stayed on her cheeks.

Azriel gave her a soft smile and Gwyn tried to reciprocate but something inside her flickered.

Her anger.

How could he just smile? He was gone for months, making his family think he died, making his family grieve. Gwyn knew it was petty to be angry but like her father, her anger grew.

As if sensing her shift in mood, Azriel's brows furrowed. His confusion quickly turned to shock as her— what used to be his— shadows peaked out behind her. Her shadows had hid when they saw their first master, now they stayed with Gwyn, but Gwyn had to restrain some of them from greeting their old master.

The Spymaster observed his old shadows and their new master. He took his hands off of Gwyn's face and took a careful step backwards.

The bond constricted, but Gwyn ignored it.

He opened his mouth, most likely to ask what was wrong, but Gwyn spoke first. "You were gone for months and months. We all had to create a new life were you wouldn't be around. We grieved and when we thought that we would be ok, something occurred that fucked shit up, making us go to square one all over again."