The Symphony of Shadow

3: 'Of Kings and Queens'

A Z R I E L

Amren had rushed off to her attic at once upon hearing Gwyn's theory on Koschei from Azriel. All she'd needed was a cape, he'd thought, and she'd be ready to embody a frivolous villain from a children's book.

Azriel hadn't missed her impressed reaction to Gwyn's findings either - even if she'd visually been annoyed that she'd not discovered the myth on Koschei's soul herself.

It wasn't much to go off - discovering the possibility that Koschei's soul could be separate from his body, and hidden in a random object, under a mountain. And this information had come from a book of folklore... It was unquestionably unreliable, but certainly surpassed anything the Inner Circle had put forward. Especially since this created the possibility that Koschei's soul could be located - thus opening the prospect that the Death Lord could be killed once and for all, and that they could finally uncover more about the perplexing Dead Trove, that Koschei appeared to be connected with.

The other members of the Inner Circle had been impressed - and relieved - too. Azriel had felt a tether of pride weave deep within his chest, upon seeing Rhys raise a brow, after hearing it had been Gwyn to uncover this new means of information. Azriel shouldn't have been surprised, though. Gwyneth Berdara was not one to be underestimated.

After the meeting - during which strategy on dealing with the Illyrian rebels had been discussed, in addition to Koschei and the Dead Trove - Azriel had agreed to take Mor to the House of Wind so Rhys wouldn't have to fly her to training tomorrow morning, and instead stay with Nyx whilst Feyre led a painting class.

After Vallahan had officially rejected an alliance with the Night Court two months ago, Mor had joined the training sessions, interested in learning Valkyrie techniques. Mor being Mor, had quickly gained the friendship of many of the priestesses, casually chatting away whilst exercising. She had put more of an effort into getting along with Nesta too. Azriel doubted Nesta would ever open up to Mor, but they tried to make small conversation occasionally - a weight of Cassian's chest to see his mate and close friend being amicable with each other at last.

As they left the River Estate, Elain had passed them in the foyer, looking lovely as usual, in a long, white, flowing garden dress, with a few wildflowers tucked into the ribbon of her floppy garden hat. She'd smiled at them both, not quite meeting his gaze though, resulting in a brief surge of resentment towards Rhys and his orders on Solstice.

Did he not deserve to be with her right now? If it weren't for Rhys, fucking Lucien, and the Mother herself...

And the things he wanted to do to her, the things he pictured doing to her whilst pleasuring himself. Would her skin feel as soft as he'd speculated? Would she be as addictive to taste as he'd imagined? He could only pray that he'd find out some day. He hadn't planned exactly how that would happen though, considering the court antics with Lucien and the Blood Duel.

Azriel's face remained stoic, set in the cold, midnight expression he had rehearsed since his childhood escape. Would she ever reject that mating bond? He thought it was exceedingly clear that Elain had no desire to be with the Emissary. It killed him every day, to see his two brothers, with her two sisters. Surely that was a sign they were meant to be together...

He shook off these thoughts as they stepped outside. He was being arrogant and selfish again, and needed to accept that he and Elain were not - and never would be - bound by the Cauldron.

He and Mor strolled beyond the River Estate's wards in their normal silence. They never really knew what to say to one another, other than discussing court politics, their family, and training. Conversations between them had never lasted long, nor went into much depth, regardless of how long they had known each other.