A Court of Shadows and Thunder // AzrielxOC SlowBurn Romance, ACOTAR FanFiction

Chapter 57 - Mating Call

Azriel knew something was wrong.

He couldn't get his mind to calm down, couldn't keep his thoughts from wandering elsewhere. And he also couldn't keep Yohann from landing blows onto his own sword.

Perhaps it was because the Syren general wore a particularly sly grin on his face that made Azriel want to smack it off. Perhaps it was because he could hear Cassian cheering and whooping away from the sidelines, banging his sword on a shield like it was some wonderful instrument. Or perhaps it was because Rhysand was laughing at it all, Feyre perched on his lap, and the sight of two mates being so sickeningly perfect for one another infuriated the shadowsinger.

When Azriel had winnowed back from the Spring Court, he couldn't shake off the feeling that something bad would happen. That, somehow, leaving Brianna behind would result into chaos, because it seemed that whenever he didn't have eyes on her, something always seemed to happen. Or at least, the meddling thoughts in his mind and twisting feeling in his gut told him that.

But Rhysand and Cassian were quick to pull him along with them, dragging him down to Velaris, where Yohann and Feyre were waiting for them at a quaint little cafe by the riverbank. After breakfast, during which Cassian and Yohann began a heated conversation about which fighting style was superior - Illyrian or Syren - they proceeded to spar back in the training ring to see who would come out the winner.

And when Cassian had landed on his ass and Yohann gave him a shit-eating grin, Azriel was next in line to bring back honour to the Illyrian name.

Except that Azriel wasn't quite himself at the moment. His mind kept wandering off to thoughts of Brianna, and that threw him completely off-balance, especially when a sword was being swung toward him.

"Come on, Az!" Cassian was still yelling from somewhere behind him, "Bring him down!"

"We believe in you!" Feyre cheered, and Azriel saw her clapping for him while Rhysand simply grinned.

Azriel's eyes lingered on the two of them for a beat, watching just how comfortable they were with one another. He remembered how awkward it was been when Feyre had first found out that Rhys was her mate, but then how quickly they had grown fond of another, how inseparable they had become. And now they sat one atop the other, as if Feyre couldn't even bear to be just an inch away from him, as if Rhys couldn't ever be contempt to sit by himself his own Cauldron-damned chair.

And Azriel felt his cheeks sting and his heart burn with a bout of jealousy, and he could not help but wonder when that could be him. He couldn't stop himself from picturing Brianna in Feyre's stead, and himself sat on a chair like that. That it was Brianna who would lean into his chest, that it was him who could run his fingers through her long pretty hair.

"Your left!" Cassian suddenly roared, "To your left Azriel!"

Azriel's mind snapped back to reality, just in time to avoid Yohann's blade by side-stepping away. He turned to face the Syren, lifting his sword to strike a blow to where he believed his arm would be, only to find that Yohann wasn't there at all. Instead, the Syren general had made a series of fast steps, completely mirroring the shadowsinger's movements, ending up directly behind him. And then, before Azriel could react, Yohann lifted his leg, giving Azriel a kick to the behind, landing him flat on the ground.

Cassian immediately let out a loud cry as Rhysand and Feyre laughed again, while Azriel rolled onto his back with a groan.

"I win," Yohann declared, the biggest smile plastered on his face as he offered Azriel a hand, "This matter is thus settled - Syrens are the superior fighters."

"That wasn't fair at all," Cassian was quick to retort, marching up to Yohann as though he hadn't already lost to him, "That was a cheap trick and piss poor skills."