Intangible - An ACOTAR story

Seven: The Stars Shine Through

Azriel sat on the rough log, his ankle throbbing painfully, and wondered what on earth he was doing. He'd just met another gods dammed Shadowsinger, and he was acting like a cold, uncaring bastard. Az sighed, taking a little longer than necessary to examine his injury. He could feel Ellius's gaze on him the whole time and it was an effort not to meet those stunning eyes again.

"So what happened out there, boss?" Favian's voice was wary beneath his characteristic bravado. Azriel really didn't want to explain it right now. The voices of his past still rang in his ears and the Serebor's red gaze seemed to have scorched something inside him.

"There's a lot to explain. I'll tell you both everything once we get back to Velaris."

A sharp intake of breath had Azriel looking up. He locked gazes with Ellius again, well damn, and found both trepidation and excitement glinting in the blue depths.

Azriel laced his boot back on. His ankle wasn't broken, thank gods, but the rabbit burrow he'd rolled it into had probably given him a serious sprain.

"Alright. We'll have to fly back across the Autumn border so we can winnow home. I want to get out of this court as soon as possible," he said to his three companions. A strange expression crossed Ellius's face then. Was it... guilt?

"Favian," Azriel turned to the taller of his recruits, "seeing as Ellius can't fly, you'll have to carry him. It's only a short flight so-"

"I can fly," Ellius said softly. Azriel raised an eyebrow at the male. Ellius sheepishly removed his black cloak. He seemed to hesitate for a moment before a set of large, Illyrian wings sprang from his back. Conroy's eyes went wide and Favian cursed under his breath.

"You're half Illyrian," Azriel breathed. Rhys and Feyre were the only other people he knew of who could summon wings in such a way. Azriel scruitinised Ellius's wings, noting that they appeared slightly different to his own. The membrane seemed thinner and they might have been lighter than usual, although it was hard to tell in the dim light of the forest. Now that he thought about it, Az realised, there was something off about Ellius's appearance. The skin of his face was slightly tanned, and yet it seemed pale and sickly. The edges of the leathers he wore looked frayed or blurred and it was as if the shadows that swirled around him were too solid. Too dark.

Azriel was just about to ask the male about it when Conroy went ridged.

"Something's coming," he muttered, "something big."

"Lets go," Azriel said sharply. He did not want to run into any more surprises tonight, mission or no. "Ellius, fly close to me and try and stay as quiet as possible."

The male nodded, moonlight shimmering off the lighter strands in his hair. The four of them took off, breaking through the willow branches and soaring into the night sky once again. The stars in the Spring court always looked more subdued than those at home, but Azriel still gazed at them as if they could answer all his questions.

After a while, the silence was gradually broken by increasingly laboured breaths. Azriel looked back to where Ellius had been matching his wing beats, and noticed that the male was drifting further and further behind. He cursed, dropping back. Ellius's jaw was clenched and the muscles in his back strained beneath his shirt.

"Weak wings," he hissed out, clearly mortified that he couldn't keep up. Azriel had seen several cases of this before, where an Illyrian hadn't had enough training as a youngling, or had spent too much time grounded, and his muscles became unaccustomed to flying. Azriel had fought hard to avoid it himself when he was a teenager.

"Do you think you'll make it to the border?" Azriel asked, keeping everything but calm assessment out of his voice.

"I have to," Ellius panted. A stubborn one, Az thought. Ellius may have appeared small and weak to anyone else, but Azriel wondered what lingered beneath the exterior. What strength could be found in the male's mind.