A Court of Light and Melody

Chapter 65 - Close This Wound

The weak can never forgive. Forgiveness is the attribute of the strong.

- Mahatma Gandhi

Song: Red - Mt. Wolf

Azriel's shadows didn't alert him when Gwyn crept out of her chambers that night. Too deep in sleep to notice, Azriel continued to doze as Gwyn slid out of bed, pulled on a sweater, and then slipped silently out into the corridor.

She could apologize to Azriel for evading him yet again later. She had a lot of apologizing to do and hadn't yet had an opportunity as Azriel had been occupied tending to the wounded and performing recon. All the while Gwyn had slept and slept.

But she could sleep no longer. Everytime she woke she heard Elain's strangled sob as she plunged the sword through Graysen's heart. Betrayed, broken, and soon to be punished, the second eldest Archeron was paying for her sins.

It didn't sit right with Gwyn that more consequences were soon to follow. Elain had already paid the price of her actions in Gwyn's opinion. Her suffering should be over.

And maybe Gwyn couldn't prevent Elain's suffering, but she could offer her some comfort before her sentence was determined. She could visit her in Tamlin's dank, dark cellar where she'd been locked away. She could tell her that she was forgiven. That Gwyn understood that healing was difficult. That healing could disguise itself and lead you down the wrong path.

Like Gwyn and her building up walls, or Nesta and the words she wielded like weapons.

There was no crueler path though, than one wearing the mask of love and kindness.

Gwyn maneuvered around the sleeping bodies of the more seriously injured soldiers that slept inside the manor, to the door leading down to the cellar. No one stirred.

Slowly, Gwyn pulled open the door, gritting her teeth against the soft squeaking of the hinges and slipping in before too much of the lamplight from the stairwell could spill into the kitchen.

Satisfied that she had managed to successfully sneak to the cellar, Gwyn exhaled a sigh of relief.

Only to turn and find a dozing Lucien Vanserra sitting horizontally on one of the steps, long legs propped up on the railing.

Gwyn clamped a hand over her mouth to stifle her gasp of surprise, but that sound alone woke the slumbering male. His mechanical eye whirred as he blinked awake, alert and reaching for the dagger at his side.

Gwyn raised her hands in surrender as his gaze finally settled on her, his expression was hard.

But then it softened, turning weary. "Apologies." Lucien shifted on the step, sitting with his back to her now. He leaned his elbows on his knees. "What are you doing here, little lightsinger?" he asked, eyes trained on the cellar door at the bottom of the stairwell.

After a moment of hesitation, Gwyn decided to ignore the nickname Lucien had conjured and sit beside him on the step. Her knees were starting to feel weak, her body succumbing to exhaustion once more.

As she plunked down, Lucien only raised his brows, but didn't look away from the door.

Finally, Gwyn answered, "I could ask you the same question."

"Fair enough." Lucien's mouth opened and closed a few times, searching for the words. Eventually he massaged his jaw and bowed his head. His voice was exasperated. "I have no idea what I'm doing here."

An honest answer, Gwyn determined. Though she knew why he was here. Lucien was here because after everything, Elain was his mate. He felt a strange sense of duty to her, no matter what she'd done.