The Symphony of Shadow

19: 'A Constellation Waiting to be Loved'

G W Y N

In the personal, yet not personal, space which was Gwyneth Berdara's bedroom, its owner lay face-down upon her bed, trying with all her efforts not to remember the events of the past few hours.

She groaned with embarrassment as another image flicked within her mind, just a flash of the shadowsinger's face. He was smiling – down at her – the distance between them close to none as he held her close. His lips remained a little swelled having just kissed her in a broom closet of all places, and the light – unadulterated hope – in his eyes made him look irrevocably happy.

She had been happy then too, Gwyn remembered. She'd stupidly let herself forget about all her doubts, all the unanswered questions, and let herself have her mate – if only for a minute or two. And although in the moment it had been elating, she knew now that she had been stupid to have not questioned why.

She felt like fucking screaming.

But she could hardly be surprised that she had allowed herself to forget about all of that. Not with Azriel. Not whilst her heart told her over and over that she could never leave him. And that – the soul and simple reason –  was why she had made her promise to him, to wait for him, to help him at every chance she would happen to have.

Another image came to mind then. The picture of Azriel's face during their not-so-calm conversation in the training ring, filled with hatred and loathing. At first, Gwyn had presumed that wrath was focused towards herself. But as she looked closer – took a peek into the shadowsinger's soul – she realised it wasn't for her, but himself.

He had gone from finding happiness to hating himself, all in such little time.

And Gwyn had known then, with everything she had, that there was no way she could abandon him. Hurt her all it would, she couldn't do that to him. All he needed was a little help.

Unexpectedly, however, she had found herself becoming more aggressive as she held her ground. Refusing to break even with his harsh words which she knew for certain were all lies to push her away for whatever unknown reason she was yet to discover.

Even more unexpectedly, she had found herself... intimate with him. Or at least, intimacy in terms of sex – or not sex, exactly. Gwyn wasn't really sure what had happened between them exactly. All she knew was that it was neither a regret nor the final step in her journey. In her mind, what she had done with Azriel had meant everything, but didn't mean she was ready to call herself someone who had sex.

Still, she couldn't deny the blush which forcefully made its way upon her cheeks each time she remembered how they'd... grinded, moaned against one another. How good it had felt – how comfortable she'd been with him.

In the same way, however, each time she remembered, unavoidable embarrassment crept up on her. That particular emotion had permanently settled itself upon her now it seemed – thus the reason her head was buried within the softness of her pillow as if it would magically take the embarrassment away.  

Nevertheless, that method seemingly was not working very efficiently, as the ghosts of the moans she'd made – he'd made with her – sounded within her mind. Taunting her.

How could she be so annoyed at herself, yet adamant she had made the right decision at the exact same time?

The answer was simple: Azriel.

Oh, to have a Pegasus right now, Gwyn thought to herself. That would make everything all the better; make all her problems go away – she was certain of it.

M O R

From where she lounged on the ornate, navy armchair situated by the fire of her cousin's study, listening to a family member or two babbling on about nothing in particular, Mor considered three things: