Healer

Chapter 15

     Before she even opened her eyes, the return of the Illyrians was her first thought. She groaned. Staying here didn't mean staying with him it meant staying with the court and the city and she had to broaden her focus even if she didn't want to. She crawled out of bed and made her way to the kitchen as usual. She took her cup of tea with her as she left to go to the library, but as she turned to head down the hall, she was met by Rhysand. He was walking quickly, his dark power seeming to swirl around him. And he looked angry. She could feel it immediately. She stopped, heart pounding, wishing she could press herself into the wall to let him pass. It wouldn't have mattered because he was coming straight toward her, his eyes locked on hers.
"Talia." His voice as dark as his face. "We should talk."
All she could do was nod. He didn't bother leading her up the stairs to his office and instead walked in to the dining room, not offering her a seat. She set her cup down on the table carefully, worried that her shaking hands would cause it to fall and break if she didn't.
"Last night we received a letter from the king of Hybern." She nodded, keeping her face relaxed. Open. Be diplomatic. "Do you know who your father was, Talia?" he sounded so serious.
She looked at him for a moment, shaking her head. "No, I do not. My mother never so much as mentioned his name." Her heart threatened to escape her chest with its pounding.
"And your mother, do you know her heritage? Her court affiliation?" Her mother? Why now would they be questioning her lineage? She had been with Hybern for years and it had never come up.
"No, I'm sorry." She began to feel small under his gaze. She willed herself not to shrink away from him. "My mother never spoke of her family, either. She mentioned little of Prythian. I always thought maybe Spring since she was dumped over the wall and not banished in some other way." She held her hands out, an offering of honesty. "I swear on her grave I don't know." Her throat tightened at the thought of her mother's grave. She swallowed. She would let him look into her mind again if it meant escaping his eyes, the way they searched her.
He eased up. He could see her nerves, her face as open as a book. She wasn't lying. "Would you allow me, then, to try and track it down?"
"Can I ask why?" Talia didn't mean to be defiant but if he were going to treat her as a suspect of.....something, then she at least had the right to question it.
Rhysand folded his arms and looked out the window as if he was hesitant to tell her. Her heart beat kept speeding up. Something was wrong. "In the letter, the King claims you are a Descendant." Talia kept staring, waiting for him to continue. He turned to look for her reaction, but her face was blank. "Of The Mother." He offered.
Talia shook her head slightly. "I don't understand." Her hands were going numb. She wrung them, hoping they wouldn't give her nerves away to the high lord.
"You know of The Mother?" he asked, his serious tone relaxing a bit.
"A bit. What little my mother spoke of her. That she created us. And the prayers the priestesses sang in Hybern."
He nodded. "Every few centuries, a Descendant appears. Some fae with a direct bloodline to The Mother."
"I thought she was celibate?"
Rhysand slipped his hands in to his pockets. "Supposedly. Legends vary. But she did produce offspring, whether it was by traditional methods or not."
Her wheels were spinning. If she had children so long ago, when she walked the earth, then her descendants would be numerous. "Why would you say they only appear every few centuries? Shouldn't Prythian be crawling with them by now?"
"Centuries ago, the rulers of Prythian decided it wasn't safe to have Descendants and so they hunted and killed all of them that they could find. Women, children, even it was only suspected." His eyes went darker somehow.
"Why?" she whispered. She was afraid of the answer.
"Because they are incredibly powerful fae. The rulers felt threatened." She wished he would elaborate. She just nodded. "Some escaped with their lives but they often did not have children in fear that they would be hunted down and killed. We" he motioned to the house around him. "were taught that they had been successfully exterminated. Every so often a rumor goes around that one has been discovered but it's hard to prove." He looked at her. She was becoming increasingly uncomfortable about where this conversation was about to land. She just nodded again, unsure what else to do. She was sure her eyes were the size of dinner plates. "The attack on Azriel, and the Hex, were not a trap as we suspected. As you suggested." His eyes had softened toward her. She felt she might need to sit. "It was a test. And whatever you did that saved him proved the King's hypothesis." So that was why it was seemingly so easy to rescue both Azriel and Talia, why they hadn't needed her services while they waited for the night court to find her, why they hadn't been caught searching Hybern forests for the items to break the Hex. It had all been a test and something she had done along the way had convinced the king that she was a Descendant?
"Wouldn't my mother or father have presented some kind of incredible power?" She asked, still hung up on the lineage.
"Descendants only manifest their powers when the mother sees fit, according to the stories. I don't know enough about it." He sounded frustrated.
"What does it mean, Rhysand?" she asked quietly. The shaking in her hands had stilled.
"That we need to find out more about your family. We need to prove it ourselves." He sighed. "And, that we need to do our best to keep this quiet. Some courts still hold to those old ways of thinking. My harboring you will be questioned." He ran his hand through his hair, a familiar sign of frustration.
"Then I should probably leave, no? I can't be the reason for your allies to hold contempt against the court." She could see his wheels turning. Her heart had been sinking but it seemed now to rest at the bottom of the pit. She had dared to hope of a life here. A better life. But this would force her further to the outside.
Rhysand knew he couldn't send her away, there were hundreds of reasons why. She could be used against him by another court, she could be killed, her blood on his hands. And her mate was here, his own spymaster, even if she didn't know it. She had been offered refuge here and he was not afraid of her. The fact that he wanted her skills on his court hadn't changed. "No, Talia. You won't be sent away. Stay, keep studying and training. Nothing about your position here has changed." He had relaxed after she answered his questions, guilt snaking its way in to his mind at the fact he had doubted her at all. "I can handle the other courts." He sounded determined and walked to the door, on a mission.
"I'm not incredibly powerful, Rhysand." She said to his back as he reached for the handle.
"None of us know that for sure." He walked out.
Talia finally sank in to one of the chairs at the massive dining table. She ran a hand across the back of her chair, noting how it was cut to accommodate wings. Wings. Rhysand had dropped a truth bomb on her without giving her much information at all. All she had wanted was to go on with her training and keep working with Azriel on his recovery until it was time to move out and live in Velaris and....and all of that had just changed. As a child, she had been forced into hiding because of what she was, and it was happening again. She choked back tears of frustration. But Rhysand wasn't sending her away. Not yet. She looked out the window just as he had. Should she go on her own? Maybe. But she would need a plan. For now she would trudge on, business as usual. She slowly got up, testing her steadiness. Whatever the king thought she was, she was sure she was not. She would know if she possessed 'incredible power'. Maybe it was a lie to distract them, maybe it was a ploy. She went to her room to dress for the training ring. There wasn't much she could do about it now.
     Training brought a comforting dullness to her mind as she focused wholly on her body's movements. She did her best not to give her stress away to her companions even though she could feel Nesta's eyes on her at nearly every turn. In the ring, as her body told her she was getting stronger, steadier, she resolved to press on. Whatever came next, she trusted the fae around her and she would do what she had to in order to protect them, even if that meant leaving. Where to, she didn't know, but she would face that without fear as well. Every step forward was a step away from her slavery, and she could always live with that. She would fight for it. Her thoughts were interrupted by the sight of Cassian and Azriel walking out of the house to join them. They were both in their leathers, like they had just gotten back. Her eyes lingered on Azriel, looking for any sign of distress. She found none. She knew Rhysand would have retrieved them, she wondered if he had disclosed what he had told her earlier that morning. The shadowsinger's eyes met her and she looked away, refocusing.
Azriel had been preparing himself for this moment for hours, but he seemed to unravel in her presence, no matter how hard he tried to keep it together. Sweat plastered the hairs that had fallen free of her braid against her face. She wore a worn pair of fighting leathers. Nesta's, he guessed. She looked like a different fae in the ring, her crooked gait barely presenting itself at all. He met her eyes for a split second and it set him to burning. He sucked a long breath in through his nose and forced himself into his usual cool steadiness as they surveyed the group at work. Being away from her was harder than he had expected, and he wasn't sure how he would handle being around her now, but he was determined to figure it out without giving himself away. He had never shied away from a challenge, and he wouldn't now. Still, he made a point not to watch her as she worked, afraid he would lose his ability to look anywhere else at all. They finished and Talia walked over to the water table for a drink. Azriel met her there, pouring one of his own. His smell filled her nostrils. He had always smelled good, but something was different. More alluring, somehow. She took another deep breath full of him before speaking.
"Good to see you." She offered him a small smile, glad the training had given her an excuse for a shaking voice.
He turned to face her. The question was burning in the back of Azriel's throat, so uncontrollable that his words nearly overlapped hers. "Why didn't you tell me that I hurt you?"
They were standing close enough that she could have reached out and laid her hands on his chest, just as she had imagined the night before. Thankfully, her face was already red from the heat of the outdoors. She looked up at him, confused. With a slight smile, she searched his face. He was a closed book, locked tight beneath hazel eyes and high cheekbones. "You haven't hurt me, Azriel."
He crossed his arms, hiding his hands. "I know what happened. With the animation Hex. What I did." He faltered at the end, like the words choked him.
Talia's heart sank once again. "Ah." She turned and walked slowly, casually, to a pile of weapons behind her, unbuckling her sheath and dropping it to the ground. He followed her. She fought that shake in her voice, avoiding his gaze. "That wasn't you, Azriel, I know that."
He could see that she thought he was angry at her for hiding the fact. No, no, no, that was all wrong. He could never be angry, not at her. He unfolded his arms and hid his hands in his pockets instead. He looked at the top of his shoes. "I could have killed you, Talia. Easily."
She relaxed. He wasn't angry, he was apologetic. In his own way, anyway. "Not you. The Hex. And it didn't kill me. I'm here and you're here and we're fine." She shrugged. "I'm a healer. I healed myself." She looked past him to see if anyone could hear them. It didn't seem like it. She wondered what came up that made Cassian reveal their shared experience with the Hex. She made to walk by him and back in to the house. "Tell Cassian I'm going to kill him for that." She smiled at him, hoping it appeared genuine. That smile, that would be the death of him. He left the training ring without excusing himself and went straight to his room.
Rhysand summoned them a little while later. Azriel hadn't even eaten lunch yet and the hunger replaced the burning in his middle he has been fighting since that morning. Rhys had been quiet when he came to winnow them home. Too quiet. It didn't seem like Cass knew that anything was amiss which soothed Azriel's paranoia that they were leaving him out of the loop. Still, something had felt off. He walked to the dining room. He felt calmer. Seeing Talia would probably set him off for the rest of his life but after this morning he felt that he could get used to it. He had stood so close to her and not reached out, he had walked away without saying anything that gave him away. He had stayed under control. He paused outside the closed door, gathering himself. How many times had he flanked his high lord while he made battle plans or poured over documents or listened to bad news? He pessimistically hoped this wasn't anything like that. From deep within himself he pulled out his stoic shadowsinger demeanor. It fell over him easily, cloaking him in shadow. He could hear voices already from inside. He pushed open the door. Rhysand stood, talking to Feyre, Cass hovering behind him, a frown on his face. The all looked at Azriel as he entered, he instinctively placed a hand on the hilt of the knife strapped to his waist and met Rhysand's eyes. Rhys blinked at him and looked back to his mate, finishing his thought before addressing the Illyrians.
"There's been a development." Az shifted where he stood, keeping his hand on his weapon, but his face remained unchanging. Cassian, too, was listening intently. Rhysand pulled out a chair and sat, Feyre followed, but the brothers remained standing. "The king of Hybern sent me a communication yesterday." He touched the piece of parchment laying on the table in front of him. Azriel hadn't noticed it before. "He claims that the healer is a Descendant, and that Azriel's Hex was his way of proving it." Cass immediately looked to the shadowsinger to see his reaction. This small group of fae were the only ones who understood the impact something like this could have on him.
"What?" he said quietly, keeping his face unreadable. "What does that mean?"
Rhysand stared at him a beat longer, watching for a crack in his air of calm. "Well, at that point I thought it meant that we should try and prove it ourselves, keep it quiet, and watch for another move from Hybern. But," he moved the letter on the table to reveal another beneath it. He handed it to Azriel who took it carefully. "I received this from day court not an hour ago."
Azriel read and reread the words on the page.
Dearest Rhysand and all members of The Night Court,
It has come to my attention that the king on the continent is under the impression you are harboring none other than a Descendant of our mother herself. He claims that an illness overtook one of your court and she was able to end it using extraordinary methods.
I'm very curious as to your intent on harboring this healer and if not, should she become available for services to other courts?
I can only assume due to the generic nature of the king's communication that all courts have been thus informed. Be careful, Rhysand, you know how many of us disagree on such matters.
I am patiently awaiting your response, my friend.
Helion
The high lord of day court's patronizing language toward his own high lord made Azriel cringe, but his disgust was short lived. Quickly, as if cold water had been poured over him, the realization of what this could mean spread through him washing away any other thought. He handed the letter back to Rhysand, his realization showing in his eyes. He couldn't stop it. Cassian could see it, too, but he kept his voice perfectly even as he asked "Is it true? She is a Descendant?"
"I don't know yet. I spoke with Talia this morning but she's unaware of her lineage. We will have to track it down."
Azriel released the hilt of his knife finally, realizing his hand hurt from gripping it so hard. He lost the fight against running his fingers through his hair.
"What she did was extraordinary...." Cassian broke the silence. "But a Descendant? How could there be any left?"
Rhysand shook his head. "Maybe there aren't. The king could be bluffing. But I expect other courts to be looking for proof, just as we are."
So now every high lord in Prythian knew of her existence. Azriel's urge to run to her, fly to her if he had to, and hide her from them beneath his wings threatened to unhinge him. He pushed it down and held his stance. He dug and dug within himself until he finally found his voice again. "Does she know?"
"What the king said, yes. What Helion has revealed, no. I wanted to inform you all first." His statement included the three of them but his eyes were only on Azriel. They all seemed to be watching for his reaction. He would prove himself, he would show that his need to protect her could mesh with his need to serve his court.
"How can we prove if she is or isn't?" Cassian asked, absentmindedly mirroring his brother's stance, placing a hand on the hilt of his own weapon. Azriel felt a spark of relief at knowing that Cass would also protect the healer without question.
"I don't know that yet either. What she did with Azriel was unlike anything I've seen. It certainly wasn't a healing practice I've ever heard of. But is it something that indicates blood of the mother? I have no idea." Azriel wished he could have witnessed her that night, that he could have seen what they saw. "We should speak to her before deciding anything further." Rhysand stood. "I'll get her." He walked out.
Azriel finally let himself sit, releasing the tension in his neck that had held him so still before Rhysand.
"You okay?" Feyre asked him, her eyes big and soft, confirming that she had picked up on the mating bond as he suspected she would.
He took a breath. No. "Yes." Besides the fact that he knew she truly cared about him, it was above his rank to lie to her. He broke the rules anyway. It was his first day back at work, he wouldn't let his own feelings get in the way.
"You know we'll protect her." She said.
"Because we promised to and because we want to." Cassian backed up his high lady.
Azriel looked to both of them, nodding, no additional words finding him. After a few moments he could hear Rhysand's footsteps on the stairs, a lighter, uneven set just behind him. Azriel regained his post beside Cass. He could hear no hesitation in her gait.
     Talia had been sitting in the library attempting to focus on what was before her for some time now. When Rhysand knocked on the door to the library and stepped in, her heart had nowhere else to sink to. She had planned to work with Azriel this afternoon but after their encounter that morning she had elected to avoid him for the time being. As she followed the high lord, eliminating as much dread as she could from her composure, her mind stayed on the same thought that had distracted her all day. She now knew that she had no idea who she was, what she was, or what would happen next. They entered the dining room. Cassian and Azriel stood behind where Rhysand went to take his seat, flanking him. The power of the three of them together threatened to push the air from her lungs. Feyre sat at Rhysand's left, her eyes smiling at the healer, offering her a grounding line. Rhysand motioned to the chair at his right this time. Talia sat. She glanced at the shadowsinger a second time and again he did not meet her eyes. She swallowed.
"What now?" she smiled, an attempt to cut the tension.
"We heard from another court. The king has informed all the courts in Prythian of his theory, and your location." Rhysand wasted no time getting to the point but his eyes were disarming as he spoke softly to her.
Talia leaned forward, mouth open to speak, but no sound came out.
"The plan hasn't changed, necessarily, but we will need to be vigilant.This could change things."
She didn't move but she found her voice. "O-Okay." She stammered. She took a deep breath to calm herself. "Whatever is needed...." She looked from Rhysand to Feyre who nodded in encouragement, and back to Rhysand.
He pushed Helion's letter across the table to her and she picked it up gingerly. "Most courts will be curious above anything else, or may request your services." He said. "But I do claim you, I am harboring you, and I don't intend for that to change." Talia felt Azriel relax and shift on his feet as Rhysand spoke. She looked at him a third time. This time, he locked on her gaze and lingered, the fierceness there catching her off guard. She pulled her eyes away from him and back to the letter in her hands.
She straightened. "What does this all mean? Really?" she hadn't gotten enough from the high lord this morning. She had been in too much shock to ask the right questions. Cassian nodded behind Rhysand, confirming his own curiosity.
"I don't know much." Rhysand said, relaxing back in to his chair. "As Helion mentioned, not all courts agree on how to handle this. Most will be curious like he is, but there will be those who still think like our old leaders, who would like to see the bloodline ended." Azriel snapped his eyes to Rhysand. "And there are those who would like to claim you for their own bloodline in hopes of producing a Descendant heir. Some might worship you." He shrugged. "Most of us are too young to remember the last Descendant in Prythian and much has changed since then." He sighed as he stood, looking to Cassian. "If nothing else, the king is seeking to cause contempt and distrust between the courts. Do what you think is best. I would suggest an extra patrol for the house." The general nodded and walked out. "Talia." He reached a hand to her and helped her from her seat. "Go and rest. Keep studying. This will all blow over, I promise." She nodded, her voice stuck somewhere past her lungs again. She walked out, not wanting them to see as her brave face melted off.
"You're a bad liar." Feyre looked up at her mate.
"She already mentioned leaving. I don't want to scare her further." He rubbed his temples. Azriel tensed at hearing that Talia had thought of leaving. If she disappeared.....he didn't let himself finish the thought. "The faster we are, the less messy this will get." He turned to Azriel. "I need you focused."
Azriel barely heard him. "You forgot to mention those who would fight to keep the bloodline pure." He said, pulling his wings in closer as if somehow he might make them disappear. If the mating bond was accepted, if someday he could have what Rhys and Feyre have, then a child with Talia would be half Illyrian. Impure.
Rhysand was looking down at the letters on the table. He smiled slyly. "Planning ahead, I see." Feyre scowled at her mate and Rhys looked up at his brother, still smiling. "By the time she finds out that's an issue, all of this will be long gone I'm guessing."
"That's not fair." Feyre said, hiding her own chuckle.
Azriel looked to both of them, frustrated. "She's not – it's not a joke."
Rhysand faced the shadowsinger and put a hand on his shoulder, despite his shadows swirling threateningly around him. "I know, brother. And I know the future bloodline could be an issue. But she's carrying enough right now, and that's between the two of you."
Azriel left with a heavy weight on his own shoulders. This did change things. Not the way he felt, not the way he needed her, but what it could mean if he acted on it. Rhysand's teasing had gotten to him, but not in the way his brother had thought. The future had never been on his mind. Every day of his life had been it's own task, leading where it may, but the bigger picture had lost his interest after a few hundred years. Plans seemed to end up meaningless. It was always hard to hope for something after decades upon decades of going without it. As a young male, he could see something like this with every female that gave him the time of day, as all the young males had. But that want fades when you dive so deeply into the work at hand. And he had. He had stopped believing he could ever rely on anyone but himself for comfort or knowing. That was, until Rhys and Cass were mated to the sisters. Then, he had fought that sadness that he thought he had escaped. It wasn't truly sadness, sadness would mean something had been taken from him. No, it was loneliness. Something a soldier like him could never admit to. He was fine with letting everyone believe it was jealousy. Seeing her today had settled something in him, and hearing the news from Rhysand had made him want to soak up every moment he could with her because it may not last. It was that feeling that even though this was aligned with the path he had chosen, it was now no longer a choice at all, and that made him regretful. And desperate. Desperate to know her sooner, the way he had imagined he had years to do. Now he would take it a day at a time , but he wouldn't avoid her any longer. He could feel the tension between them after confronting her this morning, so he would start by apologizing for that.
     Talia was completely exhausted. The lack of sleep the night before, the news from Rhysand that morning, the training, the news from this afternoon. She wanted so badly to run but she knew she didn't have the strength for it, the energy. So she slunk back to her room, not even bothering to bathe, and slipped into bed. She was tired enough not to dream and she woke as the sun was setting, hunger clobbering her insides. Despite everything else, she just kept considering the conversation she had had with Azriel that morning. She knew he hadn't been there, not truly, as she cared for him. As they fought the thing that Hybern had put in him, the thing that attacked her. Gods, it felt so long ago. But she had cared for him, and that hadn't changed. She had imagined what it would be like for him to reappear, only for the reality to be that she angered him, felt alienated by him, avoided by him. The intensity in his eyes as he met hers only once that afternoon hadn't seemed threatening. It had seemed like he wished to communicate something to her. If he wouldn't be so closed off, if he would open to her just a little as he had when he was blind, as he had when he asked her to come closer, to let him touch her face, then....then what? They would be friends? That would be better, she supposed, than this tension between them that seemed to manifest itself as a knot at the base of her neck. She rubbed it for a moment, begging it to loosen before her hunger moved her bare feet out the door. She padded quietly down the halls and steps to the kitchen, knowing everyone else had finished eating. She thought of sitting on the terrace but the darkening sky brought on a chill so she elected to sit in the dining room, avoiding her quiet room and her responsibility in the library a little longer. She stopped short in the doorway, too far in to turn and leave without being obvious, as she saw Azriel sitting there, lounging really, at the head of the table. He had heard her coming and straightened as he saw her.
"Talia." It was just a greeting, but her name on his lips startled her. He looked like he was anticipating her without wanting to show it. He sat with his wings draped over the back of his chair, a glass in front of him on the table. He wore his armored pants from that morning still, but had changed in to a soft black top, not unlike the sand colored one he had worn when she arrived. His power filled the room even as he sat. Her heart rate quickened.
"Sorry, I didn't know anyone would be in here." She backed up a step as if to leave.
He leaned forward as if to beg her to stay, but his voice was perfectly even. "I was waiting for you, actually."
She looked down at her plate of reheated food, and her bare feet beyond it. Color rose to her cheeks. She didn't want him to see her like this. "Oh, you didn't have to do that. I'm late...." Because I'm exhausted. Because I'm avoiding you. No. She wouldn't be timid with him, not now, not just because he could see her. She dropped her shoulders, set her jaw, and looked at him.
Even as she straightened confidently before him, Azriel could see how tired she was and it sent a pain down those strings connecting them and directly into his heart. Was she not sleeping? He motioned to the seat next to him. She walked forward with purpose and took it, closing the space between them as if it were the most natural thing in the world.
"I wanted to apologize to you for this morning. And to make sure you're okay after.....everything else."
Talia was slightly taken aback by the softness in his voice, his face never portraying it. "What's there to apologize for?" she chose to ignore the second part. She watched him, taking a bite as she waited for his response.
His shadows snaked along the floor as if they were longing to be closer to her. "For confronting you." Finally, his face changed. Remorse framed his eyes. "It was unfair." His throat burned with a million more words wishing to escape. He swallowed, drowning them.
She looked back at her plate. "It wasn't unfair. I kept it from you and I asked Cassian to do the same." She glanced to him and back to her food. "It's not something either of us wanted to discuss anyway." She took another bite as guilt put color on his own face. Of course, if it was as horrible as Cassian had said then she wouldn't have wanted to relive it, even if she could have guaranteed that he wouldn't have reacted the way that he did. She sat back, and he studied her. She still wore her leathers, having been unable to do anything but fall in bed. She had undone her long, dark hair and it fell down her back and across her shoulders. He had the urge to touch it. He folded his hands in his lap as she continued. "Besides, like I said this morning, it wasn't you and I knew that. So it's nothing for you to feel guilty about." It was the most they had talked since he had gotten his sight back and she found herself unable to look away from his steady hazel eyes.
Rhysand and Cassian were both beautiful males. Fantastically so, and their power had been incredibly intimidating, but they had warmed to her and she had grown to desire that they be on her side, that they have her back. But Azriel's beauty was different, always just in front of the memory of him lying lifeless, as though if he were to shift even a little, that cold grey skin would reappear. Every ounce of his beauty felt more precious with knowing how it looked frozen beneath darkness. And even though he had been the first of them to offer her kindness and safety, the only way she saw him now was like this. Guarded. She was sure the lie had not helped, and it was not the only one she was keeping.
"I'll always feel guilty, Talia, for leaving that memory with you. I don't want you to be afraid of me."
Her eyes snapped to him. Afraid? He thought she was afraid of him? Afraid that he was angry, afraid that he hated her, maybe, but never afraid of him. She knew he would never, could never hurt her, not on purpose. No matter how emotionless and standoffish he had been, she still trusted him with her life. Completely. "I am not afraid of you, Azriel."
Hearing her speak his name like that nearly stopped him from continuing. His shadows curled around his back, whispering her name in response. He leaned toward her, worried his body might betray him. He tried to keep his eyes soft, gentle, as he looked at her. "Maybe you shou-"
Talia had heard enough. Her tiredness, her stress was getting to her and she couldn't hide her visceral response as she tired of being seen as weak. She pushed her chair back and stood in one swift motion, placing her hands on either side of her plate of half finished food and leaning toward him. "Don't say it." He looked up at her in surprise, the words hanging on his lips, unfinished. "You don't decide what I should and shouldn't be afraid of."
"Tal-" he opened his mouth to speak but she continued over him, the power and shadows swirling around him be damned.
"Do you think I don't know who you are? What you are? The great shadowsinger, a campfire story I listened to for months. A legend. Do you think I don't know what fae like you do for fae as powerful as Rhysand?" He could only blink in response. "Do you think I don't know what you were doing for hours in that dungeon while I froze, waiting for you just to walk back by so I could beg for a moment of your time?" she picked her plate up, proud of the steadiness in her hands and voice. "I've seen inside of you, Azriel," she pointed to him. "The nightmares you faced, the darkness you think keeps you from deserving this." She motioned to the house, the city, the family surrounding them. He blinked again, this time his eyes widening in shock. "But you didn't have a choice with me, I saw it. I was there. And it didn't scare me." She bent toward him again for emphasis, his eyes still wide. "Do not think you are the only male to have wrapped his hands around my throat without regard for my life. Or remorse." She straightened. "You want me to say I am afraid of you in order for you to justify the way you feel about yourself. And I won't. I'm sorry." She spun on her heel and walked out, chin high.
Azriel had to gather himself for a moment before he stood to stop her. "Talia, wait." But she was already out the door. He walked out behind her, her sweet scent trailing down the hall. "Talia!" he called, but she was gone. He leaned on the doorframe for support. Her words had pierced him, confused him, but he felt strangely numb to them as they were drowned out but the burning fire she had lit inside of him. Standing there, leaning toward him, speaking in strength and defiance, her scent, her light, all around him, he had lost control of himself. Only for a moment, but it was enough. His clothes felt like they were tightening around him, burning his skin. He needed them off. He stalked to his room, locking the door he had so many times wished for her, listened for her, to enter. Not tonight. Tonight he would be alone with his bed and his thoughts.
     Talia had only made it to the steps before her new found energy left her with a jolt. She stopped on the steps and clenched her eyes closed, worried they might begin to tear up. She heard him call to her down the hall. It was more than hearing, it was a strange draw. The sound of his voice was like a wave washing sand from beneath her feet, sending her stumbling backward. But she fought it. No tears came. She didn't stumble. A hot bath soothed her, washed away the anger and the insecurity. She sat in her resolve, soaking in it. She didn't know what was coming, but she would do what she had to. Leave, fight, showcase her skill. Hide. Change her name, change her look, become someone else. Anxiety would get her nowhere at all, she had learned that many years ago. She climbed from the tub and looked at her naked body in the mirror. The stains of the hands that had touched her against her will, invisible but burned into her mind, had begun to fade to her reminiscent eyes. She could appreciate the curve of new muscles and the confident way she squared her shoulders. This was a place that would leave her better than it found her, something she had never experienced. Her hair was getting long, something she had always hated because males loved it, because it was so sensual. Womanly. But now, she liked it. Feeling safe gave her the great luxury of seeing beauty in herself as something to cherish and not resent for its allure to her enemies. She was not afraid of anyone in this moment, the female staring back at her had survived much for being so young, and she had a lot of survival left in her. The shadowsinger, cloaked in mystery both spiritual and physical, was the reason she was here and she owed him all of it. But he made her so nervous, as if the whole world full of auras surrounded her in a talking, colorful light, but he stood in a shadowy void. Nervous, not of danger, but of surprise, of miscommunication, of that little spark deep in her chest when he finally put his eyes on hers. Of mystery. She crawled into bed, her nightmares coming as soon as her eyes drifted shut. This time it was all the same except the winged creature was taking a different form and no matter how hard she looked, sweat and tears blurred her vision making its form impossible to recognize.
     Upstairs, Azriel laid wide eyed for hours. Once he had rid himself of whatever flame she had poured on him, her sweet face was all he could see, telling him that other males had dared lay hands on her. A thought that sickened him. But not quite in the way hearing that she had seen his nightmares and remained calm and confident in his presence despite it. It was confirmed then, she was the warm, soothing presence he had sensed near the end. If he had know that, he wouldn't have called to it. Wrapped himself in it. He would have tried to push her out. He had thought she would be afraid of him because he had confronted her in the training ring. He thought he would sit at that table and tell her to be afraid of him and she would hang her head and shoulders and oblige, and then he could justify the distance and the hesitancy, just as she said. But she had ripped that power from him. She had walked easily through the wall he had so carefully been building for centuries as though it were made of moonlight and mist and not the pitch black stone he had so carefully crafted it to be. He put his arms behind his head. Had he lost all sense of how to deal with females? Or was it just her? It hadn't been that long since his heart had been pulled in some haphazard direction but it had been much, much longer since he had acted on such a feeling. And never from outside that wall. Of course it was her. Form the beginning of time it had been written that it would be her. And who was he, despite his power, despite his sordid past, to question it? She had been so close to him. He could have reached out and touched her face, but he didn't. He looked out his window, wishing for peace, and knowing it could be a long time before any came. As he closed his eyes, desperate for rest, some invisible force pushed turmoil into his mind, swirling menacingly, and then he felt it. His heart, where her stealing of his protective bindings had left him exposed, felt a deep darkness surround it. He sat up, looking to the door. From the midst of that darkness he could feel the pounding of another heart, one trapped, looking for an escape. Hers, her danger, her fear, she was hurt and alone and he could feel it, heart to heart. Suddenly he was in the hall, he was on the stairs, he was before her bedroom door. He forced himself to stop, to stand still. He could hear nothing from inside but her breathing, and he relaxed, just slightly. There was no present danger, but the ache in his chest told him that she was suffering. He thought better of going in, knowing what a male barging through her bedroom door would remind her of, and also knowing he couldn't leave without waking her from a nightmare she likely gleaned from his own. He concentrated, sending long, soft tendrils of shadow, of himself, under the door and toward her. They wrapped her in a cocoon of his calm, his protection, until he could feel her relax, unclench her fists, her jaw, and that fear that had moved him subsided in her as she stilled. He leaned his hands against her door carefully as he listened to her even breath, waiting for his shadows to lay her gently back down and return to him. She was a Descendant, something he had only read about it textbooks or joked about amongst his friends, he knew she would be tested, that the world would be asking for proof, but he felt the truth in his bones. He had felt her there, in his waking nightmare, she had entered his stonewalled mind, she had seen his horror all around her and still, she sat with him and was not afraid. That was a display of power that shook him. No wonder a mating bond found her. He pushed away from the door and left her reluctantly.
Talia didn't wake until the sun was fully overhead, and she felt well rested for the first time in....she didn't know how long. She knew the nightmares had come but at some point they had relented, leaving her with barely an image to recall. She went about her day, catching herself looking for Azriel around every corner, hoping she didn't find him there, because she knew she needed to apologize but she hadn't settled on how. She had lost her cool at his own gentle attempt to make amends, and a large part of her hated the fact that she thought he even cared, that it was anything compared to the rest of what he was dealing with. She sat in the library to study and every small sound sent her looking to the door, afraid of more bad news. Rhysand had said he would decide what to do next but she had no idea at what point it would actually involve her. She took a break for lunch, having heard nothing from anyone. It was the first time since those weeks in that cell in Hybern that she simply did not know what to do. The house was quiet and she wandered about, searching for some purpose. She sat on the terrace to eat, out of the hot sun but with a view of the city below. She hoped to enter it again soon, if Rhysand could truly sort this out and she could stay. He had promised her that he could and she had nodded and left, but she had also felt the emptiness of it. She finished eating but lingered until, in the distance, she could see two winged figures approaching. She held her breath as they neared, but soon she could see their red and blue siphons glinting in the sun. She quietly got up and left before they landed, not wanting to speak with either of them in that moment. Azriel was flying, sparring, regaining his strength and himself just as she had hoped, and faster than she had expected. And without her help. Her heart was so exhausted from being pulled so recklessly from confidence in her position to feeling like nothing at all.

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