A Court of Lightning and Shadows

Twenty-four

The bright sun never fails to blind Briar. Her pounding head doesn't make it any easier.

She still lay in the same position she had fallen asleep in last night, Azriel's arms now wrapped around her waist.

Briar carefully lifted his arm as she turned around to face him. His shadows were quiet and curled around his wings, while his eyes were still closed.

She carefully grabbed his hand and started tracing his scars. He had never told her the story about how he got them. She supposed it wasn't a happy story.

Briar herself was still ashamed of the two scars on her back. She never showed them or looked at them.

She had to admit that she still missed the weight of her wings daily, but tried not to think about it too much.

Briar's eyes moved back to Azriel's face. She found him staring right back at her. She still held his hand while his gaze shifted to their hands.

"Sorry.." she said while a small blush crept on her cheeks. She dropped his hand.

"No, It's okay." he said, grabbing her hand back, "It's just.. I hate them.. the scars. But you seem to like them."

She started tracing the scars again. "I hate my scars too. But I think yours are beautiful." A small smile formed on Azriel's face.

"Why haven't you asked about how I got them?"

"The same reason as why you haven't asked about my past." she said, "It is your choice whether you want to tell it."

She knew that Azriel already figured out what had happened to her. She also knew Rhys had told the entire Inner Circle. Azriel hadn't looked different at her, so she didn't care.

"It isn't a happy story." he started.

"For the first eleven years of my life, I lived with my father and stepmother. My stepmother had two sons, my half-brothers." he swallowed, "My stepmother kept me in a cell those eleven years."

Briar's eyes widened slightly as she tightened her grip on his hands, letting him know she was listening.

"I was allowed to come out of the cell for one hour a day. I saw my birth mother once a week, for only an hour. I didn't learn how to fly back then, even though my Illyrian instincts told me too." he looked away, avoiding her eyes.

"When I was eight, my half-brothers decided it would be fun to see what would happen when you mix an Illyrian's quick healing gifts with oil and fire. They poured oil on my hands and lit them on fire." she saw Azriel struggle with his words.

She lifted her hand to his cheek as he continued, "My father's warriors heard my screams, and rescued me. They were not quick enough to save my hands."

"I'm sorry." she said. She noticed the tears in his eyes, her heart aching at the sight. A tear slipped down Azriel's face as he looked away again.

"Thank you for telling me." she said.

She placed her head on his chest, snuggling further into his side to comfort him.

He placed a kiss on top of her head, something he did often.

Briar lifted her head from his chest, looking up. She slowly moved her head up to place a kiss on his lips.

Azriel's hand moved to the back of her neck, allowing him to deepen the kiss. Their lips kept moving together as Azriel let Briar lay down against the matras, his body towering over her.

Azriel removed his lips from her, looking her over to see if she was okay. "Is this alright?" he asked, his hand staying attached to her cheek.

Briar nodded.