A Court of Light and Melody

Don't Leave Lonely

** I would like to publish it with my grandmother in mind.
M.A.S. — My hummingbird. **

Bonus Chapter 3/12

Don't Leave Lonely

"The best way out is through."

- Robert Frost

Song: Adeline - Robert-John

Azriel descended upon the outskirts of the Illyrian Steppes, just by the thickening woods. He set his mate down on her feet, a hand on her back as she steadied herself. The flight over had been a little more than an hour, but Gwyn had wanted to see the mountains from the sky and Azriel didn't want to pass up the opportunity to take her flying, especially when there was little risk of peril.

"That's three flights straight where we aren't fleeing an army, dodging arrows, or bleeding," Gwyn murmured, straightening the navy knit sweater she wore over her leggings – both garments from the trousseau his mother had given her.

Azriel held out his arms offering to take the basket of buns that Gwyn carried – a gift she had baked for his mother. "At this rate we may set a record," he smirked, as she surrendered the basket.

Gwyn smoothed her windswept hair, gnawing on her lower lip – her mind clearly wandering. She looked at Azriel, her expression hesitant. "How do I look?"

The shadowsinger bit back a snicker and pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek. "You look lovely."

Gwyn's eyes narrowed. "I feel like you are secretly very amused at my nerves."

Azriel shrugged, starting towards the tall trees. "I do find it amusing that you are concerned she won't like you, yes."

"And what is so amusing about that?"

Azriel fixed his mate with a look. "Because has anyone who has ever met you not liked you?" They continued toward the tree line side by side. "My brothers adore you. Nesta loves you. Even the High Lord of Spring grew fond of you."

"This is different, Azriel," she muttered.

And Azriel heard the unspoken words: "Your mother is unstable..." He swallowed hard against that reality. He had checked in on her yesterday and she had been in good health. He prayed she remained the same today. That no ghosts came calling. His concern must have shown on his face because Gwyn halted just before the forest, and took his hand.

"Different, in that she is my mate's mother, alright? Different because I am desperate to impress her." Gwyn's stare was intent but gentle. "My anxiety has nothing to do with her mental state."

Azriel exhaled a breath he didn't know he'd been holding and felt guilt churn in his gut. How could he have assumed Gwyn would be apprehensive of his mother's health? She was harmless. Harmless... but haunted. At least sometimes. The whispering to herself. The way she would pale suddenly. When her speech sounded more like a poem than a conversation. Only her nightmares were dangerous and according to the caretaker, she was unlikely to have one anytime soon.

Besides, Gwyn was no stranger to trauma. In the event his mother's health abruptly declined during their visit she would understand, right?

As though to reassure him, Gwyn squeezed his fingers comfortingly, offering a wry smile. "Alright, Shadowsinger?"

Azriel swallowed the lump in his throat and nodded. "Alright."

When they arrived at the clearing where Azriel's mother's home resided, the shadowsinger saw that the caretaker was standing on the front porch. His head dipped in subtle determination. He'd asked the female to wait just outside for them and give a succinct briefing on his mother's current state. It had been a good day yesterday, but who knew what today may have brought?