The Illyrian Warrior

Chapter Four

Azriel flew up to the House of Wind later that night. Surprisingly it was quiet when he arrived, not a single sound coming from Nesta's or Cassian's room. He didn't think about it for too long, making his way to the kitchen sink, Azriel began to wash away what was left of the balm.

He felt vile, he had touched her with his scarred hands. He had touched her soft skin. No matter how much Azriel scrubbed at his hands he couldn't seem to scrub away the feeling of her. He couldn't seem to scrub away the years of blood and sin that coated his hands like a glove. He had touched her with those hands, it felt wrong, made him sick to his stomach. Azriel kept scrubbing, but it wouldn't disappear or dissolve with the water. The balm had long since washed off his hands, but for the life of him, Azriel couldn't stop scrubbing. It was as if he was trying to sand away at his pink, vein-like scars, but of course they wouldn't budge.

Azriel didn't hear Cassian come up behind him, his shadows hadn't alerted him. Quietly, Cassian turned off the tap, forcing Azriel to look up. A question was in Cassian's eyes, what happened? This wasn't the first time Azriel had done something like this. It usually occurred after a particularly brutal interrogation or like now, when he felt as though his hands did not deserve to touch anything, if he could chop them off he would.

"Don't", Azriel said sternly.

He dried his hands on a towel, resisting the urge to plunge them back into the sink and continue scrubbing.

"Azriel, you can't keep doing this".

That was always what Cassian said. He says it like Azriel hasn't been doing it for the last hundred years.

"Goodnight Cassian", Azriel said turning away from him and stalking towards the hallway.

"Azriel", Cassian hissed.

He ignored him and continue down the hallway to his room, where he'd lock the door so Cassian couldn't bother him.

                                    —————

The next morning Davina waited outside of the townhouse, a small bag beside her filled with the clothes Feyre had brought her while she'd been unconscious. Davina couldn't wait to leave. She'd skipped breakfast and had hobbled down the stairs before Elain or Feyre insisted that she stayed a little longer.

The morning air was crisp and fresh. The air smelt like spring, a cool breeze washed over Davina. It wasn't just the fact that she was leaving that had her so excited. Azriel would have to fly her up to the House of Wind. She would get to fly again. Admittedly it would be through someone else, but she'd be in the air again and that was what she couldn't wait for.

But it wasn't Azriel than landed in the front yard, it was Cassian. Red siphons gleaning in the sun, long hair tied back into a ponytail.

"Where's Azriel?"

"Nice to see you too", Cassian huffed.

Davina apologised for her bluntness. She hadn't had much to do with Cassian, but he seemed nice enough. If Azriel was an Illyrian anomaly then maybe Cassian was too.

"Come on", Cassian said cheerfully, "we'd better get going, Nesta will murder me if I wasn't at training".

Casually, if he'd done it millions of times, Cassian swooped Davina up bridal style. Davina held the bag in her lap, her stomach a mix of anxiety and excitement. Cassian gave Davina a moment to get comfortable before he bent his knees and took off at an alarming rate. It had been so long since Davina had flew, she forgot how fast it was. Instinctively she clutched the arm that was holding her. Her heart was beating incredibly fast, they were so high up, Davina felt she could reach out and touch the clouds. She didn't of course, she kept herself tucked in and withdrawn, as if moving could send her plummeting to her death. The only thing relaxing her was the wind in her hair, the smile it brought to her face. For a moment, she could imagine it was her flapping her wings and flying to great heights. She remembered when she was young, before her wings were clipped or chopped off, Wren was merely a babe. She used to fly a lot, away from the prying eyes of the camp, Davina delighted in jumping off trees and catching herself with her wings. A pang of sad jealousy hit Davina. Cassian had wings, Azriel had wings, Rhysand had wings, heck even Feyre had wings. She didn't have long to think about it before Cassian landed on a balcony and the moment passed. He gently sat her down on her feet, making sure she was stable before he took his hand away.