A Court of Souls and Shadows

12. Azriel

I felt the rage boiling in my blood, burning through every part of my body with a white-hot intensity. That piece of shit fae had touched her, against her will. It was a miracle I hadn't murdered him in the middle of Rita's. But seeing how distraught Snow had been had done something weird to my insides. I could do nothing but follow her. Make sure she was okay.

I cut through the air quickly, flying directly to the House of Wind, trying to get my anger under control before we reached the rooftop. I focused on Snow instead, her tear-streaked face wedging a space directly into my heart. I didn't know where the intense feeling of protectiveness had come from. I knew more than anyone how capable she was of taking care of herself. But knowing her, and knowing that no one had ever taken care of her, had me running to her every time. The possessiveness I felt around her was something I struggled to comprehend, the feeling that she was mine. It was irrational and entitled as fuck, but I could not shake it.

I circled the rooftop in a wide arc, before coming to a gentle landing. I set Snow down on her feet, and she swayed slightly, falling backwards. I gripped her shoulders gently to steady her. She was shaking.

"Hey, it's alright," I whispered. "I'm here. I'm going to take care of you." I swallowed thickly and blinked rapidly, suddenly feeling tears pricking the backs of my eyes. I hadn't had a single drink, so I couldn't blame the alcohol on whatever the fuck was happening to me.

Snow suddenly took off in a run, directly for the rack of weapons on the other side of the rooftop training ring. With a thundering crack, she kicked them over, her chest heaving. I rushed to her, reaching for her hand.

"I should have killed him," she seethed, ignoring my hand to kick at the weapons scattered on the ground. "I'm a fucking Soul Stealer and I just stood there. What the fuck is wrong with me!?"

I gently took her hand and spun her to face me. "You were in shock," I said quietly. "You did nothing wrong."

"I'm weak," she screamed, her voice breaking. She pushed against my chest, gritting her teeth. I gripped both her wrists in my hands and forced her to look at me.

"You are not weak," I said, staring into her icy-blue eyes. "You are extraordinary."

She pushed away from me and vomited at her feet. "Okay..." I said, "we need to get you sobered up."

"I just need to lay down, for one second," she said quietly, staggering to the middle of the training ring. She laid down on her back, staring up at the night sky. I followed her, laying down beside her. We were quiet for a moment, before she broke the silence.

"Thank you," she said, her voice barely above a whisper. "For saving me." I turned my face to look at her. She was staring up at the stars, her eyes glassy. I stayed silent as I watched her. I had the feeling that was what she needed. The silences between us were never awkward. We stayed like that, in our comfortable silence, for what felt like a long time, when Snow surprised me.

"Tell me about you," she said suddenly, turning her head to me. My lips turned up into a half smile.

"What do you want to know?"

"Everything."

"Everything?"

She nodded.

"I don't know where to start," I admitted, searching her face for answers.

"Will you tell me what happened to your hands?" She asked quietly. "I understand if you don't want to." She hurriedly added. I sighed heavily and looked into her eyes.

"I was born a bastard. My stepmother and two half-brothers did not like me very much, to say the least. I was locked in a cell in my father's keep, and only let out for an hour each day. My half-brothers thought it would be fun to see how fast I could heal if I was burned. They poured oil over my hands and lit them on fire. By the time the guards heard my screams and found me, it was already too late to save my hands."

I sucked in a breath through my teeth, as I searched Snow's face for her reaction. I hated the sympathy, the pity, my story often pulled from people. But Snow's face remained hard, focused. She ground down on her teeth as she stared at me.

"I'm sorry that happened to you," she finally said. "I hope you killed them all."

I laughed then, shaking my head. "I don't want to talk about them," I said. "All that matters is where I am now."

Snow nodded solemnly, turning back to stare up at the sky.

"I'm a bastard, too," she said.

"I know."

"My back..."

"You don't have to tell me," I interrupted.

"You told me how you got yours," she said.

"Doesn't mean you owe me anything."

"I want to tell someone. Tell you," she explained, and I held my breath, preparing to hear the awful story behind the scars that covered her back. I was sure it would be just as bad as mine, if not worse.

"When I refused to use my powers to aid my father's tyrant wishes, he tortured me. Whipped me until my back was in shreds, healed me, and began again. He tried everything he could to break me."

I took in a shaky breath and waited for her to continue, but she didn't.

"But he didn't break you, did he?" I asked quietly.

"Not in the way he thought he would, at least." Her answer was cryptic, but something told me not to open that door, not yet.

"Can I ask you something personal?" I asked, turning my head to look at her once more. She tore her attention from the night sky to gaze back at me, a small smile on her face.

"I think we're beyond that now, Alan," she said sarcastically. I smiled.

"Why don't you want people to know your name?"

Snow sighed heavily, her eyes glossing over with tears.

"I just don't think I'm ready to hear someone else say it," she said. "The last person to speak my name was my mother, before she died."

"What was she like?"

Snow laughed, the sound rough. "The opposite of me," she said. "Soft, delicate, strong. She didn't let any of the awful things she went through change her. She never lost her softness. She was always kind, patient. I wish I was more like her. I wish I didn't feel so angry all the time. I'm all jagged edges."

"A rough diamond," I said with a smile. She laughed. "Something like that," she replied.

We laid under the stars in silence for hours afterwards, my hand finding hers at some point, our fingers interlacing. The night felt fragile, in every sense of the word. But it also felt like the beginning of something new. Something I knew I would protect with my life.

As the light of morning started to streak the sky, Snow's quiet voice drifted across the wind.

"Raven," she said.

"What?"

She turned her head to look at me once more, her grip on my hand tightening as a small smile stretched across her face.

"Raven," she repeated. "My name is Raven."