A Court of Souls and Shadows

13. Raven

Training with Azriel was so different to training with Cassian. Training with Cassian was still hard work, but it had always felt like fun, too. I missed him so much. I hoped he didn't still feel guilty for what had happened to me, and I wished he would just come back already.

Azriel was all business from day one when he took over my training. We focused on my swordsmanship, to my dismay. He was satisfied with every other area of my training, but my swordsmanship sucked, to say the very least. I wasn't sure I liked the Training-Ring version of Azriel. It was like he became a different person. He didn't even smile. I could tell there was something on his mind, but I didn't want to pry, even after the night on the rooftop we had shared after Rita's. I had thought something had changed between us then, but neither of us had even mentioned it since it happened.

Elain had moved to the townhouse permanently, and Azriel was visiting her more frequently. I should have known better. I had let myself get attached to Azriel, when his heart was already elsewhere. I wished it didn't bother me as much as it did. I still had Cassian, after all, who would always drop everything for me, no matter what. But it wasn't the same. I hated that.

It had been two weeks since Azriel had taken over my training, and I was getting better, but it was slow going. I was a lot smaller than the Illyrians, and struggled to work with their swords. They were so damn heavy. Azriel insisted that it was just a matter of balance and adjusting my footwork, and I'd told him he was full of shit on more than one occasion.

During our training sessions, Azriel had started weaving in politics lessons as well, to prepare me for the upcoming High Lord's meeting. The plan was to keep me hidden away until the opportune moment for the grand reveal - the Night Court's big secret weapon. And what I did and said after that was crucial. Apparently none of them trusted me to behave myself, and so now I was being coached on what to say, even how to stand. It was infuriating, being treated like some sort of cave person, even though that was technically what I had been for the last few centuries, give or take.

Azriel and I were in the middle of yet another sparring session with our swords when I said as much.

"I don't see why I need an entire personality transplant for one meeting," I complained in between blocking Azriel's blows.

"No one said anything about changing your personality," Azriel bit back, picking up his pace and pushing me across the ring.

"It shouldn't matter anyway," I insisted. "As long as I do the soul-grabby thing on the battlefield, who cares if I'm a little bit of an asshole."

Azriel suddenly stopped his advances and frowned at me. I swiped at the sweat on my forehead, breathing heavily.

"What?" I asked when he stayed silent.

"You're not just a weapon, you know," Azriel said quietly, his hazel eyes boring into mine.

"That's exactly what I am," I shot back. "The whole reason you came to find me was because of what I could do, right?"

Azriel's face twisted into something that almost looked like pain.

"Technically, yes.."

"Don't worry about it," I cut him off. "I'm under no illusions that I'm here for anything else."

Azriel levelled me with a look. "If you don't think you have come to mean a lot more to everyone here, beyond just being a weapon, then you're stupid."

I blinked back at him in shock. And found myself foolishly hoping that I had come to mean a lot more to just him. I knew that Cassian and Mor considered me one of their own. Feyre had welcomed me with open arms, and even Rhysand seemed to not hate me at least. But I found the only person who's opinion I cared about what Azriel's. I hated that.