A Tale As Old As Time - Azriel

Chapter XIV

Tamlin's eyes flashed with a warning

Green eyes blazing like a forest fire. 

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Azriel sat in quiet contemplation, staring at his twiddling thumbs as he processed the information so freely given to him. Another segment of the story, of the puzzle, they had to piece together. He wondered at what cost she had given that story. If Helion hadn't delivered the information himself, had he wanted it aired at all? A part of his history that wasn't quite as bright as the rest. Or perhaps there had been a sort of silent negotiation that she would say the words that he could not.

"I knew Helion could be ruthless... But this?" Cassian whistled.

Azriel hadn't quite expected it either. Rhys had shared a rather in depth description of Jurian's eye soon after his return from Under the Mountain, a wild, brutal form of torture. Enough to see the torment of his people for so long. The war with Ramses had been before even that, and his punishment was still being served.

A shiver racked its way down his spine, his shadows simmering quietly around his ears, mumbling just quiet enough that they were intelligible. Like they too were processing.

"And it's definitely not an eye?" Feyre asked, and Azriel felt his face pale a shade further.

He could feel his heart shudder, as if thankful it was still in his chest. "No." He shook his head quickly. "No, it's definitely not an eye."

Rhysand was watching him carefully, yet still leaving a protective hand to soothe calming circles on Feyre's leg. However, not everyone was as patient as the High Lord. Amren's eyes were narrowed at him in an almost critical way, and Mor's leg was bouncing so quickly and so loudly he worried she might possibly dent the floor.

"The information is useless if you don't say it at all." Nesta said, frowning deeper that she'd had to say anything at all. "Besides, how do we know we can trust them at all? If Helion hadn't said it-"

"We can trust her." Amren said mildly, but circling her hands around as if urging him to speak, and to do so quickly. "Boy, we should know what it is we're supposed to be looking for."

"It's uh-" The words were stuck, jumbling around in his brain until he found himself focussing more on trying to focus than actually saying anything at all. "Well- It's.." His hands were making gestures he didn't quite understand, dancing through the story once more. There was a small jabbing motion he understood to be a slash, like he was holding a blade. Then another before he gestured at the floor. He hoped they understood that that meant death, or whatever it was that Ramses classed as.

"I think this is a bit too important to be playing charades with." Mor snorted, no urgency in her voice at all.

"Mopping the floor! We're looking for a mop!" Of course, it might've been easier to gesture for those that weren't Cassian. Azriel glowered at him once, enough to have him biting his tongue to hold in his laughter.

Then, he tried holding out his hand, opening and closing it in quick succession. "No it's- Well, they-"

"Essentially," Tamlin drawled, entering the hall alongside Tahlia. Azriel just wanted either of them to put him out of his misery. "Tahlia here helped Helion stuff his heart in a box, wrapped it up in tinsel and gifted it to the other for Solstice. Does that sound about right?" Tahlia ignored Tamlin's smug grin aimed at her, her face uncharacteristically stoic. If anything, she held her chin a little higher.

"His- I'm sorry I don't think I heard you right." Cassian said, eyes flicking back to Azriel's hands that were still opening and closing, realisation hinted in his eyes at the beat. "His what?"

"At the time, we didn't think it was possible to bring someone back like that."

"You can't." Mor said, but even Azriel took it as more of a wish, a plea than an actual statement. "Not without the Cauldron."

"Wrong again." Azriel wanted to carve the knowing look off of Tamlin's face and throw it in the flames in the fireplace, watch it turn to nothing but ash and then chuck his body in after it. He took a place at the Day Court table, the one next to Tahlia and opposite Azriel, leisurely letting his arm linger on the back of his chair. Perhaps he'd saw his arm off first. Watch him scream- "Ramses was fae, of course but the Cauldron chose him to be High Lord of the Day. It was fated to him, written before any of us were born whether he chose to stay on that path or not."

Perhaps Tamlin didn't know he was giving away more information on himself, slowly but surely. Perhaps he was too busy basking in the glee of knowing something Night did not. But he knew this story, that much was clear. Knew it very personally if their past conversations were anything to go by. Knew how it played out and how it linked to Day Court, too. Unfortunately for him, Azriel wasn't the only one piecing it all together.

"A friend of yours?" Cassian goaded.

Tamlin's eyes flashed with a warning, green eyes blazing like a forest fire. "He was one of my father's tutors." There was more, a story not being told, one that wouldn't be, his shadows whispered. Another piece of the puzzle left for another time.

"You can tell." Mor spat, picking at a bowl of freshly cut apples that appeared in front of her. "The apple clearly doesn't fall far from the tree."

There was enough tension floating around in the air that Azriel realised the conversation was about to slide adrift and get lost in something awful. Accusations and arguments that grew old with every time he heard exactly the same thing.

Perhaps Cassian enjoyed arguments just as much as Mor did, verbal sparring just the same as combat. Look for weak points and strike. He did it with Nesta, and Mor was almost a professional when it came to Tamlin.

Tahlia cleared her throat, pulling a scroll from the folds of her white jacket and unravelled it across the table. It was a story of sorts, one with bright colours and depictions of dancing fae around fires and magic twirling through the air. "There's a ritual. One that will fall on the Summer Solstice."

"The longest day of the year. Isn't it charming?"

She ignored Tamlin once more. "We have that long to find it. Ramses is bonded to the day, it could be the only thing capable of bringing him back without the Cauldron."

"And how," Nesta drawled. "Do you suppose we find it?"

She didn't so much as bat an eyelid at the goading, or mocking tone that was heavy in the female's voice. "Rhysand, you said about a ball."

"I don't think it's very fitting in the current climate."

"Make sure it still happens. If there's anyone in Prythian that knows where that heart is going to be..."

Azriel dreaded what came next. Eyed Mor carefully as her face paled, slowly drawing back into herself in the subtle way she tended to. Tamlin, to his credit, did enough to look stoic, besides that glimmer of pity in his softening eyes. Quite possibly the most tolerable he'd been all day, though it didn't stop Azriel from snapping every finger that drew its way along the back of Tahlia's chair. 

"It's Beron."

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(Sorry it's so short but I felt like I owed it to all of you and myself to publish something. I hope that even publishing this short chapter will slowly get me back into writing, and if smaller chapters help me to do that, then I am more than willing to reduce the word count for my chapters. I hope you all understand. And I hope to publish something for you again soon xx)