Rules for Spies

5

Gwyn hardly slept, and she's yawning when she arrives in the House of Wind, only to find Emerie in a similar state, anxiously clutching the mug of tea that the House almost certainly provided, given its unexpected yet pleasing aroma.

"How are you feeling?" Gwyn asks.

"Nesta thought I should stay last night and I barely slept. She and Cassian had to attend to an emergency in the middle of the night but they made me stay here."

Gwyn links her arm through Emerie's, and rests her head on her friend's shoulder.

"They didn't want you to strain your wings."

"I completed the Blood Rite with these wings," Emerie insists, and Gwyn knows her well enough not to mention the fact that Emerie was in pain for weeks afterwards, though she tried very hard to mask it in training.

"You know you don't have to do this if you don't want to," she says instead. "You put all those Illyrian males to shame."

"I know. It's only that when I was a child, there were a few years where I did fly. The wind on my face, the earth below... there's nothing like it. And the more I thought about it, the more my fear seemed small in comparison to having flying in my life again. So I am trying to get through this morning as quickly as possible."

"I understand. You've made your choice already," Gwyn says, leading them to the dining table, where the House has laid out a spread of simple, comforting foods, porridge and eggs and baked apples.

"The sooner I get to flying, the better." Emerie's voice brightens and Gwyn knows it has nothing to do with the food she serves on her plate.

"And here I'd thought you'd both be sleeping," Cassian says, yawning, from the hallway, Nesta trailing him in a loose sweater and leggings. Like Gwyn, she's skipping the morning training session to stay close to Emerie.

"Didn't you know that Gwyn barely sleeps?" Emerie asks as she sprinkles brown sugar on her porridge.

But it's Azriel who says, emerging from the shadows, "I'm aware."

Gwyn had suspected that Azriel would be staying at the House of Wind, but she still can't help the surprised little smile on her lips when she sees him, the warmth that suffuses her at the curl of his lips when his eyes meet hers. He sits next to Gwyn and starts loading up his plate with eggs and toast, and somehow she's aware of every movement he makes, even when Cassian starts telling them in detail about what they'll be missing in training, lessons in stealth, which, according to Cassian, Nesta will need to practice later.

"I thought you did well," Gwyn says, sipping her tea.

"Better than Cassian," Azriel smirks, which makes Nesta's eyes flash with satisfaction.

"I made it through that course with my eyes closed."

"And Gwyn made it through without me catching her." Gwyn doesn't bother to hide her own smile of satisfaction. So much has happened since she made it through the stealth course yesterday, but that feeling of awareness and purpose that had flooded her as she raced through each obstacle, knowing that she was still somehow ahead of Azriel, makes her feel strong. The darkness, for a little while at least, became a friend.

And when she thinks of the conversation she and Azriel had had afterwards, on that final platform, the secrets she'd shared and the things he said, she's not afraid, either, of what could have happened in the darkness.

She trusts him, she realizes, even knowing things that should make her hesitate. And she wants more, if he's willing to give it.

She thinks of his thumb running against the back of her hand, hours ago in the High Lord's home, and, with a little prayer to the Mother, she reaches out her foot and runs it over his.