A Court of Truths and Revival

Pie

AZRIEL

Azriel waited for the Lady of Night to look up from the dress she worked on. Her head was blocked by shimmering blue fabric draped over a mannequin. Finally, she rose from her knees and removed the pins she held between her teeth.

"Az," she greeted, offering a small smile as she moved closer. She inspected him like a mother, and if she found faults, she didn't say.

"My Lady," he said with a nod.

"There's no need for such formalities," she chided, not for the first time.

Azriel stole a glance behind him, making sure the door was shut. "Alya, how can I be of assistance?"

She pursed her lips and pinched the leather fabric at his shoulder, taking some mental measurement. "My mate has ordered you to keep tabs on Seren?"

It was barely a question, flat and without the need of an answer so Azriel just inclined his head.

"You intend to comply?"

Azriel found it hard to meet her gaze. "You know I have no choice." Watching over the High Lord's daughter was a direct order. Unrefusable and non-negotiable. He'd tried to suggest that Rhys be brought back from Illyria to watch over his sister, but faced the High Lord's full ire for daring to speak up. The prick feared his children might band together in some sort of a coo if allowed to be together for too long.

"She'll be furious when she finds out," Alya said with a sigh as she ran her fingers across a sheer piece of fabric.

Azriel had no intention of letting the young girl notice him at all, but he kept quiet.

"I have a request of my own," Alya went on, much to Azriel's dismay. It was within his right to refuse her, but he never would. She'd taken him in as a child and raised him with Rhys and Cassian. He owed her everything. "Spy and report on her if you must, but protect her from whatever you can. Help her in the ways I can't."

Throat dry, Azriel only nodded. The High Lord was paranoid, controlling, and had taken a keen interest in his daughter's upbringing. What he had in mind for her was anyone's guess, but it worried Alya enough that she sought ways around her mate's missives.

It's the least you can do, Azriel reminded himself as he turned to leave, but as he did so, the color leeched from his surroundings and a weightless feeling overtook him.

"Did you protect her?"

He hadn't. Nor could he find it in himself to look back at the female he knew to be dead. Seeing her disappointed, wasn't something he couldn't bear.

Az.

A talon prodded, distorting the dreamlike memory further.

Azriel.

Recognizing that voice, Azriel's eyes shot open, searching for any sense of where he was. The cool feel of crisp sheets curled around him and a pillow under his head reassured him that it had only been a dream, but the faint call of his name continued.

I know you're awake now, Rhys said, his voice sounding a tad louder in Azriel's mind.

Fucker, Azriel shot back as he brushed the sleep from his eyes. Don't you have a son that can keep you entertained at all hours of the night?"

An amused chuckle flowed back. Nyx and Feyre are both mercifully sleeping.

As should you be, Azriel replied. It was no secret that the pressures of the prior year kept Rhys awake till the wee hours of the morning. While the rest of their family rejoiced at Nesta's use of the Harp to save Feyre and Nyx, Rhys thought it a foreboding sign of what was to come. If Nyx and Feyre slept, Rhys researched. The Dread Trove had become an obsession as they tried to keep the objects in their possession safe and undetected by the rest of the world.