Trial of the Valkyrie

Visit My Bed

Chapter Thirteen - Visit My Bed

Song: John My Beloved - Sufjan Stevens

"He didn't know what the words meant, but he knew what they sounded like: it was the sound of sadness."

― Silvia Moreno-Garcia in Velvet Was the Night

A    Z    R    I    E    L

Across the room Gwyn thrashed against her bedding, cries and strained groans spilling from her lips, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Azriel threw himself from the bed, casting aside his blankets and leaving his dagger on the mattress. He crossed the room in two strides, tucking in his wings and coming to kneel beside Gwyn's bed.

His shadows stretched out towards her trembling form, heaving sobs wracking her chest.

Down the hall he could hear Emerie call the priestess's name. There was a considerable amount of bustling and rumbling from Cassian and Nesta's room as well.

Azriel knew he and Gwyneth Berdara, at first glance, were very different people. He also knew that since meeting her, he'd found a kindred spirit. Someone who also labored under unspoken guilt. Someone who also fought with everything they had. Someone who did not, for the world, wish for pity. Or sympathy.

He reached for her face – it was damp with sweat. His thumbs swiped over her cheekbones to brush away the tears. "It's just a dream."

Her teal eyes shut tighter, and she shook her head, sobbing unintelligibly.

"Wake up," he murmured, combing hair back from her forehead.

Footsteps and muffled voices approached, the impending breach of Gwyn's forces by an audience of well-intending friends. Azriel's stomach sank for her as his shadows imparted that their companions were just outside the door, debating on whether to enter based on the sound of soft sobs still wracking Gwyn.

In a final attempt to spare Gwyn the pity of their friends, Azriel cradled her face in his hands, shadows dancing down his arms and over his knuckles to tenderly stroke her jawline. He said, his voice a somber song: "It's me, Gwyn. It's Azriel."

The priestess's eyes shot open, wide and lined with silver. Her breath still came out in shaky gasps and she continued to tremble, but she was awake. Azriel noticed then that her hands gripped his forearms, her gaze locked with his — holding him in an invisible embrace.

The doorknob jiggled and with a creak opened. Gwyn pulled herself to sit up by Azriel's wrists, and he wasn't sure if it was her doing or his, but the shadowsinger's arms wrapped around her waist. He folded her into his chest. Her cheek against his bare skin sent a shock through his system, especially when he felt her hands slide up his lower back and between his wings.

Gathering himself with a slow breath, Azriel turned his head to look at their visitors. Cassian, Nesta, and Emerie stood in the doorway, concerned expressions on their faces. No traces of pity though.

Azriel swallowed the lump in his throat. "We're alright," he told them.

Cassian nodded but Emerie and Nesta looked skeptical, the latter hazarding a step forward. In his arms Gwyn tensed.

Azriel bowed his head. "I've got her."

Emerie gave a single nod and Cassian laid a hand on Nesta's shoulder. The eldest Archeron gave Azriel an appraising look, brows knitted together, then bobbed her head and left with her mate — Emerie, shutting the door behind them as they left.