A Court of Madness and Depth

Chapter 5

"Here."

It was the first word Azriel ever said to me.

I turned, sure that complete shock covered my face. His voice had been harsh, deep, and cracked, as if it were the bottom of a well that had fallen dry. The sound was sorrow and beguile. I wanted him to never speak again for fear I would weep. I wanted him to never stop speaking.

My mother had told me about the quiet male she had taken in. Azriel had been much older than my brother and Cassian had been when he arrived at the training camp. He was a mere five years away from Illyrian malehood. I didn't know much about his past experiences, but I knew that when he had arrived at the camp he did not utter a word for three years. He still rarely spoke in familiar company, and never to strangers.

In the Shadowssingers hand was my golden dagger, the one that had pierced his arm and then fallen down the ravine outside of the bedroom all those nights ago. He clutched his bicep as if remembering the memory.

"For teaching me," He said. Three more words. His voice was music to me.

I was more honored with those four words, those four pieces of himself, those four bits of trust that I didn't know whether to hug him again or thank him on my knees. Figuring Azriel wouldn't have appreciated either I simply bowed my head low, mirroring the way he had responded to my father his first night in the House of Wind.

I didn't know what type of response could even match the gratitude that I felt. He must have spent hours searching the crumbling mountain floor for the second half of my beloved set. But I figured Azriel wouldn't want any more hysterics out of me. He had seen quite enough over the past week, being essentially the only person besides my mother who I had spoken to on a consistent basis.

The two of us stood at the crest of the hill which overlooked our families mountain cabin, waiting for Cassian to bring my brother. When the two males began their ascent I felt a surge of raw unrelenting energy begin to roil through my body. The adrenaline coursed through my veins, seeming to rush faster with every moment I was kept waiting. My body felt built for fighting, as if I could bring down the entire mountain with one strike of my fist.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" My brother's voice broke the otherwise silent waiting period. I couldn't help but scoff at his misplaced confidence. It had been years since we had sparred. I had no doubt he underestimated me. However, as he approached me my eagerness wavered for a moment. My brother was every bit the High Lord's son in his stiff Illyrian leathers and black underclothes. He studied me through thick black lashes and his violet eyes glistened with a caged and controlled aggravation. He postured himself across from me into a fighting position, "You're not afraid?"

"Afraid I'm going to enjoy kicking your ass," I smirked. Cassian and Azriel exchanged an amused look and took off for the cabin together. Leaving my brother and I to circle each other, waiting for the other to commit to the first strike.

The sun was in the middle of the sky, an unfortunate placement for swordplay. I would need to be careful not to be blinded. Rhys drew his great sword and stood in a readying position. I sliced my knives against each other, getting a taste for how sharp they were. I thanked the Mother that Azriel must have sharpened the knife he returned to me.

"I won't hold back," my brother informed me, "Cassian told me that I needed to give you a chance to prove yourself. Here it is."

"How generous," I rolled my eyes. We circled each other for what seemed like hours. Finally my brother swung. I was surprised at the strength he wielded. Though I had sparred with my brother before it had never been with this intensity. I caught his blade with my left dagger and then used the leftover momentum to move my right dagger and parry his strike away from me.