Shadows Whisper | | Azriel

62

Every step towards Rhysand's office left Astryn reconsidering whether or not she even really wanted to speak to him. In the back of her mind, she wondered if she was only going to speak to him because she would feel guilty if she didn't.

She found him in the library, watching as he set aside his book and awkwardly straightened up his posture when he saw her come in.

"I just wanted to let you know Azriel and I are back," Astryn spoke quietly, shifting awkwardly.

"You were gone for longer than we thought you'd be," Rhys replied, trying not to let his nerves show and failing miserably.

"The...frenzy thing lasted quite some time," Astryn responded, and Rhys's face went red in embarrassment.

"I—well, I'm glad you're back now and I...hope you had fun," he told her, and it was then that she realized there was some small part of her that had missed him. She didn't know why—it's not like they ever really spent any time together. But some part of her had missed her brother.

"Rhysand," she said hesitantly, unsure of why she felt the need to say it. Maybe she just wanted to let him know that she did care. She hadn't really shown much of that to him despite the way he opened up his home to her and invited her to be a part of his family. "I missed you."

Surprise flickered over Rhys's face and, for a split second, he looked like he might cry. Then that look vanished and a genuine smile formed on his face.

"I missed you too," he told her, resisting the urge to get up and hug her. He doubted she missed him enough for that. Truth be told, he was still under the impression that she didn't even really like him.

Awkward silence settled over them for a few moments and they both ended up red in the face as they struggled to find words. Astryn was the one to speak first.

"Azriel taught me how to cook," she blurted out, "we mostly just made pancakes but we cooked other things too. Like...we made pasta. It was really good—I haven't had it before but Azriel made it fresh and showed me how to do it. He's really good at cooking."

"My mother taught him some things," Rhys informed her, a sad smile on his face, "Azriel was the only one who really had any interest in learning it. Cassian and I were so focused on trying to be warriors like the other Illyrian boys in our camp. Azriel didn't care about proving himself quite as much. My mother gave him a book full of her recipes."

"What was he like as a child?" Astryn inquired curiously, and Rhys's smile warmed.

"He was always quiet. Not shy, just quiet," he told her, "but he was more clever than Cassian or I ever were. No one ever believed us when we said we were laughing over something Azriel had said. Cassian was rather fond of that though because he got to steal all of Azriel's jokes and no one ever realized Cassian wasn't actually the funny one. And Azriel has always been the sneakiest out of all of us. Once I dared him to steal something from the camp lord's tent and he managed to get away with it. Poor male still to this day doesn't know a child got away with stealing from him!"

"You're...Illyrian like they are. Why don't you have wings too?" she asked, and he shifted nervously.

"I do," he informed her, "I just keep mine hidden. I'm sure...I don't expect you to remember it but you have seen my wings before. I flew you here the day I...when I found you in that cave."

Astryn tried to think back to that day, but it was nothing more than a blur. She thought she should be able to remember it because it was the day her entire life changed, but it was a mix of fear and relief and pain and—for the first time in her life—hope. She could remember those feelings, but the actual events of the day were so blurred in her mind.

"Why do you keep them hidden?" she brought up instead of telling him how little she could recall from that day. Did she ever even thank him for rescuing her from that cave.

"It's—it's a very personal thing," he replied, struggling to find the right words, "I'm proud of my wings. There's no Illyrian who doesn't take pride in their wings, it's practically bred into our race to feel that pride, but I keep them hidden. The less people see of me, the better. Especially if they knew that any Illyrian—even a half-breed like me—would yield if their wings were threatened. It's better to keep my wings hidden than to allow that vulnerability to be known. There are other reasons too but...it's more practical this way. I don't let many people see them. And certain people don't think a half-breed is a suitable ruler so hiding my wings makes it a little easier for them to forget that I'm not pure-blooded High Fae."

"It's sad that people care so much about bloodlines," Astryn muttered, a frown on her face. "Your blood isn't what makes you a good ruler."

"You think I am a good ruler?" he asked, trying to hide his shock.

"I've seen the way you love your family. I don't think anyone with that kind of love could be a bad ruler," she responded nervously, giving an awkward shrug. "But I'm not familiar with...anything regarding ruling anyone so I suppose my opinion doesn't really matter."

"It matters to me," Rhys told her, "it matters a great deal to me that you think I'm good."

Rhys wouldn't say it, but he didn't understand how the girl standing before him even existed. She was raised—what they did could even be calledw raising her—by people so full of hatred. She was kept locked away in darkness and hurt in ways he didn't even want to let himself think about. But she valued love and goodness and there wasn't an ounce of the cruelty she was brought up with in her bones.

"I don't know if I ever thanked you for freeing me from that cave," she said suddenly, as if she thought she wouldn't ever say it if she didn't say it now, "but thank you. I think I would have died in there if you hadn't come for me."

Rhys, unlike Astryn, remembered that day with perfect clarity. He remembered that he had gone there intending to kill whoever he found because the person was somehow responsible for Azriel's pain as far as he was concerned. He remembered how he could taste the misery in the air the closer he got to the cell and realized he couldn't kill who he found, that the person was a victim of something terrible. He remembered the moment she looked at him with eyes that matched his own and he realized that girl in chains was his sister. He remembered the way she threw herself at his feet, choking herself with the chain around her neck as she desperately strained towards him, towards her one shot at freedom. He remembered bringing her here, snapping at anyone who got too close. He wished he couldn't remember it all so well, but he could recall the exact moment she stopped looking at him his her savior and started to fear him as he yelled at anyone other than Madja who tried to come into the room.

"I'm sorry I scared you that day," he apologized, quiet and shameful.

Astryn truly couldn't recall what Rhys had done that scared her so badly, but she remembered the fear she felt towards him. The way Rhys was now, she really couldn't find any lingering fear towards him.

"I'm sorry I didn't give you a chance to be my brother," she muttered softly, "we could...I'd like to try now."