The Raven and the Songbird

Chapter 1

The warmth of the sun wasn't unwelcome. Azriel was the angel of death, wreathed in tendrils of darkness and mystery, but the summer sun was a balm to him. The light glittering off the stone of the training ring – the need to shield his eyes from the brightness – was a reminder that the Hewn City wasn't his home, not his life. The light was a breath that whispered of life and potential.

He crossed his arms as he observed Cassian – brother in all senses of the word, save by birth. The sheen of sweat shimmered on his bare back as he paced around the ring observing the trainees, offering corrections verbally. And if that didn't fix the errors he would ask permission to show them, to physically move their bodies to make the adjustment. That simple question was the reason so many more of the priestesses had chosen to join them in recent months.

Azriel scowled.

It was fucking disgusting that something so simple as consent was considered such a grand gesture. But it was a courtesy that hadn't been granted to many of the females here.

It hadn't been granted to her.

Gwyn.

His shadows danced over his shoulders at the mere thought of her. He needed to get that under control.

He had let his gaze slide to the priestess – the Valkyrie – too many times already. She glowed in the sunlight, even without the perspiration now dampening her face. It had reddened with her effort, but also from the many days they'd spent baking in the summer heat. The color suited her.

No matter how hard he tried, especially in the past two weeks, his attention always turned to her. She moved with such grace, her long legs strong and swift. The leathers fit her differently than they had a year ago – her body had changed. Lean cords of muscle had developed where nothing had been before. She had never been frail – he would ever use a word like that to describe her – but now she was...

Cauldron.

The Spymaster shook his head, willing his writhing shadows not to follow the dangerous path of his musings. He should not desire her. He didn't deserve that bright spark that had begun to illuminate the male underneath the death and terror. He didn't deserve her for the simple fact that death and terror and nightmares were what he was. But there was also the unspoken thing between them. The thing he'd done. The reason for the tension these past days and the reason he kept all of his leathers on under the blazing summer sun, relishing in the distraction of his discomfort.

Her eyes still haunted him.

The hurt that had dimmed Gwyn's bright ocean gaze had nearly brought him to his knees.

Azriel hadn't been party to the conversation, and he didn't know how it had come about that Gwyn and Elain were both in the library, in the House, at the same time, in close enough proximity for Elain to notice the delicate necklace that hung from the priestess' long, regal neck.

All of the satisfaction he had felt whenever he saw that gold chain tucked under her leathers or when she idly twisted the pendant in her fingers when she was reading... it disappeared when she had stormed through the dining room, desperate for the door, stopping short when she saw him there. His heart had cracked when he looked up at her.

Those beautiful eyes of hers, wide and glossy, swimming with hurt and anger. And embarrassment, further painted by her flushed cheeks, neck, further down. And still she had held that flower in her fingers, as if she couldn't bear to let it go.

He didn't get the time to register what must have happened. She scurried out the door, leaving a lingering breeze that smelled of water lilies and the salt of her tears.