The Raven and the Songbird

Chapter 28

"Dear Gods, I'm sore." Azriel chuckled as the Valkyrie groaned, trying to stretch her arms over her head as gingerly as she could. The cropped hem of her sleep top lifted, revealing an indecent amount of her toned back and emphasizing the curve of her hips. The shadowsinger had to stifle his own groan as the muscles lengthened and rippled before she leaned forward, her forearms on the balcony railing. He joined her there, leaning back onto the stone. "Remind me never to take two weeks off again."

"You weren't given much of a choice, Songbird." He lifted himself away from the rail and stepped behind her, fingers massaging into the tension in her shoulders. Her moan was nearly sinful, and he gritted his teeth against the desire that coiled deep within him.

Gwyn had finally returned to training, after a week of near constant bed rest and another of 'taking things easy'. The shadowsinger had found himself watching her like a hawk, as she had a proclivity for pushing the limits of what 'taking it easy' implied. He'd had to prevent her from training on her own as well as with the others, from attempting the 10,000 steps, and - his heart skipped just to think it - from assisting in rearranging the furniture in his room to accommodate the addition of a second wardrobe and a small vanity.

They hadn't spent an evening apart since Madja had allowed him to move her to his quarters at the River House. And now, though they had furnished a guest room for her in case there came a time she felt she needed space, his bedroom in the House of Wind was hers, as well. Her meager belongings had barely filled a drawer, but Azriel took delight in the knowledge that he could now shower her with everything she could possibly want and need.

Living together was a revelation. It had caught him off guard when she mentioned it, her voice still scratchy from disuse. But if there had been any doubt before, Merrill's treachery had solidified her desire to live away from the library. And her near-death experience had spurred her to pursue her passions with abandon, arms open and face beaming. He had taken her to see Clotho the same afternoon, and was quite flattered when she asked him to stay for their discussion. In the two hours that passed the women came to an agreement. Gwyn wanted to complete Merrill's research into the Valkyries, and continue learning and growing as a leader of the new regiments they were building. She would utilize the library and a private study for such things - and perhaps wind up on the payroll of either the High Priestess or the High Lord - but she would relinquish her dormitory lodgings and her place in the priestesshood. She hadn't worn any robes since the day she had been found, but Azriel's breath had stuttered when she pulled her invoking stone from her pocket and set it upon Clotho's desk.

He'd never seen her wear it.

Now he found himself wondering about thread counts and new furniture and whether his lodgings were decorated finely enough. He knew Gwyn wasn't demanding or materialistic, but he hoped that maybe Nesta or Feyre could assist him in sprucing things up a bit.

They'd found themselves on the balcony a few nights now, pillows and blankets strewn about to keep them comfortable as they held each other and gazed at the stars. The shadowsinger didn't think he could ever tire of it.

His thorough massage of her shoulders and arms complete, he gripped her hips and pressed his lips into the crook of her neck, the tip of his tongue darting out for a taste. "Let's lay down, Love." She turned, weaving her fingers with his as he led her to their nest and giggling when he pulled her down with him. Grimacing, she curled into him.

"Cauldron, it hurts to laugh," she huffed, trying to stop her mirth. Azriel splayed his fingers against the taught muscles of her stomach, gently pressing them into the coiled tension there. He laughed when she curled further around him, a hand grabbing his wrist. "I don't know if that feels wonderful or awful," she muttered between clenched teeth.