It all started with a song. A song and a dance.
The first dance of a newly mated couple who moved as one. The song, a gift from a priestess who glowed with quiet confidence as each note fluttered out of her lips. It was a song of a bygone age, and it reminded Elain of the first promising sprouts in spring. Nesta's friend glowed with pride as the melody poured out of her. It was a song, Elain thought, worthy of her sister and mate's love for one another. Timeless and true.
A faint smile bloomed on Elain's lips as the priestess's voice grew brighter, and her sister's smile, in return, became broader.
Nesta was fortunate to have made such a friend. One who, to Elain's understanding, had braved her fears in attending this ceremony.
Eyes scanning the small gathering of attendees that had crowded this temple on the river house grounds, Elain sought out the person she knew enjoyed a good melody – though he would never say as much aloud. He would never admit it to a soul. Not even her.
She had caught Azriel tapping his foot and humming once upon a time. A time where they had stolen moments in the garden and she had toyed with the idea of what her fate may be were it hers to decide. She still held onto that hope, even with the distance she'd placed between them.
Elain had thought perhaps to ask him for a dance tonight where they may rekindle whatever flicker of love had glowed dimly between them.
But all those wistful daydreams fled when Elain finally found Azriel's face amongst the guests.
The priestess held a note that spoke of longing and passion and a thousand hopeful hearts, and Azriel's full lips parted just barely. Above the ocher eyes that seemed to glisten his brows lifted ever so slightly. Those shadows who had never seemed partial to Elain watched in similar awe of Gwyneth Berdara and the wondrous thing she had become with this performance.
Elain felt the expectant expression on her face fade and like a mighty ocean wave, a vision of the future slammed into her.
A rippling length of ribbon and two palms pressed together – one hand speckled the other scarred. The ribbon winding around to bind the pair as one, glowing with the promise of a love like Feyre and Rhysand's. Like Nesta and Cassian's. Mates.
In a shaky exhale the vision cleared from her sight and the temple returned. Gwyn's voice sustained what Elain could tell was the final note – a gentle, but powerful sound that reminded her of cherry-blossom petals on the wind. And Azriel... Azriel gave just the barest hint of a smile bringing his hands together to applaud as the priestess's voice faded – their fellow guests joining in.
And Elain...
Elain fled through the back temple doors, not even bothering to give what would be the happiest day of Nesta's near-immortal life a second glance.
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Her first thought was to flee to her garden. To be surrounded by the fragrance of her flowers and the beauty she had carefully cultivated. But of course, once Nesta or Feyre had realized she'd gone missing, that was the first place they'd check and Elain had no desire to be coddled by them. Especially on today of all days. For this reason of all reasons.
So instead, Elain stumbled down the grassy plains of the river house towards the banks of the Sidra, eyes trained on the stream of blue water.
She fell to her knees at the edge, not caring about the dampness seeping through the skirts of her dusty pink gown. Not caring that as her hands planted in the soil, dirt began to cake beneath her nails.
YOU ARE READING
Song & Dance
Hayran Kurgu"Mother, are you using me to make the shadowsinger jealous?" Lucien asked, trying not to snicker. When he looked back down at Elain he found her face had paled - her lips were pressed in a flat line. The expression of someone who knew they'd slipped...
