The Challenge

Chapter 1

"Today's mission is simple," Azriel explained to the group of trainees. "Cassian and I will divide you into two teams and you will need to work together to capture the other's flag."

Gwyn scoffed loudly, not even trying to hide her annoyance. She stood out from the crowd, her copper hair glowing in the sunlight. But Az would have been able to find her, even without her beautiful hair shining like a beacon. His eyes always seemed drawn to her, no matter how hard he tried to fight it. And if he wasn't looking in her direction, you could bet his shadows were.

The Valkyrie does not like today's assignment.

His shadows sang to him, but Azriel didn't need their help to tell that Gwyn was displeased.

"Is something wrong, Gwyneth?" He knew it was petty, using her whole name, but if she was going to scoff at him, he was going to pester her right back.

"Capture the flag is a game for younglings. We aren't children, shadowsinger," she said, her voice clipped. "We are warriors."

"Are you saying warriors do not need to operate as a part of a team?"

"I'm suggesting that warriors should learn useful skills; not spend their morning playing juvenile games."

"She's obviously never seen one of our snowball fights," Cassian muttered from beside his shoulder.

"What would you suggest? Any traditional Valkyrie training techniques that you have uncovered recently?" He arched an eyebrow, challenging her. Az knew that Gwyn would have come to him if she had discovered something new; she wouldn't be able to keep that information to herself. He'd be sure to find her at his door, bouncing on the balls of her feet in eagerness, within an hour of discovery.

"You should teach us more of what you know. Stealth, infiltration, spycraft. Surely your position as spymaster does not rely solely on your abilities as a shadowsinger."

Azriel was aware that they had a captive audience for this impromptu discussion. Nesta, Emerie, and all the priestesses were quietly listening, no doubt making mental bets as to which one of them would bend first. Their debates - for lack of a better word - following the Blood Rite had been heated. Perhaps that had been his fault; perhaps he should not have called them mistakes.

All he could seem to focus on had been how close she had come to death on the side of Ramiel, and how helpless he was watching from the outside. Sure, he had done his best to reassure Cassian, he had thrown himself into work, but it was all a veil, a mask. Only his shadows were privy to the unending anxiety and ceaseless agony that plagued him every moment of the Blood Rite.

And when she had survived, more than survived - she had won the damn thing - the only thing on his mind was keeping her alive. Helping her to learn all the things she needed to know to keep her one step ahead of her enemies. But teaching her spycraft, sending her into the open arms of the enemy - he couldn't stomach it. It went against his every instinct.

The Valkyrie wants a challenge, Singer.

Really, it was like his shadows thought he would be completely lost without them. Azriel could tell that Gwyn was set on taking this on; on taking him on. First the ribbon, now this.

You could test her. See if she rises to it. We know she will.

But it wasn't his expectations that were the problem. If Rhys knew that he had a potential spy at his disposal, one as pretty as she was and as cunning as a fox, one who's status as a priestess might secure her a spot at any court, Az felt certain he would use her. And why wouldn't he? Rhysand the High Lord would be a fool not to; even if sending her away from the Night Court would break his brother's heart.

By this point, Az had waited too long to respond to Gwyn's demands; he could see it in all the trainees' faces with their pitying looks and incredulous expressions.

"I, for one," Nesta said before Az had a chance to respond, "think that Gwyn would excel at those lessons." All the priestesses nodded along in silent confirmation.

"Is that so?" Az arched an eyebrow at her. He thought about crossing his arms in a casual sort of way, but stopped himself before he did.

"She used stealth brilliantly to her advantage in the Blood Rite." Gwyn flushed slightly under her friend's eager praise. "I bet she'd be able to give you a run for your money, spymaster." Nesta used his title in a teasing manner.

"That sounds like a challenge, Nes," Cassian said in a low voice as he crossed his arms. He had the luxury of employing that action while Azriel did not. "You got anything to back it up or just talk?"

Nesta fixed him with a hard look, one that Azriel had seen before, one that made him immensely grateful that he no longer had to play chaperone to the pair. "How about a friendly game of capture the flag?" Az couldn't help but feel that she had picked it to mock him and her near feline grin only served to confirm. "The flag can be the information Gwyn is trying to acquire for the Night Court. You will safeguard it. If she manages to steal it by sundown tomorrow, she wins. If you manage to hold on to it, you win."

"Win what exactly?" Az shrewdly narrowed his eyes at her.

Nesta shrugged. "Bragging rights. You admitting that you were wrong. That sort of thing."

Cassian laughed loudly, covering Azriel's much quieter chuckle.

"And if Az wins?" Cassian asked Nesta

"I suppose Gwyn would be willing to do the same for him. Honorableness, fairness and all that."

Az shook his head with another small chuckle.

"Scared, shadowsinger?" Gwyn smirked at him.

The pretty Valkyrie is interested in your answer.

"Hardly, Berdara." Azriel held out his hand to Cassian. His brother deposited one of the two handkerchiefs they were planning on using as flags into his waiting palm. They'd known each other for so long that Cassian knew what Az was thinking without even having to ask. "Here are my terms. If you can get the flag by sunset tomorrow, I'll give you whatever lessons you want. But if I have the flag, I'd like you to agree to let me continue to make the lesson plans without you looking over my shoulder."

Gwyn smiled. "If anyone is looking over your shoulder, it's them." She jerked her chin in the direction of his shadows, who were busy peering over his shoulder at her. They were beside themselves at her attention; completely twitterpated. Somedays Az felt that they liked her more than they liked him.

"Does that mean we have an agreement then?" Nesta asked, cutting in again.

Azriel nodded and held out his hand. Gwyn grinned eagerly, maybe a little too eagerly, and extended her hand toward his. His breath caught slightly in his throat like it always did when he knew he was about to touch her. At first it had been because he was afraid his touch would not be welcomed by her. But like so many of his assumptions about her, this one too had been turned on its head and now, instead of apprehension, Azriel felt excitement in the moments before they touched.

But before they could shake hands, Cassian broke in with an unnecessary reminder. "You know if you shake on it, it becomes an official bargain, right? Bound by the magic of the Night Court."

Az half expected Gwyn to pull her hand back after that, but she held it steady in place; waiting for him. He grinned; it would have been wider had he not been holding back some of the excitement and eagerness he felt. Sliding his hand into hers, he sealed their wager. He could feel the magic working under his skin, settling the tattoo. It stretched up the side of his neck and when he looked at Gwyn he could see the twin to his own mark forming above the collar to her leathers: a flag frozen mid-flap in some invisible wind. There was no holding back his grin then.

"Well, Berdara," Az drawled. "May the best spy win."