Memory Lane

Chapter One

"Humans, not places, make memories."

― Ama Ata Aidoo

Azriel's eyes fluttered open. Overhead, a canopy of navy fabric made his current location apparent. The shadowsinger was in the private residence he kept on the outskirts of Velaris. The small home he had bought himself when he had received his first payment as Rhysand's Spymaster.

    With a grunt, Azriel propped himself up on his elbows on his bed. He found that his wings were splayed beneath him and his chest was bare. He blinked himself out of his drowsy stupor and struggled to recall the events that had led him here. He wasn't in the practice of staying in his private home often, usually choosing to reside in the river house or townhouse or even the House of Wind.

His fatigued limbs protested as he tried to sit up straighter, his vision blurring when he attempted to take in his surroundings. He only managed to glean that it was early morning by the sun rising in the eastern window. The shadowsinger doubted that was the reason for his extreme fatigue though. The exhaustion he felt ran bone deep. Even his shadows seemed content to continue resting.

"Finally," a voice drawled.

Squinting, Azriel slowly turned his attention to the west side of the room. In a plush, green armchair he didn't recall buying sat Rhysand. Judging by the stubble gathering on his jaw and weariness in his violet gaze, he'd been there quite a while.

"How long was I out?" Azriel asked, his voice rough.

Rhysand sat forward in his chair, leaning his elbows on his knees. "Two days. The artifact did a number on you, brother."

A brief flash of the milky white orb in question flashed in Azriel's mind. A hazy recollection of his scarred hand extending to snatch it off its deteriorating podium, nestled within the depths of the prison. The center of his forehead ached as he attempted to dive deeper into the memories.

"Did I get it?" Azriel asked. "The artifact?"

Rhys nodded with a heavy head. "Your shadows fetched Cassian after you claimed it. He found you passed out on the floor with it wrapped in a cloth. Elain has the artifact now – she's able to use it without touching it thankfully."

The urge to protect the middle-Archeron from the effects of the artifact had a sobering effect on the shadowsinger. Immediately, Azriel's pain and exhaustion were secondary. Elain must not handle the orb, he didn't care how much clearer it made her visions of the future. No insight into any potential threats to Prythian were worth her coming under harm.

Azriel grunted, swinging his legs out of the bed to sit on the edge of the mattress and face Rhysand. "I have to find her."

The High Lord arched a dark brow. "Who?"

Azriel fought off the urge to groan, running his fingers through his sleep-mussed hair. "I know you don't like it, Rhys, but she'll be worried about me."

"Elain?" Rhys asked, his tone genuinely puzzled.

Rhys had made it very clear at Solstice that he did not want Azriel anywhere near the middle-Archeron, a demand that Azriel had met with–

Searing pain lanced his skull, so intense he pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes, gritting his teeth. "Yes, Elain. Where is she?" Azriel ground out.

There was a long pause. No doubt, Rhys was declining to answer in an effort to quash any attempts Azriel would make at wooing the third sister. But Elain had a right to know Azriel was safe, regardless of Rhysand's meddling. He forced himself to lower his hands from his eyes and meet his brother's gaze with the ferocity he knew only the High Lord of Night could match.