insubordinate (gwynriel)

3

Gwyn was exhausted. Her limbs felt leaden from hauling around Merrill's huge stacks of the thickest books she'd ever seen that she seemed to sift through at an alarming pace. Merrill had been extra demanding of her time lately, and she sometimes questioned whether her position as Merrill's assistant was worth the toll it took on her.

So when she re-entered her room, ready to collapse onto her bed and drift off, she almost didn't notice the note left on her pillow. Her heart stuttered in her chest as she walked over, picking up the thick, luxurious parchment and bringing it up to read it.

I'll see you tomorrow night. 8pm. Dinner by the Sidra. Don't make me come looking for you.

Her breath felt stuck in her throat as she looked at the beautiful script swirling across the card. Across her pillow also laid a single red rose, thorns plucked already. Gwyn bit her lip as she brought the flower up to her nose and inhaled the aroma with a sigh of pleasure.

She didn't know how she knew, but she knew immediately that it had been Azriel who had left the note for her. The thought warmed something inside her but also terrified her. How had he gotten into her bedroom, or even known which one was hers to begin with? Maybe he really was stalking her. She'd only been kidding when she accused him, but this...

Panic flooded Gwyn when she fully came to the realization that the beautiful man had been in her bedroom alone for who knows how long. She quickly scanned her room, making sure she hadn't absentmindedly left underwear sitting out or something embarrassing. Seeing her room was actually in decent shape was a flood of relief.

Until she looked at her nightstand. Her nightstand where she'd sat the book she'd finally finished before heading into her shift this morning. The book Azriel had caught her reading in the library. It was gone. Had he... oh gods, had he taken the book? Her cheeks lit on fire with the idea of him flipping through the pages and discovering what she'd been reading was humiliating. What if he thought she was dirty now?

She wasn't even sure why she cared what he thought of her. He had violated her privacy and stolen her things. She wouldn't just go to dinner with him, would she? The vague warning at the end of his note had her stomach flipping. What would he do if he found her?

The idea was overwhelming enough that she decided she was not in the state of mind to decide one way or the other, and she laid the note and flower on her bedside table before readying herself for bed and tucking herself in.

—----------------------------------------------------

The next day at work was a new kind of torture. She had to assist Merrill like the most powerful and handsome man hadn't broken into her room last night to invite- or, rather, instruct- her to dinner tonight. The idea of going made her so anxious she felt like she might be sick, but the idea of not going did the same.

What would she even wear? What was he expecting from her? She wouldn't sleep with him if that was what he was after. Why her? It just didn't make sense. None of it did.

The day seemed to last forever but was also over much too soon. Once Gwyn was back in her room with nothing else to distract her, the anxiety swirling in her stomach was no longer distracting. It was consuming.

She decided that it wouldn't hurt to go, just to see what he wanted. Besides, he couldn't force her into something she didn't want. She knew Rhysand would never allow someone into his inner circle who would force himself upon someone.

Swearing under her breath, she dug through her closet and found nothing even half-way good enough for such an occasion. She summoned Nesta and Emerie, desperate for her friends to come and soothe her. They showed up, Emerie holding a bottle of wine and Nesta with an armful of dress options.