Elain Archeron | The Court Of New |

The Prick (Part 4)

Azriel and Rhysand approached the living room, with boisterous laughter and the clinking of glasses resonating through the air. The hallway they stood in was dark, illuminated only by the light streaming in from the living room, painting the adjacent hallway wall in a warm, soft glow. Rhysand spoke, his voice hushed. "Feyre is going to hear about this before anything goes into place." He spoke no further; his words were final, as he would ensure that his High Lady always had a say in what went on within the inner circle. Azriel didn't protest. He had assumed Feyre would be included in the discussion and didn't offer any argument to Rhysand's words before they entered the living room.

Mor was sprawled across the couch, her blonde hair a glowing spectacle in the room's lighting. She smiled and lifted her empty glass. "Did you two get lost? My drink has been empty for too long." Her eyes floated from Rhysand's face to Azriel's, and then to the bottle tucked under his arm, and she raised a brow. "I've never been one to shy away from wine, but you two appear to be preparing for battle. Hand me one," she said, holding out her hand to Azriel, who promptly slid the wine bottle from under his arm and into her hand.

Rhysand resumed his place on the couch, his arm stretched over the back of it as his eyes found Feyre and Elain seated beside the fire, casually discussing hairstyles and pins to help keep her hair in place. Azriel found a spot behind an armchair, leaning against it as he observed the group from a distance. Amren was seated in said chair, playing with a sparkly necklace she had worn to dinner that night, undoubtedly a gift from her Summer Court lover. As for Cassian and Nesta, they had left after dinner, claiming they needed to rest up for tomorrow's training, but Rhysand had his doubts.

Everything, in this moment, was peaceful and calm. His inner circle, his closest friends, the ones he loved most, were safe and secure.
~♡
Later that night, when the festivities had concluded, Rhysand and Feyre lay in bed with Nyx in a small bassinet close by, his tiny breaths a comforting sound as they silently communicated through the bond.

Rhysand: "Elain doesn't just want to start training. She wants to train with Azriel, in his style, in his ways."

Feyre: "Do you think they can do that and remain professional?"

Rhysand: "Do you mean, can Azriel stay professional?"

Feyre: "You know what I mean."

Rhysand smiled, moving his hand across the bed to nudge her gently.

"I think Azriel is smart enough to know that pursuing Elain isn't a good idea. He knows how we feel about it, and I trust him not to violate our trust."

Feyre sighed, turning onto her side to gaze at Rhysand, and he did the same. They stared at each other for a moment before drawing close and simply holding each other, feeling each other's heartbeats and warmth. The simplicity of being able to be close like this was a privilege they never took for granted.
~ ♡
The next morning was more brutal than Elain had expected. She was awakened earlier than she was accustomed to, the sun not even peeking over the distant mountains, the world still cloaked in darkness. She slipped her legs out of bed, allowing her feet to touch the cold wooden floors, her body already aching from her poor night's rest, and for a moment, she regretted every decision she had made the day before.

She stood up slowly and made her way into the connected washroom, running herself a hot bath and laying out her clothes-a set of Illyrian leathers that Nesta had offered her and sent down to the Town House. She ran her fingers over the fabric, something she would have never worn or chosen in a thousand years. Soon, the bath was ready, steaming and delightfully warm and soothing as Elain slipped into it, submerging herself several times before eventually dragging herself from its comforting confines.

She dressed, and after a few tries, figured out some of the buckles and zippers of her new attire. She stared at herself in front of the mirror, a little thinner than the last time she had looked at herself but brighter now than she had been the week prior. She plucked a silver comb from her sink and fixed her hair into a low bun with connecting braids, thick and secure.

After a quick breakfast of oatmeal and fruit, she was ready to leave. She stepped out of the house, surrounded by mist, and breathed in the crisp morning air, the sky just barely fading into a dark blue color as the morning made its appearance. Azriel waited by the property's edge, clad in his Illyrian leathers, with his wings sprawled for flight, his hand extended to her as she approached. "Good morning," he said, and she nodded in reply, slipping her hand into his, and a moment later, they were off.

They burst above the misty cloudiness, flying high above the slumbering Velaris city, the icy wind chilling Elain's skin as they flew and flew until eventually dipping into a glide as they landed on the House Of Wind's metaphorical doorstep.

Azriel led her to the training grounds where Cassian, Nesta, and Gwyn awaited, all dressed similarly in gear that allowed movement but provided crucial warmth. Nesta and Cassian's gazes found Elain and watched as she entered the ring, turning in place to observe her new surroundings. Cassian broke the silence first, gesturing for Elain to join them as he turned and walked further into the training area.

"Lesson one... Balance."

Elain took a deep breath, her nerves and anticipation mingling in her chest as she stepped into the training ring. The ground beneath her boots was solid and firm, and the chilly air sent a shiver down her spine, reminding her of the upcoming challenges. She glanced at Azriel, who stood beside her, radiating calm and confidence. His presence alone gave her a sense of reassurance, knowing that he would guide her through this new journey.

Cassian, the epitome of strength and agility, took the lead in the training session. His voice boomed across the open space, breaking the silence that enveloped them. "Balance is key, Elain," he declared, his tone firm but encouraging. "In combat, maintaining your balance will determine your ability to strike and defend effectively. It's the foundation of any warrior."

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