A Court of Dreams and Promise

Chapter One

 ✦ ───── ✧ Alive ✧ ───── ✦

Azriel paused in the shadows, watching his High Lord stare off into the distance, swirling whiskey around in a glass. He held the whiskey in one hand and his babe, Nyx, in the other. The boy slept peacefully, and Azriel could only see the soft curls of Nyx's midnight-black hair from where he was positioned.

Moonlight shone over Rhysand and the babe, bathing them in radiant pale light streaming in from the open doors of the balcony.

Azriel stepped out of the shadows and murmured, "It's the anniversary of her death isn't it?" It wasn't a question, merely a way to provoke conversation with his brother. He released his grip on Truth-Teller and walked a few careful steps towards Rhysand.

Rhysand didn't look at the shadowsinger; he only took a sip of his whiskey. "I would think you would know very well that it is," he said, inhaling slowly. "After all, you are – were – her mate."

Azriel took a deep breath himself, ignoring the subtle jab directed at him as a result of Rhysand's pain. "It's hard. Today, I mean," he said, going over to stand beside Rhysand. "It always is."

Rhysand closed his eyes, and Azriel's shadows sensed a tendril of his power snake out. Azriel let his shields down slightly and Rhys's rich voice began to speak inside his head. I will never forget the terror in that moment. Going to the Illyrian camp and finding them both dead.

Azriel said nothing in return, but closed his eyes and sunk into the memory of drinking with Cassian before he was struck with the world-shattering pain of the mating bond breaking.

Rhysand cleared his throat. "Do you have anything to report to me, or are you here for pleasure?" he asked, carefully moving his hand to stroke Nyx's forehead with his thumb absentmindedly.

"Right," Azriel said, remembering what he had come in here for. Before he started speaking, Azriel watched for a moment as Rhys placed a gentle kiss on Nyx's forehead. The babe yawned, shifting around in his swaddle before settling back into sleep. Rhysand, however troubled on this day, was at peace here. Azriel – he couldn't ruin that.

"Never mind."

Rhysand looked up. "Are you sure?"

"I–" How would he even begin to explain? Rhysand, a spy reported seeing your dead sister. Velaria might be alive and I don't wish to give you false hope. Azriel gritted his teeth. He wouldn't do this to Rhysand. "Yes, I'm sure."

"Alright, then. Good night, Azriel."

Azriel pursed his lips at the dismissal. "Good night. I will see you tomorrow for dinner." Rhysand didn't seem to notice as Azriel darted his gaze between the shadows and the door, ultimately opting to stride for the door.

Azriel closed it gently behind him, not wanting to wake Nyx or disrupt Rhysand's troubled peace. He turned around, pressing a hand to his forehead, and loosed a sigh.

"Not a very productive conversation, I take it?"

Azriel opened his eyes to see Feyre sitting in an armchair a few feet away, immediately straightening. "What are you doing out here?"

Feyre thumbed through the pages in her book, dog-earing one before setting the book down on the small end table next to her. "When Rhys gets like this, I try not to bother him," she said simply.

Azriel narrowed his eyes at his High Lady. "He does this often?"

"Often enough."

Azriel could read in between the lines clearly enough. "How often?" he asked, unnatural concern lacing every word.