Dance of Fate

Chapter Twenty

I spent the entire night contemplating what the hell I had just agreed to. 

Azriel hadn't given me any details about where he was taking me- just that we would leave at dawn, and to bring weapons. 

It wasn't not knowing that bothered me. I didn't really care where we were going. Any help that I could get, I would take.

The reason I lay awake laying in bed, staring at the ceiling as I cursed myself, was because it would mean being alone with Azriel. And, it would be admitting that I needed his help- and that I was desperate enough to accept it.

Which, I supposed, I was. 

By the time dawn came, I was standing on the roof of the Town House in fighting leathers, waiting for Azriel. I had done as he had instructed and brought a fair amount of weapons. A dagger at each of my hips, two small knives tucked in my boots, and a sword strapped to my back.

I yawned as my impatience grew. Rhysand and Feyre were staying in the House, and if either of them saw Azriel and I armed and leaving... it would arise quite a few questions. 

I was half contemplating going back to bed when swirling shadows bloomed in front of me, and a second later Azriel emerged from them. 

He too was wearing fighting leathers, and Gods, did he look good in them. My face warmed as the thought crossed my mind, and I quickly looked away before he could notice. But I could have sworn I saw the ghost of a smile cross his face out of the corner of my eye. 

"You're late." I said by way of greeting. I avoided looking into his eyes, too aware of the fluttering feeling in my stomach. 

"Sorry," he replied, though he didn't sound so at all. 

"So are you going to tell me where you're taking me?" I asked, forcing myself to finally look at him. Azriel shifted, his hand rising to rub his neck. He hesitated before speaking in a way that assured me his answer wouldn't be good. "To the Middle." He finally said. I almost laughed, but then realized his face was stone cold serious/

"Why?" I demanded. Again, Azriel hesitated. 

"We're going to speak to a witch." Well that explained the weapons. 

"Why would a witch ever help us?" 

"She owes me a favor." Azriel shrugged. I was going to question what he had done to get a witch in his favor, but decided I probably didn't want to know. Azriel watched me, as if he thought I would back down, or tell him he was crazy. But I didn't. "We should leave before someone wakes up." I said instead. 

Azriel nodded in agreement. He held out his hand, and I stared at it for a brief moment before I took it. As I did, I couldn't help but remember how he had put his hand on my knee under the table last night- not one of the sensual touched we used to often share, but a comforting gesture. And how he'd seemed so angry at what Amren said...

The feeling of the floor dissipating under my feet snapped me out of my thoughts. Black wind and shadows gathered us up, and the image of the sun rising on the city of Velaris vanished. I closed my eyes tightly as wind tore into me in every direction and the darkness seemed to roar in my ears. 

Too many seconds later, we were surrounded by woods. I then realized that as we had been winnowing, I had subconsciously clung to Azriel. My arms were tightly wrapped around his middle, my head buried into his chest. And his own arms were also holding me.

I quickly stepped back, and he let go of me. I muttered an apology, feeling my face heat again. Azriel only chuckled, and I had to look away so that he wouldn't see my surely crimson cheeks. I looked around me, at the gnarled beech trees that were covered in moss. I had been to the Middle too many times, and none of those visits had been pleasant.