Dance of Fate

Chapter Thirty Eight

I woke up to an empty bed, though it was still warm. The sun had just begun to rise- perhaps that was why.

I groaned as I sat up, squinting at the faint light that poured in from the open curtains. My entire body was sore- though I couldn't say I regretted anything. A low chuckle sounded from the nearby distance.

"Good morning to you too." Azriel said, walking in from the bathroom. Already showered and half dressed. His raven hair was still wet, dripping onto his tan, inked skin that peeked out of his leathers. Gods, he looked perfect.

He'd never stayed the night before. I'd never asked him to. But we were both exhausted after everything last night, and falling asleep was so much easier when I could hear the sound of him breathing, when I had the security of his arms around me. And though I had not verbally asked him to stay... Azriel never needed me to tell him anything, anyway. He always knew, even when I did not want him to, what I wanted. What I needed.

"Why are you up so early?" I asked, rubbing the tiredness out of my eyes.

"We're meeting with the mortal queens tonight." He said. His voice was so utterly casual that it took me several moments to realize what he was saying.

I blinked at him. "What?"

Azriel shrugged, his muscles flexing under the smooth fabric. "We're meeting them at Feyre's family's estate at eleven. But we need to be there by nine." I groaned again. He laughed again, the sound so carefree that I couldn't do anything to fight against the tugging at the corners of my own mouth.

"Don't be so whiny," he teased. I narrowed my eyes at him. Before he could blink, I used my magic to throw a pillow straight into his face. He caught it swiftly, but staggered back a step.

He set the pillow down chuckling softly. "Do we really all need to be there? I'm sure no one will miss us if we both conveniently fall sick..."

Azriel sighed, running a hand through his wet hair. "As tempting as that sound, we all have to go." He said. His face turned serious. "The queens won't be pleasant."

I blinked at him. "I figured." I said flatly. When Azriel continued to eye me, I rolled my eyes. "Fine, I will behave myself. I promise." I half joked.

Azriel shook his head. "Dear Gods, I hope so." He muttered to himself.

I threw another pillow at him, this time with enough force that he couldn't catch it in time.

...

The mortal lands were just as dreadful as the last time we had been there. This time I'd come in a dress, made with long silk of a purple so dark it almost appeared black. The black diadem on my head made up for the plainness of the dress, its ebony jewels glistening in the light with each step I took.

I stood between Cassian and Azriel, the two of them assessing the room over and over, siphons blaring. I could feel their tenseness, especially Azriel. The queens had taken every possible precaution, from demanding we bring no weapons, to requesting the layout of the house. Which was stupid, because not one of the Fae in this room had any need for weapons.

I shifted, uncomfortable in my heeled shoes and heavy jewelry. It had been Mor who insisted I dress spectacularly- even if I wasn't to interfere. With my temper, it would be better if I stayed quiet. Which was better for me, because I had no interest in speaking to these queens. I would skip this meeting altogether and just steal the Book, if it was up to me.

But it wasn't. So we all waited in Feyre's manor, anxiously watching the clock. It struck eleven o'clock- the exact time of the meeting. I blinked, and the queens appeared, wind bristling in the room.