A Court of Ice and Starshine (Book II)

Chapter 20

Lowen lied in bed for hours, but she couldn't sleep. She slipped out of bed quietly, grabbed a blanket, and walked into the living room. She turned on the fireplace and plopped down next to it. Her chest felt heavy and she cursed Cassian silently, deciding this was all his fault.

But that wasn't true, and she knew it.

She buried her face in her hands. She didn't know how long she sat by the fire, but it felt like hours, when the door opened and she heard boots on her wooden floors. She didn't bother turning around, hearing him remove his boots and coat by the door. Then she felt him step beside and quietly sit next to her by the fire.

They sat for a while, neither speaking, just watching the flames flicker.

"I grew up as the bastard son of an Illyrian lord," Azriel began, his gaze fixed on the flames.

He paused.

Tell her. Just tell her. She won't think any differently of you. Just start talking.

Silence hung heavy between them. Finally, Azriel seemed to come to a decision. His voice was low, carrying the weight of years of pain and darkness.

"For the first eleven years of my life, I was forced to live with my father, stepmother, and two older half-brothers. They were cruel and spoiled, making my existence a daily struggle. My stepmother would lock me in a windowless cell for most of my days. I was granted only an hour of freedom each day, and just one hour each week to see my mother."

He paused; his voice thick with the memories of his past.

"Training or flying, actions that were ingrained in my...Illyrian instincts, were forbidden to me. When I was eight, my half-brothers wanted to see what would happen when they combined my rapid healing ability with oil and fire. They doused my hands and set them ablaze. My screams attracted the attention of my father's warriors, who rescued me...but not in time to save my hands. The scars left by that incident remain with me to this day."

Azriel forced his eyes to meet hers, and he continued.

"When I turned eleven, I was sent away to Windhaven, because of my shadowsinging abilities. It was there that I met Rhys and Cass. They were training there as well. Rhys's mother, who was a friend to my own, took me in."

His voice grew heavy with emotion.

"Yet, as the bond among us strengthened, Rhys's father saw a threat. He divided us: Rhys to lead a legion, me as his personal shadowsinger, and Cassian to the foot soldiers."

Lowen couldn't breathe as she listened to her mate reveal these memories of his childhood.

"I...have an intense hatred of them; my father, my brothers, Illyrians in general, with every fiber of my being. They inflicted upon me and the few people I ever loved such unimaginable pain. And when I saw you, standing there in that camp, my chest tightened like it used to back then. I can't—I won't—let them take you from me. Losing you again is not an option."

Again.

Lowen reached for him, cupping his cheeks.

"Tell me what I can do," she breathed.

What she truly wanted to convey was something more profound, her heart pounding with unspoken intensity. She was ready to fulfill any wish of his, no matter how extreme. If he desired vengeance against his brothers, stepmother, and father, she would be his instrument of retribution, extracting their cries of agony as a twisted offering to him. Should he command her to raze that camp to ashes, she wouldn't hesitate. She was wholly at his service, and she wondered if he truly grasped the depth of her commitment. Even the specter within her seethed with readiness.