A Court of Secrets and Moonlight

13: Reunion

Azriel

I listened to Lucien's story, and about halfway through I couldn't handle it any longer. I spent the rest of the conversation heaved over the toilet, emptying the contents of my stomach until there was nothing left for me to do but to gag as more and more was revealed.

For me, all of this was for me.

She knew we were mates if Tamlin and Lucien knew. She knew, and she never said a word about it.

Her father had learned, and I always knew if he did it would be bad. I never could have imagined it would be this bad.

He sent her to exile and then tried to have her murdered. If it wasn't for Tamlin, she would truly be dead by now.

I slumped against the marble tiles as the conversation shifted to how Hybern planned to attack, what could be done now that the Spring Court was wholly in their hands. As spymaster, I probably should have been involved in the conversation. Still, I found it harder than it should have been to peel myself from the floor.

I splashed water in my face, swishing some around in my mouth to clear it of any lingering sick, and tried not to see the crazed look in my eyes in the mirror before I stepped out of the bathroom. I glued my eyes to the door on the other side of the room, knowing that if I looked at her, if I spared her a second glance, I'd never leave. I'd almost made it too, when a voice I hadn't heard strong for 500 years drifted through the room.

"Not even a hello?" She spoke, "And here I thought you'd be happy to see me."

I stopped in my tracks, the world spinning around me, and I realized now that the bond was pulled tight between us. I closed my eyes, basking in the way it felt to hear her voice, praying to the mother that this wasn't all some cruel dream.

"The city looks different since I last saw it." She spoke again. "So do you."

I turned then, being drawn to her like a magnet. She was sitting up in the bed, her hair that Mor washed now dry and mussed, the edge of one of Feyre's sweaters hanging off her shoulder. Deep violet eyes stared at me, lit up by the moonlight that shined through the window. I couldn't name the amount of times I had dreamed this, both asleep and awake.

I started speaking without thinking, falling back into some old routine I'd thought long gone, "500 years, and all you can come up with is how different I look?"

I watched a smirk grow on her face, "I never said it was a bad thing." She teased, "Maybe I like your hair longer."

It was so surreal, too surreal, and the emotions pouring off of her were like a drug. I took slow, careful steps across the room, as if I were a tiger stalking its prey, one wrong move and she'd vanish. But she never did, she just watched me with those starlight eyes, even as I stood next to the bed. She was close, so close I could feel her heat, and I realized that I hadn't ever considered what I'd say in this moment.

I should have had some sort of dashing speech prepared, some poetic confession of love, something, anything to say. I'd known she was alive for weeks, and I supposed I never thought that she would come back so... herself.

Those eyes peered up at me, and I couldn't place the look in them. Slowly, the same way I had approached her, a small tattooed hand raised towards me. Closer and closer she inched, until finally I felt the first brush of her fingertips on my cheek.

Home, my shadows whispered, hissing in pleasure.

And I shattered.

My knees hit the floor, and I collapsed into that touch. I bathed in it, worshipped it. It was everything, every torn piece of me piecing back together, every unsaid word between us, every secret and lie.