Dance of Fate

Chapter Forty Eight

A girl with eyes of the deepest violet and hair as dark as shadows stared up into the sky.

The stars were not like those she had gazed at in her home. They were less bright here, their light dimmed. They reminded her of herself; not as bright as they once were. Extinguished. Utterly alone.

And the kingdom that lay beneath her was nothing like the city she had lived in.

There was no joy here. No laughter. The air was as hollow as she felt.

She closed her eyes, the night breeze rustling her hair. It seemed so distant, the time when she had lived amongst those she loved the most. When she had fallen asleep every night against her lovers chest.

When she thought of them, she could not breathe. So she didn't let herself think of them. Of the look on the face of the one she loved the most as she looked away from him, the look that would forever haunt her.

She didn't let herself feel anything but the chill wind against her face.

...

Azriel had spent five days in bed. He could probably stand. He hadn't tried. He didn't want to. He didn't have any desire to do anything other than stare at the ceiling, and think about how fucked up his life was.

He hadn't had control of his body in the moments after Asteria had betrayed them. Had been able to do nothing but watch as the King of Hybern broke the bargain between Rhysand and Feyre. When she had left with Tamlin. When Rhysand had grabbed him and winnowed them to Velaris, leaving Asteria in the palace in that horrible kingdom, standing beside the king.

Azriel had stared at Asteria the entire time, fighting against the hold she had on his mind, silently begging her to look at him.

She had not.

Azriel blinked, shifting in bed. His chest still throbbed, but it was bearable. He missed the pain. It had been a distraction from the memories of that day. From the look in her eyes, the venom in her voice.

He still was not convinced that she had truly betrayed them- even if the evidence was piled against her, even if she had admitted it. No one believed him when he insisted she had done it all to save them.

"I'm going back for her," Azriel had snarled the moment they'd winnowed back to the Town House. He could hardly stand, yet he would have done it- he would have gone back to Hybern for her, somehow.

Rhysand stared at the wall, his eyes empty. Amren strode in, cursing as she took in Cassian's mangled wings, then the wound in Azriel's own chest.

"Where is Feyre?" Amren demanded. She looked around. "And Asteria?"

Azriel wanted to die when he heard her name. His gaze fell to his hands. The world seemed to crumble all over again when he beheld the ring on his finger, swirling with shadows and the faintest trace of glimmering violet. He had not noticed when she had slipped it back on his finger.

Because he had to do something to quiet the roaring in his head, to block out the hate that had been on her face, Azriel ripped out the bolt out of his chest. Relief flooded through him as the pain became so great he could hardly think.

Amren cursed again, kneeling at his side and pressing a hand to his violently bleeding wound. Just as Asteria had done moments ago.

Light flared at Amen's fingertips, and Azriel felt the wound begin to heal. "Where are they?" She snapped again.

Azriel was half conscious, could only half hear as Mor explained to Amren, "Tamlin offered passage through his lands and our heads on platters to the king in exchange for trapping Feyre, breaking her bond, and getting to bring her back to the Spring Court. But Asteria..."

Azriel forced himself to rise to his knees. Mor's voice was weak. "She betrayed us."

Amren froze, silver eyes widening. "What?" She demanded.

Azriel struggled to grasp onto consciousness. "No she didn't." He somehow made himself say. Mor pursed her lips.

"Azriel-"

"She didn't." He snarled. Mor's eyes glistened. Azriel ignored her, turning to Rhysand. His violet eyes were distant, still fixed on the wall.

"Rhys," Azriel sucked in a sharp breath, agony rippling through his body. "She is your sister. You know she would never sell us out-"

"What do you mean she betrayed us?" Amren snapped. "What did she do?"

Silence fell. "She didn't betray us." Azriel repeated, though his voice was just as weak as he felt. Rhysand's eyes finally snapped to him, sharp and devastated. Gods they looked so much like Asteria's-

"She sold Velaris out to Hybern." Rhys said quietly. "She told him how to find Feyre sister's." His tone grew louder, angrier.

Azriel shook his head, the world spinning. "She didn't. I know she didn't."

"Oh really? How?" Rhys yelled, his devastated eyes lined with silver. 

"Because I know her!" Azriel growled.

"And I don't?" Rhys shot back with equal menace. Azriel clenched his jaw until he saw stars dancing at the edges of his vision.

"It's different." He said more quietly. Rhys scoffed.

"Why, because you're in love with her?"

"Because she's my mate!"

The words were out before Azriel could stop himself. He barely had time to see the pure shock on Rhysand's face. "What?" His High Lord breathed.

Azriel passed out before he could supply an answer.

...

"Azriel," a voice as soft as silk, as bright as a star whispered in his ear. He fought to open his eyes, his lids as heavy as weights.

He managed to half open them. Violet eyes met his own, crinkled with a smile and warmed with love. The familiar curves of Asteria's face hovered a few inches from him as she looked down at him.

Azriel did not dare speak, did not dare move as she stroked her fingers through his hair. He could feel her fingers, could smell her, could feel the mating bond alive and pulsing between them-

He distantly remembered a throne room, a Cauldron and unforgiving eyes. A confession of betrayal.

"It's alright." Asteria soothed. "It was just a dream." Azriel closed his eyes, leaning into her touch. A dream- nightmare. It had only been a nightmare.

He should have known. Asteria would never betray them.

Azriel fell asleep as she continued to run her fingers through his hair, his face nestled into her neck.

When he awoke, he was alone. The bed was empty. Cold.

A tear slid down Azriel's face as reality came crashing down upon him, the pain greater than the wound in his chest ever had been. So much greater, he thought as his eyes leaked acid rain on the very pillow where she used to lay her head.

She had told him she loved him.

So why had she left him?

...