𝐀 𝐂𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐑𝐞𝐛𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐡 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐒𝐚𝐥𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧

𝟎𝟑

     Yarn rolled off of Arya's lap and she tugged on the string only to realize it made the ball of yarn roll further. Arya cursed and made a move to get up but a shadow stopped her before she could. The violet eyes lock with hazel ones and the female narrows her gaze when she notices the growing smirk on his face.

"Your injuries are almost done healing," Azriel comments as he starts rolling the ball of yarn toward Arya.

"Madja's ointments are mother-sent," Arya chuckles.

Azriel passes the yarn to her and makes a gesture to her creation on her lap, "What are you making this time?"

The princess covers the item with her hand and looks at Azriel shyly, "I can't tell you. It's a surprise."

The shadowsinger's brows shoot up in surprise. Arya isn't one to look shy unless she does it on purpose. To add to his surprise, she's knitting something for him, a bastard-born nobody, at least in his opinion. Cassian was the only one who knew of Azriel's growing feelings for the princess, the spymaster has a feeling Rhysand might already have an inkling but the heir thankfully hasn't brought it up.

Azriel has always looked at Arya like she hung the moon and stars in his life and the shadowsinger is convinced that she absolutely did.

Darkness was the only thing Azriel had known growing up and once he was out in the world, he took pleasure in fading into his shadows. Every being in Prythian has only looked at him for the visible things, his scars, his siphons, his wings, and his shadows but no one looked at him to truly see him. To see what was underneath it all.

The first time he ever felt seen was a week after he started staying with Rhysand and his family. Arya walked up to him before dinner one night with a tin can in her hands and said, "I noticed you keep on huffing in frustrations at your hair since they get in the way sometimes, so I went around Velaris looking for something to tame the curls down a bit."

Azriel would never admit to anyone how much he treasured something as little as a tin can of hair product but it was the first time someone ever noticed such a mundane thing about him. It was something no one would ever notice unless they were one hundred percent paying attention to him and seeking to see something deeper than what was shown on the surface.

Azriel blinks the surprise on his face before focusing on Arya's expectant face, "I can't wait to receive it then," he replies with a genuine smile.

"You can't stay for long can you?" Arya questions, showing the rare vulnerability side of her.

"Unfortunately, I can't," Azriel's heart broke a little at the disappointment in his princess' face.

Arya nods with a contemplative look, "Az, promise something."

Hazel eyes bore into her violet ones in anticipation, "Promise me that one day, we'll have more than a minute to talk. Promise me that one day, we'll have more than fleeting moments with each other."

Because unbeknownst to the spymaster, Arya feels the same about him as he does for her. It takes great effort for the princess to ignore the gold string tugging on her chest at all times. It takes an even greater effort to carefully glamour the bond's scent around the clock, the act of that specific glamour wasn't hard to do since it's become second nature to her after years of hiding it. But the thought of why she was glamouring it is the part that takes a toll on her.

Arya did accept her father's decision to marry her off to a fae in another court in the end because her father would kill Azriel if she didn't. How her father found out about her mate is still a mystery to her, she was sure she never once lowered her glamour and no soul other than her own knew about it.