Dance of Fate

Chapter Sixty Seven

Azriel stood in Rhysand's study in the town house, hands in his pockets. He'd just finished informing Rhys that he had received word from the other High Lords- they'd all agreed to a date. The place, however was still in discussion.

Rhys nodded, though his face did not display any relief. No, the High Lord had barely paid attention to Azriel's report. He'd eyed Azriel carefully, eyes filled with caution. 

Azriel braced himself as Rhysand took a breath. "When are you going to tell her?" His voice was quiet, even though Asteria was out with Mor. 

Azriel kept his face blank. "Not now." This was not a conversation he wanted to have. Especially not with Rhys. They hadn't spoken of Azriel's declaration since the day in the throne room. During the time Asteria was in Hybern, when they thought her a traitor, no one dared so much as mention her name near Azriel. So the mention that they were mates had been completely off limits.

But now that Asteria was back... it definitely wasn't off limits. And it was a conversation Azriel had been dreading for decades. 

"When did you find out?" Rhysand asked carefully. 

Azriel's wings twitched, the only sign of his discomfort. "The day we saved her from the Prison." He confessed. 

Rhys's eyes widened. "You've known for fifty years and you haven't told anyone?" He demanded. 

"I told Cassian. Amren knew, too. She figured it out."

Rhys blinked in shock, and Azriel felt guilt settle upon him. "Why didn't you tell me?" He asked quietly. 

Azriel sighed. "You're her brother."

"So? What, did you think I wouldn't approve or something?" 

Azriel said nothing, and it was confirmation enough. Rhys shook his head. 

"I can't believe you would ever think that." He said, more to himself than to Azriel. 

The shadowsinger couldn't find the words to tell Rhys that it wasn't because he thought little of him, but because he thought little of himself. Because he hadn't believed that he deserved her. He still didn't think he did. 

But Azriel didn't think he could voice that. So instead, he said flatly, "Well, now you know."

Rhys's jaw clenched, and for a moment he thought the male might say something else about the matter, but he didn't.

"When are you going to tell her? It's been long enough. She has a right to know." His voice had turned stern.

"Not now," Azriel repeated more harshly. At Rhys's raised brow, Azriel explained. "She's... she's not doing well. She pretends she's fine, but I can feel her pain, her guilt." More quietly, he added, "I can feel her nightmares."

Rhys considered, eyeing Azriel with an expression even Azriel couldn't read. Finally, he said, "I still think you should tell her. Its been fifty years, Az-"

"We don't even know what happened to her. She won't talk about it. But she was there for months, and now she can't even look in the mirror. She barely sleeps. She won't use her power at all, even if it physically pains her, because she fucking hates it. She hates herself. Do you really think dropping a bomb like that on her is going to help?" His voice had risen to a yell, shadows swarming around him and curling back, as if poising to strike. 

Rhys blinked with wide violet eyes. He said nothing. Only gaped at Azriel. 

Azriel sighed, his eyes falling to the floor. "I don't want her to push me away." He said, his voice small. "Not when she needs me." Not when he needed her, he didn't add.