𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐈𝐋 𝐈 𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃 𝐘𝐎𝐔-𝙖𝙯𝙧𝙞𝙚𝙡

[ONE] AZRIEL

Azriel was tired and wanted nothing more than to find himself a warm bed and sleep. He was only hours away from home, but he couldn't bring himself to fly or even winnow there. His fight with the rebelling Illyrians had taken a toll on him. He had hoped that after the war, this would all be over, but clearly he was mistaken.

He pushed open the door to the tavern he wandered across, pulling his wings in tight. This place had obviously never seen much winged people. But he couldn't complain because it was warm, and thankfully not busy at this time of night. He made his way to the bar, sitting at the stool with an exhausted sigh.

The small tavern was filled with light music, probably captured in a Symphonia. It was easy to hear over the chatter, though it had gone quiet the second he walked in. Not surprising, he was at the edge of the Winter Court, right before it crossed the border of the Autumn court. These people have never seen an Illyrian walk in before. Much less him.

He heard the whispers of the males, talking about the war and his participation in it. They were not warriors that had been on the battlefield and spoke of rumors that were being told to them. A muscle in his cheek fluttered and he spread out his shadows a little further, the whispers quieting before they resumed their normal conversations. But he felt their eyes on his back, and knew they were still watching him.

The female behind the bar, who seemed to be the only one working here, came up in front of him, a rag in one hand and a metal cup in the other. "What can I get for you?" There was a casualty in her smooth voice and at the sound of it, something in Azriel's bones loosened. He lowered his shoulders, his wings nearly touching the floor. He looked up at the female and caught himself before his mouth fell open.

She was beautiful, not like anything he's ever seen before—and he knew Mor. No she wasn't like Mor beautiful or even Elain beautiful. She wouldn't compare to the females he called friends. Her hair was a fire red—close to Lucien's color—it practically glowed against her pale skin. Her eyes the color of amber, the torches reflected in them so clearly it almost looked like the fire was coming from her. Her cheekbones were high and sharp, complimenting her straight nose and full lips.

A smirk tugged at the corner of her lips, likely noting the prolonged stare of Azriel's and his non-answer. "We have a brothel next door if you wish for some company."

He cleared his throat and blinked twice, embarrassed that he had been caught. But he schooled his face into neutrality. "The strongest drink you have."

The female chuckled. "One of those days, huh?"

"You could say that." He grumbled. It hadn't been easy taking down those Illyrians and they put up a good fight before their power ran out. Thankfully he had Cassian there, though the asshole had flown home, not wanting to spend more time away from Nesta. The image of him walking in on them fucking in the dining room flashed before his eyes and he had to shake his head to get rid of the memory. He never brought it up and mercifully, neither did the pair.

Thinking about them, though, brought a pang of jealousy to his heart. Not just them but Feyre and Rhysand as well. Three brothers, three sisters, and he was the one left with no one. How was that fair? He had told Rhys that much after his High Lord had caught him about to kiss Elain. She belonged to Lucien. Realistically she belonged to no one and she hadn't even acknowledged the mating bond. But whatever, fine, Azriel would stay away, if only to keep the peace.

But it didn't make him happy.

The female brought him his drink in the metal cup that she held when she came up to him. She had filled it halfway with a dark liquid that smelt like medicinal alcohol. Azriel brought the cup to his lips and downed the drink in one gulp. He relished the burn, inviting it, if only to wash away his sorrows before they dragged him deeper and drowned him.