A Court of Shadows and Darkness

Chapter 8

She woke in the morning, feeling pressure on her chest, she forced her eyes open to find Azriel lying across her chest, his wing covering her body.

The air was cold around them, causing small puffs of breath to escape her lips. Careful not to disturb him, she attempted to wiggle herself out from under him. As she moved, her fingertip grazed the tip of his wing and all of a sudden darkness clouded her vision and a sharp pain on her forehead as his wing knocked her in the head.

Clutching her throbbing head and feeling the bed shift beneath them, she winced from the pain. "Did I hurt you?" he asked. The sound of blankets landing on the floor mixed with his muttering. "How many blankets are piled here? Move your hand, let me see"

Reluctantly, she moved her hand away, allowing him to inspect the damage. Rising to his knees, he loomed above her, his touch tender as he cradled her face. His voice, rough with sleep, hinted at the vulnerability beneath his usual facade. "You'll have a slight bump," he murmured, his gaze intense. "The wings are quite sensitive." Their eyes met, the closeness between them palpable as she noticed every muscle in his chest. "Who would have guessed." she whispered.

A horn sounded in the distance, signalling the need to get up. "We should go. Training is about to begin."

After a swift shower, they both reverted to their usual attire. Exiting the hut, they strolled to the camp's far end. The witch referred to it as a camp, yet it resembled a bustling town. Azriel couldn't estimate the population, but it seemed to be in the hundreds if not more.

The training grounds sprawled out before them, immense in size. Each discipline had its designated area for archery, sparring, hand-to-hand combat, and target practice. All of these sections were teeming with activity and harpies.

Ola welcomed them and walked towards the sparring fields, he tried not to watch the females too obviously, as a set of eyes always found him. They seemed to shift their forms involuntarily when walking past.

"Maga,huh" a slender female walked towards them with a big grin on her face, eyeing the lump on her forehead, large wings hiding behind her small frame, bright red and black feathers, but then she wrapped her arms around Raya, embracing her. "You got old Maga" she smacked her in the arm in response "Not everyone is being preserved like a jar of pickles, Toothpick" the thin female laughed and the section of the sparring ground cleared as soon as she walked by its entrance. "Where is Nebula?"

Azriel noted that Raya muttered something in response before summoning her blades.

"Let's see what the continent taught you" the female challenged, unsheathing her own bone-white blades. Her movements mirrored Raya's technique, precise and powerful.

The witch saw someone approach Azriel inviting him for a sparring match, as they locked eyes for a second, the pommel of the blade smashed into her head right, where the lump was this morning. She felt blood rushing down her face.

Azriel's wings fluttered at the impact, but she was already attacking the female.

"You grew soft" Toothpick laughed.

Azriel walked back alone to the hut to find Raya sitting on the bench with a clean cloth pushed to her forehead, crimson staining the white material.

"How did your harpy test go?" she inquired, her single visible eye focused on Azriel. He disappeared into the bathroom momentarily, returning with additional healing supplies in his grasp. "I was deemed worthy, though uncertain of what."

Gently removing the cloth from her wound, Azriel began to cleanse it. "What exactly is a protector?"

Raya winced as Azriel applied a fresh, damp cloth to her head. "Harpies do not take males as companions. Instead, they choose warriors to be their protectors and often their lovers. However, this bond only exists while they are on the continent; they never bring males back here. They believed I had suffered a sexual injury to my head, hence the taunt."