A Court of Flame and Shadow (Azriel x eris)

Chapter 8: Azriel

Dinner was a refreshing affair, and only slightly awkward between Azriel and Rhysand. Cassian and Feyre both kept one eye on them, as if a fight could begin at any moment. Yet the rest of the table remained oblivious. Rhys had apparently informed them all that Azriel had been sick earlier, but that he was fine now.

But he wasn't fine. That awful pull on his heart stayed, and the knot in his chest didn't go anywhere.

Joyful conversation filled the dinner table, many questions being sent Lucien's way, now that he was back from the Day Court for the first time.

"So do you think you will ever move in with him, Luce?"  Elain asked, a smile on her face that hadn't wavered since he arrived.

 "Don't think so. Helion says I am only heir if I want to be, and I don't know if I do want to be." 

"Well, if you decide you would like to move in with him, and be heir, there may not be need for a trip to Autumn, and I think we can all agree, none of us want to go there!" Rhys laughed.

"Here, here!" Mor cried, raising a glass to that.

~

Rhysand was staring at him. He could feel his eyes on him, like two lasers, burning into his head. But when he looked up, and met his eyes, they were sorry. He was sorry.

Azriel knew that he would have come to a decision based of what benefited them all best, but that didn't change that it hurt more that the bolt that had gone through his chest in Hybern.  

~

On the way back to his room that night, he passed Gwyn in the hall.

"Hey, Az, how come you weren't at training today? Missed you out there." Her always good attitude was almost enough to bring a smile to his face. 

Almost.

"I was busy." He replied dryly.

"Oh. Will you be there tomorrow?" She gave him a grin.

"I guess."

She frowned as he turned away.

"You okay?"

Azriel glanced back, just for a moment.

"I'm fine."

~

Azriel had been rolling back and forth in his bed for hours. He had already tried drinking water, bathing, reading a book, you name it. But still, he found himself staring at the ceiling. 

That was how he ended up hurling daggers at a target in the training ring above the House of Wind. 

Shadows covered his scarred hands as he hurled dagger after dagger, only resting to collect them from the target. Callouses grew on his hands as he stood there, hours passing as he threw and threw and threw. 

In the dark, he tossed the last dagger he had, readying to throw. But as it came back down, it slashed across his palm. Blood welled, stark against the white of the scars that covered his hands. 

He hissed, dabbing the wound with his sleeve. Then he felt it. A slight tug on the bond, subtle, but there. Eris asking if he was okay. 

He sent one back, a tear rolling down his cheek, eventually meeting the blood on his palm. 

Azriel stumbled over to the water tap by the door, pulling desperately on the lever. Finally, a thin trickle of water fell from the tap. He shucked in a deep breath at the sting of water meeting flesh, breathing shaky. Another tug on the bond was sent his way.

He collapsed to the ground, grabbing at the bandaged they kept by the door. Another tear ran down his face. Eris meant well, of course, by pulling on the bond, but every time he did it was just another reminder that it could be ages before he saw him again. How could Rhys do this to him?

The question swum through his head as he finally drifted of to sleep, sitting against the wall.