In the Shadows

Chapter 10: The Veil of Shadows

Azriel's shadows danced at the edges of his vision as he prowled through the quiet streets of Velaris. Midnight patrols were usually peaceful—especially in this city of starlight and dreams. Tonight, however, the usual calm couldn't settle his mind. His thoughts were too scattered, too restless. And no matter how many alleys he crept through or rooftops he surveyed, his mind kept circling back to her.

Skye.

He had no reason to seek her out. She wasn't a part of his mission tonight; she wasn't a threat. But something about her lingered in his mind like a half-forgotten melody, calling to him from the darkness. He had spent years, centuries even, honing his ability to compartmentalize his emotions, to push aside anything that wasn't essential to the task at hand. But since Skye's arrival, since she had stepped into his life, the walls he'd built so carefully had begun to crumble. Slowly, insidiously, but undeniably.

Azriel found himself moving toward her quarters without consciously deciding to. His feet were silent against the cobblestones as his shadows writhed restlessly, sensing the tumult within him. He wasn't sure what he was doing here—whether it was curiosity, duty, or something far more dangerous. But he couldn't stop himself.

When he reached her terrace, he saw her immediately. Skye sat on the ground, her knees pulled up to her chest as she gazed out at the shimmering expanse of the Night Court. The moonlight bathed her in silver, casting delicate shadows on her skin. Her long hair spilled over her shoulders, and her expression was distant, lost in thought. She looked ethereal, like something from a dream, and for a moment, Azriel simply watched her, his heart twisting in ways he didn't fully understand.

She hadn't noticed him yet, and he wasn't sure if he should announce his presence. But then, as if sensing his gaze, she turned her head and met his eyes.

"Can't sleep?" he asked, stepping out of the shadows and onto the terrace.

She smiled faintly, though it didn't reach her eyes. "Seems like I'm not the only one."

Azriel moved closer, his steps measured, careful. He sat down beside her, not too close, but not far enough away to keep the tension from crackling in the air between them. He could feel the warmth of her body, the soft scent of her perfume mingling with the cool night air. His shadows curled around his shoulders, as if wary of the vulnerability this moment held.

They sat in silence for a while, both of them staring out at the night. Velaris stretched before them, the city illuminated by the soft glow of lanterns and the stars above. It was peaceful, yet there was an undercurrent of something deeper, something unspoken between them.

"I've been thinking," Skye said after a long pause, her voice soft, barely more than a whisper. "About my court. About what's waiting for me when I go back."

Azriel remained silent, sensing that she wasn't done, that there was more she needed to say.

"I'm afraid," she admitted, her voice trembling slightly. "Not of ruling, but of being used. Manipulated. For as long as I can remember, people wanted me for marriage, for alliances, even before they knew I'd inherit my court. And now... now that it's certain I'll be the next High Lady, it's only gotten worse. They don't see me, Azriel. They only see what I can offer them—power, influence, a means to an end."

Her words struck something deep within him. It was a feeling he knew all too well—the sense of being valued for what he could do, for his abilities, his skills, but never for who he truly was. He had been a weapon, a tool, for as long as he could remember. And now, listening to Skye's quiet confession, he realized that she understood that burden too.