In The Mist of Shadows

Chpt. 21

It's been four days.

Four days and Adela wasn't any better than when she first got here. No body expected her to fully heal and be better but, she didn't even get out of bed. She devoured every book hidden in the cabin which was a small win in her family's eyes, but only ate when she threw up all the contents of her stomach, and only got up to relieve herself.

It was the lowest she got. And she couldn't see a way out.

Azriel brought her supper every night but she refused. And she still didn't talk to him. She hadn't spoke a word since that night. But Azriel spoke, he told her what was happening with the Summer Court and the stories of the war camps and what happened that day. He told her about how everyone misses her, but that would be the point she turned her back on him and he left.

When she was asleep he allowed himself to cry, to feel his fear that she's never getting out of it. He didn't know what to do, how to help. He was running out of ways and felt like giving up. He would often fly into the mountains and roar until he felt the tremble of them. It helped a little, but he still felt that deep rooted pain that scraped at him everyday.

She wasn't herself. She was this soulless shell of the female he began to love, the female he thought of everyday and night, the female he trained with and made up excuses to see. And frankly this version of Adela was getting on his nerves.

The ignoring, the pushing, the slamming of the door in his face, he was becoming extremely aggravated and uneasy. He could burn from the feeling. So everyday when he went to the camps he challenged multiple males to hand to hand and let his anger release on them. It was cruel, he knew that when he would shift their noses or make them cry. But he needed something to let the anger go.

And when Rhysand asked for him to meet with him about Adela, he thought of ramming himself into a tree so he wouldn't have to go. But he went, only to surrender and admit that... He couldn't save her.

"Azriel." Feyre spoke with instant pity as she opened the door. He looked truly awful, purple rings under his eyes, pale skin, and slouched. He was tired... So tired. So she embraced him in a warm hug before allowing him to come in.

He wished Rhysand was as gentle as her. "You look like shit."

"Thanks."

"She's still having nightmares?" Azriel nodded before grabbing a glass of Rhysand's oldest rum and downing it in one go. "Any progress?"

"Nope." He didn't mean to sound short tempered but he felt like a blade was being run down his body.

"Well is she okay?"

He drank another glass. "No more than five days ago."

"What the hell have you been doing then?" Azriel tried to calm himself, try to shove the feeling down. "Are you just going to let her drown in her blame until she dies-"

"I CAN'T DO EVERYTHING!" Spit flew from Azriel's mouth. Feyre hurried in to step in between them. "I have been waking up two or three times a night to her screaming in agony, being slapped or kicked or pushed, watching her appetite diminish into nothing, watching herself lay in her own filth, not eating, not speaking, not listening..... I CAN'T!!! I ca-" He began to sob.

"Az." Feyre cooed. He fell into her arms, crying as she stroked his back. "Shh. You are trying and that's all that matters."

"Azriel I had no idea." Rhysand admitted.

He composed himself quickly, a bit ashamed of his emotional outburst. Clearing his throat he spoke. "I-I don't know what else to do."

Rhysand had no idea either. This wasn't like her weeks in the library, this was different, deeper. Frankly he too was scared that she wouldn't make it out. His own heart ached at the thought of it.