Azriel's Tale

Azriel's Tale - Chapter 8

CHAPTER 8:

"At least we know she can winnow now." Mor pointed out to Azriel and the others.

"Yes, I suppose. I wasn't aware that people could winnow others without them." Azriel said in annoyance. He was supposed to know everything. For there to be no surprises. Rhysand had caught on to his spymaster's irritation and soon soothed his nerves.

"I've never heard of that before either. Perhaps it is something new." The High Lord commented. "Anyway, if there were ever going to be someone to receive this new part of winnowing, of course, it would be Amren." 

"Jealous?" Rhysand's mate called to him. He turned to her, that signature smile crawling onto his face.

"No." He quipped. She just grinned at him. 

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Nesta, Cassian and Azriel were all outside, all engaged in their own activities. Nesta: reading, Cassian: training with the punching bag and Azriel: looking through different texts and studying them. Learning them. Always wanting to harness as much knowledge as he could. He'd never had a formal education when he was a child, so he tried to compensate for that lack of learning now, as an adult. He was still, to this day, finding better ways of training, analysing, and even flying. Azriel felt that there would always be something he wouldn't understand about flying. The Illyrians had adapted and trained so quickly that they rarely thought twice about flying, but every time the shadowsinger set off to fly, there was always a hint of hesitation.

"What are you reading?" Cassian asked Nesta when he had taken a short break to drink some water and catch his breath. She slowly lowered her book and pointedly showed him the title. He grinned.

"Yet another romance novel." 

"Yes." She replied. "It's the only place that men aren't so repulsive to me."

"In a fictional world?" Cassian questioned. She didn't reply verbally. She only gave him a small smile and continued to read on. Cassian just shrugged and rolled his eyes, putting his water down as he headed back to the punching bag. 

Months. That's how long Cassian and Nesta had been playing this game with one another. Both were fully aware of what they were doing. It reminded Azriel of how Rhysand and Feyre acted towards one another not too long ago. They had been officially mated for almost a year now, and it had been 7 months since the war had ended. Yet they still had not relented. Cassian admitted to Cassian, not long after the war, what had happened between himself and Nesta when he thought he was going to die, but nothing physical had happened since then. It was only this. The bickering, the flirting, and the playful suggestions. 

Cassian halted in his punching and glanced at Azriel, gesturing for him to join him with training. 

"I'm bored with this thing. Train with me?" Cassian asked. The shadowsinger glanced down at his work and nodded in agreement. He needed a break. Setting aside his work, he joined the Illyrian and instantly their blades were crashing against each one another. 

After an hour of training, Elain easily glided into the garden and smoothly sat next to her sister. She had been baking against. Always cooking or gardening. Nesta set aside her book. 

"Are you okay?" Nesta asked. 

"Of course. I baked you some rolls, you mentioned the other day how I didn't bake them much anymore, so I thought I would." She unvailed them from her basket. The Illyrians stopped and looked at them. Both of them distracted by the females. Honestly, Azriel thought they could be so stereotypically male sometimes. The four fell into an easy conversation. About her baking, their training, their reading, and so on. 

Though Azriel's mood had still not returned to it's fullest, at this point he was beginning to accept it as the new normal, he felt as though he really needed this. Just a day with his family, with easy flowing conversations, familiar surroundings and the cool wind banishing any dark thoughts away. 

Please let me know what you thought! I am constantly trying to improve my writing, so I would greatly appreciate any feedback. -Jessica.