Wings of Shadow

Chapter 12

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AZRIEL

The matter of his new house was settled. The second house that they had seen was sold to them at an even cheaper price, and he hadn't hesitated. Even Marzia had been happy to join him now, picking bits and pieces of furniture with him, including on days when his duties as spymaster kept him away from Velaris.

However, he could see from the way she acted that she wasn't entirely thrilled to stay. He'd been dropping more and more hints, hoping to find whatever had been troubling her. Finally, when the first snow of the late autumn season fell upon Velaris, he found his answer. She could not stop staring at the snow-capped mountains surrounding the city.

"Do you miss the steppes?" He asked her one night.

Her head snapped up, focusing on him. "I miss my cottage. It was beautiful up there during winter."

"Do you want to go?"

"I would love to, but I can't," she said, motioning to her back and her lack of wings.

"I could winnow us there, if you want."

Marzia's eyes widened, staring at him. "You would do that, for me?"

"Of course," he said. "I would do anything you asked of me."

"Then take me. Join me. Let's spend a few days in the mountains."

He couldn't deny her request. Not when the hope had returned to shine on her eyes. Not when she smiled at him like he was her entire world.

He feared, however, that she would want to stay there and not come back with him to Velaris.

"Three days," he said. "Then, we'll come back to the city."

"Sure," she said, her eyes sparkling. "We can do a lot in three days."

That night, after dinner, he went to Rhys' office with his request, hoping for a positive answer. Part of him knew that his brother wouldn't be too happy, given how much he had to do, and how much Azriel could help him, but his spies were well positioned, and he could winnow back in case there was an emergency.

The office was nicely decorated, with dark wooden furniture and navy-blue accents in the chairs and curtains, contrasting with the ivory walls. The delicateness of the space indicated that Feyre had decorated it, but the personal touches made it clear it was Rhys who worked there. There was a fire running, burning cozily in a corner.

Rhys was quiet, sipping on some wine; his eyes were focused on the stars outside the windows. When he entered, however, he turned and smiled at him.

"Rhys," Az said.

"Brother," he replied, motioning to an empty chair so that Azriel could take a seat. "How are you?"

"I'm good, Rhys," he said. "Better than I have been in a while."

"I'm glad to hear that, brother," he said, smiling.

There was a certain tiredness in Rhys' voice, and Azriel noticed that he looked somehow older - as if things were more difficult than he let on. He hesitated, not wanting to worry his brother more than necessary.

"What brings you here?" Rhys asked. "Is something amiss?"

Azriel cursed himself for being torn between his duty to Rhys and... his duty with Marzia. He sighed, rubbing his temples, and begged the Mother for patience.

"I want to go to the steppes with Marzia."

The glass in Rhysand's hands lowered and his violet eyes studied him closely. He wondered what was going on behind those troubled eyes.