Wings of Shadow

Chapter 13

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MARZIA

Bright and early on their third morning in her cottage, Marzia felt on edge, confused and distracted.

Not because of Azriel, who was still blissfully asleep next to her, but because she knew her house - and she also knew when something lurked around it. From her bed, she could see out through the window into the snowy trunks of the evergreens outside, and nothing stood out as dangerous.

A sudden hand upon her thigh startled her, but she knew those scars and those deft fingers as they moved to settle on her hip.

"Good morning," he said, groggy and low.

"Morning," she answered, tangling her fingers in his inky black hair.

She was absent, however, deep in her thoughts. If someone was outside, if someone knew they were there...

"Is something amiss?" He asked, getting up slowly.

It was hard for him to maneuver, she noticed, all tangled in her furs and his wings.

"I think someone else is nearby, watching."

She had never seen someone change so quickly. Azriel straightened immediately, turning towards the window, scanning their surrounding areas faster than she had done just a minute before.

His shadows swirled around him, dark and menacing. In the middle of her bed, their hands met.

"Stay near me, and I'll keep you safe."

They left the bedroom together, throwing on some coats before stepping outside. With her hand tightly in his grasp, and her bare feet against the newly fallen snow, she saw in person why people in Velaris called him 'Shadowsinger.'

From the moment she had seen him in that Illyrian camp two centuries ago, she knew she had to get her hands on him. His raw, untamed power, and his good looks made him attractive to anyone who dared look beyond the swirls of his shadows around his body and the seven siphons that adorned him. She had wanted to kiss him from the moment he'd walked into her camp - kiss him until he only remembered her name and her taste on his lips.

"Nothing," he said. "Let's go back inside."

She was still on edge, and now he was as well. He placed his hands on her shoulders, pressing a kiss over the worried crease of her brow. It did nothing to ease the chaos that had begun to swirl inside her head.

He told her that she had nothing to worry about. That it was perhaps a momentary feeling. It wasn't. She knew. They went back inside, hand in hand, eyes on their snowy surroundings.

After eating, taking a bath, and changing into leggings and a tunic, Marzia still watched the tree line with growing concern. She knew that no creature was there, if neither her skills as a former mercenary and Azriel's skills as spymaster could find them. They couldn't fool them even if they were alone. Yet, she knew that something was amiss - she knew the signals, even in the chaos of her mind.

Azriel, instead, watched her. She had changed in the two hundred years apart. Her eyes were keener, her senses sharper. He had noticed, but he hadn't seen her in action in her prime, when she was sought after for her skills. He would never see her like that, not without her wings. So she had asked him, whose skills were perhaps better.

He took to the skies, spreading his wings as much as he could. She watched him from below, hugging herself closely, wishing she could join him. The ghost of her wings haunted her, seeing how he became a black speck in the clear afternoon sky. When he came back down, he had nothing to report.