The Savior

Welcoming Committee

Azriel P.O.V

The flight went by faster than he'd expected. Unusually fast. Maybe it was the thoughts in his head that kept him busy while he flew. Maybe it was the beautiful creature tucked in his arms that had him so distracted. Whatever the reason, it was a quick flight. 

He could feel her warmth in his arms all the way home. When he let her go after landing on the lawn outside of the lakehouse. When he took her to a room. When he left her to get some rest. Even hours later in his meeting with Rhysand, he could still feel her warmth. 

He didn't see her again until Feyre emerged with Acalla in tow. She was clean and dressed in their Night Court attire. She was beautiful. 

Feyre pushed Acalla towards where he was sitting on the couch. He shifted over to make more room for her. She sat down. He could smell her scent. No perfumes. Her natural scent. It was intoxicating. 

Feyre gave him a look that said 'talk to her' and walked out of the room. Thanks, Feyre. He was alone. With his mate. 

She looked at him sidelong. 

"Is this the Court of Nightmares?" She timidly asked. 

He turned and looked at her aghast.

"No," he replied, "this is the Court of Dreams. Or that is what we call it. Its real name is Velaris." 

He could see the confusion on her face. She had never heard of it. Good. 

"It's not on any map you could have ever seen, not after Amarantha," he told her looking down at his lap. 

"Oh," she said like she wanted to say, do, more but did not. 

"Who was the man?" Azriel suddenly asked. 

She looked at him confused. 

"The man standing behind you ready to rip off your wings?" He tried again with more clarity. 

Her eyes widened just enough to tell Azriel it was a touchy subject. He regretted asking the question. He did not want to make her uncomfortable already. 

"You don't have to answer if you don't want to," he assured her. 

"No, it's something we will eventually talk about," she said, "he was my brother." 

"And he was about to rip off your wings?" Azriel asked shocked. 

"He's very...passionate about that certain tradition," she explained to him, "do you remember me?" 

"Yes," he simply said, and smirking asked, "how do you entertain yourself when you aren't in the kitchens?" 

"I love to sing," she shyly replied. 

"Really?" He asked, not expecting that. 

"My mother used to tell me that my voice was that of an angel's," she told him smiling, "do you stay here or do you have a different house?" 

"I have a different place that I stay, but if you would like to stay here then you are more than welcome," he assured her. 

"I would not want to intrude," she said looking down at her hands. 

She was so kind. She was much too good for him. 

"It would be no intrusion," he promised her. 

Just as he said that Rhysand came waltzing into the room. She looked at Azriel terrified. Rhysand laughed. 

"I see they're still making me out to be some demon from hell in the camps," Rhys said laughing still.

Azriel had heard the stories. Who hadn't? Rhysand was a monster who killed children who didn't listen to their parents. He cared for none but himself. That was what they told Illyrian children.