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The River Manor was quiet as Azriel landed in the garden. It had been a week since he had left Velaris. Rhys had sent him on another mission hoping to gather more information about Koschei and Briallyn but the search had turned up futile. He was tired, desperate for a bath and missing his family. But there was little he could do until he briefed Rhys, who was waiting for him in his study according to his shadows. He tapped his siphons and his armour retracted, leaving him in just a shirt and trousers. Normally he would have waited until he was in the safety of his room but he desperately wanted to feel the cool night breeze against his skin. He began making his way towards the back door when he heard a lilting voice. He looked around curiously but saw no one, so he followed the singing to its source. Azriel rounded the corner into the flower garden, the place that Elain had so meticulously created and cared for. The garden consisted of a circle of grass surrounded by dense flower beds and bushes. In its centre was a white, wooden gazebo, woven with roses. None of the faelights that were littered among the flowers were on, leaving only the moonlight to illuminate his path.
On one of the ornate iron chairs in the gazebo, sat Elain. Her pale skin shone beneath the moonlight. It caught the golden strands of her hair, tied into a bun at the nape of her neck, and sent them sparkling. She was clothed only in a thin silk white nightdress, leaving him wondering how she wasn't cold. Alone in the night, under the light of the full moon, he thought she looked like a goddess, sent down from the heavens to save them all. Ethereal. Celestial. Exquisite. Those were just some of the words his mind threw at him as he took in the sight before him. Memories of an almost kiss, of the tangible desire between them on the night of the Winter Solstice, washed over him along with his feelings for her that had been so deeply woven into his being. And she was singing. Soft and sorrowful, she sang of a maiden left alone by her lover in the night. It must have been a lullaby she had learnt when she was human for he had never heard it before in any of the fae territories he had visited. He approached on silent footsteps, the shadows that had been dispelled by the moonlight reemerging in his presence. They darted out from where they had hidden and coiled around his feet as he walked. But one by one they disappeared with every step he took towards her until it was only him. Azriel. Not the Shadowsinger that everyone knew and feared.
“You have a beautiful voice.”
Her singing stopped abruptly and she looked up in shock. But soon her surprised expression shifted into one of relieved joy.
“You’re home.”
He inclined his head before walking up the path and into the gazebo. Whilst there were several seats spare, he chose to stand by the entrance. The red and white roses glowed under the moonlight and he had a sense that he had stepped into another dimension, a heavenly world that held the beauty before him.
“Is everything okay?” He asked her. “It’s late. I thought everyone would be asleep.”
She gazed at him from where she sat, her molten brown gaze enveloping him in warmth. She looked inclined to stand and come to him, as she used to do, but she remained seated.
“I was waiting for you.”
He felt his heart crumble. The innocence in her voice made him hyper-aware of what mission he had just returned from. Of the blood that had run over the ridges of the scars on his hands and dripped down onto the earth like rain. Replies rose in his mind, a smattering of polite responses mixed with confessions of his affection. Instead, he replied, “Why?”
She sucked in a deep breath as if he had frustrated her. Her eyes closed and her fist clenched. But as she breathed out, the tension ebbed away.
“Because I care about you.”
He knew this already. He even returned the sentiment, but it always made his heart flutter like a lovesick teenager when she told him. Everything in him screamed to tell her what he felt. About how what he had felt for Mor held no measure against what he felt for her. His love for Mor was merely a single flame on a matchstick compared to the roaring fire of love and desire he felt for her. But instead, he said nothing. Silence rushed in around them, but not the usual companionable silence that accompanied them. Instead, it was a silence riddled with tension and unspoken words. They both watched as dark clouds drifted across the sky and the first drops of rain fell from the heavens. The first drops were followed by another, then another until the sky split in two and rain came pouring down in torrents. It hammered against the roof of the gazebo and struck the roses with such force it sent them shaking. Elain and Azriel were sheltered from the rain but damp still drifted in, causing his hair to curl at the nape of his neck.
”I love the sound of rain.” She told him, her gaze didn’t even flicker as she continued to stare into the sheet of rain and the water falling from where it had pooled on the roof.
“I know you do.”
At that, she twisted to look at him. A look of determination plastered on her face. He had never seen such fire in her eyes.
“You know me, Azriel. And I know you. I know you only pretend to read your reports when you sit in the garden with me. I know you track my every moment and I know this because I do the same. I know you like to read, that you have glasses that you hide away and only bring out in the dead of night so you can read your book by the fire. I know your smile, your true smile. The one you only wear when you think no one is looking. I know your favourite colour is cobalt blue, just like your siphons, because it brings you comfort but you prefer to wear black. I know your favourite flower is an orchid and that you have one that you’ve managed to keep alive for two years now. I know that when you can’t sleep, you like to look at the stars. And I know you know similar things about me, Azriel. I know you care. So why do we tiptoe around each other? Why do we hold each other at arm's length? I know you said that what happened on the Solstice was a mistake but you’re wrong. You don’t make mistakes, not like that. Please, tell me you meant it. That the moment we shared was real.”
He could feel her desperation, he could see it stark in her wide eyes. The rain crashed around them, but it failed to drown out his heart thundering in his chest. This was everything he wanted. The female he loved confessing everything he sought to tell her himself. Everything was laid bare, a riot of emotions that they both could drown in. He opened his mouth, ready to confirm that no, it wasn’t a mistake and everything that had happened between them, the spark, the cord that had been pulled taut, was real. But the words Rhysand had spoken to him that night, after he had called him away from Elain, rose unbidden in his mind. Allow me to make one thing clear , he had said, you are to stay away from her . And as much as he had raged, as he had roared and rampaged, Rhysand was his High Lord. And to go against his orders was to risk everything. He knew that Rhysand wanted only the best for him, that he didn’t want to risk Lucien initiating the Blood Duel as it would destroy every chance of an alliance with the Autumn Court, as well as the Spring Court, Jurian and Vassa. It would destroy everything they had been working for. But that would never stop him from wanting her. However, there was a possibility that Rhysand would never allow him to see Elain again, and that would be the thing that would finally break him. It was better for her to hate him than for them to be separated forever. So he kept his mouth shut, pulled the noose tight around his heart and pushed the storm of desire back into the corners of his mind. A single shadow snaked over his shoulder and wrapped around his ear.
“I’m sorry.”
Azriel had seen many horrors over his long life. He had seen his chosen brother die. He had seen his other brother have his wings shredded twice. He had fought in two wars, knee-deep in bodies and covered in death. He had watched as the two monsters he had known as his step-brothers poured oil over his hands and set them alight, laughing all the while. But Azriel had never felt his heart shatter as much as it did when he took in Elain’s heartbroken expression, her lip trembling and silver beginning to line her eyes. He watched as the precious bond he had so carefully crafted between them broke into a thousand pieces, and he felt both their hearts doing the same.
“I understand.”
Her voice was shaking, it had lost the volume it had had when she had sung earlier. She had seen so much in her short life. She’d seen war, seen peace. She’d even delved into the future as a Seer. But she had not seen this coming. He’d seen the certainty on her face as she had poured her heart out to him, like a river rushing over a waterfall. She’d handed him her heart, and he had cracked it in two.
There was nothing left to be said. So he abandoned her, the angelic maiden left alone by her lover at night, fleeing from the garden and into the house. He ran through the rain, frantic and grief-stricken. The downpour had started to lessen, the storm passing over Velaris and into the mountains. Still, the rain soaked him, his hair and clothes becoming sodden in less than a minute. He dripped onto the floor as he entered the house, slowly making his way upstairs. He felt a claw of dark night brush against his mind but he only reinforced his mental shields instead of lowering them as the owner of the power had requested. Rhys could wait. He was certain he wouldn’t be able to face him without breaking down and doing something he would regret. Normally, Azriel was a fortress. He let nothing slide, nothing show. Only those closest to him were allowed to see a crack in the fortress, the briefest glimpse of emotion. Nothing else. But there was something about Elain that stripped him down, leaving him as bare as the day he was born. With her, he was at his most vulnerable and the whirlwind of emotions left him unable to pull up his shields. He had been left alone with a kelpie, prepared to rip him to shreds, without a speck of armour or weapons. He needed to collect himself. To be able to rest and gather up his bruised and battered heart and shut the door to protect himself against any other harm that may come his way. It seemed to follow him everywhere.
When he opened the door to the chamber he would be staying in for the night, he noticed that the windows had been flung wide open and that the room had been flooded by a rich earthy scent. The kind that was only produced after the rain had struck soil. He walked up to the windows to see the rain had stopped, giving him a full view of the gazebo. Elain had vanished, likely back to her room to mourn the loss of what could have been. The scent was stronger here. He knew there was a name for it, Elain had told him after they had been caught in a storm several months into their friendship, a friendship that seemed to have dissolved before his very eyes moments before. Petrichor.