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Gwyn watched as all the lights in Velaris went out at once. Shops, restaurants, the riverside walk. She’d had this ritual for a few days now—training until two in the morning, when the city’s bright lights gave way to darkness. Once the streets below turned black, it was her cue to stop.
It was weird, she thought, to see such a bustling city go so still. Only the dim street lamps were on, leading the way home, but the whole city seemed to be asleep. Unlike herself.
And unlike the Shadowsinger behind her.
“Need help?”, she tossed over her shoulder.
“It’s alright,” Azriel put the last dagger away before his eyes scanned the training ring, checking that everything was as neat as they’d found it for the next morning.
Gwyn turned her attention back to the sky. Millions of galaxies seemed to float above her head, the stars blinking back at her. The view from up there was truly breathtaking.
“It’s getting cold,” she felt a solid presence leaning on the railing next to her, his voice deep and low. “You’ll freeze out here.”
She arched a teasing eyebrow, “And you won’t?”
The Shadowsinger shrugged, “I’m used to the cold up in the Illyrian mountains. I’ll be fine.”
Gwyn rested her head on the palm of her hand, “Well, I happen to be enjoying the view,” she side-eyed him with amusement. “So you’ll have to drag me inside if you want me to leave so badly.”
Azriel snorted next to her, “Is that a challenge?”
“That’s up to you, Shadowsinger.”
Azriel nudged her arm, but didn’t drag her inside. Part of her felt disappointed—she wanted to see him try. Although he’d probably just toss her over a shoulder unceremoniously and leave. He was much bigger and stronger than her, so it was definitely a possibility. She smirked at the mental picture.
“What’s so amusing?”, when she turned her head to look at him, his lips were twitching up in the faintest hint of a smile.
“Nothing,” with a happy sigh, she let her head fall against his shoulder. Her eyes landed on the sky above once more. “I’ve never seen so many stars. It’s always cloudy at night.”
If her head on his shoulder bothered him, Azriel didn’t say a thing. It’d become a regular thing, kind of, to share little touches like this. She’d put her head on his shoulder and he’d rest his hand on the small of her back as they walked together. Nothing more than friendly touches, right?
Gwyn usually tried to not overthink it too much, but naturally she failed.
“Let’s see,” his voice was low, as if he didn’t wish to disturb the silence. It sent a chill down her spine. Then, he lifted a finger and pointed at the sky. “That’s nine stars in that constellation over there.”
Gwyn chuckled and stood straight next to him, shaking the distracting thoughts out of her mind. Azriel immediately missed the weight of her head on his shoulder, although he said nothing.
“You counted them? Just like that?”, she arched an amused eyebrow.
He smirked. “What, like it’s difficult? And look, on that constellation over there I think I see fourteen.”
“You’re unbelievable,” she laughed.
He nudged her again. “Come on, Berdara. Your turn. Or aren’t you capable of doing something as simple as counting stars?”
Gwyn could hear the amusement in his voice, and it made her stomach flutter. It was rare of Azriel to show this easygoing, fun side to the world. Yet he always seemed to be in a good mood around her, and recently she’d started questioning if it was a mere coincidence.
“I’ll show you counting stars .” Gwyn pushed the Spymastery out of her mind again and narrowed her eyes towards the sky. “I think that’s… eleven? No, wait. I missed one. So that’s twelve.”
“What constellation are you looking at?”
“That one,” she pointed with a slim finger. “Do you see it?”
“I think so,” he almost chuckled. “But that’s fifteen stars, not twelve.”
Gwyn let out a frustrated groan and rested her head on her hands. Azriel laughed next to her.
“Not funny. You’re just messing with me,” she accused him, even if her tone was playful.
“I’m not. You’re just not very good at counting stars. And a sore loser.”
She knew what he was doing. That stupid competitive streak of him was totally messing with her, even if he didn’t want to admit it.
“You just want to win at a made-up game,” she said.
Azriel turned around to face her, resting sideways on the railing. Gwyn noticed that his smirk reached his eyes.
“I don’t need to resort to made-up games to win, Berdara.”
“You don’t sound so sure about that,” she faced him too so he could see the fire in her eyes, the challenge in them. But he only appeared more amused by the second.
“Oh, but I am.”
Gwyn rolled her eyes at the Shadowsinger.
“Whatever you say,” she teased him. “It’s quite pointless to count stars anyway, Az.”
“It’s also quite pointless to count freckles, but I know you have seven on your right hand.”
Gwyn’s breathing caught.
Azriel mentally punched himself. That shouldn’t have come out of his goddamn mouth.
“I didn’t…,” he started, wanting the ground to swallow him up really badly. “I didn’t mean to…”
“You’re right. I have seven freckles on my right hand,” then Gwyn extended her left hand towards him. “Count them for me?”
Azriel held his breath as his eyes landed on her smooth skin, peppered with tiny freckles all over. He tried to focus on them, even if his heart was beating so fast he thought it might explode.
“Nine,” he swallowed. “You’ve got nine freckles on your left hand.”
When he finally looked at her, the ghost of a smile flickered across her full lips. He shouldn’t be looking at her lips.
“Correct,” her eyes met his, and even in the darkness of the night he swore they were shining.
Azriel swallowed. “Gwyn, I…”
He didn’t know if he should apologise, if him being so observant had freaked her out completely. Because what kind of person counted the freckles on his friend’s hand when she wasn’t looking?
But whatever he was going to say, she beat him to it.
“You counted them,” it wasn’t a question. There was some kind of emotion in her voice that he couldn’t place, and it made his stomach drop.
Was there any point in denying it now?
“I did. I’m sorry.”
Gwyn’s eyes widened slightly. “Sorry? What are you sorry for?”
Freaking her out. Scaring her off. Ruining this.
“Azriel,” she almost never said his name. Always ‘Shadowsinger’, sometimes ‘Az’, but never ‘Azriel’. And that’s how he knew he had messed up for real.
“I’m sorry,” he repeated, because there was nothing else to say.
He should’ve never let his guard down around her. It happened pretty much instantly after they met—an easing feeling had settled in his chest and it had never left since. His shadows reached out to her, tangled in her hair, and for some reason his breathing always came easier when Gwyn was around.
But he should’ve never, ever, let it get to this point. To the point where he spoke not his mind, but his heart out loud. He didn’t even think his words over—and that wasn’t like him. Or maybe it was, but only with her. It was dangerous.
“Why did you count them?”, the question surprised him, but he couldn’t sense reproach in her voice.
And maybe that’s why he answered, “I like your freckles.”
Gwyn’s heart leaped. She could be reading all of this wrong. She could be about to make the worst and most embarrassing mistake of her life. But she couldn’t ignore the magnetic pull tugging at her, telling her to just do it. To just try .
So she did.
She leaned forward across the small space between them and pressed her lips softly to Azriel’s. His lips froze on hers, and her stomach dropped until she felt sick. A mistake. All of this had been a terrible, stupid mistake—
Suddenly, she felt the warmth of his hand cradling her cheek. Azriel’s lips started moving against hers, kissing her back, making her stomach drop again in a completely different way.
She sighed as he kissed her, and all too slowly she realised that this was her first kiss ever. Panic rose inside her chest at the thought. What if she was an awful kisser? Surely this wasn’t Azriel’s first kiss, so what if he absolutely hated it? What if he regretted it?
As if sensing her distraught thoughts, Azriel rested his other hand on the small of her back and brought her closer to his chest. She instantly relaxed in his embrace.
A few seconds felt like a sweet eternity and she pulled away, gasping for air. Her eyes found him, his stare as warm as she was feeling inside. Azriel’s thumb caressed her cheek.
“I was starting to believe you’d never do that,” he confessed, the faintest hint of a smile on his now puffy lips. She’d done that .
“Well, you could’ve kissed me first,” she retorted. But they both knew he wouldn’t have. The first move had always belonged to her.
“I can kiss you second,” he offered.
Gwyn smiled, “Please.”
His thumb kept circling the soft skin on her cheek as they kissed again. Slowly, gently, exploring. And as Velaris sat in darkness below them, something inside their chests began to glow.