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The clashing of swords rang out in the circular space of the training ring under a clear blue sky.
Over on one side of the ring, Gwyn, Nesta, and Emerie were working through another complex obstacle course under Cassian’s watch, while on the other side Azriel monitored the swordwork of the other priestesses.
As he was correcting Deirdre’s stance and handle grip, taking care not to touch her, his shadows screamed in his ear. A split second later, the sound of Gwyn’s shriek across the ring made his blood freeze to ice in his veins. He dropped the sword in his hand and sprinted over, faster than he had ever run in his life. He crashed to his knees at Gwyn’s head, next to Nesta who was already crouched over her.
Tears leaked from Gwyn’s teal eyes, her whole face twisted in pain and ghostly white, making her freckles stand out like leopard spots. Even Azriel’s iron stomach turned as he looked down her body to see that her ankle was broken. Horrifically broken. Three inches of bone jutted out from the side of her ankle, which was twisted sideways at a ninety-degree angle from where it should have been.
“Az—Az—Az—” Gwyn stuttered, her voice shaking, unable to get any more words. She was leaning up on her elbows and her head alternated between falling back in pain and lifting back up wearily.
Azriel shifted to sit behind her to support her head and upper body. “Shhh,” he soothed her, stroking her hair back from her forehead and pressing a kiss to her clammy skin. “It’s going to be okay, sweetheart, I promise. I’ve got you. You just need to breathe.”
Cassian, Nesta, and Emerie were all huddled around Gwyn, and every one of their jaws dropped at his words. At the way he was holding Gwyn. He ignored them all.
Gwyn’s shaking hands grabbed his, holding onto them like a lifeline. He gently stroked his thumbs over the back of her hands.
He said in her ear, “I’m going to winnow out and get Madja—”
She clutched at him wildly. “No—no—don’t leave me, please don’t leave me, please don’t leave me.” Her slurred voice was high and taut with pain.
“Okay, okay, shhh, I won’t leave you, sweetheart,” he said, pacifying her.
RHYS, he yelled out in his head.
What happened? Rhys’ answer came immediately, clearly alarmed by Azriel’s tone.
You have to bring Madja to the ring RIGHT FUCKING NOW.
Okay, I’m on my way. What happened?
Gwyn got injured. Badly.
“Alright,” Azriel murmured to Gwyn, “Rhys is bringing Madja right now. You just need to hold on a little longer, okay?”
She nodded jerkily, her grip on his hands tightening, whimpers escaping from behind her clenched teeth. His shadows whispered protectively over her torso, her neck and arms. Cassian tracked their movements, his eyes glancing at Azriel, accusatory. But Az still ignored him, focusing on his thumbs sweeping circles over Gwyn’s skin. He murmured soothing noises into her ear and kissed her temple.
Across the ring, the priestesses gathered, watching motionlessly. He could hear their murmurs marking the way he held Gwyn. One of them caught a glimpse of her mangled ankle and promptly threw up over by the rock wall.
A movement up above caught Azriel’s eye and he looked up to see Rhys soaring down, wings spread, with Madja in his arms. When they landed, she hurried over, Rhys on her heels.
His eyes widened as he caught sight of Gwyn in Azriel’s arms, the same accusatory look in his eyes that Cassian had.
Madja wasted no time, circling her hands over Gwyn’s ankle to assess before she turned to Rhys and said, “Go into her mind and take away the pain.”
A second later Gwyn sagged against Azriel in relief. She buried her face in the side of his neck, taking deep breaths.
Madja worked her magic quickly and efficiently, and soon the bone was back inside where it belonged and the ankle pushed into place, the ragged skin gradually knitting back together.
“She’ll need to stay off it for a bit,” Madja said to Azriel as it closed, bright red skin left behind. “But it should be fine in a day or two.”
He nodded. “Thank you,” he said hoarsely to her. And without a word to Cassian or Rhys, or any of the others, he gathered Gwyn’s limp form in his arms, rose, and strode out of the ring.
Behind him he could hear Cassian’s bewildered question to Nesta and Emerie: “Did either of you know?” But Azriel headed down the stairs toward his bedroom, disappearing before he could hear any more.
He laid Gwyn on his bed, lying down next to her and holding her to his chest. She burrowed close, still shaking with the after-effects of the pain and adrenaline. He stroked soothing lines up her back as she took deep breaths.
He kissed her forehead and murmured, “You really had to tell everyone about us in the most dramatic way possible, didn’t you?”
Gwyn huffed a laugh, the corners of her mouth turning up. She quickly fell into an exhausted sleep, curled up against him.
The shadows whispered to him that Cassian and the others were milling around outside his door, so after making sure that Gwyn was fast asleep, he carefully pulled his arm out from under her and drew up the blankets around her shoulders.
Muttering to his shadows to keep any noise out of the room so she wouldn’t be disturbed, he slipped out and shut the door behind him.
Rhys, Cassian, and Nesta all had their arms crossed, looking at him suspiciously. Only Emerie had a smirk on her face, her brows high.
Azriel glared at them. “Why are you all loitering outside my bedroom?”
“Are you and Gwyn together?” Nesta demanded.
Her question rang out, echoing in the hallway, and Azriel let the silence draw out, the way he often did during his interrogations. It had the intended effect; they shuffled their feet uncomfortably. Except Emerie, who still wore that tiny knowing smile.
Azriel finally took mercy on them. “Yes,” he said shortly, a rumble in his deep voice.
“How could you not tell us?” Nesta exclaimed indignantly.
Azriel raised a brow. “Well for one, I don’t answer to you. For another, Gwyn wasn’t ready to talk about it yet.”
Emerie piped up, asking curiously, “Has it been about a month?”
Azriel paused for a beat, assessing her, before nodding. “Thirty-three days.”
“Wait,” Cassian interjected, turning to Emerie, “Did you know?”
Nesta gaped at her.
But Emerie shook her head. “No, she hasn’t said anything. But she’s seemed different lately.” She looked at Azriel, adding, “Good different.”
He gave her a ghost of a smile.
“I don’t…” Nesta seemed at a loss for words. She glanced at Emerie. “I don’t understand why she didn’t tell us.”
“I don’t want to speak for her,” Azriel said carefully, “But I think she wasn’t ready to answer any questions.”
Nesta opened her mouth and then closed it again. Understanding dawning in her eyes.
“She was going to tell you when she was ready,” Azriel added softly. Nesta met his gaze and nodded.
Azriel’s voice hardened. “Now you all need to clear out and stop skulking in front of my bedroom door. She needs to rest.”
Nesta and Emerie left, Cassian on their heels. He tossed Azriel a look over his shoulder as if to say, We’ll talk more about this later.
Only Rhys remained. Watching Azriel silently. And Az returned it, his face an expressionless mask.
“If you tell me to stay away from her,” Azriel finally said coldly, “I fucking swear to the Mother I will quit your court.”
Rhys blanched, his mouth thinning. “I won’t,” he said stiffly. “So long as you’re not…”
“Not what?” snapped Azriel.
“Not…mistreating her in any way,” Rhys finished.
An icy darkness washed over Azriel’s features. “Good to know that’s what you think of me.”
And he turned around and walked back into his room, shutting the door behind him.