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Azriel had told himself that asking Gwyn to be his date to the Winter Solstice party was a means to an end. It wasn’t a ‘real date,’ after all – it was simply his best friend attending Rhys and Feyre’s party with him so that he wouldn’t be the only person without a partner. Yes, tonight was not about being “Gwyn’s date”, it was about ensuring his family didn’t cast pitying glances his way all evening.
But when she’d met him on the terrace of the House, swathed in a long-sleeved velvet dress that appeared to be spun from the midnight sky, he couldn’t help the way his stomach had flipped. He couldn’t help the breath that had been stolen from his lungs as her hips swayed when she approached him. He couldn’t help but feel like he was truly her date .
The feeling only intensified when they had entered the river house together, arms linked. Azriel’s family had spotted him with the pretty Valkyrie on his arm and the spymaster’s back had straightened with pride, his shadows purring contentedly. The week leading up to the party, Azriel had notified everyone in the inner circle that Gwyn would be attending as his friend, wanting to ensure no one mistook their relationship and made the priestess uncomfortable by mistake. Now though, with Gwyn mingling and making Rhys laugh and even leading everyone in a carol song after dinner, he found he wanted her to be his real date.
“Are you alright, Shadowsinger?” Gwyn asked, catching him staring at her, lost in thought.
Azriel nodded emphatically. “Yes, yes.” He pointed to the copper mug of mulled wine she’d been nursing. “Do you want some more?”
“Oh, yes please,” she smiled, thrusting the cup at his chest. She pointed to the roaring hearth across the parlor they’d all retired to after supper. “Meet me over there?”
Azriel hummed in agreement and exited the room, the busy conversation dulling to a hum as he trailed further down the hall and into the vacant kitchen.
Ladling more warm wine into the two copper mugs, Azriel took a moment to gather his thoughts. He had explicitly brought Gwyn here to be his date, friend or not. Perhaps it was only natural he was feeling these… things. Perhaps for tonight, it was permissible to desire Gwyneth Berdara as his date. Perhaps that could be his Solstice gift to himself – to allow himself to consider Gwyn as more than his best friend.
She’s always been more… his shadows crooned.
Azriel double-fisted the mugs, rolling his eyes. I am aware of your fondness for her.
We are aware of yours… they sang back.
They were always a little saucier when he’d had a bit to drink. Perhaps that wasn’t such a bad thing. At least not for tonight.
🌲
“But think about it,” Gwyn said, bracing her free hand atop the plush carpet they sat on, her teal eyes fixed on Azriel so intensely that his heart stuttered. “Just think about the incredible things that you could do for Prythian!”
The mulled wine had numbed his self-preservation, he didn’t care that his family milling about the room could be potentially eavesdropping on their conversation. “I’m not blind to the influence I have with being spymaster to the most powerful High Lord in Prythian. But you forget that this position– it comes at a cost, Berdara.” Azriel exhaled heavily, rolling his eyes. “It’s difficult to only be seen as ‘the shadowsinger’ or ‘the spymaster’ instead of who I am. You’ve got no idea how aggravating that is.”
The fire from the hearth beside them set the priestess’s hair aflame as she took a timid sip from her cup, then grimaced. “I don’t?”
His stomach turned, cheeks heating at the mistake. Of course Gwyn had an idea of how aggravating it was to be defined by what she was rather than who she was. She was a priestess in the library known as a haven for victims of trauma, and a Carynthian — yet people only seemed to consider the latter. She was consistently viewed as fragile and breakable, most only seeing her circumstances and not her achievements.
“Apologies,” Azriel murmured, glaring at his wine as he set it down on the rug beside them. The stupid drink was to blame for his poor choice of words. “But until you become High Lord of every Court, my stupid, idealistic plans will have to wait.”
“Training females in self defense is not stupid or idealistic,” Gwyn insisted. The eyes that had been glassy with drink seconds ago were now fierce with resolve. “What’s stupid is you not even trying to make a difference because you’re scared that people will judge you.”
Azriel leveled her with a look. “They will judge me. They’ll see me and think my aim is to recruit more eyes. My blood-soaked reputation has soiled any chance I have at appearing sincere–”
Gwyn interrupted him, her fierce expression now imploring. “No, no, no,” she slurred, putting down her cup now. “I may not leave the library often, but I am knowledgeable about Prythian and you are not alone in having an image that precedes you. Take High Lord Tarquin, he’s seen as young and naive when he has in actuality, made enormous strides for the Summer Court. Helion is known for his humor and debauchery, but he is in possession of the vastest library in the world. Kallias of the Winter Court is seen as cold and brusque, but his progressive legislation betrays his compassion.” Gwyn shook her head at him. “Nobody is just one thing, Shadowsinger. That is something that everyone can recognize.”
Gods and Cauldron and Mother above, she was stunning. The passion in her voice, the conviction in her eyes. It was a siren’s song to his soul.
She went on, “The position you have been given comes with specific duties that have painted your reputation, true enough.” Her features softened into a knowing smile. “But that position is not who you are and more people know that than you realize. So I beg you, do not give up on your dream of educating the females of Prythian on how to defend themselves, Shadowsinger.”
Azriel felt the edge of his lip lift involuntarily at the warmth in her voice. Her vigor, her good nature, was truly infectious. He could drown in it.
“And now that I’m comfortable leaving the library, perhaps I could accompany you on this tour. You could offer me up as a demonstration!” she suggested eagerly.
The smile on Azriel’s lips broadened at her enthusiasm, at the way her eyes twinkled in the firelight. Even if it was only for tonight, he was honored to be her date. Anyone would be, were they lucky enough to be in his position. Gwyn was clever and kind and spirited. A breath of fresh air.
Gwyn winced then, laughing softly. “I’m sorry, Shadowsinger. I think the wine… My mouth has run away with me.”
Before he could stop himself, Azriel’s eyes darted to her mouth, the pink twist of those clever lips. When he forced himself to meet her eyes again, he found she was still smiling, but seemingly holding her breath. A tendril of shadow extended in her direction as though trying to draw her nearer and Azriel flushed.
Maybe it was the wine. Maybe it was the way she stroked his ego. Maybe it was that beautiful dress or her pretty face. Whatever it was, Azriel’s resolve to think of her as his date crumbled. He wanted to speak to her like she was his date.
Allowing just the barest hint of a smile, Azriel replied, “No, priestess, don’t apologize. It is your mouth that has me bewitched.”
Gwyn didn’t look surprised by the statement, but rather touched – her glittering eyes softening. Her stare darted to his lips and Azriel thought his chest may burst. He fought the pleasant haze of alcohol, allowing her another moment to consider if this was what she wanted. It was the longest moment of his life.
Then Gwyn leaned forward slightly, still sitting on her knees.
Throat bobbing, Azriel straightened as well, their gazes locking as little by little, they inched closer.
Face to face now, Azriel could hear her heavy breathing, see her chest heaving. The sparking in his chest flared and his heart squeezed. Gwyn smiled gently, the expression making her eyes narrow slightly. It undid him.
Azriel inclined his head, slanting his lips over hers. He stilled, allowing her to decide how far this would go.
After another agonizing moment, her lips moved against his, deepening the kiss. Azriel kissed her back, his brows drawing together as he tried to memorize the feel of her. Something about this event felt monumental. Like he would remember it until he was old and gray.
His hand lifted, sliding beneath her hair to cup the nape of her neck as the sound of their family conversing in the background faded into nothing. All Azriel could hear was the music of their thundering hearts as they gave in, mouths moving in a beautiful rhythm as old as time itself.
More. More. More.
He wanted more of her.
He wanted more evenings by the fire, drinking wine and trading stories.
He wanted these evenings until his dying breath.
He wanted and wanted and want—
A loud ‘whooping’ noise that could only belong to one of his brothers shattered the moment, and briefly, Azriel thought he was going to have to ruin this party and murder one of them. But then he felt Gwyn smile against his mouth, pulling away and looking out at the parlor with a bashful grin.
Surprised at how quickly his ire faded, Azriel mirrored Gwyn’s expression, following her gaze to where Cassian stood next to Nesta, applauding, clearly deep in his cups. The eldest Archeron was smiling like a cat who’d trapped its prey, glancing between the two Carynthians. By the bar-cart, Morrigan looked touched by the display, offering Azriel a warm smile.
When Cassian didn’t stop applauding and Rhysand joined in, Gwyn laughed, averting her gaze. Azriel followed suit, shaking his head.
But despite Azriel’s blushing and protests that everyone mind their business, he had never been happier.
🌲
Azriel walked Gwyn to the top of the stairs, leading down to the library’s dormitories, stopping short at the exit when she turned and placed her palms on his chest in warning. “We’ll say goodnight here. I don’t want to wake anybody.”
Azriel nodded, quite liking the feeling of Gwyneth Berdara’s hands on him. He looked down at her and smiled softly, which immediately resulted in a flattering shade of pink painting her speckled cheeks. “I appreciate it, Berdara, you being my date tonight. You may have saved my Winter Solstice.”
Gwyn laughed, a quiet sound. “A priestess does what she can, Shadowsinger.”
Before he could stop himself, he corrected her earnestly, “ Azriel. ”
The priestess’s eyes flashed, her grin was demure as she nodded and said, “Handsome.”
Azriel blinked in surprise, struggling not to chuckle at her. He clearly wasn’t the only one who had a bit too much to drink tonight.
Gwyn’s hands left his chest, coming up to cover her mouth. “Oh, I– No, I–”
The shadowsinger smiled and returned, “Beautiful.”
Her teeth sank into her lower lip, but he could tell she wasn’t displeased with his compliment. In fact, his shadows were kind enough to relay that she was ‘delighted.’ A Solstice gift of their own as they were often keen on giving the priestess her privacy.