Chapter Text
Lucien was miserable.
He supposed he should be trying to enjoy himself. Cassian and Nesta’s mating ceremony was the biggest event in Velaris after all. The ceremony itself had been an intimate affair, held inside the chapel in the Library at the House of Wind. At Nesta’s request, there had been a gorgeous selection of music as the two made promises to one another, wrapped a silky golden cord around their conjoined hands, slipped rings on one another’s fingers, and fed each other stale biscuits (Lucien had no idea what that was all about) before the guests made their way to the House for the after party. The furniture had been cleared to open up the space for dancing and merriment, alcohol lightening the mood and weakening the sensibilities of everyone who attended. Everyone, that is, except for Lucien.
Instead, Lucien found himself sulking in the corner of the room, sipping on his sixth glass of red wine and surveying the room, trying and failing to look at anyone apart from Elain as she twirled around the dance floor with Azriel. She had already danced with nearly everyone at the party - Rhysand, Cassian, Mor, and even Varian - but not Lucien. Beyond a stilted greeting before the bonding ceremony during which Elain made no eye contact with him, it seemed she was content with continuing to pretend he and the bond that connected them did not exist. It was as though she were allergic to the thought of spending even one second so much as looking at him.
The mating bond was killing him slowly. It was a special kind of torture to know the bond existed and yet have no actual connection to Elain. And it wasn’t for lack of trying - Lucien had tried as hard as he could to get to know her without putting pressure on her or scaring her. The last thing he wanted was to make her feel smothered or trapped by this thing that neither of them asked for in the first place. But being around her and being actively ignored by her sometimes became more than he could stand. Occasionally, when he felt bold enough, he tugged lightly on the bond just to make sure it wasn’t all in his head, and he was always met with a startled glare, or a flash of anger if Elain wasn’t in the room with him. Most days, the mating bond was nothing but a dull hum, with the occasional pulse of strong emotion. Those rare moments when Lucien was suddenly flooded with overwhelming joy, he felt a mixture of relief that Elain was happy wherever she was, and a pang of envy at whoever or whatever had been able to coax that emotion out of her.
Lucien’s eyes narrowed, his mechanical eye clicking in an agitated manner, as he watched the way Elain looked at Azriel. He imagined that Azriel thought him stupid the way he flaunted his connection with Elain every chance he got, as though he didn’t think Lucien would notice. But Lucien always noticed. He noticed everything.
Lucien drained the rest of his goblet of wine in a single swallow and stood, unable to tolerate the party anymore. Feeling a slight buzz that should have been pleasant, he turned his focus upon making a smooth exit to his guest room upstairs. He wished he could just leave, crash with Vassa and Jurian for the night, but nobody with wings was in any state to fly in a straight line tonight. Lucien skirted around a small priestess and her winged Illyrian friend who he recognized from his occasional visits to Valkyrie training as being close friends of Nesta’s, before slipping toward the staircase. He had nearly made a clean exit when he ran into Cassian, returning to the party from the kitchens with extra bottles of wine.
“Leaving so soon?” Cassian bellowed, eyes slightly unfocused and grinning from ear to ear.
Lucien nodded, plastering a false smile on his face. “Yes, my apologies. I’m needed back in the human lands early tomorrow morning,” he lied.
Cassian’s attention was drawn over Lucien’s shoulder. He turned and his eyes settled on what had distracted Cassian. Nesta, spinning around the dance floor with Feyre, arms stretched gracefully over her head and her face radiating pure joy. Lucien couldn’t help but smile at the sight.
Jes always liked to dance too.
No. Breathe in, breathe out. Banish the thought.
Shaking his head slightly, he smiled at Cassian. “Congratulations to you both,” he said.
Cassian clapped Lucien on the shoulder and surged forward toward his mate. Lucien sighed and turned back toward the stairs.
The sound of voices caught his attention as he ascended toward his room, the tones hushed and tense. Lucien slowed, not wanting to interrupt, until he picked up Rhys’s voice speaking his name.
Lucien froze near the top of the stairs. He hadn’t planned on eavesdropping, but because the conversation seemed to involve him somehow, he supposed it was only fair.
“…thought you’d gotten over this after Solstice.”
“Rhys, don’t,” answered another voice. Azriel.
“No, listen to me,” Rhys hissed. “I hate to pull rank, but you have to stand down. Especially when he’s in the same room as you. That thing at Solstice was bad enough, but this was just recklessly brazen, especially for you.”
Lucien blinked. Solstice? What had happened at Solstice?
“Why should Lucien be any of my concern?” Azriel snapped.
“Because he’s her mate, Az,” Rhys replied.
“Don’t remind me.”
“Apparently I have to, since you two can’t seem to keep your hands off each other.”
Lucien couldn’t breathe.
“I don’t recall you demonstrating the purest of intentions with Feyre when she was engaged to someone else.”
“Not your strongest argument, considering Feyre is my mate and Tamlin was content to keep her caged in that house for eternity.”
“And Elain gets no say in this?” Azriel said, his voice rising in volume. “She seems to have made her choice.”
“She hasn’t had any opportunity to get to know Lucien.”
“It’s not my fault she doesn’t want anything to do with him!”
Lucien stiffened, his ears ringing and pulse increasing. His golden eye began to whirl around erratically, as if picking up on his rising confusion and anger. It was only then that Lucien noticed that the conversation had halted. Then he heard Rhys sigh.
“Come out of hiding, little fox.”
Lucien winced. Jaw set, he emerged onto the landing and faced Rhys and Azriel. Rhys was leaning against the wall, two fingers rubbing the bridge of his nose in exasperation. Azriel, however, had assumed a subtle fighting stance, his shadows wreathed around his wings and cobalt siphons glowing slightly as he glared at Lucien.
Lucien burned with fury as he returned Azriel’s hostile gaze. “Is it true?”
Azriel glanced over at Rhys who looked furious. “Explain,” said Rhys. “Tell him everything. Just promise that if you try to kill each other you’ll do it in the training ring. I don’t want blood staining my floors.”
Rhys turned on his heel and stalked away back toward the party, leaving Lucien and Azriel staring daggers at one another. Lucien breathed deeply, struggling to maintain a composed demeanor.
“Is it true?” Lucien repeated.
“Is what true?” Azriel asked. Lucien couldn’t believe the audacity of the male, pretending Lucien was stupid enough not to notice his advances toward Elain and that he hadn’t just overheard their entire conversation.
“Don’t insult me,” Lucien said evenly. “Are you pursuing Elain?”
Azriel had the decency to look the slightest bit ashamed. “Yes.”
Lucien swallowed, his pulse pounding in his ears. “And Solstice?”
Azriel’s face moved in and out of shadow rapidly. It unsettled Lucien. “Nothing happened.”
“But you wanted it to?” Lucien pressed.
Azriel’s eyes dropped. “Yes.”
Lucien closed his eyes. There was a roaring in his ears. He felt like he might pass out. He fought hard against the primal and possessive feelings of the mating bond chafing against the threat of another male, hating the way it seemed to transform him into a territorial monster. The large quantities of wine in his system did not help matters.
Azriel maintained his fighting stance, but raised his hands in mock surrender. “Now isn’t the time for this.”
Lucien scoffed. “Of course. When would be a better time for you to explain to me why you’re willing to openly defy your High Lord to pursue a mated female?”
“What do you want from me, Lucien? An apology?”
“We both know you’re not sorry, so why don’t you save your breath?” Lucien snapped.
“You don’t own her,” Azriel said, a venom in his tone that hadn’t been there before. His shadows pulsed, shrouding the hallway in darkness. “She didn’t ask for this.”
“And you think I did?” Lucien spat, swaying a bit on his feet from the wine. “You think it’s been a walk in the park, all these months of being ignored?”
Azriel’s glare was murderous, his face shrouded in shadow. “Return to the party, Lucien,” he said slowly. “We can discuss this in the morning.”
“I don’t answer to you.”
“I know that,” Azriel hissed. “But I’d hate for Cassian and Nesta’s party to be ruined because we couldn’t remain civilized for a single evening.”
Lucien burned with rage. Azriel was right, of course, but the stubborn side of him prodded him to fight back. Eventually, however, the exhausted and drunk side of him won out instead. “Fine,” Lucien conceded. “But do me a favor, and at least wait until I’m out of earshot before you start whispering sweet nothings into the ear of my mate.”
“Pleasure’s all mine,” Azriel said, plastering a grin on his face.
With a final glare, Lucien shoved past the shadowsinger, making his way to the guest room prepared for him, hoping to sleep off the inevitable hangover and forget the way Elain’s eyes had sparkled as she danced with Azriel.