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Elain hummed softly to herself as she ambled through the gardens of the River House, stopping occasionally at different rose bushes to inspect a delicate bud before trimming it to add to her basket. It didn’t take long before the basket was full of beautiful blushing roses, their divine fragrance wrapping around her like a silk cloak, comforting and heavenly.
She brought the basket over to the wrought iron table, where she had set out a pair of pruning shears and a roll of ivory, scalloped edge lace ribbon. Elain set to work, her fingers moving with deft precision as she clipped away thorns, trimmed stems, and plucked stray leaves with the practiced ease of someone who had long made a home among plants and understood the language of flowers.
The motions were rhythmic, instinctive. A quiet ritual that brought a deep, steadying peace. The soft snip of her shears blended with the faint rustling of the petals and leaves, the fragrant scent of the roses rising to wrap around her like a gentle embrace.
There was a therapeutic serenity in this act, one that nothing else could quite replicate. A stillness that settled in her bones, soothing the quiet spaces of her mind.
Azriel had once likened it to sharpening his weapons, to the way his hands moved with the same care and precision when he honed the weapon’s edge, Truth-Teller in particular.
Elain had smiled at that, the contrast between them stark and yet, in its own way, poetic. His hands, calloused from battle and years spent wielding weapons and shadows, finding the same solace in steel that she found in petals. It was a different kind of tending, a different kind of artistry—but at its core, it was the same. A craft honed by instinct and devotion.
She had told him so that day, watching as the corner of his mouth curved ever so slightly, the shadow of a beautiful smile reserved only for her. And now, as she arranged the delicate roses before her, Elain wondered if Azriel, whenever he sharpened his weapons, had thought of that moment, too.
Just as she was tying the bouquet of roses together with the lace ribbon, Feyre joined her in the gardens. Her sister dressed in a silvery satin robe that brought out her eyes, the front tied together with the matching silk tie. Feyre’s golden brown hair was gathered into a braid that rested over one shoulder, slightly mussed up, and her feet were bare.
Something about seeing her sister so at ease and disarmed in the morning light made Elain’s heart constrict in her chest. Feyre deserved this and more—much, much more. Feyre deserved to have an easy life with a comfortable home, a loving mate and a wonderful family. She deserved to be loved and to be happy.
Elain gave her a smile that softened her sister’s eyes. “Thank you again for letting me take some roses from your garden, Feyre.”
Elain had been growing midnight blue roses in the Townhouse garden because it reminded her of Azriel’s siphons. As beautiful as they were, she wanted to gift Azriel blushing pink roses for Valentine’s. It felt more romantic and fitting for the occasion, and the roses here held a special significance to them.
Azriel had once admired the roses she grew in the River House gardens, had run a scarred finger gently over a blushing pink bloom, murmuring how exquisite it was. He had glanced at her then as he uttered those words, something unreadable in his hazel eyes, as if he were memorising the sight of her among the flowers and withholding something intrinsical.
That was why she wanted to give him these roses specifically. They signified something beautiful, something soft and cherished—something that told him, without words, that he was worthy of gentleness.
Feyre smiled brightly, her blue eyes glinting from what she might have seen in her expression as her eyes traced the delicate sprawl of roses. Her mind recalled the many moments of Azriel and herself strolling through the beds of flowers, their quiet companionship that grew into a quiet love which had fundamentally intertwined their souls together.
Reaching a hand over, Feyre squeezed her arm affectionately. “The garden that you planted. Of course you can have anything from it. I had to stop Rhys from coming out here and gathering all the flowers for you with magic.”
Elain tipped her head back and laughed, the sound bright and soft, her hair cascading over her shoulders. She had no doubt Rhysand had attempted exactly that, and she could only imagine how Feyre had managed to talk him out of it.
“Well, I’m glad you did,” said Elain with a soft smile. “It would break my heart if the garden was picked bare.”
She caught sight of Rhysand leaning against the threshold of the big doors leading into the kitchen, a steaming mug of coffee in hand.
He looked every bit like her brother-in-law and nothing like the High Lord of the Night Court, with his matching silver robe and his usually impeccably styled hair in disarray. Elain would rather believe that it was from sleep and not from her sister’s ministrations.
Rhysand tipped his head at her. With a fond smile, he floated a tray of tea and biscuits towards them with his magic before he slipped back into the kitchen to give the sisters some privacy. The aroma of her favourite tea wafted up towards them as the porcelain teapot magically poured them a cup each.
Feyre helped herself to the heart shaped biscuits while Elain sipped her cup of elderberry tea with honey, enjoying the soft breeze of the serene morning. They both admired the lovely bouquet of blush pink roses for a silent moment before Feyre leaned back against her chair and drank her tea.
“I’m sorry that Az can’t be here to celebrate Valentine’s with you,” Feyre murmured, cradling her teacup between her hands. “I thought he and Cass would be back by now.”
Azriel had always been reluctant to leave her for lengthy missions, but especially when there were special occasions around the corner. For all his shadows and silences, for all the mystery that clung to him like a second skin, and despite his cold aloof exterior, Elain had long since discovered that her husband and mate was quite the romantic at heart.
Azriel was the sort of male who never forgot anniversaries or small, cherished details. The sort who, despite the weight of his responsibilities as spymaster, would always find a way to make her feel adored and seen. Azriel had always appreciated her and made her feel cherished and loved in every sense.
Elain couldn’t help but smile at the thought of him. She traced the delicate lace ribbon tied around the bouquet, the intricate texture grounding her in his absence. “It can’t be helped,” she said quietly. “But I do hope they’re safe.”
As safe as they could be while hunting something as nightmarish as Draugrs.
Azriel had not divulged too much information or details about what these creatures were and how dangerous they were. He was always mindful about not wanting her to worry and was careful to shield her from unnecessary fear. But one trip to the library, on the morning Azriel and Cassian had departed for their mission, was enough to unravel her peace and keep Elain up until dawn, fretting herself into a corner despite Azriel’s well-intentioned considerations.
Feyre chuckled into her tea, breaking the hush of Elain’s thoughts. “I feel worse for Az. It must be eating him alive to be apart from you today.”
Elain shook her head fondly, a small, secretive smile playing on her lips. “He made preparations beforehand, just in case he was delayed.”
She exhaled softly, dreamily, at how absolutely perfect and considerate Azriel was. When she spoke, warmth and adoration honeyed her voice.
“I woke up this morning to the presents he had arranged for Nuala and Cerridwen to leave for me.”
Azriel had also sent her a romantic poem that he wrote through the shadows that he always kept stationed with her, to keep her guarded and to keep an open link between them for communication. Elain had already reread the poem a dozen times since she found it waiting for her on his pillow.
Feyre perked up at the mention of Azriel preparing presents for her, her eyebrows raised and mouth tilting into a mischievous little smile. “Did he gift you anything lacey?”
Elain wasn’t as open as her sisters were, especially when it came to sharing the intimate details of her relationship. But her blushing cheeks gave her away and Feyre nearly spilled her tea from how hard she laughed.
After enjoying a lovely time over the remainder of their tea service, Elain bid her sister farewell with a warm embrace. She didn’t wish to intrude on Feyre and Rhysand’s Valentine’s celebrations anymore than she already had. Gathering the bouquet in one hand, Elain made her way back home through the garden gates.
The walk through Velaris was gentle and serene, the city was bathed in the glow of the late morning. Couples strolled arm in arm, their murmured conversations drifting through the air like music. Wreaths of flowers adorned shop windows and lampposts, ribbons of pink, white and red fluttered in the light breeze. The essence of love and romance hung thick in the air, the entire Court of Dreams wrapped in their sweet embrace.
Musicians were playing love songs on the cobblestone streets leading home, the music weaving through the crisp air like a whispered promise. The soft lull of a flute and the gentle swell of strings made up a song that she knew well.
Elain paused mid-step, the bouquet of roses pressed lightly to her chest, her breath catching as recognition settled over her.
It was their song.
The one she and Azriel had danced to on the night of their mating ceremony, beneath the silver glow of the moon and stars, his strong hands steady and reverent on her waist. The song was etched into her soul, tied to the memory of Azriel’s hushed laughter, the way he had whispered her name like a sacred vow against her temple, the way he had held her as if she were the most precious thing in his world.
Elain approached the small crowd and joined them in listening to the musicians play. A soft smile curved her lips as she let the music wash over her, closing her eyes for a brief moment. The scent of roses filled her lungs as she dipped her chin slightly, breathing in the delicate fragrance of the blooms she had lovingly chosen for him.
For a fleeting moment, while being immersed in the music and scent that reminded Elain of her Mother-blessed mate, it almost felt like Azriel was right there with her.
Despite the ache in her chest, Elain did not allow the wistfulness to settle too deeply in her bones. Not when there was so much love lingering in the air.
A burst of giggles interrupted her thoughts, drawing her gaze downward just as a pair of children approached her. Fae and faerie alike, their little hands held out tentative gifts, their eyes bright with shyness and delight.
A fae boy, no older than seven, with fair skin and fairer hair shyly extended a single red rose to her, his pointed ears burning pink. A faerie girl with pale green skin and wide, luminous eyes held up a tiny, gilded box of assorted fae chocolates. Her sharp little teeth flashed in a hesitant but sweet smile.
Elain’s heart melted, warmth blooming in her chest like the very flowers she tended to around Velaris.
Elain bent down, her light pink dress pooling around her like a rippling pond filled with soft pink petals, and accepted their gifts with a grace that made the children beam shyly.
“These are lovely,” she said sincerely, her voice gentle as she tucked the rose into her bouquet and pressed the box of chocolate to her chest. “Thank you.”
They beamed up at her, then quickly scurried back to their waiting families, peeking over their shoulders as if to make sure she had truly liked their offerings.
Elain rised to her feet and watched them go, the smile on her lips lingering long after they had disappeared into the festive crowd, her newly acquired gifts clutched to her chest. When the song came to its final, lingering notes, she turned back to the musicians, placing a few silver coins into their instrument cases. They, in turn, bowed gallantly, lifting her hand to their lips to press courtly kisses to her knuckles.
A surprised flush dusted Elain’s cheeks at the charming attention, but she laughed, shaking her head shyly at their chivalry.
Her earlier melancholy had been chased away, replaced instead by something impossibly warm and bright.
Although Azriel couldn’t make it back in time for Valentine’s Day this year, it didn’t mean Elain couldn’t recreate the magic of the festivity she had just experienced and share it with him when he returned.
Elain had spent this morning baking Azriel’s favourite artisan bread, filling their home with the comforting scent of it, in anticipation of his return which had been delayed. She had prepared his gifts—the bouquet of blushing roses and something else, something more intimate, chosen with him in mind.
But now, inspired by the music that had stirred memories of their first dance, she found herself scheming something even grander.
Elain planned to hire the musicians to play for a private dinner for two, as a surprise for Azriel when he returns. Her mind whirred with ideas to decorate the garden in their Townhouse with fae lights and potted rose bushes, and prepare a menu that would remind Azriel of warmth and home. Perhaps a dish from his childhood, one he had mentioned in passing, or something decadent as a treat after his long mission.
Elain knew Azriel would feel guilty for missing today, that he would believe he had let her down despite all the love he gave her every single day.
But she would not let him think that.
She would show Azriel, just as he had always shown her, that their love was not measured by a single day, nor by grand gestures alone.
It was in the way he looked at her. The way he held her. The way his shadows always curled protectively around her, even when he was not physically by her side. The way he constantly made sure she knew how valuable she was. How he reminded her of her strengths and how much she inspired him.
Their love was one of perseverance. It blossomed and grew like flowers that were nurtured through patience, devotion and intentional care.
Elain was so lost in thought and her intricate planning for the romantic dinner that she didn’t even realise she had accidentally winnowed to the front gates of their home. She still found it disorienting and had yet to acquaint herself with this new ability of hers. The Cauldron had favoured her too much and Elain had yet to discover the ends of the powers that it had gifted her.
A gentle frown touched her brow as she neared the front door. The wards hummed faintly over her skin, a quiet ripple in the air, like an exhale of breath. Something felt different, but Elain did not feel anything malicious about the change. Only that there was a shift.
Her pulse quickened, fingers tightening around the stems of the bouquet. Could it be that Azriel was home?
Elain unlocked the door, pushed it open, and nearly ran inside in her haste. “Azriel?” She called softly, slightly tentative.
When she didn’t hear a response in the silence of their home, Elain fought off the disappointment. She toed off her shoes in the antechamber and placed the bouquet and chocolate on the console table before walking into the foyer.
And then she saw it.
The entire ground floor of the Townhouse had been transformed. It was dim, all the curtains had been drawn to block out the sunlight. Elain gasped, her eyes sweeping across the space.
Candles, nearly a hundred of them, glowed from every surface, their flickering light casting delicately dancing shadows along the walls. Pink, red and cream petals, soft and silken, trailed from the threshold in intentionally laid out patterns, leading towards the dining room where she could smell something divinely delicious. The air was also rich with the scent of roses, and candles, but there was the unmistakable scent of him underlying it.
Elain’s breath hitched. Her heart pounded.
“Azriel?” She called out again.
For a moment, there was only silence. Then, from the darkness, a shadow stirred. It gathered in the space before her, curling and shifting until Azriel stepped forward, materialising from the dark itself.
Elain barely had time to gasp before he was there, before he closed the distance in an instant and swept her into his arms.
A startled sound left her lips as Azriel lifted her effortlessly, crushing her against his broad, toned chest. Strong, scarred hands clutched at her, one wrapped securely around her waist, the other burying into her hair to cradle the back of her head as if anchoring her to him.
“Elain,” he breathed, voice thick, raw with something unspoken.
Her arms wound around his neck, fingers sliding into his still damp hair and lips pressed against his skin that was warm from the bath he must have just taken. “You’re home,” she whispered, her voice trembling.
His grip tightened. “I’m home, my love.”
Azriel’s wings curled slightly around them, cocooning her in his warmth. Elain clung to him, her fingers tangling in the curled hair at the nape of his neck, as if to reassure herself that he was real, that he was here. That he had returned to her safely.
She pulled back just enough to look at him, her eyes tracing the sharp planes of his handsome face. He was tired. She could see it in the shadows beneath his hazel eyes, in the way his jaw was taut with exhaustion. But beneath it, there was something else. Something she recognised all too well.
Longing.
“I missed you,” she murmured, her thumbs ghosting over his cheeks. “I missed you so much.”
Azriel closed his eyes for a brief second, leaning into her touch like a male starved. When he opened them again, there was something fierce in his gaze, something unguarded. “Not as much as I missed you.”
And then his lips were on hers.
The kiss was fervent, desperate and deep, filled with the ache of weeks spent apart. Elain melted into him, pressing herself closer as his hands roamed over her back, gripping her as if he needed to brand every inch of her into his memory.
His wings flared slightly, knocking some of the picture frames askew on either wall of the foyer. Azriel backed them toward the door of the antechamber, his strong, large body pressing her gently against it. Elain gasped into his mouth, and Azriel swallowed the sound hungrily, one hand cradling the back of her head while the other curled possessively around her waist.
She could taste the longing on his lips, feel the tremor in his hands as he touched her. It was as if Azriel had been unraveling without her, as if holding her now was the only thing tethering him to the present.
“Elain,” he whispered between kisses, her name a prayer, a plea. “Gods, I have missed you. I could hardly breathe without aching for you.”
She smiled against his lips, pulling back slightly to speak but Azriel chased after her mouth, capturing her swollen lips in another searing kiss. Elain couldn’t be certain how long had passed with them just kissing and tasting each other, their tongues tangled in such a sensual and ravishing dance that Elain could feel her panties stick to her from how damp it had become.
When Azriel finally pulled back to let her catch her breath, her hands cupped his face, thumbs tracing over his jaw. “I love you,” she breathed.
Azriel pressed his forehead against hers, his breath warm and uneven. “Say it again. Please.”
Elain smiled at the huskiness of his midnight voice, at the desperate plea. She brushed her lips over his once more. “I love you, Azriel.”
A quiet, shuddering exhale was released. His hands slid down to grip her hips, pulling her impossibly closer. “I love you too,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the corner of her mouth, then to her cheek, her jaw, the delicate line of her throat. “More than I can ever say.”
She sighed into him, tilting her head to give him more access, her hands roaming over the firm planes of his incredibly broad shoulders. “You don’t have to say it,” she whispered. “I feel it. I always do.”
Azriel let out a low, unsteady exhale, his breath hot against her skin. They stayed like that for a moment, just holding each other, breathing in each other’s scents. With each passing heartbeat, each breath, each gentle graze of skin, they slowly descend from their fervency.
Elain pulled back just enough to meet his gaze, her fingers toying with the collar of his black tunic. “Did you do all this for me?” she asked, glancing at the candlelit room and the path of petals.
Azriel let out a soft hum, his thumb rubbing gentle circles into her waist. “I wanted to surprise you with something special while waiting for you to come back.” His gaze darkened slightly. “And to make up for missing today.”
“You didn’t miss anything,” said Elain firmly, her fingers threading through his hair again. “You came home. That’s all I wanted.”
Something flickered in his expression, something vulnerable, almost penitent.
“Azriel,” she started as she held his gaze. “You didn’t miss anything. It’s still Valentine’s Day, you’re home safely and you surprised me with something so romantic. I’m as happy as I can be.”
His eyes softened at her smile. Then, with a slow, aching tenderness, he leaned down, capturing her lips in a kiss.
Elain fluttered her eyes open and smiled up at him. “I have something for you.”
Azriel lifted a brow, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Oh?”
Elain giggled, slipping out of his embrace long enough to push open the door to the antechamber. She reached inside, collecting the carefully arranged bouquet she had prepared for him. When she spun back around, her smile was bright, luminous, as she handed him the bouquet of blushing pink roses, soft and delicate, with a single deep red rose nestled at the centre.
Azriel’s brows lifted slightly, a quiet look of surprise crossing his features before his expression melted into something deeper, something utterly undone. He reached out, tracing a careful finger over one of the blush pink petals.
“They’re as beautiful as you are. Thank you, love.” Azriel murmured, his voice endearingly tender, and planted a kiss on the crown of her head. “This is why you were at the River House?”
Elain nodded. She didn’t have to ask to know that Azriel must have checked on her whereabouts with his shadows the moment he returned to an empty house.
“The red rose is from a young fae boy,” Elain pointed out. “He was so endearingly shy, it was the sweetest thing.”
Azriel hummed, his eyes flicked back to hers from the red rose. “Young fae boy?” He murmured, voice low and contemplative.
Elain giggled at his tone, wrapping her hands around his thick arm. “Yes, Azriel. Very young. He could barely reach my waist.”
Azriel exhaled a soft huff, his lips pressing together in mock contemplation before conceding with a low hum. He traced another slow circle over her waist, his other hand still cradling the bouquet she had given him with something akin to reverence.
“And his friend, a little faerie girl, gave me chocolates.” Elain continued, shifting closer, her voice light with amusement. “Oh! And you won’t believe what song the musicians were playing on my way home.”
She trailed off, suddenly noticing the minuscule twitch of his mouth—the smallest, barely perceptible quirk at the corner of his lips. Any other person would have missed it.
But not her.
Elain gasped, stepping back just enough to study him, her fingers clutching his arm. “Azriel,” she breathed, eyes narrowing in delighted suspicion. “Did you plan that too?”
The amusement in his expression deepened, though his voice remained impossibly smooth as he asked, “Plan what?”
Her jaw dropped. “The song! The musicians! Azriel, did you—?”
His silence was answer enough.
Elain let out a small, incredulous laugh, pressing a hand over her heart. “You did, didn’t you?”
Azriel’s wings shifted slightly, the shadows coiling around his shoulders flickering like they, too, were entertained by the unfolding revelation. “Perhaps.”
Elain’s lips parted in breathless wonder. “You planned all of this,” she whispered, awe and warmth blooming in her chest. “The decorations, the musicians… every moment before I walked through the door.”
Azriel exhaled a soft chuckle, his hands finding her waist again, grounding her, anchoring her in the way he always did.
“I wanted today to be perfect for you.” He admitted, his voice quieter now, more vulnerable. “I couldn’t stand the thought of you being alone, of me not being here while everyone celebrated Valentine’s.”
He swallowed, his eyes shining with something unspoken.
“So I made sure that even though I wasn’t here, you would still feel loved—feel my love.”
Elain’s breath hitched.
It was so Azriel. The thoughtfulness, the quiet devotion, the intricate planning. The way he always paid attention to the smallest details, ensuring she never felt forgotten, never felt anything less than cherished.
Tears burned at the corners of her eyes, but she smiled, reaching up to frame his face between her hands, her thumbs brushing over the sharp angles of his cheekbones.
“Azriel,” Elain whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “You are the most romantic and perfect male in all of Prythian.”
A soft scoff. “I doubt that.”
Elain shook her head, her smile unwavering. “You are to me.”
Something in his expression broke, something deep and quiet and vulnerable that only she ever got to see. Azriel let out a soft breath, his hands tightening around her waist before he kissed her again.
Not with the fervency of earlier, not with the desperate, all-consuming need of their reunion, but with something softer, something deeper, something consuming in a different sense. A slow, lingering kiss that spoke of love so profound it stole the very breath from her lungs.
“Did you like the surprises?”
The tear that was lining her eyes spilled out from how hard she was smiling. “I loved them. Thank you.”
Azriel’s smile was one of pure male satisfaction. She could even smell it in his scent.
“I hope you don’t have any more surprises in store,” Elain murmured softly, smoothing her hands over his strong, broad chest. “I don’t think my heart can take any more sweetness.”
A dangerous glint burned in the depths of his hazel eyes that made heat coil tight in her abdomen. “There’s still a few surprises left.”
Before Elain could even blink, Azriel had scooped her up in his arms. A startled laugh escaped her as he began to ascend the stairs to their bedroom. It turned into a reverential sigh when Azriel buried his face into the curve of her neck, cradling her closely to his chest, as if she was the very air he breathed.