A Court Of Shadow and Blood

☆ The Follow Through ☆

“I’m sorry if I overstepped a boundary.” She turned to Azriel, frowning.

Rhysand and Mor had left moments earlier, both having city matters and war preparations to attend to. She didn’t know which bore the burden of telling the others’ Keir’s demand, but she was just glad it wasn’t as severe as she had thought. If everything went to plan as Azriel had suggested, they’d get the warriors and aid in the war and she would continue unattached to anyone.

It just took Azriel pretending to be her mate to get it done. Goosebumps rose along her arms at the thought.

“You’re not overstepping anything,” she responded, practically throwing herself into a chair. Sun cast against her brow, warm and comforting after everything that had happened. “You are doing me a great deed, Azriel. How can I repay you?”

The male shook his head, dark hair swaying. “It’s not a debt.” He surveyed her, and she watched him in return. His head cocked to the side, the movement utterly predatory. “Actually it is.”

His mouth twisted into a small grin of wry humor, and she sat a little taller in her seat at the sight of it. “Tell me about your wings, and I’ll consider it settled.” Eblis stiffened.

“What do you want to know?”

His grin fell away, sensing her unease. But he settled down into a chair opposite her, strong arms resting on his knees. Shadows danced about his ears. “Anything. Everything. I want to get to know you.”

“My wings,” she said slowly, as if hesitantly, “are not an integral part of me anymore. If you really want to get to know me, you’d be better off asking something else.” Her gaze drew to one of the many wide windows, eyes finding tendrils of red and orange choking out the soft blue of day as sunset settled in. The sun was a wide disk behind the distant granite peaks, but she had to admit she used it as a distraction from Azriel’s searching gaze. 

“Tell me about them.” She glanced back at the male, chewing on the inside of her lip. Eblis took a deep breath, reading the open curiosity and consideration for sincerity. Azriel had begun their relationship as hard and distrustful of her—she should be leaping at the chance of him wanting to get to know her better and beginning to care for her story besides the basic, hard facts. 

She rolled her shoulders, sitting forward. “Perhaps showing you will help more.” Azriel’s hazel eyes barely reacted as a dark shadow gathered behind her before draping a heavy weight along her spine, gaze intense upon her. Her muscles protested, unused to the weight. 

The Illyrian stood, face calm and cool. “May I?” 

“No.” Her wing jerked away from him almost unintentionally. Azriel’s hand dropped. Her face pinched, and she stared at her lap. “No one has touched them since they were...since they were last harmed.” 

Almost in answer, inky tendrils of magic gathered along Azriel’s head. “Could my shadows touch them, then?” He studied her wings with a stark anger even as his words were soft and almost conjoling. She considered, and nodded slowly. Eblis stood and faced the floor-to-ceiling windows, but her eyes were pinned on the reflection more than the beautiful view. She watched Azriel stand behind her, almost frozen in place.

And then, a shadow crept along her spine, the question evident. She struggled, but within a few seconds, her wings spread wide, shadowing the room greatly. Each point nearly reached from one piece of the furniture to the opposite one, but the sharp talons at the apex of each muscle were cracked and chipped and did not rise nearly as high as they should. She still remembered the echo of a hammer slamming down on them, and watching black bits of hard, glittering bone shatter across the floor. People had scrambled to pick up the biggest pieces, their hushed whispers of jewelry reaching her even in a pained state.