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6. The Shadowsinger

WARNING: THREATS OF VIOLENCE + NON-CONSENSUAL BONDAGE

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As the meeting adjourned, Cassian leaned over the table and placed something by your discarded tissues.

"Oh," you breathed, picking up your phone. "You held onto it this whole time?"

He smiled slowly, confused. "Of course I did. You told me to."

Cassian tried to give your phone back, but you told him to hold onto it.

You smirked at the memory as you turned your phone over, the screen lighting up. Your eyes went to the battery first: it was at 83%. "You guys wouldn't know how to harness electricity, would you?"

Feyre, Nesta, and Cassian looked at one another.

"I'll take that as a no," you said with a tiny chuckle. "It's just— This has a finite charge. Once it's drained, I won't be able to use it again." You paused, contemplating something. "Not that it matters, though. There's no service, uh— I can't use it here. At least, not how it's meant to be used."

"I tried to figure out the picture thing yesterday but couldn't," Cassian said, ignoring everything else you'd just said. "Can you take a picture of Nesta and me? She looks pretty today. Well, she always does, but her hair's rarely down."

You watched as Cassian craned his neck to look back at Nesta, who still stood behind the settee. She rolled her eyes but smiled, giving him a few affectionate pats.

"Oh, sure," you said, sliding your lock screen to the left. As you raised your phone, a question came to mind. You weren't sure if it was commonplace to inquire about such things, but . . . "Are you guys mates?"

Cassian grinned wide as he said, still looking up at Nesta, "Yes."

You smiled a bit breathlessly; the pride in that one syllable made your heart swell with emotion.

Where you came from, soulmates, let alone mates, were fictional. Couples could claim to be each other's soulmates, which was cute and all, but there was no way to actually prove it. You'd always thought the idea of having a soulmate was ideal, too ideal, and yet — you'd yearned for something as simple as having one. Someone you could count on for the rest of your life, someone who'd love you, faults and all.

Clearing your throat, you said, "Okay. On the count of three." As you counted down, Cassian and Nesta shifted, getting comfortable.

Cassian sat up straighter and smiled, one hand covering his mate's, which rested on his right shoulder. Nesta straightened and smiled as well, but something regal slipped into her expression.

Once you took the picture, you clicked on it and then stood, showing it to them.

"That's still so cool," Cassian said, glancing back at Nesta. She nodded in agreement.

Feyre started to say something, but out of the corner of your eye, you saw Azriel leaving.

"Oh — wait! Azriel!" You ran over to him, wiping at your nose.

Azriel paused in the doorway, turning to face you. His face was impassive and posture, stiff, but you thought he looked surprised — just a little.

Even though his outfit was casual, he'd topped it off with leather armor, mostly around his chest and shoulders. You figured he had somewhere to be, but you forced yourself to say, "I was wondering if we could . . . talk. Alone. If you're free, of course."