Chapter 8

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Florence's POV

At that moment, she hated herself. She hated how she still reacted to his touch. How she was so close to giving in. How she almost did give in.

Her heart betrayed her. Quickening whenever he touched her. Her feelings betrayed her. Making her nervous next to him. After eternities, she thought she'd be over him.

In truth, she was and wasn't. She still cared for him. Every. Horrid. Part of him. Florence wanted-so badly, to run back into his arms. To go back to the old days where his arms were her sanctuary. Where she felt most safe.

She still loved Orpheus. Because some things just never change. But her love for him was not romantic, but rather platonic. He had become a familiarity to her.

But so many things have changed. She was no longer the same naive girl she had once been. She could no longer afford to act on whim or feeling. Florence had to better herself. A true monarch did what was best for their realm. Their Court.

And her feelings could no longer be a worry for her. If Koschei were set free, he'd become a bigger problem throughout the years. And the best way to remove something like him; eliminate it before it becomes a problem.

But what about Azriel. He's a problem. Her need for him will only grow with time. She'd become so fond of him, because just like Orpheus, he'd become a familiarity. One she'd become so accustomed to.

She couldn't just leave him without causing more conflict within herself. So she'd have to avoid him.

Or rather she wanted to. But it was difficult to stay away. So she stood alone outside the House of Wind, soaking wet and conflicted.

Not a second later, she could feel Azriel's shadows around her, dancing in circles. A small smile on her face as she reached to open the door. But it opened for her. And there stood Mor at the door.

"Why are you soaking wet?" Mor dragged Florence in, not giving the wet trail a second thought. "How long were you in the rain?"

She spotted Azriel and Gwyn talking on the couch. Azriel looked at Florence before coming to a halt and giving her a weird look. He scrunched his nose before nodding and looking back at Gwyn who had waved at Florence.

Her heart tugged in confusion and ache. He didn't get to give her weird stares as he sat with another. But she ignored the pinch in her heart and she waved back, before returning her attention to Mor.

"I needed time to think," Florence shrugs, before adding onto her sentence. "By myself."

"You seem to be doing that a lot." Mor nodded as she led Florence back to her room.

Florence didn't respond. In truth, she didn't know how to. She was unsure of who to trust. And even if she did trust someone, a Daemati, perhaps Rhysand or Feyre, could easily slip into their minds for information.

Mor began looking for towels as she dragged Florence to the bathtub. Hot water had already filled it to the brim.

"Florence, you smell weird." Oh Cauldron. Orpheus. "You smell like-like a man!" Mor shrieked as she giddily jumped up and down. "Are you sleeping with someone? Who? Never mind, don't tell me if you don't want to. I totally thought you were into Azriel!" Mor squeezed Florence's hands as she whispered Azriel's name.

Though, that probably didn't matter as Azriel's shadows were still lurking around.

Stunned, it took a heartbeat before Florence could reply. "No! No." She regained her composure. "I'm not seeing anyone! I'm bedding no one. Are you crazy?" Florence whisper shouted, creating a ward around them to keep any unwanted ears from listening.

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