A Court of Light and Melody

Prologue

AZRIEL

"If she had looked into his eyes at that very moment she would have seen the inferno that she had thrown him into."

- Mirella Muffarotto

Song: The Night We Met - Lord Huron

Cassian, Azriel and the three Valkyries had all agreed to put a pause on training until after the mating ceremony. They would resume in full force upon Nesta and Cassian's return and in the meantime they could all take a much deserved rest.

But as the shadowsinger watched the priestess train in the pale moonlight, he admitted to himself that deep down he'd known she wouldn't be able to stay away from the ring. No, he'd not truly expected her to take the full rest. She was too much like him. Too restless. Too impatient. And she loved improving, honing her skills, and wiping the smug smile off of his face in particular.

And Azriel couldn't say he was disappointed.

When he'd trudged up to the ring from his chambers the shadowsinger had been content to train alone. But then he saw the priestess swinging her practice sword and felt that itch to join her. That one that had started as a kernel of warmth in his chest, then slowly expanded with every private training session they had. Every laugh she had pulled from him. Every joke he'd made that made her smile.

It was hard to believe that just four months ago, Azriel hadn't considered Gwyn to be so much as a friend to him, and now he was glad for her company. He had missed their lessons. He had missed their banter and how easy it was to talk to her.

Truthfully, it wasn't until he'd felt that obscene panic after learning of her being in the Blood Rite that Azriel realized the priestess had carved a special spot for herself in his heart. He found himself imagining a Tuesday evening where he didn't have a private training to look forward to after dinner. Imagining a morning session where he didn't hear the priestess squeal with excitement when she perfected a new maneuver. Imagining a week where nobody surprised him with an audacious question or inappropriate joke. He found himself imagining these things and his heart wrenching.

Gwyn had honestly, truly, become something more to him since they started training. She had become a friend.

Gwyn swung the sword in a heavy arc and Azriel held his breath as he waited for her to finish the mark.

Keep that wrist level. Keep that wrist level. Don't lock out your elbow...

And sure enough with a sharp exhale and an expert pivot, Gwyn completed the movement perfectly.

Azriel's shadows chorused triumphantly.

He could hide in the shadows no longer.

"Not bad at all," he said, exiting the corridor.

Gwyn spun around and met his eyes. It was the first time they'd been alone together since before the Blood Rite. He had almost forgotten how excited his shadows got when they saw her and was taken off-guard by their delighted skittering along his neck and arms.

She beamed and Azriel felt his heart stutter at the way her eyes crinkled. "Lurking again, Shadowsinger?"

Azriel raised two placating palms, his shadows now dancing across his shoulders. "I didn't want to interrupt."

"There are always interruptions and distractions in battle," Gwyn said in a low voice. A perfect imitation of him.

His shadows hummed with amusement.

Azriel chuckled. "Do you have Cassian impressions?"

The priestess tossed her head back and laughed and Azriel thought it may have been the prettiest thing he'd ever seen. "I'm afraid my impressions are limited to moody, brooding, Spymasters."

They stood in companionable silence for a moment, then Azriel offered her a lopsided smile. Perhaps he was imagining it but he could've sworn her cheeks flushed in response.

No, she had just been training. She had worked up a sweat. Her cheeks were pink from exertion, not from blushing.

And since when did he care if he made Gwyneth Berdara blush anyway?

Azriel gestured to the rack of sparring weapons. "Do you mind sharing the ring?"

Her eyes twinkled. "Lost your favorite dagger again?"

Azriel crossed to the training swords and selected one befitting of his height. "Can't sleep without it," he muttered. He turned and joined her in the training ring, smiling crookedly. "Shall we? Carynthian versus Carynthian?"

Gwyn only grinned before lunging for him and as their swords clashed Azriel's shadows sang in a familiar note that only Gwyneth Berdara elicited. A note where he couldn't make out the words and didn't bother himself to since it was such a glad noise.

But they sang anyway.

This prologue is the only time you'll get Azriel's POV. The rest of the book (because at over 550 pages and almost 200 k words it's a book) is from Gwyn's POV

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Daily updates will begin 7/18

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