Chapter 45 - Try to be a Saint

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Coming together is a beginning; keeping together is progress; working together is success.

- Edward Everett Hale

Song: Nobody - Hozier

"Put your back into it, Shadowsinger," grinned Gwyn, yanking a weed out of the grass.

The remainder of the Inner Circle would be arriving today, and tomorrow was the Summer Solstice celebration.

With the morning perimeter patrol done, Azriel and Gwyn were now assisting Tamlin in preparing the grounds of his manor for tomorrow's party. The High Lord was continuing his efforts to remove the unruly ivy from the walls of his home while Azriel and Gwyn were tasked with de-weeding the lawn.

Azriel sat up from his position on all-fours, wiping sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. He glanced at Gwyn who continued to yank the weeds from the earth and place them in their large basket.

The shadowsinger took an enormous gulp from his water jug. "You are militant in your efforts, you know?"

He extended his left wing a little further to provide Gwyn with more shade against the blazing afternoon sun.

Pulling out a particularly stubborn weed, Gwyn sat back on her heels and turned to her mate. "The sooner we finish this task, the sooner I can bathe. I don't want to smell like this when everyone arrives." Everyone being Emerie, Nesta, Morrigan, Cassian, Rhysand and Feyre. The latter two made her stomach turn. Gwyn looked over her shoulder at Tamlin who was balling up the vines he'd dislodged, then back to Azriel. She lowered her voice. "How bad do you think it'll be?"

Azriel shook his head, setting down his water. "Depends on how much of a shit Tamlin is and how protective Rhysand is feeling. Rhysand's... jibes... can be very sharp. It does nothing for Tamlin's pride or temper." Azriel sighed, resuming his weed picking. "I hope for Feyre's sake they can pull themselves together. At least until this conflict with Graysen is resolved. After that they can go back to their rivalry."

"You have very little faith in your High Lord," smirked Gwyn.

"I've known him for a few centuries and I know the history between him and Tamlin. Rhysand can be rather ruthless when he wants to be - especially when people he cares for are involved. It's useful most of the time and he's usually professional... but sometimes..." another shake of his head, "sometimes it can really cause trouble. That's what Feyre is for I suppose."

"She keeps him in check, you think?"

Azriel's grin broadened. "If by that you mean that she gives him a swift kick in the ass, then yes."

Laughing softly, Gwyn got back on all fours and shifted forward to continue grabbing the weeds. It was a nice distraction to be honest, even if the summer heat was making her sweat through her tunic.

"This is quite the view..." Azriel said from behind her.

Her head whipped over her shoulder to see the shadowsinger grinning crookedly behind her. His eyes flicked to her hips then back to her face.

"Cauldron, Shadowsinger, show some professionalism..."

He bowed his head and went back to picking weeds. "My apologies. It won't happen again."

She scoffed and returned to her task. "Thank you."

"Damn. I accidentally looked again." A pause. "I'll be more careful."

Gwyn snorted back a laugh, pulling out a stubborn root.

"Fuck, I'm sorry. I looked again."

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