A Court of Light and Melody

Chapter 51 - Thoughts Devour

"It was a mistake," you said. But the cruel thing was, it felt like the mistake was mine, for trusting you."

- David Levithan

Song: War of Hearts (acoustic) - Ruelle

Gwyn didn't bother searching for Azriel in his chambers or any of the other rooms in the manor. Maybe it was the mating bond tugging at her chest, maybe it was pure gut instinct, but she somehow knew that he was at that lone cherry blossom tree from last night. From their evening walks. Walks where they pretended that they were taking a leisurely stroll after an uneventful day, about to have supper together in a home they shared.

Sure enough, the tree came into view, and beneath its shade stood Azriel. The shadows on his shoulders were back to normal. No longer thick and sinister but coiling plumes of black, content to linger on their master. He was staring off into the tree line, arms crossed over his chest. He'd changed out of his leathers, the ones that were no doubt splattered with the archer's blood, and instead wore a dove grey tunic and black trousers. Truth-Teller was back at his side.

Gwyn took a deep breath through her nose and strode confidently across the grass.

That's it, sister. Just say it. Don't beat around the bush.

That was the plan. Lay it all out. Take Cassian's advice and just talk. Hope he could forgive her and hope she hadn't too thoroughly damaged their already fragile relationship.

"Shadowsinger," Gwyn said, closing the distance between them.

Azriel startled, his shadows once again not warning him of her presence. He straightened, head snapping in her direction. "Good morning," he said in a voice trying too hard to be casual.

Disregarding his greeting and his awkward behavior, Gwyn crossed to stand in front of him. "I'm not afraid of you after what I saw last night. At all. It's why I ran after you, which I'm guessing you didn't see."

Azriel was silent, seemingly lost for words as his mouth opened and shut. Gwyn lifted a brow and the shadowsinger settled on just shaking his head.

"I left this morning because I feel awful for having eavesdropped on you. It was clear you were not ready to discuss the details of... your work with me, but I decided to watch regardless. If I were you... I'd never trust me ever again. I would feel as though you'd invaded my privacy and overstepped your bounds. I would be very angry," her voice cracked, but she cleared her throat and squared her shoulders. "I hope you can forgive me."

The shadowsinger blinked and shook his head. "I... Gods, Gwyn, of course I would prefer you had not seen that. Not last night, not ever. If it were up to me, you would never, ever know that side of me. Because I am..." And this time, it was Azriel's voice that broke. His throat bobbed, but he soldiered forward, "Because I am ashamed of what I do in spite of the good that comes from it. I hate myself for being talented at it, for being able to stomach it, and for not accepting Rhysand's offer to take that responsibility from me." He hung his head. "And then there's you. You're kind and good and you say you want to know every bit of me, but that bit? That part? It horrified you. I saw it on your face last night. So consider this, consider that what you saw me do, I can reconcile. I can sleep at night in spite of it." Azriel held up his hands. "Consider that I use these to inflict a maximum amount of pain until I get what I need. I am ashamed of that. I hate myself for it. So how could you feel any different?"

The shadowsinger's chest was heaving, his eyes were strained, his posture broken. She'd never seen him so... desperate. She had seen him distressed and heartbroken and sad, but this was different. This ran bone deep.