Battle Scars

Fighting skills display

Azriel took a sip of whiskey. After the turbulent emotions he had experienced in the riverfront house, the taste of whiskey as it went down his throat was much welcomed. Cassian sat beside him, exhaling every now and then, providing company while Eve had gone out, somewhere in the streets of Velaris. A few of his shadows going with her.

"Do you think Nesta can find the Trove?" Azriel asked Cassian as they relaxed in the sitting room that separated their bedchambers, flames crackling in the hearth before them. He could not help but voice it for if Nesta failed to do so, it would be Eve who would do it next. Eve who had only given him a smile and a hug before she had left for her own breather.

"I hope so," Cassian hedged.

"Nesta really should do a scrying," Azriel said. It could bring them closer to their end goal. He still needed to ask Eve what Rhys needed her for due to which she had kept herself from trying to scry. Not that he wasn't glad.

"Nesta isn't up for a scrying," Cassian said. "We don't even know what power she has left." But Elain had confirmed that both the sister had Cauldron-gifted powers that still remained theirs after It was repaired, just like Eve still had hers; and was now working on honing it even further with Rhys.

"You do know, though," so Azriel countered. "You've seen it —even beyond when it glows in her eyes." He wasn't known as the best, infamous Spymaster and Shadowsinger for no reason. He knew of Nesta' handprint on the stairs, of how her eyes glowed when she got too aroused with emotions.

"She's volatile right now. The last time she did a scrying, it ended badly. The Cauldron looked at her. And then took Eve and almost took Elain too." He stiffened. As if he would ever need a reminder of that. As if he did not, in his darkest thoughts and nightmares, was plagued with what might have happened if he had been two seconds late to the camp. "I know. I helped rescue her, after all." Az hadn't so much as hesitated before going into the heart of Hybern's war-camp.

Cassian leaned his head against the back of the chair, rustling his wings through the gaps crafted to accommodate them. "Nesta will scry on her own, eventually, if she's capable." They did not have the luxury of time, not with Briallyn dead set on his mate and Nesta and the rest of his family and court.

"If Briallyn and Koschei find just one of the Dread Trove items—" he started, his eyes boring into Cassian's.

"Let Nesta try it her way first." Cassian held Az's stare. "If we go in and order her to do it, it'll backfire. Let her exhaust her other options before she realizes only one is viable." Azriel studied his face, then nodded solemnly. He was right, no matter how much Az hated waiting, his brother was right.

In the silence that then ensued, his mind kept replaying the other news. The hopeful, budding good news that had made his heart numb and his throat work up shocked laughter. "We are going to have a nephew," he said, his voice barely hiding his awe and wonderment. A child. An heir- maybe- not that it would matter, they would love the little boy all the same.

Cassian grinned. "A little boy," and Azriel could only imagine all the chaos they would get into with their nephew as their newest recruit. "I'm happy for Rhys," Cassian said quietly. "So am I." And he truly was. His brother deserved all the happiness that was coming his way.

Cassian looked over at Az. "You think you'll ever be ready for one?" Maybe. One day. If...

"I don't know," he told Cassian, watching the flames leap back and forth- the same flames that now became bearable and even enticing as it became a symbol for his mate, and not his childhood.

"Do you want a child?" Cassian pressed.

Of course he did. His very own family- one bound by blood. But, it would not happen for a long, long time. But he did not mind the wait. With her. Of course, they had never discussed anything like such but.. he still had dreams. Hopes.