The Dark Flower (Azriel x OC)

24. A Shadow on the Wall (Azriel)

Neither of the two females noticed Azriel as they quietly made their way down the stairs the morning after their arrival to the Night Court. Persephone took timid, frightened steps down the stairs, too focused on not falling to realize that someone lurked in the shadows. And Feyre... she was too lost her own misery. 

He wasn't supposed to be here right now, but rather in the Illyrian mountains, cleaning up after the Illyrian rogue bands that had sided with Amarantha during those forty-nine years of her reign of terror. 

But Azriel had wanted another glimpse of her. He'd met her once already, his curiosity having gotten the better of him. He'd only meant to see her with his own two eyes, but she'd been sitting there so sullenly in that little corner of the garden... They'd only said a handful of sentences to each other. That was enough.

Azriel couldn't claim that it was love at first sight. There had been no snapping of the bond or even any real attraction towards her. She was a beautiful female, more beautiful than most, he couldn't deny that. But she was far too young and far too delicate for someone like him. 

Illyrians were notoriously difficult mates, and as much as he might despise his heritage, he couldn't change it. Illyrians fucked rough and Azriel had desires that were darker than most. And Persephone... she'd never in a million years be able to handle him and his needs. 

The more time that he spent watching her, the more certain he was that Rhysand was wrong. The Bone Carver wearing the little halfling's face could mean a thousand different things. It could be giving him a glimpse of his court's downfall for all he knew. It could be the revelation of a traitor or simply a sacrificial lamb. 

It was hours later before Azriel was able to meet with Rhys in the study on the other end of the palace. 

"You're supposed to be in Illyria," Rhys said without looking up from his correspondences. He'd been busy in the few months that he'd been home. When he wasn't out hunting traitors, he was trying to rebuild alliances, and when he wasn't doing that, he was trying to build their armies back up so that they were prepared for the brewing war. He rarely slept these days. 

Azriel took the open chair closest to him. "Why did you bring Persephone here?" 

"She's part of the bargain," Rhys murmured, frowning as he flicked the Winter Court's seal off of an unopened letter. Whatever was inside wasn't good news. 

Azriel stared at him silently and Rhys sighed, finally looking up. "I've brought your mate to our Court. You should be happy, brother." 

"She's not my mate," Azriel bit out. 

Rhys arched a brow. "She's not? Then why are you here?" 

The shadows swirled restlessly behind Azriel. He should have just gone with Cassian to Illyria. "Because you've stolen the young daughter of another High Lord," Azriel said lowly. "Tamlin might do something rash. We're meant to be finding allies, not driving the other High Lords away." 

Rhys leaned back in his chair, a dangerous glint in his eyes. "Persephone is more than she seems. With the right training, she could be a valuable member of our inner circle."