A Court of Death || ACOTAR

64

Astryn did not return to the town house for a long while. There was a quiet, comforting sort of understanding in the silence between her and Nesta in the library after their conversation. She left eventually though, and Nesta asked her when she would be back. Astryn had promised to return some time tomorrow.

The town house was less quiet than the House of Wind. Cassian and Mor were in the kitchen bickering over a bottle of wine. They had both failed to notice that Azriel had already taken the bottle with him to the couch and was on his second glass of it. He smiled warmly at Astryn when she came in, shadows tittering in delight when she offered a smile in return.

"Would like a glass?" Azriel offered, lips still tilted up into a smile as Cassian and Mor finally realized the wine had been stolen from them. Astryn conjured up a slightly oversized wine glass and filled it, earning a chuckle from Azriel at Cassian's groan of protest.

"Thank you," she said sweetly, glass in hand and a book tucked under her arm. His brain went blank and his body went still when she pressed a kiss to his cheek. A diversion, he realized when she was walking away, so she could steal the bottle from him and take it and her glass with her upstairs.

Cassian let out a howl of laughter at how easily Azriel had been played, and Azriel only shrugged because he would have just given her the bottle if she had asked anyway, so the peck in the cheek felt like a reward.

"A day at the House of Wind and she's already as devious as Nesta," Cassian remarked in amusement, to which Azriel raised his eyebrows.

"What do you know about Nesta and deviance?" he asked, and Cassian grinned.

"Nothing with any proof yet, but many guesses of which I find myself certain."

"Brutes," Mor mumbles with a laugh. "Cassian, come with me to steal another bottle of wine. We can steal two this time."

And, with that, Azriel was left alone. He found himself getting up, not thinking through it at all as his legs carried him up the stairs. He paused outside of Astryn's bedroom door, the little light in him that could one day bind them again flaring and flickering as he stood in indecision. After a few long, nervous moments, he knocked. Astryn opened it, her earlier outfit replaced with a black satin robe, hair tied up in a knot at the base of her skull. Her skin was damp and the bits of her hair that escaped the knot dripped with water.

"Oh," he murmured, eyes wandering before he forced himself to look at her face again, "I apologize. I didn't realize you were..." he swallowed back the mess of words that threatened to escape, and he wondered if four centuries of celibacy had made him such a fool.

"Did you need something?" Astryn asked, cheeks flushed as she shifted awkwardly.

"I—no, no, I apologize for interrupting, I'll let you get back to your bath." He swore the shadows laughed at him as he ducked his head and hurried away. She closed her door and he let out a sigh. He made to go back downstairs, hoping it might not be too late to join Mor and Cassian in their wine theft, but Rhys stopped him.

"Az," the High Lord said quietly, waving him into his study. Azriel followed him in, listening to the click of the lock. Rhys motioned for him to sit and poured them each a glass of wine—more expensive than anything Cassian and Mor might've stolen.

The whole thing felt eerily similar to all those centuries ago when Astryn first came into their lives and Rhys demanded Azriel stay away from her. Azriel was half expecting to be given that order again, to be told he had no business anywhere near Astryn. Rhys stared him down, eyes assessing, and then he broke the silence.

"I do not want my sister to leave again," he said quietly, as if he was worried that if he spoke the confession too loudly some higher power might overhear and take her away again as punishment for all of his failures as a brother. "You want her to stay too." It wasn't a question, but Azriel nodded anyway. "You still love her." Again, not a question; again, Azriel nodded.

Azriel waited for the harsh truth. He waited to be reminded that he had failed her worse than Rhys had. He waited to be told that there was no redemption. He waited to be told he could never deserve her, that he hadn't even deserved her before he had screwed up their lives so horrifically. He waited to be told to stay away.

"This time, Azriel, love her the way she deserves to be loved," Rhysand told him, a deep frown set on his face. "We will not...there will be no repeat of history here. I won't stand in your way, but, know this, I will not let you get away with anything like before. I will not stand by and watch you treat her poorly, I will not participate in treating her poorly. If you earn her heart back and then revert to the way you treated her four centuries ago, it will be the end of you."

"And if you try to lock her away like before, it will be the end of you," Azriel said, and Rhys nodded.

"I often think about what we rescued Feyre from with Tamlin," he confessed, "and I think about how much I loathe him for what he put her through. And as I think about how much of a villain he is for it, I realize we were no better. It never got so far as warding her into the house, but, if she hadn't left, it might have. We were no better than he is. We were just stopped sooner."