A Court of Death || ACOTAR

87

Astryn woke up a long while later. She let out a breath of relief when she saw Cassian and Azriel.

Azriel was visibly relieved when she opened her eyes. For once, it was Cassian whose expression was unreadable as he watched Azriel help Astryn sit up and passed her a glass of water.

"They almost took you," Cassian snapped suddenly, "a Hybern soldier had you. He was only moments away from leaving with you. You could have...don't you ever do that again."

"They had you surrounded. They were going to kill you," Astryn murmured, "you could have died if I hadn't—"

"So what?" he cut in. "So what? If it comes down to that, let me die. You don't take that kind of risk for me."

"You don't get to decide who and what I think is worth dying for," Astryn replied, "that's not up to you."

"You can't—" his eyes darted towards Azriel, some silent accusation hiding there as if he was only now realizing he hadn't completely forgiven him for all of that lost time. "I won't lose you again. I lived four fucking centuries without you. I won't lose you again."

Azriel's eyes dragged from Astryn to Cassian, and, once again, he wondered what might have happened if they hadn't lost those four hundred years. Astryn and Cassian both said things wouldn't have progressed beyond where they were, but even that had been all blurred lines and secret looks. It was perhaps the only good thing to happen during that year when everything had slowly been falling apart. Little trips to Azriel's house with the three of them, sneaking between rooms at the town house to see if they could hide it from the others even though everyone already knew. Cassian was always hovering right on the outside of their relationship, more than just a friend but never quite crossing the line into something they defined. Azriel hadn't thought too much about that over the centuries that Astryn was gone, hadn't thought about the fact that Cassian lost more than a friend too. And all three of them knew that the time for whatever it was had long since passed.

Azriel hadn't dwelled on it because he had thought Cassian had moved on, that the lost friendship was the only part he was moving on from. He hadn't put much weight into what losing those quiet nights with Astryn might have meant to him. Not the sex, but the nights they were just there. Cooking dinner together at Azriel's house, spending a night just sleeping with her there, the mornings the three of them trained together and the lingering touches in the first rays of sunlight. And it was with Cassian, Azriel recalled, that Astryn had seen her first sunrise. After those twenty years she spent in a cage, it was Cassian who sat beside her and watched her as she watched the sunrise for the first time in her life.

For the first time, Azriel wondered how many times over those long four hundred years Cassian watched the sunrise and could think of nothing but her. And he did not know how Cassian had ever been able to be a good enough friend to comfort him, to be there for him as he sank further and further into his own guilt for what he lost—for what he cost them both, what he cost her. How many times had Cassian told him that he was allowed to recover? That he did not have to keep punishing himself?

"You're forgetting, Cassian," Astryn said softly, "that you weren't the only one who lost that time."

"You sent me away," he reminded her, "I went and I found you and I showed up on your doorstep and you told me not to come back. You looked at me and you said there was nothing for me there with you and I didn't argue because I hadn't—I'd never seen you so happy. You were so happy there, without me." A glance towards Azriel, "without us."

"I won't apologize for doing what I had to do for me," she told him, "I hate that we lost that time, but it's not on me. And I was right to tell you to leave."

"I know that," he seethed, "I know you were right. I know that I hurt you too and I didn't keep you safe." Azriel flinched at the implication of those words—that he had been something Astryn needed to be kept safe from. "I failed you, at every turn and I know it. There hasn't been a day I haven't thought about everything I did wrong. Everything I sat back and let happen." Everything he let Rhys and Azriel do, everything he knew was wrong stayed silent about anyway. "You will not die for me, Astryn. You will not risk your life for me." Because, as far as he was concerned, he was not worthy of that.

"I forgave you. You know I forgave you," she said softly, "centuries ago when you found me, you knew then that I forgave you."

"And you and I both knew I hadn't earned that," he grit out, "none of us deserve the second chance you're giving us. Cauldron, it's not even a second chance, it's a third one. And we don't deserve it."

Azriel stiffened but he didn't argue because he knew it was true.

"Do you know when I knew, Astryn?" Cassian carried on, seeming entirely determined to make sure she never wanted to sacrifice herself for him. "Do you know what I first knew that things were going to end badly? It was was when Rhys gathered us all to discuss you not being allowed out in Velaris alone. Only days after you had died and come back. I knew then that things were broken. But I kept my mouth shut and I let him do it. I let him cage you. I stayed silent and let him do as he wanted because I was a coward. I cared more about you staying than I did about anything else."

"And, still," she began, "I forgive you."