A Court of Innocents

6: Longing

The opening of my door startled us both awake. It was the middle of the night; the moonlight streaked through my window, caking my room in darkness, only broken by the occasional flash of starlight. But that didn't stop Cassian from striding into my room with his "I have important news" face. He took one look at Az and me, though, and froze.

Azriel had kept his wings wrapped around us for the few hours' sleep we'd gotten, but I'd moved enough in the night to twine my limbs around his. My legs were pressed between his own, his shirt fisted in my hand, my head warming the space between his shoulder and neck. Two lovers intertwined.

Shadows and embers.

But even before Cassian caught sight of us in such an... intimate position, he looked strange. Different. Something was off. Had he gotten into another quarrel with Nesta?

Azriel and I have rose into a half-sitting position, but my hands never moved from his stomach. I liked the comfort of his body heat too much. And the steady rise and fall with his every breath.

Cassian merely said, "We're having a meeting," and then left.

Azriel and I frowned at each other, each noting the space between us. The lack of distance. Dangerous and alluring, like scorching flames. Then we remembered ourselves, our responsibilities, and hurried down to the front room.

The others were already circled around the dining room, which had become our go-to for Inner Circle meetings. Mor stifled a yawn as Nesta chugged down a cup of coffee, which Feyre looked at longingly. Amren and Rhys, by comparison, looked wide awake, their faces grim. But that wasn't what made me pause. My gaze snagged on a familiar shine of auburn locks at the end of the table, and my body locked up.

Panic--my initial thought.

Flee--my first instinct.

Spend centuries running, and you forget how to stop. Spend a lifetime choking on familial love and the obligations that come with it, and you stop thinking your life can ever be your own.

But then I saw the scar, and the mechanical eye, and the friendly, plotting smile, and that fight-or-flight instinct calmed itself.

Lucien stood beside Elain, wearing the same clothes I'd last seen them in. They'd left for a month to go to The Continent, upon Elain's request to discover the lands that her father had last witnessed before his passing. Lucien had volunteered to go with her as her guide, since he'd seen parts of The Continent as a young man, but I had no doubt it was really to spend some secluded time with his mate.

Now, he stood in rumpled beige pants and a maroon cloak. His hair was a bit longer, loose around his shoulders instead of tied back like he normally had it. The Continent's fashion was much freer than these lands, I remembered, and realized his shirt—which he'd only bothered to button halfway—made since.

I didn't bother to take in Elain before I had Lucien in my arms, tackling him in a bear hug so tight that he gasped as the air left his lungs. But he released a laugh before wrapping his arms around me. I knew he would return eventually, but with how fucked things had gotten, I needed my best friend. And now that he was here... gods, there were a million things I needed to catch him up on.

Someone cleared their throat, and I finally pulled back from my cousin. His metal eye whirred as it focused on me. A smile tugged at his mouth, something I hadn't seen since before the war.

A flash of green brought my attention to Elain. Her hair, like Lucien's, fell loosely around her shoulders. A shawl was fastened over her soft green summer dress. The fashion of The Continent. She offered me a small, reserved smile.

"It's lovely to see you again, Elain." My tone was sincere, despite the fact that she and I had exchanged ten words the entire time we'd known each other. If it weren't for Lucien--our only connection point--neither of us would bother with pleasantries.