A Court of Dreams and Promise

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Velaria

Velaria was braiding her hair when she felt Azriel stir behind her, woken from his blurred state of what could only be the best sleep he likely had in months.

Azriel's voice was crackly, as if he had been crying, but the warmth in it made her shiver with familiarity. "Where are you off to so quickly?"

Velaria had easily, so easily, forgotten what Azriel was like around her, rather than around everyone else. His silent, unapproachable demeanor made him seem all business all the time, as if the mask of Rhysand's shadowsinger wasn't a mask.

But she knew the other side of him, the one he so rarely let out, but was almost constantly out around her. The one that let him laugh genuinely, to sing to her, to smile for once when it wasn't forced.

"Feyre spoke to me mind to mind this morning," Velaria said, without turning to look at him. "She's going to help me retrieve Mor today from the Autumn Court." Only after she tied the end of her braid with a piece of string did she turn to her mate.

Azriel was propped up on one elbow, hazel eyes staring contently at her, a slight sparkle gleaming inside of them. His wings were tucked behind him, the sunlight illuminating the dark red hues within them. He was shirtless, his golden skin glowing, and Velaria's eyes involuntarily ran down his muscled torso.

A corner of Azriel's mouth twitched. "Did you tell her about us?"

Velaria's cheeks flushed. "That we're officially mated? Yes," she said. "She wants to throw us a mating party. I declined."

Azriel chuckled. "I would have thought you wanted an opportunity to dress up," he replied.

Velaria scowled. "Not with a stupid war happening."

"Would you like the war to stop just so you can have an extravagant party?"

"No," Velaria grumbled. "I would like the war to be over already, and it's barely even started."

"I know, Vel, I know." Azriel sighed. The bed creaked as he shifted. Velaria felt his presence behind her, her shadows dancing for him, as he began to play with one of her braids. "These are cute. Little impractical for spying, but they look good on you."

Velaria swatted his hand away, grabbing her braids and furiously tying them into a bun. "You condescending–" She paused at the smirk on his face. "You're joking."

Azriel tipped his head back, exposing the strong column of his neck, and laughed a real, strong laugh. "You're good at your job, Vel. I have always trusted you."

Velaria smiled, and they settled into a comfortable silence until a thought poked into Velaria's mind, jamming at her mental shields.

"Az?"

"Hmm?"

"I've been meaning to ask you something." Velaria sighed, deciding to nip it in the bud. "How did Astra die?"

Azriel froze at the mention of his mother. He cleared his throat once, twice. "She succumbed to a rare disease that fae can get through contact with humans." He swallowed, his throat bobbing. "She was trying to help them with their poor living conditions, help wherever she could. This was about three hundred years ago."

Velaria reached out and put a gentle hand on Azriel's shoulder, staring deep into those emotional hazel eyes. "I wish," she breathed, "I wish I could have been there to see her one last time."

Azriel didn't break eye contact. "She said one thing to me before she died," he said quietly. "One thing that has always stuck with me." Azriel hesitated. "The day you first met her..." She told me to marry you, made me promise, Azriel said down the bond.