A Court of Dreams and Promise

Chapter Forty

Azriel

Azriel grasped the eroded fabric that made up Helion's tent entrance and shoved it open. He stepped into the threshold, his shadows flying out and beginning to search every corner, every inch of the High Lord's tent.

Helion was pacing, his silken white robes trailing behind him. His amber eyes scanned the shadowsinger from head to toe before beckoning Azriel to him.

Azriel obeyed, going to stand in front of the High Lord. "You wanted to see me?"

For once in his long life, Helion was serious, his expression set. He stopped pacing and straightened, his full height not even coming to the bottom of Azriel's nose, but intimidating nonetheless.

Helion's voice was hoarse, as if he hadn't spoken for a while. "I need your help for an unfortunate task."

Azriel's shadows fell back in line, ready for a command from him. "You and Feyre were to start training today, yes?" Helion nodded. "What went wrong?"

Seeing the lethal protectiveness in the shadowsinger's eyes, Helion held up his hands. "Feyre and I haven't begun training yet," he said. "She's still recovering."

"Then what do you need me for?" Azriel asked.

"I hate to ask you to do this," Helion said, wringing his hands, "but Feyre and I can't practice healing fae...without fae."

Azriel was quiet for a moment. "So you need me to get you some."

Helion nodded hesitantly. "If you're comfortable doing so. I would ask Velaria, but she's gone and you're Rhysand's prized spymaster."

"Which court?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Which court would you prefer I grab people from?"

Helion opened and shut his mouth before finally saying, "Spring Court will have the most affected fae. Grab from there."

Azriel nodded, the only signal that he had understood. He turned to leave.

"Azriel."

He turned back around, hands in his pockets, and leveled his gaze with Helion's.

"Will you–"

"I can take care of the rest."

Helion frowned. "Are you s–"

"I'll take care of the rest."

Azriel exited swiftly before Helion even had a chance to react.

✿ ↬ - - - ↫ ✿

The Spring Court was sickly familiar in the pinks, greens, the sights and smells that hit Azriel as soon as he winnowed in. His shadows snapped at the bees flying around, their flight seemingly done drunk on the overwhelming amount of overgrown bushes, vines, and trees, all sprouting flowers.

He stepped forward, shoving spindly branches out of the way of his path. Standing at the edge of the green hill overlooking the Spring Court manor, he sighed.

His shadows flew out to the manor and reappeared a minute or two later, having scanned the best rooms to capture High Fae. They whispered into his ear their findings, returning to their position winding around various parts of his body.

Azriel's brain raced between his options for a few minutes before he loosed a breath, set his eyes on the room he was aiming for, and winnowed in.

The room was mostly empty, save for two unlit fireplaces, a few gilded portraits of Spring Court nobles, a few dusty armchairs positioned by the fireplaces with matching side tables, and one large paisley rug.