A Court of Fate and Failure | Azriel

15: Pain and Past

"Should I let you win?"

Azriel narrowed his eyes at her.

"It's only fair," Naoise said, a sly hum to her voice as she faced forward again.

"Fair how?"

"Heartbeats." Naoise shrugged. "Kind of easy to find."

"Shadows," he drawled in return. "Good at finding."

"If you say so."

"I do."

Her mind unwittingly flashed to a mortal custom. It made her wings twitch with over awareness and he seemed to take it as an answer.

"They are of this Court?"

"Always. I'm sure you know what that means for us."

Azriel raised a cool brow at the expanse of city before and below them. It was still intended for her. "It seems adept at making you gloat."

That certainly wasn't it. But Azriel didn't need her spelling it out for him word for word. His clever mind was something she admired, something that made him so fucking attractive she sometimes couldn't stand it.

"Adept? No," she huffed. "Simply gives me reason."

"And how much reason do you need?"

"Who said I even needed a reason?"

Azriel laughed. Naoise felt a rush of pride. And a happiness, brief and flitting, existing in his.

The sudden thought of trading this for anything, much less endless nothing and unsure forever, quietened any such happiness in an instant.

Azriel was still grinning when he glanced her way, shadows and the shape of his wings dancing with the vibrant fire of the sunset behind them. "I don't often gloat but... I am known to rise to occasions," he teased softly, what usually lacked inflection now vibrant with it.

Her heart felt as though it may just burst.

Naoise hummed. "Occasions are meant to be risen to."

He gave her another searching look that had her nerves buzzing, bond tugging at her. "Not always," he murmured.

"Not always," she agreed just as quietly.

To be entirely honest, not even she knew the full extent of the meaning that lay there. It was not something she could explain, it was a feeling of... desolation. Mistakes and regrets alike. To not rise to an occasion is a thing many made the mistake of forgetting was an option. And it could tear things apart as easily as one would blink.

Again, the way it came from his thoughts, that deep understanding of the world they lived in, made the pain of the bond heighten. Made her want to scream at the cauldron until something in her throat broke that shattered the rest of her. To get down on her knees and plead to the mother.

He made her want to kiss him senseless. 

Connect their lips until each breath was drawn from the other. Pull him closer. Feel his quickened pulse beneath her palm, feel those hands on her wings again as the night shattered. The texture of flames caressing the phantom slice of blades. Worship him as he worshiped her. As two souls connected in the most primal of ways.

Naoise cleared her throat. "Shall we begin?"

Azriel shifted, arms uncrossing and shadows rising to his shoulders. He nodded, she gave one in return. Then, almost as if they were an army of two, an entity of two parts, they stepped forward to the ledge and walked off at the very same moment. The wondrous sound of wings snapping out and catching the wind caught her ears as they followed its course and flew off into the horizon, in pursuit of the same target.