A Court of Shadows and Thunder // AzrielxOC SlowBurn Romance, ACOTAR FanFiction

Chapter 39 - Cravings

Feyre collapsed on the soft grass, not minding one bit that the ground was wet, that her hair tangled itself with the mud. Brianna didn't seem to mind either, for she sat down too in a laugh, her pretty blue dress turning a stain of brown. Azriel, however, chose to sit on a nearby fallen log, watching the two as Feyre let out a series of complaints about Brianna's teaching ways.

"I hope you won't hate me when I say that I prefer Az' methods better than yours," the High Lady said in a breath, beads of sweat still coating her temples.

Brianna wanted to laugh, until she heard the surprising deep rumble come from the shadowsinger's lips. So, she chose to shoot him a scowl, and Azriel could only grin at her. The Syren had to force herself not to smile, for Feyre's laughter filled the air, feeling the High Lady's eyes rove from hers to the shadowsinger.

"How will you learn if you don't suffer, just a little?" Brianna decided to tell her, giving Feyre a sly smile.

The High Lady propped herself up on her elbows, shaking her head at Brianna.

"Then I think I deserve a break at the very least," was Feyre's reply, and at the way she was giving Brianna a little pout, the Syren could only comply.

They sat in a comfortable silence for a while, until Feyre's panting turned into soft breaths, until her leaping pulse calmed to a steady beat. While Brianna was lost amid an ocean of her own thoughts, Azriel had picked up a branch by his foot.

At the sound of a sharp blade, Brianna's eyes had turned to him, watching as he used a dagger she had only ever seen attached to his hip, that he now used to whittle the branch. For what reason, she didn't know, but he looked concentrated, looked like his entire focus had narrowed down to shaping that twig.

He didn't have a good reason to stay, for Brianna was teaching Feyre about Syren wings today, not Illyrian wings, but Azriel almost felt compelled to linger a while more. Perhaps his whittling was an excuse, just to stick around, just to keep an eye out for them.

And in turn, Brianna's entire focus had gone to watching do so, for some reason, watching him slice off little chips of the piece of wood at a time, until the High Lady spoke, breaking the silence.

"So," Feyre began to say, prompting Brianna to look at her. She found that she was already looking at the Syren, and that she had a certain glean in her eyes that Brianna could not decipher, and a little smile on her face that made Brianna wonder what was going on in her mind.

Then Feyre's gaze glanced down to the gem sitting on her neck, then back to her eyes. Brianna already knew what the High Lady wanted to ask her.

"I said no to Dorian because I wasn't ready for it," Brianna told her rather bluntly, and it made Feyre's eyes widen.

It also made the soft sound of Azriel's blade pause for a moment, reminding Brianna of his presence only nearby, and very much within earshot.

"You knew what I was going to ask?"

"You're eyes have been glued to my neck since the moment you winnowed us here."

Feyre let out an airy laugh, laying back down in the dirt. Azriel decided to resume his whittle work, if only to allude to the fact that he hadn't casted his full attention to the two females near him.

Brianna let her shoulders sag, rolling her eyes as she spoke - "Yohann's a loud mouth. I'm sure he was already waiting on a good opportunity to let out that little detail about me."

"It doesn't bother you?" Feyre had to ask, wondering why Brianna was speaking so casually.

"No, not really," she shook her head at the High Lady, "It's been far too long since then."