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.
And so Azriel sat down and waited.
✿ ↬ - - - ↫ ✿
The first fae to enter the room was a maid, her auburn hair tied into an immaculate braid hanging over a dull yellow button-up shirt. She gripped a feather duster tightly, beginning to dust the fireplace mantle.
She didn't notice Azriel until it was too late, until he had already sent a shadow to snake around her mouth and another to bind her arms and legs.
Azriel waved a hand, dismissing the shadow from her mouth. "Hello, darling," he said, taking a step forward. "Please tell me who you think should be High Lord of Prythian."
The maid's chin quivered. "I just work here, Shadowsinger."
"And yet you must have opinions," Azriel said coolly. He took another step forward. "So answer the question."
The maid gulped. "Tamlin deserves to be High Lord of Prythian," she said finally, wide eyes searching Azriel's. "After all his heartbreak and losses and everything he's experienced–"
She was cut off by a shadow wrapping around her mouth.
"Then you're coming with me," Azriel said. He grabbed her arm and winnowed her straight into the holding cell he had set up outside of the camp.
He winnowed back, sat right into the chair he had been sitting in, and stretched his legs out.
✿ ↬ - - - ↫ ✿
Azriel repeated the process with the next couple of fae who accidentally wandered into the room. He asked the same questions to two high fae, dressed in frills and patterns he internally vomited at, a sentinel who shook so hard Azriel could barely keep a hold of him, and one of Tamlin's close advisors, who spat in the shadowsinger's face.
Azriel returned to the Spring Court to cover up his mess, winnowing to the same spot he had every time.
"I knew it was you," Tamlin hissed from Azriel's chair.
Azriel took a step back, wings flaring out instinctively. He said nothing, leveling his gaze with Tamlin's.
Tamlin snorted. One of his arms was propped up on the arm of the chair, his middle finger lazily circling his thumb, the other arm draped over the side of the chair. "I should have known you would kidnap my people," he said. "Is this on your High Lady's orders or on my fiancé's?"
Azriel's chest rose and fell in staggering breaths. "I am here on my mate's orders," he said through gritted teeth.
"She's not yours for much longer," Tamlin said.
"She will always be mine," Azriel seethed. "No matter what prick from the Spring Court comes her way."
Tamlin stood up, green eyes carefully tracking Azriel. "And yet – she's marrying me. Not you."
"I don't care about your fucking bargain, Tamlin," Azriel said. "I will get Velaria out of this, if it is the last thing I do."
"Then you'll be dead very quickly, Shadowsinger."
Azriel moved swiftly, his body instantly reacting to the threat. His wings flared out as he stepped in front of Tamlin, so close that he could feel Tamlin's breath on his chin.
Tamlin bared his teeth, Azriel's shadows sensing his claws come out. "The intimidation tactics won't work on me, Night Court bastard."
Azriel studied the HIgh Lord of Spring, every inch of his stubble-ridden, scar-flecked face...
...and punched him.
Tamlin staggered backwards, anger gleaming in his eyes. "You absolute asshole," he barked.
Anger rose up within him. "I'm not the one who enslaved half of Prythian from spite and a broken heart," Azriel jeered.
Tamlin looked at Azriel in angry disbelief before launching himself at the shadowsinger, claws out and ready to strike.
Azriel jumped out of the way, disappearing into the shadows right behind him and appearing behind Tamlin. He hooked his muscled arms around Tamlin's throat and squeezed.
The High Lord clawed at Azriel's arms, claws shredding through Azriel's sleeves and drawing blood.
Azriel only squeezed tighter in response, leaning in to sneer in Tamlin's ear, "I may be a bastard, but I'm the bastard that your fiancé will love, no matter what poisoned lies she whispers to you on your wedding day."
Tamlin surged with rage, grabbing onto Azriel's arms and digging his claws in deep.
Azriel bit down a roar of pain, releasing Tamlin immediately.
Tamlin flew out of Azriel's arms, stopping on the other side of the room. He adopted a fighting stance, grinning. "I've utilized the stone since we've last spoken, Shadowsinger," he purred. "I wouldn't let myself be beaten by you and your bitch again."
Azriel growled, carefully watching Tamlin.
Tamlin stood up straight, extending his arms.
Azriel's shadows screamed in his ear to run, to get away now, right as an ice-cold burst of power hit him in the face.
He fell backwards, his arms limp in front of him, almost moving in slow motion. He hit the floor hard, wincing at the sudden pain in his left arm.
Tamlin darted over to him, waving a hand and letting his newfound power bind Azriel to the ground.
Azriel struggled against the bonds. "Free me. Now."
Tamlin gazed lazily at him pinned to the floor. "The all powerful Rhysand's shadowsinger, downed with one hit from the High Lord they all considered weakest."
"You absolute doucheb–"
An icy tendril of power wrapped around Azriel's mouth.
"Careful with your language," Tamlin murmured. "Remember, I hold both your fate and your mate's in the pa–"
Tamlin stopped talking, freezing in place. Azriel's shadows flew away, flying to something behind him.
A burst of familiar power wrapped around the High Lord, keeping him still. A blade settled itself on Tamlin's throat, and he began to breathe very slowly.
"Want to finish that sentence, Tam?" muttered Velaria, holding the blade in one hand and a bundle in the other.
"Vel–"
"Save it," Velaria snarled. Without warning, she swept her leg under Tamlin's, sending him falling to the floor. She dropped down next to him and drove the dagger straight into his stomach, pinning him to the wood below.
Tamlin roared in pain.
Velaria flicked a hand, undoing Azriel's bonds. He sat up, staring into her star-flecked violet eyes.
"How–"
"The mating bond," Velaria said quietly. She ran her thumb over Azriel's cheek, cupping his chin. She leaned in and kissed his forehead.
"What would I do without you?" Azriel murmured.
"Likely die to Tamlin," Velaria replied. She used her free hand to move his hair out of his eyes.
Azriel let out a curt laugh. "Vel, what's in the bundle?"
Velaria tilted it towards him, revealing a gurgling Nyx. She stroked his forehead. "Just saved him from the Night Court."
"Who was guarding him?"
Velaria paled. "A bitch priestess."
Azriel raised an eyebrow. "And?"
"And?"
"Vel, I've known you for centuries," Azriel said. "I know when you're not telling me everything."
Velaria sighed. "Cass was also there."
Azriel inhaled sharply. "Ah."
Velaria was quiet, bouncing Nyx.
Azriel watched her tend to Nyx for a minute, a smile creeping up his face at her cooing at him, playing with his fists, smoothing the hair back from his forehead.
Velaria noticed him, turning to look at her mate, a smile breaking out across her own face. "What?"
Azriel only smiled. "Nothing."