A Court of Whispers and Song

Chapter 28

"Oh no, you are not going to spar with your mate," Mor said, pointing a slender finger like a bayonet at Cassian across the training ring. "Besides the question of fairness, that situation is only leading to you both eye-fucking the enter time. Then dirty talk. Then your mating scent wafts and pollutes the fresh air to the extent I'll need to vomit."

Emerie raised her hand to agree, skipping forward to place an arm around Mor's scalloped leather shoulder. Mor lowered her face and kissed the back of her girl's hand. Finally, seeing Mor so free to love? Despite everything, Azriel was happy for her, truly.

Nesta snorted. "Oh, like you two won't be eye-fucking the entire time, either?" Cassian stood tall next to his mate, powerful arms crisscrossed over his exposed chest.

"Yeah, what she said," Cassian added, shrugging when Nesta rose an elegant eyebrow at him.

Azriel glanced sidelong at Gwyn, who appeared caught between amusement and confusion. He shuffled a few strides toward her, dipping his head to whisper.

"Are you all right?" he asked. Azriel had inquired frequently about Gwyn's well-being for the several weeks since the incident with Merrill. The same fucking bitch still lost in the wind. After scouring across Prythian, the Continent, and Hybern, his spies had come up empty-handed. And the unaccounted-for elder priestess only added to his irritation. Particularly given the role Gwyn had played in Merrill's scheme. "Gwyn?"

"Hmm?" She blinked, rolling her shoulders. "Nothing, it's just," Gwyn crooked her finger at him and he leaned his head closer until her breath warmed, tickled the shell of his ear. "Do we look like that? When we look at each other?"

Azriel followed her darting eyes to Cassian and Nesta, who were exchanging glances, ensuring plenty of vigorous activity after the extra practice. Mor and Emerie were less obvious, their subtle, playful grins hiding secrets from all else except each other, but there was no way to cover the affection.

Gwyn tilted her head, her gleaming copper hair sweeping his cheek in a feather-soft caress, and he fought the impulse to kiss the top of her head. Since Gwyn discovered the note in Merrill's office, things had taken a few steps back. They often filled the nights with the sound of clashing blades and of fists meeting the training dummies. And Az was more than content to be her partner.

Her nightmares were back in full force, causing her to stumble up the stairs to the House in the dead of night. His shadows wrapped around her in encouragement. Even the most potent sleeping drafts concocted by the healers seemingly did nothing. What killed him was she didn't want comfort, even as she shivered like a leaf. Gwyn didn't want him to touch her. And that? Well...

"Shadowsinger?" Gwyn's question made him refocus on the pair of lovers across the circle ahead of them.

He presented the young priestess a lazy half-smile. Azriel was keeping it loose, cheerful, not wanting to darken her morning with his anguished, maddening thoughts. To not be intimidating. Yet another mask, he recognized, one he wore only for her. "The better question is how do you feel, priestess, when I look at you?"

A flirtation hid within playful banter. Perfection, Shadowsinger.

Her brows shot up. "In the bedroom or...?"

He casually lifted and dropped his shoulder. "Anytime."

Gwyn's eyes focused on her boots, her nose wrinkling as she thought. Cauldron, it shouldn't be that hard to answer...should it? Had he kept his false face on so tight that even the girl he adored didn't understand what he was trying to say without words?

The Priestess is wondering if she missed something, Singer.

"You have looked at me like that before," she whispered. "The times in the bedroom and the library..." She laughed a little, her bright, wide smile easing the tension in his chest. "But it's like our precious secret. I think I like it that way. Knowing that view is mine alone."