A Court of Whispers and Song

Chapter 52

The world whirled by a twisting kaleidoscope of colors. Laughter echoed around them. Musical notes and beats. A rhapsody of celebration. Of joy.

This, Gwyn realized. This was how the Mother had envisioned. Veneration, prayers, and offerings were great. But tonight was more than holy words. This was a night of new beginnings. Of living.

And Gwyneth Berdara was living.

Spun from friend to friend. Love to love. Azriel. Nesta. Emerie. By this point, her feet ached from dancing under the starlight. Her cheeks ached from smiling and laughing.

Until once again, she found herself in Azriel's arms, wisps of darkness gracefully following across the balcony floor. And this time Gwyn was sober enough to realize—the shadowsinger was an exceptional dancer. He led her as he did through any training exercise, with awareness and expertise.

In the swirling haze, their eyes connected even as Azriel twirled her, his arm around her and hand in her own, bringing them together once more. The warm weight of his palm flat on her lower back secured her and sent Gwyn floating all at once. Her fingers skimmed the luxurious fabric of his perfectly tailored black jacket, tracing embroidered ebony thread on the shoulders, reminding Gwyn of his shadows.

There was something special about tonight.

Gwyn could sense it in the air as if charged. Potent and rejuvenating. There was something in the shadowsinger's hazel eyes tonight. He'd watched her. She'd noticed. Initially, she worried it was born of concern. But, the more Gwyn felt it, felt him, she grasped it was quite the opposite...

Azriel's intense gaze dipped to her mouth and back in silent permission. And when she angled her head, her eyes flitting shut as she leaned in, seeking his lips, a throat cleared beside them.

"All right, Az, move your ass. It's my turn with Gwynnie," a finely dressed Cassian stated without asking if he could cut in.

Azriel growled, the hand on her lower back tugging her tighter against him. Her cheek fell against his shoulder and she could swear a growl rumbled deep within.

"Come on, you moody prick, sharing is caring," his younger brother said, holding his hand out, wiggling his fingers in her direction.

"Az," Gwyn mumbled into his chest. She raised her face and found Azriel staring intently at Cassian over her. She lifted her hand, tilting his face towards hers. "I'll be right back. I promise." She kissed his chin, offering her hand, squealing as Cassian dragged her into his embrace.

And as Cassian drew her into a proper hold, he admitted, "I've had limited practice at being good at this shit, so I apologize in advance for stepping on your toes."

Gwyn snorted. "Don't worry. If Az wasn't leading me, I would have been a lost cause."

"Somehow I doubt that. One would assume a nymph would lean on grace and fluidity."

"You've seen me run, Cass. I'm quick, but how many times have I tripped on air?"

Now it was his turn to snort at the absurdity. "True. Well, if it becomes unbearable, just stand on my feet like Tulia did."

The picture of Cassian hunched forward, young Tulia in her frilly iridescent pale blue dress standing on his massive shoes as he guided her, warmed Gwyn's heart. The House of Wind was the perfect family for her dear little friend.

Cassian did indeed step on her toes. The two of them cackled, clutching onto each other to hold one another upright.

"Well, it seems I'm going to have to return you soon, Gwynnie. Az is giving me that look," Cassian snickered into her ear. His enormous hand shifted behind her back, and the dark laugh that came out of him was full of mischief.