A Court of Whispers and Song

Chapter 75

She did it. She actually did it.

Praise the Mother.

Not her deciphering of the documents for Rhysand regarding Koschei, though she was sure she was close. She'd broken part of the cipher and was determined to crack it. That was her newly High Lord-appointed mission, after all. And was of much consequence.

Yet what inspired her excitement today was not duty-bound. No, this was a labor of love. After months of poring over texts on another way to offer contraception beyond tea. With a list of concerns gathered from other acolytes in the library—ones who were ready to venture out into the world and live again—Gwyn had approached Madja and written to Nuan of the Dawn Court.

"Of those I've spoken with, they prefer something tasteless and odorless. Something quick and easy to consume," Gwyn requested, leaving the process and specifics beyond that up to the master Night Court healer and the esteemed Dawn Court tinkerer.

So when she'd finally escaped Azriel's clutches this morning to see two errant parchments on the dining table in the House of Wind, one addressed to her from Madja, Gwyn barely had time to explain to Azriel as she threw on more suitable clothes for flight.

"Can you fly me down to her clinic?" she asked as she tripped into a pair of leggings.

"Can? Yes."

Rolling her eyes, she amended. "Could you, or rather, would you?"

He smiled wryly. "Of course. It gives me more time with you. And I'm rather selfish when it comes to you, wife."

She returned the smile. That was true, and time together was a precious commodity these days, and any shouldn't be squandered. Make time for each other. That's what Priestess Eirny had told her during her first visit after the nuptials. And a reminder of why Gwyn would have to find her own way to the river estate after her meeting to confirm her plans.

Yes, these moments were sacred and healing, she thought as Azriel took his time flying her over Velaris, occasionally dipping his face closer to kiss her cold cheek. Winter was still clinging like a vine around the Night Court, keeping it in its clutches. But Spring was a bloom of hope on the horizon. As they glided high above, Azriel excitedly pointed out places he wished to take her, she kept her arms wrapped around his neck, but not tight. He would not drop her. But if he ever did, if she ever slipped, his arms would be there to catch her—always.

When he finally set them down at the clinic's door, Azriel dragged her into the alley beside it. Cedar and mist-scented air snapped and whipped around them. Day turned to dusk as Az's massive wings encircled them.

"Az? What are you—?"

She didn't get to finish her thoughts. He cradled her face in his hands, rippled and coarse and bumpy and beautiful, and lowered his lips to hers. A ghost of a kiss, tender and loving. One that replaced words.

"Selfish, remember?"

Her answering hum brushed over his mouth.

"I love you," he said, pressing one last kiss to her forehead before pulling back. "I have some business to attend to, but I'll be back before dinner. I promise."

Her eyes narrowed. "All right. You better be home before then, you promised to make supper tonight. And be careful," she said, an or else unsaid.

Azriel's chuckle was full and deep as sunlight streamed in as his wings drew in. "Don't worry; your wrath is more lethal than any foe I've faced. Although I would assume my usual enemies' forgiveness couldn't be bought with a chocolate pastry."