The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Chapter Twenty-Five
Summary: Y/n's clairvoyance is a gift from the Mother, but it feels more like a curse. With the power to gain knowledge through touch alone, Y/n holes herself up in The Alcove and hopes her powers and parentage will remain a secret. But things will change after the Summer Solstice ball and a chance encounter with a certain Shadowsinger.
Warnings: Physical injury (i.e., Rhys and Cassian recovering post-Koschei), fluff, mating ceremonyyyyyyyyy (y'all I'm so excited I got so emotional writing this one)
The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Masterlist
Masterlist of Masterlists
It was strange how the absence of things could be so obvious. How silence could be more obnoxious than a crowded room.Â
Three weeks had passed since Koscheiâs death, and everyone was afraid to bring attention to the glaring absence of Cassianâs arm and Rhysandâs wings.Â
At every meal, Nesta carefully cut up the Lord of Bloodshedâs food, and every night, Rhysand winnowed up to his bedroom. He no longer needed a wheelchair to move around, but walking up the stairs was a battle he won only half the time.
Azrielâs shadows were still missing. Gone to the wind. But their whispers grew in strength each day and Azriel would strain his ear to hear them. It gave you both hope that theyâd return in time.Â
âDaddy.âÂ
Rhysand froze halfway up the stairs, leaning against the wall with his legs crossed at the ankles. He subtly hid his hand behind his back, concealing the cane he relied on to walk around his own home.Â
âYes, Nyx.âÂ
The boy stood with his mother, her hand resting gently on his shoulder. Her wings were on full display, as were Nyxâs, in preparation for their daily flying lessons. For the first time, Rhysand would be unable to join them.
âWeâre going flying. Do you⌠do you want to watch?â Nyx smiled shyly, one arm wrapped around his motherâs leg as he stared at the ground. âI can finally summon my wings during free fall. Just like we practiced.â
Rhysand strained to smile. âGo ahead with your mother. Iâll join you on the balcony soon.âÂ
âOk,â the boy murmured and walked down the hall towards his parentsâ bedroom.Â
Feyre moved to be with her husband, her wings disappearing in a melting of light. She gently cupped his face in her hands.Â
âItâs ok, my love,â Rhysand whispered, kissing her palms. Feyre smoothed back the swoop of hair that fell over his forehead. The strands were damp with sweat. âI donât want you to keep Nyx waiting.âÂ
âNyx is a patient boy. More patient than his father.âÂ
Rhys chuckled, blinking away tears. It was silly to hide these emotions from Feyre â she felt everything he did â but he wanted to at least try to be strong. To be her equal. Her High Lord.Â
âTake your time, Rhys.â Her lips brushed against his and a piece of that ache in his chest fizzled out. It was incredible how his mate and wife could ease his burden with such a small touch. âIâll be waiting with our son.âÂ
The moment Feyre disappeared into their bedroom and shut the door, Rhysand snapped his cane in half. Wood splinters flew out, embedding themselves in the wall and in the staircase, and he threw what remained down the stairs.Â
Feyre, with all her love and patience, gave him the space to be angry. To grieve. But it helped her to know that Cassian, Azriel, and Emerie were already on their way.Â
Rhysand made it to the third floor landing without his cane before the pain in his back became impossible to ignore. He sank to the floor.Â
âRhysââ The trio crowded around him.Â
âDonât say a fucking word, Cass.â They froze beside him, tucking their wings in tight. âI used to think the steps to the House of Wind were hard. Now I canât even climb the stairs in my own fucking house.â
He hated this. He hated this with a burning passion. He was meant to be High Lord. He should have been at Feyreâs side, shaking out his wings and getting ready to taste the wind with his son. Instead here he was, sweat-soaked and shaking in front of his brothers and Emerie.Â
After his mother and Seleneâs death, heâd promised himself he would never lose his wings. They were a physical reminder of his Illyrian heritage. A heritage which so often went unseen beneath the veneer of a High Lord. Decades spent Under the Mountain had only cemented that promise in blood and salt.Â
Amarantha may have stolen many things from him, but sheâd never taken his wings. Sheâd never touched them. Sheâd never even seen them.Â
Poison-laced calls of Amaranthaâs whore and half-breed had always paled in comparison to the freedom of flying. A freedom he no longer had.Â
âIâm not an Illyrian anymore,â Rhysand whispered grimly. The muscles in his back rolled, and even that small movement sent a thread of pain down his spine. Â
Cassian and Azriel were stunned into silence. But not Emerie. Her gaze was too piercing, her tone too frank and unrelenting as she said, âMy mother died without her wings.âÂ
Rhysand looked up at the female, slender and sharp as a blade.Â
âAt thirty-seven years old her father took a butcherâs knife and hacked them off before burying them in the snow just outside Windhaven.â She cocked her head to the side. âTell me, was she not an Illyrian then?âÂ
âThatâs not what I meant,â Rhysand said pathetically.Â
âItâs exactly what you meant. But youâre wrong. Your wings donât make you an Illyrian, Rhys. If they did, myself and over half the females in those camps would have been banished from Illyria a long time ago.âÂ
There was a silence that followed, tense and filled with guilt until Emerie spoke again.Â
âDo you know what they say about you in the camps? And Iâm not talking about the males who whisper half-breed behind your back.âÂ
Rhysand took his head.Â
âThe young females whisper about the day youâll find them worthy enough to steal away to Velaris â to your precious city youâd never let come to harm. They talk about the shops theyâd get to see with the frosted cakes in the windows and the enchanted houses where they wouldnât have to slave away over a stove or wring towels until their hands bled. That one day, youâll recognize that theyâre dreamers too whoâve only had their worst nightmares come true. The older ones are wiser than that. They donât talk about escaping to a city they donât know and donât love, surrounded by strangers who might call them lesser-fae. They build their lives in the cold, and when the males come to burn it down, they either endure and build it up again, or they fight back however they can.âÂ
Emerie regarded him carefully, eyes halting on his violet eyes and the sharpness of his ears.Â
âWings donât make you an Illyrian,â she repeated, âItâs in your blood. Itâs what you're born into and the hands that raise you. Never say âIâm not an Illyrianâ again, do you understand me?â
Rhysand swallowed the burning lump in his throat. Touched the short tips of his ears and wiped the tears gathering in his violet eyes.Â
âAzriel, could youâcould you bring me my cane? Please?âÂ
His brother walked down the steps without hesitation and retrieved the broken halves.Â
It was a thing of beauty and strength, carved from ironwood and stained so dark it may as well have been sliced from a night sky. Rhysand put the two pieces together and closed his eyes.Â
It was easy, miniscule magic to put the cane back together and far more difficult a feat to stand upright once again. He might have toppled backwards if not for Emerie. She gave him her shoulder to lean against.
âStill an Illyrian,â he murmured.Â
It was a promise to himself and to his family. To the three Illyrian warriors who had found him.Â
âStill an Illyrian.â Emerie patted his arm. âI understand youâll still feel some self-pity for a while. Itâs natural, but⌠try not to do it in a room Iâm in.âÂ
âI can do that.â Rhysand leaned against his cane, limping towards his bedroom where his mate and son were waiting. âOh and Emerie.â She turned her head towards him. âThank you.âÂ
âDo you want me to just cut it for you?âÂ
âNo, I like the way Nesta does it.âÂ
âSince when did you get so picky?âÂ
âSince I lost my fucking arm, Mor.âÂ
You snorted into your glass of wine and Azriel smiled as the pair continued bickering. He kept one hand under the table, rubbing small circles into your thigh. It wasnât until Nesta decided to grace the early morning with her presence that Cassian turned his attention away from Mor, drawing Nesta down for a kiss.Â
A fresh bruise painted his cheekbone purple, pink, and blue.Â
Nesta gripped Cassianâs chin, turning his face to the side for a better look. âWho did this?â
âEmerie,â he said cheerfully. His grin was brighter than the sun.Â
Today was the first time heâd sparred with anyone since he lost his arm and Emerie hadnât gone easy on him. On the contrary, sheâd taken every advantage her two arms afforded her until Cassian felt more tender than a steak on a butcherâs board. He hadnât been thrown on his back so many times since the mating frenzy.Â
It was a dirty, cunning way of fighting and heâd never appreciated the Illyrian female more.Â
Nesta smirked at her friend with a glint in her eye that looked suspiciously like gratitude.Â
Emerie only shrugged. She hadnât experienced the same kind of loss that Cassian and Rhysand had, but sheâd learned a great deal after her wing clipping. Carrying limbs that no longer worked was not so different from losing them entirely. It was all about a shifting of control and weight â about finding a new center of gravity and using weakness to your advantage.Â
âDid you go easy on him?â Nesta asked.Â
Emerie snorted. âObviously not.â
âShe fractured three ribs, but theyâre healed now.âÂ
âVery nice.âÂ
Nesta settled down at her rightful seat beside Cassian and wordlessly cut up his breakfast.Â
âThanks, Nes.âÂ
âItâs the least I could do.âÂ
Cassian chuckled and pulled her close until she was nearly in his lap. âDonât give me so much power, darling.âÂ
She huffed. âWhat power?â
âThe power to win any argument in the future.â He stuck what remained of his right arm into the air and gave it a shake. It was a gentle, teasing reminder of who had cut it off in the first place.Â
Nesta narrowed her eyes until they were two clips of ice. âDonât make me regret letting you live.âÂ
âThatâs much better.âÂ
Some people needed a gentle touch after horrible events, but there was nothing gentle about Cassian. Heâd been born with the wild in his blood. He knew how to adapt and survive, and if surviving meant he would lose his arm and get more time with his mate, it was a trade he was more than happy to make.
Azriel seemed to be in agreement. He never took his eyes off you. More interested in seeing your reaction than hearing which comment had brought it to life.
Feyre nudged Rhys, eyes wide and eyebrows raised as she looked back and forth from her mate to you and Azriel.Â
Now? Rhys asked.Â
Yes, now! Theyâve been staring at each other for the last thirty minutes. Itâs honestly unnerving... Do you think theyâve already accepted the bond?
Thereâs no way in hell. We would have known.Â
Azrielâs terribly good at keeping secrets.Â
The fact that they havenât been missing the last few months is proof enough.Â
All the more reason to bring this up now so we can finally put them out of their misery.Â
Feyre shot to her feet at the head of the table and Rhysand scrambled to attention after her.Â
âIt has come to our attention that we never did say congratulations to a special couple in this room.â
âOh gods,â Azriel muttered.Â
Your face turned warm as everyoneâs eyes and grins fell upon you and your mate.
âYou didnât think we forgot about your mating bond, did you?â Gwyn teased.Â
âWe were kind of hoping you had,â you said. âNot that we arenât happy orââ You glanced over at Azriel.Â
The first night youâd woken up in the Dawn Court youâd tried to crawl into his bones â an odd mixture of desperation and longing urging you to have your way with one other. Now, you were embarrassed to think that the first thing youâd tried to do after nearly dying, was sleep with your mate.Â
Azriel smiled, bending towards you like a flower seeking sunlight in silent encouragement. It was such a small, natural gesture, and one that everyone noticed. Which also meant they clocked the blush on your cheeks as you gripped Azrielâs hand under the table.Â
You cleared your throat. âWe werenât sure it was a good time with everything going on. We thought it might be wise to wait beforeââÂ
âNo more waiting!â Cassian declared, slamming his fist against the table so hard the silverware bounced. âI swear to the fucking gods, if youâre not in the frenzy by the end of the week, Y/n, Iâll have you force feed Azriel myself.âÂ
âWe agreed weâd be gentle in our approach,â Elain reminded him.Â
âThere was a plan in place for this?â Lucien sputtered. âAnd you were a part of it?âÂ
She scoffed and lightly slapped his arm. Elain was a gentle, lovely creature when she wanted to be, and nothing melted her heart more than a good love story.Â
âI think we are in need of a celebration,â Vassa whispered. It was the first collection of words the firebird had spoken in months.Â
Sheâd sat for every meal at Lucienâs side completely silent. But this time, she reached a hand across the table and slid it into yours, squeezing tightly. Flashes of memory passed behind her eyes â memories of Jurian.
They werenât fae. A mating bond was never in the cards for them. Which was why she felt strongly that you should be greedy with the time you had together. For there was no telling when it would end.
You sucked in a breath. Youâd spoken at length about this with Azriel, tossing ideas back and forth during the night when the bond made your blood sing for more contact with the Shadowsinger. More touches. Â
But youâd agreed that it was inappropriate to have even a private mating ceremony when everyone was hurting. To abandon them and disappear into the frenzy.Â
Perhaps youâd both been wrong.Â
Given how quick everyone was to swarm you and Azriel, you were definitely wrong.Â
Rhysand hobbled over with his cane, kissing your cheek with a loud, obnoxious smack before aggressively disheveling Azrielâs hair.Â
âThe cottageââ Azriel began.
âIâll have it finished by tonight.â Rhysand promised.Â
Cassian threw his one good arm around Azrielâs shoulder, tugging him out of his chair and towards the door on a mission. Poor Lucien was also coerced into joining whatever debauchery Cassian had planned for their afternoon. He sulked after the pair with Rhysand.Â
Nesta, Feyre, and Mor crowded around you, already deliberating which of the many-frequented boutiques in Velaris they would need to visit for your mating ceremony attire.Â
You were positively overwhelmed by the attention and the realization that this was all happening.Â
By midnight, you would be mated to the love of your life.Â
Azriel slipped out from under Cassianâs arm, racing back across the room and falling to his knees. âI need a moment with you.â He breathed, thinly-veiled hunger in his eyes.Â
One nod was all it took before he was guiding you to the kitchen and slamming the door on everyoneâs whistling.Â
Azriel pressed you against the kitchen door, chest heaving so hard you could feel every beat of his heart against your chest.Â
Youâd both been holding back with each other ever since returning to the Night Court. Propriety and respect for his brothers had demanded you wait to express your love and wanting. You didnât want to slap them in the face with joy.Â
But now that you had everyoneâs overwhelming approval, well⌠Azriel was finding it nearly impossible to wait even a moment longer.Â
He pressed his lips to yours and didnât let go of his soft grip on your waist until you were both gasping for breath. But then you kissed him back, swallowing his sighs and gentle groans like there was honey on his tongue. Sweet and addictive andâ
Rhysand rudely knocked on the door, his sultry voice a purr. âIn the kitchen, Azriel? Really? I would have expected more from a gentleman like you.âÂ
âFuck off, Rhys.âÂ
The High Lord chuckled, but slipped away all the same.Â
Azriel grinned against your lips, your hands clasped together between your bodies. âI just wanted one last kiss before tonight.âÂ
âTonight.â You nodded frantically.Â
Tonight.Â
You were doing this. You were really doing this.Â
Then you realized what heâd said. âI wonât see you before then?â
âI donât think the others will let us.âÂ
Your laughs rang in the air, bouncing off the kitchen cabinets like wedding bells.Â
On the other side of your door you could feel everyoneâs anticipation. And you couldn't keep them waiting much longer. They might just break down the door.Â
âIâll see you tonight.â You whispered before stealing one last kiss.Â
âTonight.â Azriel agreed. His breath curled around your ear, lips brushing against the tip as he promised, âUntil then.â
Feyre, Nesta, Gwyn, Emerie, Elain, and Mor descended upon the Palace of Thread and Jewels, all too eager to heap your arms full of the most expensive lace money could buy.Â
You were about to marry into the Night Court and had a High Lord father who needed to make up for centuries of fatherly absence. There was more than enough gold to throw around.
âWhat do you think of this?â Feyre asked, draping the pale blue silk over your shoulder.
The clothierâs shop was bustling in the late morning, but no one dared step foot into the private room your family was set up in. The enchanted curtain blocked out all noise â tthe pinnacle of privacy.
You stood alone on a low platform, swishing the skirts of your dress and imagining what the finished product might look like.Â
Farron, the clothier, had been quick to stitch a muslin mock up of the design youâd chosen, knotted fingers shocking in their dexterity as needle and thread disappeared and reappeared in her hand like some trick of the eye. She hadnât even taken your measurements. One spin with your arms outstretched and sheâd set about cutting the exact length of material needed for your mating ceremony gown.Â
It was no wonder that she was Rhysandâs preferred clothier.
It still felt like a dream. Some wonderful, impossible dream as you took in the sight of the fabric over your chest.Â
It glistened like moonlight and flowed like river water.
âFeyre, itâs perfect,â You breathed, touching the silken threads beneath your fingertips.Â
âAn excellent choice,â Farron said with a smile. She stood dutifully off to the side, tortoise-rimmed glasses growing her eyes to bug-like proportions.
You were a lovely thing in her eyes. A fine match for the Shadowsinger, indeed.Â
Now, no one had told her that that was the cause for celebration. But sheâd been clothing the Night Court males for a long while and knew them like the back of her hand. And you? You were made for the Shadowsinger. That much was clear.Â
It was from centuries of experience that she classified the soft parting of your mouth and wide eyes. It was the look mates and brides alike adopted when theyâd found the perfect dress. The one that would make them feel as perfect and precious as a pearl.
Your brows furrowed in concern. âMy mating ceremony is tonight. Will it be ready by then?â
âPfffft.â The clothier slapped her chest indignantly. âIt will be ready in three hours time. You can return once after youâve finished your shopping and weâll have a final ceremony look ready for you, my dear.âÂ
With a dress being sewn together at Farronâs, Mor hurried you along to what she believed was the most critical part of any mating ceremony dress â the lingerie. The ordeal left a permanent blush on your cheeks as you quickly moved on to the shoemaker and then the jeweler.Â
âWhich one did you decide on?â Mor asked once again. She trailed at your heels, resting her chin on your shoulder as you kept your wares clutched to your chest.Â
âIâm not telling you.âÂ
âWhy not?â She whined. Red fingernails grazed the tissue paper that peaked out from the edges of the lingerie box.Â
âBecause that is for Azriel to know, and only Azriel,â you said, snatching the box out of her grasp.Â
Nesta laughed. âWhat does it matter which pair sheâs picked? Itâs not like it will survive the first night of the frenzy.âÂ
Your cheeks burned with color.Â
Mor giggled at your shyness. âDonât act coy now, Y//n. We all know what you four read in your free time.âÂ
âDonât act like you donât benefit, love.â Emerie teased, squeezing Morâs hip.Â
âI never suggested such a thing.âÂ
Gwyn gagged when they kissed and everyone broke apart into fits of laughter in the streets, leaning against shoulders and stumbling on the cobblestones as they caught their breath.Â
You were pressed in on all sides by familiar bodies, a comforting mixture of perfumes, and the sounds of laughter.
Itâs happening.
Itâs really happening.Â
Your grin could have put the sun to shame as you bounced on your heels in front of the mirror.Â
Pale blue silk dipped down to the center of your chest and fell off your shoulders like mist. Wide, airy sleeves hovered at your elbows, ending in curls of hand-woven lace. A pair of ribbon-tie shoes and ear-tip cuffs completed the ensemble.Â
They were both blue for Azriel â for your mate â who currently stood awestruck by the door.Â
You didnât startle when you caught a sliver of his reflection in the mirror. In fact, you were rather pleased to see his slack jaw and glistening eyes.Â
âWhat do you think?â You asked as Azriel slipped out from the darkness and into your old bedroom.Â
You hardly stepped foot in here anymore. Azrielâs bedroom had solidly become yours. Your clothes were mixed in with his. Your perfume bottles and soaps lined his bathroom. Your scent was tied to his bed, or rather your bed.Â
âI think⌠I think youâre a dream, Y/n.â He spoke with a sigh.Â
He melted into the curve of your neck, hands ghosting over your shoulders with a feather-light touch.Â
He shook his head, as if disappointed.Â
âNo,â he corrected himself, âYouâre far better than a dream because youâre real, and I canât believe youâre mine.âÂ
âI could say the same about you,â you whispered.Â
You leaned back against his chest and breathed deeply, feeling your heart soothe itself to the rhythm of his breathing and the scent of mountain air and cedar trees.Â
He was beautiful. Black velvet encased his broad shoulders, cutting out a silhouette of pitch black night and highlighting the glow of his hazel eyes â like two chips of amber aglow in a dark wood.Â
You couldnât stop yourself from staring and threading your fingers into his soft, black curls, eliciting a soft groan from his lips that had your blood stirring to life.Â
âI thought we were supposed to meet downstairs.âÂ
Azriel smiled. âI selfishly wanted to be the first to see you.âÂ
âThatâs not selfish at all,â You hummed. You began tracing the gold cuffs that spanned the length of his ears and the subtle embroidery at the wrists and front of his shirt. They were distinctly Day Court fashions, and he wore them well. âThese are new.âÂ
âI may or may not have reached out to your father for advice when picking out my clothes.âÂ
âI like them. Day Court colors suit you. They bring out the gold flecks in your eyes.âÂ
Azriel smiled, kissing the curve of your ears and playing with the sapphire necklace clasped around your neck. The drag of metal and fingertips over your chest had you shivering. Â
You gently tugged at his hair and he obeyed the unspoken command to lean down and capture your lips in a kiss. Soft sounds spilled from both of you as he walked you back towards the wall and gently pressed you against it, flatting his hands by the sides of your head.Â
Azriel got lost in the taste of you. Your hands in his hair. The feeling of your hips flush against his. Every movement was subtle, but eager, in its wanting and Azriel knew that when he finally had you beneath him, heâd be ruined⌠If he wasnât ruined already.Â
There was another reason heâd wanted to see you first before relinquishing you to the formalities of a mating ceremony.Â
Heâd been on edge all day, unused to being the unbridled center of attention among his brothers. Cassian was brash and loud, Rhysand flirtatious and passionate. Even Lucien radiated an undeniable charisma that made him popular within crowds.Â
But Azriel had always prized quiet and peace above all else. He wanted to feel that peace again.Â
The bond rose within him like high tide, spilling color and light into his chest as you pressed your forehead against his and cradled the curve of his neck.Â
He breathed deep and he breathed freely, feeling something in his soul mend itself with a roll of anticipation. A tendril of cold wrapped around his ear and whispered in a language only Azriel could understand.
Too long, master. Itâs been too long.
Azrielâs eyes flew open. Heâd nearly forgotten the shape of their words â the language that heâd been taught to speak after years spent in the dark. Months of soft spoken words he could barely make out became a chorus of congratulations as they sensed the connection that now bound you and Azriel together.Â
Theyâd known about it since the beginning, but now that you were also aware, they were ecstatic.
Black shadows spilled out from his skin, eagerly wrapping you up in a shell of twisting darkness. They embraced you, kissing your cheeks with cool, feathery touches.Â
Azriel swallowed your laughter, hands diving down and lifting up your dress so he could squeeze your thighs and wrap your legs around him.Â
It was a kiss made of teeth and longing and relief. With his shadows having returned and a mating bond ready to be accepted, Azriel felt invincible. Like he was cradling the world in his arms.Â
But it was ended all too soon by a shadow in his ear that warned, Theyâre almost at the door.Â
Gods he missed having them around.Â
You gasped, picking up on the sound of Lucien and Helionâs strong footsteps coming towards the door. They were supposed to walk you downstairs before handing you off to your mate, and although Azriel had made leaps and bounds in earning their blessing you didnât think theyâd take kindly to seeing the Shadowsinger flush between your legs just before your mating ceremony.Â
âShit.â You hissed, untangling yourself from Azriel as he fixed your dress and struggled to hide his laughter.Â
You pushed him backwards, masking both your scents and shoving him inside the wardrobe.Â
âMy Y/n, what are you doing?â Azriel asked. He needed to bend just to fit inside the empty wardrobe. His eyes glittered with amusement, shadows pooling around his wings.Â
âI-I was going to try and hide you before my father and brother come inside butâ â a handful of shadows curled around your wrists and ankles, intent on becoming permanent fixtures for as long as you were separated from your mate â âI see thatâs not necessary anymore.âÂ
Azriel grinned and pulled you in for one last kiss. âIâll see you downstairs,â he whispered just as Lucienâs polite knock came at the door. Â
âIâll see you downstairs.âÂ
His shadows swirled around him and he melted into the darkness.Â
Mating ceremonies were fluid, adaptable affairs. They could be as extravagant and public or as humble and private as one desired. It made no difference. You were his, and he was yours. Now and forever.Â
You would have accepted the bond with Azriel in your fatherâs palace or in a desert wasteland. Still, you had to agree that home was best.Â
The largest room in the River House â the dining room â had been cleared out for the purpose of your mating ceremony. Candlelight flickered atop the fireplace mantle where you, Azriel, and the priestess stood, and within sconces dripping with wisteria and babyâs breath along the wall. The light of a thousand lanterns, gauzy and warm, lit up the gardens outside the House.
âAll kneel,â the priestess said, holding out two crowns of lavender and lilies of the valley.Â
Everyone kneeled in a loose half-circle.Â
Her dusty blue robes brushed against the floor as she placed the crown atop Azrielâs head and then yours. At her instruction, you shifted on the floor, facing each other with smiles that couldnât be contained.
Azrielâs eyes burned bright, as if all the gold in the world had been distilled and dropped into them.Â
You took the candles the priestess held out, holding them in your left hand and clasping together your right.Â
Azriel snuck a quick kiss to your palm before the priestess could wrap your wrists and hands together with ribbons of blue and gold. She drifted her fingers over the candles and lit them with a flourish.Â
Before the Mother, the priestess, and your family, you exchanged your vows.Â
Secret glances passed between you and the Shadowsinger. Brief smiles tugged at the corners of your lips. Squeezing hands soothed your soul and grounded you in the present as you spoke the words together:
I give to you the hands of a warrior, lover, friend, and mate, till the darkness comes and our endings wake.Â
I give to you my name, to hold on your lips and to pass on your years in hope and longing, in joy and tears.
Blood of blood. Bone of bone. I shall be yours, and you shall be mine.Â
Until we return to the earth and hear the Motherâs song. Until the end of our daysâ
âUntil death and beyond,â Azriel whispered the final vows.Â
âUntil death and beyond,â you replied.Â
âWho the hell spilled the champagne!âÂ
The floor was already sticky with it, grabbing onto Rhysandâs shoes as he stepped out of the puddle. A guilty Feyre chugged the last dregs in the bottle, magicking away the spill with a snap of her fingers and a sultry wink towards her mate. She shrieked with laughter when Rhys limped over to her, collapsing around her shoulders and blowing kisses against her neck.Â
Nyx sat at Amrenâs feet on the floor, struggling to hold his violet eyes open as she scratched his head with her silver-tipped nails. Amren was not one for parties and regarded the room with bored eyes.Â
Mor sat in the seat of honor â Emerieâs lap â whispering gossip in the Illyrianâs ear as you and Azriel tried to make yourselves sparse in the corner.Â
You were half-hidden behind Azrielâs wings as he leaned his head against your shoulder. Leave it to you two to hide at your own mating ceremony.Â
Lucien and Elain drank wine by the kitchen. She left her hand comfortably on his upper arm and smiled when he tucked a strand of wavy brown hair behind her ear. They were a handsome couple â all pale colors and golden gazes, like sunshine spilling over a new day.Â
Helion, entertaining as always, dazzled the group that had assembled around him composed of Gwyn, Feyre, Rhysand, Cassian, and Nesta. Every so often his bright eyes would land on you and heâd wink before pointing threateningly in Azrielâs direction.Â
Azrielâs shoulders shook with silent laughter and he dipped his lips to your ears and asked, âDo you think heâll ever approve of me?â
âHe already approves of you, he just doesnât want you to know.âÂ
âHeâs a smart male for keeping such a secret. My ego may grow too big for you to handle if he compliments me outright.âÂ
âDidnât he once invite you to his bed?â
âThatâs not very special coming from Helion.âÂ
You burst out laughing, attracting everyoneâs attention as you buried your face in Azrielâs chest to stifle the noise. He laughed aloud as well. Head thrown back, chest and shoulders shaking. It was a full-bodied laugh that harmonized with yours as he wrapped his arms around you and rubbed your back.Â
Azrielâs laughter had once been a rare sound, but you drew it out of him so easily, like a musician with their instrument.Â
Feyre grinned and clapped her hands together. All at once the dining room rearranged itself. The candle flames grew brighter. A table laden with food and chairs popped into existence.Â
For such a special occasion, you and Azriel sat at the head of the table, subtly leaning against one another with your legs tangled beneath the tablecloth as you ate.
There was a cake still waiting to be cut in the kitchen â a cake that youâd baked with Azrielâs name written all over it in invisible ink.Â
Nyx twisted around in his chair, eyes utterly fixated on the seemingly endless rows of lanterns glowing in the garden.Â
âMom.â Nyx tugged on Feyreâs wrist as she cleaned his cheek. âWhen will I get to float the lanterns?âÂ
Feyre looked to you and Azriel.Â
The lanterns were an old Day Court tradition. On the longest night of the year, Day Court citizens dared to step outside into the dark and light up the sky with their own sun-painted lanterns. It was a way to keep the darkness at bay for a little while longer. A time to add your own light to the night sky.Â
âNow,â you smiled. âLetâs do it now.âÂ
You all spilled out into the gardens, cheering Nyx on as he raced ahead of everyone else with short, energetic strides. His wings flared out behind him, catching the name of the wind as it whispered against the velvety membrane.Â
âNot yet!â Rhys reminded him. âYou need to let your aunt and uncle go first.âÂ
You and Azriel picked up the largest lantern of them all, delicate rice paper crinkling as you held it up. The starburst-shaped lantern glowed faintly. A burning sun. A fallen star.
Everyone bent over in the flowers and grasses, hunting to find the second-best lantern for themselves.Â
âThis oneâs for Velaria,â Nyx said, holding up a small, round orb. âThis oneâs for you, Daddy.â A pale lavender lantern was placed carefully in his fatherâs hand. âAnd this oneâs for Mommy.âÂ
âWhy thank you, honey.â Feyre bent low, kissing her sonâs velvety black hair as she held Velaria in her arms.Â
âIs everyone ready?â You called out.Â
Cheers sounded from all around. Particularly energetic whoops came from Cassian and Mor, who tipped back their heads and howled like wolves, ready to throw their lanterns to the sky.Â
Azriel tucked you beneath the curve of his wings and pressed a gentle kiss against your temple before you both let your magic seep into the lantern and sent it skywards.Â
There was chatter from all sides. Soft gasps leaving open-mouth stares as a dozen lanterns started drifting upwards like miniature suns.Â
âItâs all you, Nyx!â Azriel shouted.Â
The boy leapt into action, finding the tallest patch of ground in the garden to make his directorial debut. He fixed the tilt of his bowtie and bent his knees. Slowly and dramatically he curled his fingers, raising his hands upwards like he meant to pull water out of the ground.Â
He looked like an orchestra conductor leading his players in a great crescendo as the remaining one-thousand lanterns took off into the night sky.Â
You gasped and flung your hands up to your lips. Three hundred and forty-three years youâd been alive, and this was the most beautiful sight youâd ever seen.Â
You turned to Azriel only to find that he was already staring at you â at the light of a thousand suns reflected in your eyes.Â
You found yourself proven wrong, and not for the first time. The lanterns were only the second most beautiful sight⌠and you wanted to see more.
Azriel read the idea forming in your mind and nodded.Â
Without hesitation, you took his hand, slinking through the now darkening garden as everyone elseâs attention was directed towards the sky.Â
Lanterns arced through the darkness, staining the sky warm orange as if a painter had swept her brush over the black canvas.Â
Shadows nipped at your heels and covered your tracks, urging you onward as you slipped back into the House and then the kitchen.Â
You didnât even bother cutting the cake. After rummaging around in the kitchen drawers for a spoon, you carved out a spoonful of chocolate cake with strawberries and a healthy dollop of whipped cream frosting â Azrielâs favorite.Â
The Shadowsinger froze, eyes darting back and forth between the cake and your flushed face. Your eyes glowed in the dim light, marked by a quiet, otherworldly beauty Azriel had never been able to resist.Â
âDonât tell me youâre second guessing this now?â You breathed, moving the spoon closer to his lips.Â
âI just⌠I just want to make sure I remember everything about tonight,â he whispered.Â
He adjusted the crown of lavender and lilies on your head, picking up a loose flower petal that had drifted onto your bare shoulders. His touch was soft. Gentle. Reverent as he trailed his fingers up your neck and brushed his thumb along your jaw.Â
His lips closed around the spoon, dragging off every crumb and lick of frosting while never taking his eyes off of you.Â
It was probably a delicious cake, but all Azriel would remember was the taste of your lips that followed as he drew you to his body.Â
When the bond had first snapped for him, he thought the world had cracked in two. Like the sharp clap of lightning across the sky.Â
What followed after the sugar and chocolate melted on his tongue was the thunder â a resounding tremor as the bond glowed hot as iron before cooling into something permanent and unbreakable.Â
Azriel let out a breathless noise. Something between a sigh and a shudder. He clutched your back, nails dragging lightly along your exposed skin in a way that had you melting.Â
âI want to go. Now.â You rasped.Â
You wanted him desperately. More than words could describe.Â
Azriel scooped you up into his arms, and together you vanished into the shadows before anyone even realized you were missing.
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Author's Note:
Y'all, I just love Y/n and Azriel so much...
THEY FUCKING DESERVE A PROPER MATING CEREMONY LIKE DAMNIT THEY BOTH NEARLY DIED LIKE 3X AND YES I'M GOING TO WRITE A SEX SCENE NEXT CHAPTER, I DON'T CARE, THEY DESERVE THIS, Y'ALL DESERVE THIS FOR PUTTING UP WITH ME FOR THE LAST 6 MONTHS AND OVER 100K WORDS LIKE YOU ARE THE TRUE MVPs AND I APPRECIATE YOU IMMENSELY!!! (*but also, if you're not into reading smut scenes, I'll write the next chapter in such a way that you can just skip over it and not miss anything continuity-wise)
THANK YOU FOR READING!
We're almost at the end I've got like two chapters left, one of which is already mostly written, and maybe the epilogue will be it's own thing or part of the last chapter i don't know and just UGH it's almost over... ok i'm going to end this author's note here because I'm getting sad just thinking about this fic ending
^^ my reaction when I realize I've almost finished the longest/most intensive writing project in my life born out of love for the romantasy genre
^^ my reaction when I realize I've almost finished the longest/most intensive writing project in my life born out of love for the romantasy genre
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