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The warm breezes surrounding Velaris stirred Elain's hair as she pruned the ivy in her garden. The garden at the back of the River House was smaller and more secluded than the front. Night-blooming flowers and jasmines here exuded a heady fragrance, and at night, they offered a cozy place to end the day with a good book. And the view from the kitchen always brought a smile to Elain's face. The presence of spaces familiar to her within the house made her feel at ease.
Some nights, Feyre—even Rhys—would come out to the garden with her to enjoy the nice weather. Her sister's pregnancy had made everyone in the house even more sensitive. Rhys, in particular, was very strict about this. She agreed with Feyre , "Alpha male nonsense..." Elain moved to the wheelbarrow where she kept the vines she'd pruned. With a snap of her hand, the dry, heat-spoiled leaves vanished, leaving only branches perfect for burning in the fireplace. She was becoming more and more proficient at this little spell. She smiled to herself when the voice of a majestic presence filled her ears. "You're gaining experience day by day, it's admirable."
Elain laughed. “Would you believe me if I told you I was thinking the same thing just now?” The golden evening light of Velaris cast a light on Azriel’s shoulders. The shadows framing the edges of his wings seemed to flicker in the light—as if he were both here and not. Elain’s breath caught unconsciously. Seeing him so close after so long had reawakened something inside her—a heartbeat she had gently suppressed.
Azriel, as always, moved silently, his hands folded across his chest , his head slightly cocked to the side, his hazel eyes resting on Elain. “Of course, the path to truth always leads somewhere.” He grinned. “It’s good to see you again, Elain.” Elain looked at the warrior with a smile on her face, her cheeks a little flushed. “You too. You haven’t been around here in a while.”
“You know,” Azriel shrugged. “Court affairs, the hellish Illryian Camps, and boring things like training…” Elain raised an eyebrow. “Oh, that seems like a pretty hectic schedule.” Azriel rolled his eyes, but his expression remained mild. “I assure you, not.” Elain gestured toward the large garden table and chairs. “Sit down, there’s tea and cookies. Fresh from the oven.”
Azriel surveyed the garden as Elain went to the kitchen. It was a sad fact that he hadn't been here in a long time; Elain had truly done a wonderful job. It seemed he had carried out almost all the plans she'd outlined at the Town House on solstice night. A feeling of pure pride, admiration, and—though he didn't want to admit it—a little sadness welled up within the shadowsinger. He wished he were here to help.
While Azriel was lost in these thoughts, Elain approached the table with a tray. Steam mingled between them from the tea she poured into porcelain cups, and the warm, herbal scent of jasmine filled the air. As Elain placed the tray on the table, she noticed Azriel watching her intently.
“A fitting display for your garden,” Azriel said, reaching for the cup. “One day you’ll have to teach me how these teas smell so good.” Elain lifted her cup, a wry smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “I suppose the secret isn’t magic, but patience,” she said. “But patience isn’t exactly your forte, is it?”
Azriel laughed softly. “You certainly are a great observer, Elain.”
“Of course,” Elain said with a shrug. “I learned from the best.”
A moment of silence mingled with the steaming tea. As they both sipped from their cups, Azriel's gaze fell on the cookies on the plate. He picked one up and thoughtfully popped it into his mouth. “How did you know Feyre was pregnant?” he asked then.
Elain smiled, her lips pressed to the rim of the cup. “There were so many clues. Living together certainly has its advantages. And… happy. Both of them. They were excited, it showed in their every movement. There was a different kind of connection. It was something new, something fresh.”
Azriel watched Elain's smile, a soft, slightly broken smile, as she spoke of her sister's happiness. You too could have had a life like this once, he thought to himself. A lord's son, a beautiful marriage, a garden filled with flowers...
Trying to suppress the jealousy in his chest, he spoke. “The House of Wind is not much different from this.” Elain raised her eyebrows. “What does that mean?”
Azriel murmured as he sipped his tea, “I would like to inform you that… a different kind of bond is about to form there, too. Between Nesta and Cassian.”
Elain rolled her eyes. “About to happen? Come on, it was obvious something was going on between them from the moment they first saw each other.”
Azriel's mind completed that sentence without realizing it. Like you and me. Angry with himself, he frowned and whispered to himself, " Get a grip on yourself, you stupid bastard." But it was a futile effort. From the moment he first saw her, he had felt like something was slowly shifting in his world.
"This time the connection I'm talking about…" he said finally, his voice serious yet filled with a hint of amusement, "…a connection with sound. A lot of sound."
Elain looked at him in surprise. “Too much noise?” Azriel pressed his lips together to keep from laughing. “The kind that keeps you up at night.”
Elain didn't understand at first, then her eyes widened as the meaning of the words took shape in her mind. "What bond is formed by the kind of sounds that keep you up at night— Oh… oh. "
Her cheeks suddenly turned red. Azriel couldn't suppress his laughter, even the shadows seemed to tremble with him. “Hey!” Elain said, narrowing her eyes. “That was so… inappropriate! You tricked me!”
Azriel was still chuckling as he tried to catch his breath. “You should really see the look on his face.” Elain threw the silk handkerchief she had spread across her legs at Azriel in anger. “Stop making fun of me! You’re disgusting. Are you eavesdropping on my sister’s privates at night?”
Azriel raised his hands defensively. “It’s not my fault! They’re too loud. Trust me, it gets less appealing after a while.” Elain pursed her lips and let out an involuntary laugh, but recovered quickly. “That’s exactly why I stay in the room farthest from Feyre and Rhys’s. And I use soundproofing beans.”
Azriel paused for a moment, then blinked. “Soundproof… beans?”
Elain leaned her arm on the chair and nodded solemnly. “I found them at the market. Little blue things. They absorb noise. I promise they work.”
A wry smile crossed Azriel's face. "I'm sure they work. Maybe I should try them someday—if I'm going to stay in the House of Wind, that is."
Elain set her cup down and glanced at him. “So you’re thinking of staying?” Azriel let a tired but genuine smile touch the corners of his lips. “I’m not sure yet. Maybe… a quiet garden is less tiring.”
Elain's heart skipped a beat at that moment, unconsciously. His simple yet honest statement had sent a shiver through her. She rolled her eyes to hide it, then spoke in a playful tone: "No, you can't stay in my garden."
Azriel hit his chest with his hand as if it were broken. “You wounded me, kingslayer.”
Elain laughed, her thin voice echoing in Azriel's chest. "I'm sure you'll get used to this quickly, Shadowsinger."
For a while, they simply watched the smoke dancing around the edge of the cup. Silence settled between them like a softness. As they finished their tea, Elain looked down at her hands clasped in her lap. Her voice was low but sincere: “How’s Nesta? I hope she’s doing well after our last meeting.”
Azriel's smile faded. He remembered Elain and Nesta's argument at the meeting; the anger of that moment, the wounds between them. He clenched his jaw and replied: "She'll be fine. She's made new friends, and they're good for each other. She's getting better at training day by day."
Elain smiled wryly. “That’s good.” She paused for a moment, then asked, as if afraid to admit it even to herself: “Is she asking about us?” Azriel exhaled deeply at the young woman's desperate, trembling tone. "Not yet," he said gently. "But soon she’ll come to you."
Elain glanced back at her garden. The orange of the sunset filtered through her hair. “I think I was too hard on her. Not everyone deals with anger the same way.”
Azriel felt a weight on his chest as he listened to her soft confession. “I disagree,” he said quietly. “You did what you thought was right. You weren’t at fault there. It was just…” His eyes fell on his hands on the table. “ ... you were a perfect target in front of her.”
His hazel eyes were dull for a moment. “ But she needs to take responsibility now,” she murmured. “She’s an adult female.” Elain turned her head and looked at him. At that moment, something broke in Azriel's weary yet protective stance. "Her anger will not subside until she forgives herself. I hope it's not too late before she realizes that."
They were silent for a moment. The silence was filled with unspoken words. Elain reached out and placed her hand over Azriel's on the table. Her fingers gently encircled his. Then, with a thin smile, she added, "Don't be mad at her for me, she just doesn't know how to do it. It's one of the many things my mother took from her."
Azriel didn't know what to say at that moment. The warmth of Elain's fingers cut through the coldness he had worn like armor for years. This contact was seemingly innocent, but it was as if a prayer was hidden within it.
The shadowsinger's throat tightened. All he knew was that this touch both made him feel alive and torn apart. He felt like falling to his knees and begging before the young woman's infinite compassion. He didn't even care what he had to give up to deserve this love . And even though he was forbidden from asking, he couldn't even ask.
Azriel cleared his throat, slowly withdrawing his hand. Elain's hand remained on the table, still, as if her warmth was still there. Azriel mustered all his willpower not to hold that hand again. "...I'm not angry with her," he finally murmured. "I understand. I've been down that road."
Elain smiled slightly, her eyes filled with both pride and a fragile peace. “Then I don’t think you have anything to worry about.” A warm breeze drifted through her hair. “With the support of Cassian, you and her friends, I’m sure she’ll get through all of this. I believe in her more than her think.”
Azriel tried to silence the despair within himself as he listened to the conviction in her words. But still, his silence did not last long. “It still doesn’t change the fact that she hurt you, Elain,” he said in a low but firm voice. “You know you don’t deserve this.”
Elain looked into those hazel eyes for a long time. For a moment, it was as if they touched each other's souls. Thens he whispered in her soft, accepting voice: "...I've been through a lot I didn't deserve, Azriel. Everyone does." She took a breath and turned her eyes to the sparkles in the garden. “It's not a problem anymore.”
But Azriel heard her voice tremble as she said it. And he knew—nothing was truly “okay” to Elain. She had simply learned to appear strong.