I've just finished Fourth Wing and this is who I am now.
This is it.
I am and I forever will be this book and this story. I have no other personality than loving, talking, thinking, crying about this book and all the characters.
holy
shit
I loved every second of it.
I need a few resurrections in the next book (even though I normally hate them) because I am deceased and super duper heartbroken and I will not stand it.
Did I go to sleep extremely late and wake up extremely early just so I could keep reading which resulted in me having a terrible migraine the whole day? We will never know.
Description: Azriel’s love had always been rough-edged but in the soft light of morning his love is reverent, devout, almost holy.
Word count: 2.8K
Warnings: 18+ only! this wasn’t a request it’s just shameless smut without plot (dirty talk, unprotected sex, oral sex, etc).
This is the sequel to Ruin but they can be read separately. Part II here.
Tossed from the bosom of dreams and into the arms of a pastel morning you wake with a jolt.
The sun perforates through the thin satin of the curtains and fractured light illuminates the room in golden shadows. It’s a myriad of dancing light, like a broken kaleidoscope, sparkling and shattered– but beautiful still. The sun soaks your dewy skin with her burning kisses, searing white hot into naked flesh and the smell of sleep and sex lingers in the air. You lie cocooned between creased sheets, and recount the night before; his rough touches, and the feeling of his calloused palms as they gripped your hips, his chest and how it tasted of salt, his lips and the curses that fell from them like prayers as pleasure washed over you both.
Your fingers ghost over the bruises that he has left. They bloom like roses on the expanses of exposed skin. The stirring of the body next to you, pulls your from the thoughts of last nights tryst. Rolling onto your side you’re greeted with Azriel’s sleeping figure; his hair falls in messy strands onto his face, the longer hairs sticking to his forehead that is coated in a thin veil of sweat, his long eyelashes press against the tops of his fine high cheekbones and the dull crescent moons under his eyes are hardly visible, his mouth parts slightly, soft snores erupting from him. You watch closely as the rise and fall of his chest lulls you into a hazy state wakefulness. He looks at peace in this light, the shadowed sunbeams ribboning onto his sleeping form casting him in a heaven-yellow light.
Lost in introspective thoughts you don’t realise that he has woken from his slumber. His eyes flutter open, hazel irises illuminated in the daylight, flecks of gold and amber that melt into leafy green. Your eyes bore into his and the ghost of a smile forms on your face as he rubs the remnants of sleep from his eyes.
Still half-dreaming Azriel snakes his arms around you, pulling you closer to him, feeling the heat of his body and the beating of his heart in his chest that rises and falls in a steady rhythm. His mouth runs blazing trails of messy kisses down your neck and along your collarbones, nipping at the sunkissed skin of your shoulders and whispering words of adoration into perfumed skin. The memories of not so distant fever dreams, passion still hot in his veins only this morning in the soft, pale light his love is gentle, careful, almost holy.
You relish in his tight embrace and the heat of his skin thaws the cold morning chill away. Him and the sun; burning and ardent. You sigh contently as the gentle kisses he places at the base of your neck become more urgent, breathing him in as he runs his fingers through your hair, you are reminded what heaven smells like; icy air and cedar. Brushing a stray hair from his forehead you stretch in his hold and you bruise like fruit flesh in his tender grip.
Azriel shifts in his position, rolling onto his forearms and his hands settle between your shoulders and your head, sweeping your hair which has fallen in haphazard curls away from your face. Your body curls into him, fitting together like it was always supposed to be this way-- you and him in the pale morning light.
Swallowed by his height and the expanses of his broad shoulders you run your hands over the taut muscles beneath his skin. As your body, still flirting with sleep, melts into him, you snake your arms around his neck, one hand stroking the loose strands of chestnut at the nape of his neck and the other tracing the inky patterns along his right shoulder blade. Your lips meet his slowly, breathing him in with ardour and adoration, deepening the kiss, your swollen lips pressing into his harder this time. Azriel’s hands come to either side of your face, cradling you in his palms, the calloused pad of his thumb tracing soft circles onto the skin of your cheek, running along your cheekbones, temple and jaw. His lips move slow against yours as you melt into each other. He sighs into your mouth, taking you into him, clinging to you, his breaths synchronising with yours and lulling you into a state of bliss.
The way he touches you is full of devotion and something akin to worship. He looks at you more reverently than he does any divine being or High-Fae. He doesn’t know if he believes in a The Mother but looking at you all sleepy, and sunkissed and ethereal, wrapped up in divine light he believes in something. He’s been searching for too long for a place to worship and you, whispering his name like sin against his skin and your hands scorching his flesh, seem the closest to the next world that he will ever get.
He rocks gently into you, his lips dragging across the skin of your neck, brushing his knuckles over the soft, exposed planes of skin at your ribcage, only stopping to whisper in a language you can’t understand, words comparable to prayer.
In those fleeting moments, doused in pale light as he moves over you, it’s clear that the need for each other outweighs all else. Yearning for release, longing for him makes everything more intoxicating. Your breathing grows laboured and heavy with a serene bliss, your senses blur, drunk on his touch and the heat of his skin on yours. His calloused hands, once covered in blood, kiss hymns up your sides, scars grazing over yours, skin whispering and limbs, like heavenly bodies caress your supple skin as they curled into each other, entwining two bodies and becoming one.
His breath hitches in his throat, coming out in breathy rasps as he comes to rest upon your hip, you push your bare hips into his. His cock hardens, silken and cool marble beneath your touch as you press against him in an unyielding rhythm. He groans, his eyes darkening and boring into yours, lips parting and eyes drifting shut so beautifully that your walls tighten at the sight of him. You stroke your hand up and down his length, growing harder under the delicate touch of your hand– the hand of the Gods he thinks to himself.
Azriel pulls your hand from him and entwined his fingers with your own, kissing you, he sucks your lower lip lightly, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin there. He begins to kiss down your jaw, the crook of your neck, the base of your throat and collarbones, the peaks of his knuckles ghosting the skin of your hips and thighs. Dipping his head into the valley of your breasts, his nose and beard grazing the silken skin as he hums against you, taking a hardening nipple in his mouth while he massages the other. He has committed the maps of your body to memory; always able to find a home in you, returning to those sweet spots he knows make you weak. Giving yourself over to him you exhale, arching your back into him, his one hand holding you, where your back curves away from the bed and into him.Your lips parting with a gasp as his tongue runs light circles over your nipples, flicking them slowly, the grain of his stubble rough against your softness.
Sinking slowly down the curves of your body, savouring you in the light of the rising sun, Azriel prays to you, his words and his touch like velvet over your skin and into your ears. Whispers of worship and the sound of his lips on your skin, marking you as his. You thread your fingers through the tresses of his head when his head settles between your parted thighs kissing odes into the skin there.
You cry out softly, gentle rasps, like hymns when his tongue begins to circle your clit. Sliding his strong arm over your hips so he can hold you still, his muscles, taut and contracting beneath the skin, he holds you down with ease. You’re painted in a blush the colour of the dawn sky as he runs his tongue up your folds, watching your hips struggle to roll in his hold, his pupils dilating and sharpening, a look of devout adoration glinting in his hazel eyes.
Azriel’s tongue sends waves of pleasure rippling through you, heat that creeps up your spine and pools in the pit of your stomach. Your mouth falls agape, a string of curses and praises falling from your pink lips. A soft furrow of your brows in an effort to stop yourself coming undone. Your pleasure and heavenly moans only make him grow more ravenous, he hums deeply as his tongue, inside of you, causes your hips to roll in protest. Sliding his hands around your hips he holds you to him, continuing his assault against you until you’re begging to come undone, begging for him. He draws his lips away from your core, only obliging you by pressing two fingers into your tightness, your walls fluttering around him. His lips fall open, laboured breaths falling from his lips in curses.
You fist at the sheets, needing him close as your body begins to writhe under him, the slow, hypnotic movements of his fingers making you ache. He returns to you, kissing you deeply, letting you taste yourself on his tongue before pressing his forehead to yours and watching you as he thrusts his finger inside of you; a thin veil of sweat on his brow, lips parted and through his eyes darkened in lust you swear you see his soul.
“Come on, baby,” he whispers, silencing your gasps with kisses, “I’ve got you.”
Your walls begin to clench around his fingers and Azriel’s breath catches in his throat, his eyes leave yours, that search for heaven behind his, to watch himself once more, his fingers curling into your sweet spot, swearing before your permit him to put his lips upon yours again.
“That’s it, pretty girl,” he murmurs, “Come for me.”
Unravelling, coming undone is easy with his words in your ears and his arms sheltering you, cradling you against his chest as your body quakes with the rippling waves of your orgasm as you come, your cries quiet against Azriel’s lips.
Gentle and unyielding, he doesn’t give you time to recover, sitting up and pulling you into his lap, your ankles digging into the base of his spine and the length of his cock, like marble smooth and hard at your entrance. Adjusting to his size you hold Azriel’s face and look down to his parted lips, drinking in his breathless sighs and whispers of reverence as you roll your hips against the thickness of his cock. Swearing sharply, he arches himself into you filling you. His knuckles grazing the knots in your spine, he holds his lips against your forehead as his thumb traced the outline of your swollen lips, smiling against you when your kiss the calloused pad of his thumb.
“you okay, pretty baby?” Azriel murmurs, voice soft and soothing against your skin, nodding in response to your hum of agreement. “Always so good for me.”
Slowly at first, he fucks into you, gradually gaining momentum as your tightness yields to him. You’re left unable to answer his question, moaning into the crook of his neck, trying to muffle your cries. He combs the messy strands of hair that has fallen into your face with his fingers, curling them away from your face while your name, like some ancient prayer, falls from his parted lips. His hands roam your body, touching with delicate caresses the curves and contours of your body, his arm resting on the bottom of your spine, his hand splayed across the small of your back as he thrusts into you, your hips rolling to meet his movements.
“Don’t stop,” you say airily, tugging on the dark hair that rests at the nape of his neck.
His head falls back, eyes closed and lips parted as he draws closer to his own orgasm. Azriel’s head falls to rest in the crook of your neck, his forehead settling onto your skin marked with the ghosts of his adoration. Unable to find the words, he only growls vows into your skin as his hand on your back pulls you further into him.
With your bliss encroaching the world seems to blur at its edges, bursts of colour and white light momentarily blinding as he fucks into you at an unforgiving pace, his thrusts rough and sporadic as he teeters on the edge of heaven.
Azriel moves you upon his cock and it brings a blush to your skin, pink staining the exposed flesh of your chest. Your moans now little more than whispers as he brings you to the brink of paradise, your body wrapped around his as he lays you back down, pressing your into the bed. Azriel pulls away admiring the glow of your skin in the morning light as the sun peeks over the horizon; the pink and gold sun beams falling in technicolour ribbons and becoming tangled between the waves of your hair. As he comes back to you, pressing his lips roughly to yours his hips begin to snap into yours at a faster pace than before, desperate for release. His lips never leave yours, holding your face in his hands again, thumb rubbing circles into your skin. He groans against you, your ankles crossed against the small of his back, holding him in place.
Your orgasm stirs in your stomach like a raging tempest, whispers of pleasurel dissolves into profanity. Stroking your cheeks, running his thumb over your jaw and up your neck, and whispering in your ear those words that only he knows, he sanctifies your body, bringing a hand to your clit, rubbing slow circles and coaxing your orgasm closer still, so you give yourself over to him and sacrifice never felt so unholy.
Azriel’s name once fierce on your tongue dissolves like sugar, like prayer– you whisper it. Unholy against rose petal lips. It catches in your throat like confessional and he fucks you like a God. Thrusting deeply into you, as his lips leave blazing kissed along your collar bones, his thrusts don’t slow even as the heat of him spills inside you.
There’s no scripture that ever foretold you of such sweet agony; his hands in yours, or his lips that atone a mass across your heaving chest, or the blasphemy he rasps when he spills into you. His fingers bruise like sin into the cradle of your hips. When he’s buried so deeply inside of you until the only word you know– his name– falls from your lips. You wonder if other angels fell so sweet.
Laying you back down on the bed he sits back, pulling out of you watching his orgasm spill from you with a lustful gaze. He rubs comforting circles into your hip with his thumb, his head tilts slightly as he watches you; the rise and fall of your chest beginning to even out, his skin on yours grounding you to this earth. Your skin sheened with a thin veil of sweat, pallid in the divine light of high summer.
Crawling to him, kissing his damp chest that tastes of salt and sweat, and taking his softening cock in your hand, his moans are gospel against your bare chest. Azriel groans softly, his eyes closing as your hand on his skin is a familiar paradise.
You lean your forehead against his and graze the tip of your nose with his, as your lips moved to meet him halfway. Before he kisses you, those amber eyes lock with yours and linger there, as if to convey what your words could not. The harsh edges of your narrow eyes soften. He looks at you in a way that assures you it will be this way, always. All you can do is kiss him, inhaling slowly as you press your lips to his. A warmth settles in your chest when his eyes catch yours again. Laying on his chest, melting into him again, you breathe him in and he hums gently. The heat of the sun and the comforting silence lulls you into a misty wakefulness.
Your finger ghosts his tattoos where the sharp blade of his shoulder meets inky black shadow and your legs entangle themselves in his as he murmurs vows of reverence in a foreign tongue against your dewy skin. The sun finally breaks over the horizon, the veins of amber, topaz and molten gold illuminate the sky.
It’s then he realises that not all angels are made of flesh and feather, milk and honey, molten gold and stardust; some are made of scars and sin, sleep and sweat, flesh and blood and in the heaven yellow light you look holy to absolve him
first and foremost, it is i. i am not dead, as my extended absence may have made you believe.
im graduating from college in about a week and have been insanely stressed and overworked.
secondly, i'm looking for a good annotation set! i was hoping to get one that uses clear sticky notes because i don't like writing on the pages but i can't find any pens that won't smear on them. if you guys know any small businesses that have something like that, please let me know!!
acopap to be continued soon and a possible ithan holstrom smut on its way 🫣💙
Summary: Evelyn navigates the Court of Nightmares and accepts a date... though not with who you'd expect.
Word Count: 5.4k
Warnings: angst, cussing
Notes: friends, romans, countrymen... lend me your ears. this chapter has taken a long time and i more than appreciate your patience as i sort through life. i hope you enjoy and i'm hoping now that life has calmed down a bit i will be back on a more regular writing & posting schedule!
P.S. - in this chapter more than others, some dialogue is taken directly from ACOWAR. this is just my attempt to follow along with canon, no disrespect to my queen sjm.
Next Chapter: Chapter Seventeen
ACOPAP Masterlist
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The Court of Nightmares was unlike any place I’d been before.
Thankful that I didn’t have to walk entirely through the crowd like the others, I found myself at Nesta’s side near the dais with the throne. I felt more than saw Mor reappear to my left moments later, though I was unsure what she had done in the meantime. From the little I had gleaned, her family resided here. Perhaps she had something to say to them before Rhysand’s address.
The black ends of my dress skirted the floor as I walked, giving me something to focus on other than the sneers on the faces surrounding us. Never had I been in a room so full of hostility. I could tell by the lines on the faces of the fae that they must make these faces often and I found myself regretting asking Rhysand to let me accompany them.
Despite the anger permeating the room, I kept my chin high, letting my eyes trace the disturbing images carved into the mountain walls. I found myself instinctively searching for the comforting glow of the moon and cringing when I realized I couldn’t see it from here. Something about that felt even more stifling than the confines of the tight dress I was wearing. To know that the night sky was out there and I was detached from it… I fought the shiver that worked its way down my spine.
My fingers twitched with the urge to grab Nesta’s hand but I schooled my expression and balled my hand into a fist. I could do this.
I chanced a glance beside me, hoping that at least my sister’s presence would calm some of the nerves dancing through my tight chest.
To my surprise, a large winged figure separated me from the curl of braids decorating Nesta’s crown.
Azriel must have taken the spot between us, his Illyrian armor decorating his tanned skin and shadows drawn in tight as he stared straight ahead to where Rhysand and Feyre would sit.
I mentally smacked myself, of course, he would take Rhysand’s command to be my babysitter seriously.
The shock of seeing him standing next to me wore off as I tightened my features and remembered Mor’s parting words. Make him beg.
That, I could do.
Refocusing on Feyre and Rhys as they approached the throne, I bit back a smile as Rhys yielded it to Feyre and perched on the arm. The distaste that had flooded the air quickly turned to shock and disgust at the action. Evidently, the people of the Hewn City were not well-acquainted with their High Lady.
Rhys’s voice barked out a single word that broke the spell, “Bow.”
I watched as the entire room fell to their knees, admiring the way Rhysand commanded so completely. Beside me, Azriel and Mor elegantly swept into bows, Mor barely hiding a gleeful smile. I did the same, dropping to one knee for my sister and her mate. I made sure to sweep my hand along my leg as I did so, however, parting one of the panels of fabric so the entire length of my leg was exposed conveniently in view of a certain Illyrian.
I saw the movement of his gaze out of the corner of my eye, the way it lingered and tracked the exposed skin. He didn’t even blink before bowing his head again.
My eyebrows scrunched subtly at his stoicism. I’d have to do more to get a rise out of the male who hadn’t let himself have a single emotion other than brooding in centuries.
Rhysand spoke to the room, admonishing them for the lack of two thrones, and the small grin returned to my face. Then he finished with, “Our loyal subjects” and I felt the sting of tears. Rhysand wanted two thrones because Feyre was his equal. This was their court. And I was proud to be part of it.
I felt something in the air and, though I wasn’t quite certain what it was, my instincts were going haywire with the thought it was a threat. The gleam in Feyre’s eye, however, told me it had to have been fae testing her power, something I knew she was more than capable of handling. Gasps rang out as a triumphant smirk crossed her face.
I almost wished it was tangible so I could make sense of what was going on, but this served as a stark reminder of how little I knew of this life, of being Fae.
Who knew how much time I would have before this war? Who knew how much time it would even take for me to understand these powers that I now possessed?
The flying was the easy part, physical pain and hard work were something I was not unfamiliar with. I could train my body, I could push myself past any limits I had to.
Learning to control my emotions and whatever that Cauldron had flooded my veins with… That was something I wasn’t sure I could handle.
I wanted to, though. I wanted to be a weapon they could use in this war, rather than a liability on the sidelines. Perhaps I wouldn’t even need to learn how to use my power if I could just train with Cassian every day and become proficient with a sword.
Or… The Illyrian camps Rhys had mentioned. Azriel had so adamantly refused to allow me to go there but… I wasn’t listening to him anymore. He had no right to prevent me from doing anything.
I made a mental note to ask either Rhysand or Cassian about potentially training there after we returned to the townhouse.
Amren and Nesta rising broke me out of my thoughts. They walked to the foot of the dais, asking Rhysand for leave, which he granted. He waved a hand as he commanded, "Go. Enjoy yourselves. Food and music. Now."
The music was nearly haunting, matching the dark energy of the city. It was a relief, however, to hear music at all. It somehow made the occupants of this hidden city a bit more relatable. To know that their lives were not consistently shrouded in darkness and melancholy, but that they might find joy in the same things we did above.
I frowned at the idea that Nesta would miss it as she left to fulfill her part of this trip. I knew how she loved dancing and, though I doubted she would let herself be swept away through the night, she could afford to hear a song or two.
Mor grabbed my hand, dragging me through the crowd and to a long table of food and drink. She picked up two glasses of wine, handing one to me before downing her own and offering me a wide grin.
I took a long drink, feeling the dizzying effects of the fae wine immediately. I wondered if I should seek water to offset them but that thought was gone as quickly as it came. One glass of wine wouldn’t hurt and, considering where I currently was, it might even help.
Mor popped one of the snacks in her mouth and turned toward me. “The only thing bearable about these visits is the food and wine they leave out.”
I snorted out a laugh. “I can’t imagine anything being worth the trip down here.”
She opened her mouth to answer but her eyes locked onto something behind me and she quickly closed her lips. I raised an eyebrow in question but she shot me a wink and mouthed the word “beg” before dancing out to the crowd.
I took another swig of my wine, letting the warmth course through my body as I refused to turn around and acknowledge the male behind me.
“Evelyn,” he said in greeting, no inflection to give away what he was feeling or thinking.
I drained the remnants of my glass before grabbing another and finally turning to face him. “Oh, Azriel. I didn’t see you there. Quite the spy you are.”
A flash of something crossed his face so fast I couldn’t quite read it. “Very funny, princess.”
My heart twisted in my chest at the nickname and the memories it summoned. Funny how one interaction could go from infuriating to endearing to heartbreaking all in a matter of days.
I turned back around, setting the full glass of wine back on the table and briskly walking into the crowd of dancing bodies. I ignored Azriel calling my name, focusing instead on making it to the far side of the room.
Nobody moved to speak to me, which was just fine, as all I wanted to do was sink into the shadows and stay there until it was time to leave. Thankfully, the entire room was framed by a long line of columns, big enough that I could slip behind one and sink to the floor. I sighed as I sat, stretching my legs out in front of me before crossing them at the ankles.
As my mind grew foggier, I cursed myself for setting back down that second cup of wine, wishing I could follow it further into oblivion. Of course, that also meant I’d be drunk and likely more depressed than I already was.
I huffed out a breath as I leaned my head back against the column, giggling slightly as the loose strands of my hair tickled my collarbones. I knew I’d have to attend the meeting with the others soon but I couldn’t find it in myself to get up.
I felt him a second before he appeared, almost like my body was more in tune with him than it was with me at this point. I groaned as he stepped out of the shadows.
“Can’t you just leave me alone?”
His face didn’t betray anything, again, as he offered a hand to me. “Time for the meeting.”
I ignored his hand, pushing myself off the floor and dusting off my dress.
“Lead the way, shadowsinger.”
He did as I asked, pushing his way through the crowd until we reached a small hallway. He pushed open a door, where Rhys sat at the head of an intricate table. Feyre was opposite him, Mor and a male Fae, who must have been Keir, filling in other seats.
Azriel took a seat, leaving the only empty ones next to him or Keir. I grimaced, figuring I should choose the lesser of two evils.
With a heavy breath, I sat as gracefully as I could next to Azriel, averting my eyes from Mor’s father.
With a sneer, the male said, “I know why you’re here.”
I fought to keep the gag from my throat at the sound of his voice. Even though I had never met him, his very presence sent goosebumps up my arms and made me want to leave the room as quickly as I could. I couldn’t keep the distaste off my face at his lack of decorum and the way he surveyed all of us.
Keir went on, mentioning Hybern and Rhysand’s legions, with a nasty look shot at Azriel. It took all of my self-control not to launch myself across the table. Despite the hurt and hatred I felt toward him, I detested the way he seemed to reduce Azriel down to what was the smallest part of such an intelligent, complicated fae. Before I could move, he got to the point, “You mean to ask for my Darkbringers to join your army.”
Rhys, ever the statesman, simply replied, "Well at least you've spared me the effort of dancing around the subject.”
I picked up the glass of water that had at some point appeared in front of me to keep myself from smiling. Rhys and Keir continue to volley, a game of words that could be understood if you looked past the flowery language with the context of our dire situation. Until Mor cut in, "Last I checked you have been free to do as you wish for centuries. Longer."
I saw Azriel tense as Keir ignored Mor, saying that he wasn’t quite free enough to do all that he wanted. Rhys shut him down, putting him in his place, and reminding him who was truly in charge of both courts.
Keir smiled. Every muscle in my body tensed at the sight. It seemed so unnatural on a face like his, one riddled with lines of tension that must have come from whatever hatred filled his heart and mind. It was nothing like the smiles I had grown accustomed to from the other fae in Prythian.
Cassian’s smile of joy and laughter, despite whatever circumstance we found ourselves in. Rhysand’s smile of love that he shot in Feyre’s direction when he thought she wasn’t looking. Even Amren, who still scared me, had a smile of mischief when she toyed with the jewels she carried everywhere with her. Even the smiles I knew the most, ones I coveted above all else, the ones of my sisters. Those were much less frequent these days.
Azriel’s smiles though… I had practically memorized the intricacies of each one. I peered at him from the corner of my vision, wishing his handsome face would lighten with one such smile now. They filled the room, not exactly washing away the shadows but enhancing them, bringing a delicious contrast to his entire being.
But when Keir smiled… it felt wrong. He glanced around with that look, “You must need my army rather desperately, Rhysand. Are the overgrown bats not up to snuff anymore?”
My lips parted in shock at his arrogance.
Azriel, seemingly unphased, answered, “Come train with them and you’ll learn for yourself.”
That was the shadowsinger of the Night Court. The spymaster that kept his enemies on their knees, afraid of even breathing the wrong way for fear of what he may do.
The game between Rhysand and Keir began again in earnest, Rhys using those powers of his to gouge lines in the glass table. I winced at the sound but continued to do my best to follow along with the word games.
Rhysand’s eyes had a strange light as he sat back and said, “Bring him in.”
My eyebrows furrowed in confusion, glancing between my High Lord and the empty seat at the table. I hadn’t realized that we were missing someone in this conversation, particularly as I was just here so my babysitter could keep an eye on me.
A male figure walked in. One that I vaguely recognized…
I stiffened in realization. He had been there that day on the ice. He had been the one holding my sister by her hair.
Mor froze as well, as though she knew this male too, though how I wasn’t sure.
Beside me, Azriel’s hand moved to his dagger and my expression furrowed further. We had released this male that day on the ice, what brought him here now and why was Azriel seemingly preparing to gut him in front of all of us?
Feyre didn’t seem surprised, though I could have sworn I saw her eyebrows raise a bit as the red-haired male walked in and sat in the remaining chair.
Everyone’s eyes seemed trained on the Autumn Court fae, whose features reminded me of a fox, with eyes that were filled with cunning and a long, pointed nose decorating the center of his face.
Eris. His name was Eris.
I felt the whisper of Azriel’s shadows surrounding me, as though they were trying to hide me from him. I gently waved them off, not liking the way it felt like Azriel was trying to stake a claim or something.
Eris sat exactly across from me and I used the silence to focus on studying him. His eyes burned with a fire that was the complete opposite of the one we had seen in Nesta. It was warm, with a hint of danger, reminiscent of a campfire that had the potential to catch an entire forest on fire if left unattended. Exciting and untethered, the fatality depending on whoever wielded it.
As if he felt my staring, his eyes locked with mine. A smile graced his handsome face and he commented, "And who is this, Rhysand? You had mentioned building ties but I’d take a beautiful female in your court over that cranky bastard any day.”
I blushed, using a hand to tuck a strand of hair behind my ear simply so I had something to do other than meet his piercing gaze.
I knew that I shouldn’t have felt flattered, especially with how Mor had reacted to his presence, but to feel so unabashedly admired felt… nice, compared to the way Azriel had been treating me like a dirty little secret. He had also hurt my sister, though, which was not something I would easily forgive or forget.
Azriel practically growled at him and I shot him an incredulous look.
The male’s smile grew wider, “And if she’s gotten such a rise out of your shadowsinger I simply must get to know her better. What is your name, little fox?”
I nearly laughed at the way his nickname fit so perfectly with the way I had evaluated him. “I’m Evelyn,” I said, “Feyre’s older sister.”
As if some invisible wall had been shattered, he looked at me with new intrigue in his eyes. Something about it caused my gut to twist uncomfortably, the flattery from earlier gone.
Rhys cut in, “What is it that you want, then, Keir?”
I shook my head, hoping the physical act would be enough to extinguish whatever was happening with Eris.
"I want out. I want to space. I want my people to be free of this mountain. You have been keeping secrets, High Lord. I always wondered – where all of you went when you weren't here. Hybern answered the question at last – thanks to that attack on… what is its name? Velaris. Yes. On Velaris. The City of Starlight. I want access to the city. For me, and my court,” Keir answered.
Silence filled the room at his request.
“No,” Mor breathed.
The word meant more than I knew. I wasn't sure what the story was or why she hated this place so much, but even the thought of these people in Velaris made my skin crawl. It felt wrong in the same way Keir’s smile had felt wrong.
I waited for Rhys to agree with Mor and for Azriel to echo the sentiment as well. But the protests didn’t come. Instead, Rhysand simply stated, “There would be conditions.”
My mouth fell open in surprise, my heart cracking inexplicably in my chest. Rhysand was clearly playing a game but I couldn’t tell what it was. Mor also seemed to be on the outside, which was enough to tell me that Rhysand had truly overstepped.
Across the table, Eris chuckled softly. Azriel’s look at him was murderous, a rage lacing it that seemed to go beyond just this meeting. Eris tilted his head at the Illyrian, seemingly an invitation to speak up.
I studied him, trying to figure out his angle in all of this. Once again his eyes found mine but this time, he sent me a wink. My traitorous body blushed again, forcing me to focus my gaze on my lap.
Azriel stood abruptly, stopping any conversation and turning all eyes toward him.
With one hand on his dagger and the other resting on the table, he stared down Eris, a cold calculation playing in his gaze. He was weighing his options, though I don’t think it was for the consequences of his actions. More like he was debating in his head which of the many ways to torture someone he wanted to utilize. As a smirk slowly grew on his face, I became more convinced that he was actually going to do something that he couldn’t take back.
Rhysand cleared his throat. Azriel didn’t so much as look at him as he sat back down.
The whole time, Eris’s amusement didn’t fade. If anything, his smugness grew at seeing Azriel submit to Rhys.
“If Keir is receiving access to Velaris, I’d like to add something onto my end of the deal,” Eris spoke calmly.
Rhysand raised a brow, clearly annoyed. “What, Eris?”
“I’d like access to this lovely creature,” he said, running his eyes over me.
I shivered but I couldn’t tell if it was in excitement or disgust.
“Absolutely not,” Azriel answered.
“You can’t tell me you’re hoarding the Archeron sisters for yourself, Rhysand.”
Feyre looked at me with concern in her eyes but I felt Rhysand gently pushing for access to my mind. I focused my attention on him, letting him in.
Well? He asked me.
Well, what?
It’s your choice, Evelyn.
I wasn’t aware I was a bargaining chip, brother.
If I had known you were on the table, you would have been my leading bet.
I exhaled through my nose, shaking my head a bit. How badly do we need him?
Badly enough that I’m offering our most precious possession to a depraved creature such as Keir.
I nodded in understanding before making eye contact with Eris.
“One evening. That’s your deal.”
“As you wish, little fox. Though I have a feeling you’ll be asking for many more after that,” he smirked.
With those words, my opinion of him was solidified. They were a perverse version of the words Azriel had uttered to me days ago after I had all but begged him to kiss me. When Eris said them… it was possessive. It was demeaning. And I never wanted to hear them from him again.
I didn’t bother with a reply, knowing I had fulfilled what Rhys needed from me.
From there, Rhysand agreed to Keir’s terms, details of the access to Velaris to be decided later.
Feyre asked Ouroboros mirror and Keir surprised me by biting out, “If you can take it.”
We all gave him a puzzled look and, exasperated, he elaborated, “To take the Ouroboros, to claim it, you must first look into it. And everyone who has attempted to do so has either gone mad or been broken beyond repair. Even a High Lord or two, if legend is true. So it is yours, if you dare to face it.” A fae came in and said something to him, causing him to rise from his seat. “Lord Thanatos is having… Difficulties with his daughter again. He requires my assistance. I will wish to speak with you – soon.” And with that, he left the room.
Eris sipped his wine in the silence that followed Keir’s departure. “You look well, Mor.”
I was on my feet before he finished, pointing a finger in his direction as I growled, “You don’t speak to her.”
Even if I was unsure what their history was, I could tell he made her uncomfortable, which was more than enough for me to defend my friend.
Before Eris could respond, Rhysand was by my side with a hand on my shoulder, gently guiding me back into my seat. “This arrangement, Eris, relies solely upon you keeping your mouth shut.”
“You say that Rhysand, but it now also relies upon my evening with the fair Archeron,” he said while meeting my eyes. “I’ve done an excellent job staying quiet so far. Not even my father suspected when I left tonight.”
A rumble left the center of Azriel’s chest, loud enough to shake the table and send shadows scattering across the floor. I didn’t even bother looking at him. If I did, I wasn’t sure if I would end up attacking him or start crying.
“I see you’re still holding a grudge,” Eris said to Azriel. I cocked my head but didn’t ask my question out loud. Grudge for what?
Feyre asked, “How did this come about?”
“You didn’t think that I knew your shadowsinger would come sniffing around to see if I’d told my father about your… powers?” Eris snorted. “Especially after my brothers so mysteriously forgot about them, too. I knew it was a matter of time before one of you arrived to take care of my memory as well. Too bad for you, I learned a thing or two about daemati. Too bad for my brothers that I never bothered to teach them.”
I gaped at him. Yeah, definitely didn’t like this male. Sacrificing his brothers for his own gain? This “date” was shaping up to be one of the worst things I’d ever agreed to.
Mor arched one of her perfect brows, but I didn’t miss the way her fingers dug into her arms where they were crossed in front of her. “So what’s the asking price, Eris? Another little bride for you to torture?”
Eris said, with a glance in my direction, “I wasn’t aware it was within my power to ask for that, though I’d happily agree.”
“Not even over my dead body,” the spymaster’s voice rang out.
“That could easily be arranged.”
I felt my power flare at his words, rimming my vision in white as he threatened Azriel.
This time, I was tempted to let Azriel have his way with the prick. I hoped he’d pick the most painful way to torture him though.
Then Mor repeated her question and Eris offered a genuine answer, “I don’t know who fed you those lies to begin with, Morrigan. Likely the bastards you surround yourself with.”
“You never gave any evidence to contrary. Certainly not when you left me in those woods,” Mor said to him.
I looked at Feyre, doing my best to ask the question with my eyes. What the hell happened between the two of them?
She shook her head subtly in answer, letting me know Mor was the only person I’d get that story from.
“There were forces at work that you have never considered,” Eris snapped. “And I’m not going to waste my breath explaining them to you. Believe what you want about me.”
My eyes widened at his tone. Clearly, no one here had the full story. Maybe this “date” could be beneficial after all.
Feyre’s stern voice surprised me as she said, “You hunted me down like an animal. I think we’ll choose to believe the worst.”
The reminder of that day sent my mind spiraling with images of Feyre being held by the very male before me. The male I was meant to spend time with.
I stood, dragging the attention to me, as I murmured, “I need another glass of wine.”
I moved to leave the room but a strong hand gripped my arm. I looked up and Azriel’s hard face filled my vision.
Right. Babysitting duty.
He seemed inclined to either leave with me or force me to stay.
“You know where to find me,” I whispered, knowing it was important for him to continue this meeting. I tried to convey with my eyes that I’d be where he found me before, behind the larger pillar, hiding from conversation and the world around me.
He nodded once before releasing my arm.
I snuck out of the room, gently closing the door behind me and letting out a breath.
That meeting was… a lot.
I moved through the crowd, avoiding the bodies of the unfamiliar fae that were twisting in time to the music. I accepted a wine glass from someone who offered, residing myself to the fact that all of this was better processed under the influence of something.
The walk to the large marble column was blissfully uneventful, allowing me to attempt to clear my mind.
I slumped down on the floor much less elegantly than I had the first time, cross-legged and likely slouching. I pulled my hair from the elaborate up-do Mor had styled it in, gently working out some of the jeweled pins before setting them on the floor beside me.
It all felt smothering - my hair piled high on my head, the tight bodice of the dress, and the heeled shoes I didn’t have much practice walking in.
A sigh of relief worked its way out of me as I removed the last pin and my hair came tumbling down around my shoulders. Much better.
I nursed my wine as I waited for Azriel to finish the meeting, letting thoughts of Eris, this war, and all of the tension of the Hewn City float away.
I wasn’t sure how long I sat there, listening to the distant music, sipping from a glass that seemed to be bottomless, and letting my body slowly relax, before I felt Azriel approach.
Looking up, I gave him a drunken smile, until I remembered him walking away from me. The smile quickly turned into a scowl as I averted my gaze to my lap instead.
I expected him to say something, to snap that it was time to go, and walk away without even giving me the chance to stand up. I did not expect to feel his body heat radiating in the space beside me.
I raised my head, stunned to find him crouching beside me. Maybe I was drunker than I thought.
My breath hitched as he reached a hand up, delicately twisting one strand of my hair.
“Don’t go with Eris,” he breathed.
It must have been the alcohol swimming in my veins that had me wanting to agree.
“What?” I whispered back.
“Don’t go with him, Evelyn,” he said more firmly. “We can find another way to get him to cooperate.”
“I-” the brush of his knuckles against my cheek distracted my thoughts as I fought to control them. “I have to.”
He shook his head, dark hair brushing across his forehead.
He swiped his thumb over my cheek and just like that the spell was broken.
I jumped to my feet, fighting back tears as I instantly sobered up. The feeling of his hands on my face… on my body… in my hair. That was enough.
I regained my composure the best I could and firmly replied, “No.”
He was still on the floor, crouching with one knee pressed against the mountain stone beneath us. He looked up at me through his lashes but didn’t say anything.
I took a shaky breath. “No. It is my duty to this court to see this through.”
“Please.”
I blinked.
In the silence that followed I realized that it was not, in fact, a figment of my imagination but that the male before me had actually said that aloud.
The notion alone was so ridiculous that I barked a laugh.
“You can’t be serious,” I told him, crossing my arms and quirking a brow.
“Deadly.”
My lips parted in shock at his… at his audacity. “You don’t get to ask that of me.”
“Please, Evelyn,” he repeated and I did my best to ignore the tug in my heart at the sincerity of his words. “Anyone but Eris.”
Any compassion vanished. Anyone but Eris? Anyone but Eris?
“So I’m allowed,” I hissed the word, “To see anyone but Eris?”
I’d avoided looking at his face, instead focusing on the rage that was slowly building inside of me. But now, I turned my glare on him, wishing it could tear him to shreds.
His face betrayed nothing, mask firmly in place, “Yes.”
“I’m sorry but you don’t get to allow me to do anything.” Another harsh laugh parted my lips.
At this, he let out a frustrated sigh. “Evel-” But I cut him off with a raised hand.
“I’m assuming your presence here means the meeting is over. I’m going to find the others so we can go home. And I will be meeting with Eris. I always keep my word. I’m done.”
I turned on a heel, walking calmly over to where Feyre, Rhysand, Amren, Nesta, and Mor waited to depart.
I spared a single glance over my shoulder as I moved through the crowd and something cracked in my chest at seeing Azriel on his knees, hair falling in front of his downturned head, and a look of frustration on his face.
Are you good? Haven’t heard anything from you in a while, just wanted to check in make sure you’re okay?
hi my love 💙
first off, thank you for reaching out!
secondly, i know i've been super MIA lately and i'm so sorry.
life's been hectic!
i did a 3 week study abroad in Italy where i barely had wifi and my phone definitely was not working 😅
then i started my final semester of school, got an internship, and have been training a service dog to boot! my mental health has kind of been all over the place and i've felt like i've barely had a second to breathe lately.
that being said...
it's the second week of the semester and i'm getting back in the swing of things AND i finally got the writing bug again
so yes, all good! and back to business!
acopap and meeting eve coming VERY soon to a tumblr near you 😉
but as we move into 2023... at least those of us in EST, i realized it truly was the greatest year of my life
despite challenges in school and with my volunteer work...
this year i read ACOTAR. which led me to meeting so many amazing people that enhance and save my life in more ways than they know. even further, those books allowed me to find myself again and dig me out of the hole i had grown accustomed to
thank you all for an amazing year and i love you each so much.
i read every comment, look at every follower, and cry at the success and joy this blog has brought me
fortunately or unfortunately i drank an entire bottle of wine tonight and don't trust my judgment currently
meaning final edits will be made tomorrow and she should be posted before the new year
as a sneak peak:
Azriel’s shadows covered the two of us as Eris sat on the opposite side of the table. I shooed them off with a hand and locked eyes with the red-haired male. In his irises raged a fire unlike any I had everv seen, the complete opposite to the fire I had seen before in Nesta, cold and calculating. This was a warm fire with a hint of danger, exciting and untethered, a fire blazing through a forest, cutting down everything in its path.
As if he felt my staring, his eyes locked with mine. A smile graced his handsome face and he commented, "And who is this, Rhysand? You mentioned building ties but not that you had such beautiful females in your court."
tangentwithtanner
turnnoffyourmind
origamiaround
kianamaiart
annaxmalina
stormborns
