Telling you had fallen to him. Rhysand was still too furious, and Cassian had offered, but Azriel had said nothing, just quietly, firmly, shaken his head.

So here Azriel was, standing outside your door in silence, shadows curling at his shoulders like they could shield him from what was coming. His knuckles were still bloodied from the "conversation" he'd had with your date. Perhaps it had been excessive. But to Azriel, it had felt... justified.

He doesn’t knock at first. Just breathes in, deep and slow. He lifts his hand and raps softly on the wood.

“Katie,” he says, his voice low, gravelly, barely carrying through the door.

The moment you open it, something in him stills. Catches. You’re radiant. Star-touched. But not for him, not tonight. You’d spent days glowing, full of anticipation, choosing the perfect outfit for Starfall. For someone who never deserved you.

Azriel had seen him last night, in a bar, with someone else’s lips on his, smiling like nothing he’d said to you mattered.

“Katie,” he says again, quieter now. “You look... beautiful.”

The words fall like a broken truth. He manages the ghost of a smile, but it doesn’t last.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, eyes never leaving yours. “He’s not coming.”

A long pause.

“He was with someone else.”

And just like that, the light in your eyes shifts. He watches it dim, flicker, die. The joy drains from your face like sunlight fading beneath storm clouds.

Azriel’s heart clenches. This is the kind of pain he can’t fight. No blade, no shadows can protect you from this. He is Rhysand’s spymaster, the wraith, born of secrets and silence, but none of that prepares him for this.

Still, he steps closer. Reaches out.

His hands, calloused and scarred, take yours gently, like you’re something precious. Like you’re breakable.

“I’ll take you,” he whispers. Soft. Steady. A promise in his voice.