The cold metal of the necklace seemed to burn his palm as he held it hard enough to crush. Again and again and again, he had tried to rid his mind and body of thoughts of Elain, but... damn the Cauldron... he couldn’t. Seeing his Solstice gift for her discarded on the floor like trash tore a hole through him that gnawed deep. Why hadn’t he been deserving of a mate, as his brothers had? What was so wrong with him that the Cauldron felt he deserved this aching loneliness?

He turned the delicate necklace over in his scarred hands, imagining how beautiful it would look against unmarred skin, imagining how that skin would feel against his. The cold night air bit into his leathered wings, painfully reminding him how untouched his own skin would remain. He deserved it, a fair punishment for a male pursuing another male’s mate.

Azriel took to the sky, letting the frigid air tear at his face until the glistening in his eyes dried before it could fall. When he landed on the training grounds of the House of Wind, desperate to burn the rage, frustration, and need from his muscles, he found it occupied. One of the Valkyries was slashing at a training post with haphazard form, the movement fueled by emotion rather than skill. His chest welled with a familiar ache as he watched for a few moments, seeing a mirror of his own turmoil in their strikes.

He approached, tucking his wings against his back, and offered a lazy smile. “Aren’t you cold?”