You were sitting at dinner with the rest of the Inner Circle.

It had been close to two months since Azirel found you that day in the woods, running and sobbing, bloody and bruised from the men chasing you, one of which was your own father.

You were only fourteen.

But even at fourteen, they had been going to clip your wings. Getting your wings clipped was devastating for most Illyrians. He had saved you before he took you back here, to Velaris. And then, of course, killed your father.

Azirel didn't tell a lot of the Inner Circle what happened to you. Sure, some vauge details to Feyre and Rhysand and a few warnings to everyone else, but... not much. He was already protective of you. The two of you had similar childhoods.

You didn't talk much to the others. A word or two, sure, but... not much. And you had refused to train with anyone, even Azirel, who you did actually talk to. Az had warned all of them to back off.

But as you sit there at dinner, Cassian can't keep his mouth shut.

With a partial mouth full of food, he asks, "Why won't you train with us?"

Azirel goes still. Your jaw clenches.