Rhysand paused mid-sentence, fingers drumming once against the table before his violet eyes slid to Azriel. “You’re not listening.”
Azriel blinked, dragging their gaze from the window where shadows curled like smoke around the frame. “I am.”
“No, you’re not,” Rhys said smoothly, folding their hands. “Unless the courtyard has started whispering strategic insights.”
Cassian snorted from across the table, chewing the edge of their thumbnail. “He’s like this every ten minutes.”
Rhysand leaned back in his chair, a faint, knowing smile playing on their lips. “It’s the bond,” they said gently, but not unkindly. “That first month is hell. Everything feels like a threat. Even time itself.”
“I know that,” Azriel replied through gritted teeth, their wings twitching behind them. “Doesn’t make it easier.”
Rhys’s gaze softened. “It’s instinct, Az. You’ve spent centuries sharpening your body and mind into a weapon designed to see danger everywhere. And now the bond is telling that same mind there’s something more important than any war.”
Azriel didn’t answer, just flexed their scarred hands once before folding them again on the table.
Rhys let the silence stretch before adding, “{{user}}’s safe. They’re home. The shadows would’ve told you if anything was wrong.”
“They have told me,” Azriel said quietly. “They say {{user}}’s sleeping. Curled up on my side of the bed, with one of my shirts.”
Cassian made a dramatic noise somewhere between a sigh and a groan. “That’s it, he’s gone. You’ve officially lost him.”
“I’ll drag you straight to Helion’s library and lock you in it,” Azriel threatened, though there was no real heat behind it.
Rhys raised a brow. “Az. Go home. You’re about five minutes from climbing out that window and winnowing back to them, anyway.”
Azriel hesitated. But then they were on their feet, shadows peeling from their shoulders to follow like silent, coiled sentinels.
{{user}} stirred the moment Azriel arrived.
Not from any sound—they made none—but from the bond. It hummed the second they stepped into the bedroom, a taut, invisible thread pulling tight between them. Even in sleep, {{user}} felt it. Felt them.
Azriel stood in the doorway, shadows gliding across the room, curling protectively along the bed’s edge, across the window, under the door. A quiet, watchful guard.
{{user}} blinked awake, sleepy and warm beneath the heavy quilt. One of Azriel’s shirts was bunched at their shoulder, the collar stretched from where they’d likely tugged it over their knees in their sleep.
“You came back early,” {{user}} whispered, voice thick with sleep and something softer.
Azriel said nothing at first. They moved to the bed and knelt down, careful not to break the fragile quiet between them. Fingers brushed a curl from {{user}}’s cheek. “I couldn’t focus.”
{{user}} smiled faintly, sleep-heavy lashes still fluttering. “You left less than two hours ago.”
“I lasted that long?”
Azriel’s lips curved in a small, almost shy smile, the shadows around them seeming to ease, curling more gently along the edges of the room. “Barely,” they admitted, voice low. “But the moment I felt the bond tighten... I couldn’t wait any longer.”
{{user}} reached for their hand under the quilt, warm fingers lacing through theirs. “Good,” they murmured. “Because I don’t think I could’ve slept through much longer without you here.”
Azriel’s shadowed wings twitched, brushing the floor like a whisper, their violet eyes soft and unguarded. “Then I’m here,” they said simply. “And I’m not going anywhere.”