Chapter Text
Anastasia needed a drink.
She needed something to numb the sense of unease that gnawed at her insides after Amren had dismissed her for the night. She should be at dinner - no doubt there was a place set at the table for her. But instead of turning down the corridor to the dining room, where she could already hear Cassian's barking laugh, she dipped into the secluded kitchen.
It was empty, and the only sound was the gentle crackle of the fire in the hearth in the corner. Anastasia made a beeline for the wine cabinet, her fingers trembling as she reached for a bottle of red. She poured herself a generous glass, the rich aroma of the wine filling the air around her. She took a sip, expecting to find a little warmth and a little something to take the edge off her already fraying nerves.
But, as the wine glided down her throat with a little too much ease, it did nothing to quell the anxiety raging inside her.
With a frustrated sigh, Anastasia sank onto a wooden stool, her head resting heavily on the butcher block countertop. She closed her eyes, checking to make sure that her mental shields were still intact for what was perhaps the third time since she had heard Cian's taunting voice.
How could she have been so stupid?
She'd thought she'd been doing good – she thought she had been making progress with her magic. But how long had her shields been down? Feyre had explained the importance of mental shields – for protecting her own mind, but also for protecting everyone else. But she had been careless, letting herself think that she was safe.
Anastasia took another swig of wine, downing the entirety of the glass in one gulp. Without hesitation, she refilled it almost immediately, the crimson liquid sloshing against the sides of the glass.
As she sat there, lost in her own thoughts, a plate of soft cheese and cold meats appeared in front of her, seemingly out of nowhere. The magic of the House must have been looking out for her, fussing over her like a mother hen. She wasn't hungry, not really, but she took a few nibbles to appease the enchanted House. If she hadn't, Anastasia would assume that more and more plates would appear in front of her until she finally took a bite.
The wine flowed freely now; the bottle nearly empty as she continued to drown her anxiety. She could feel the warmth from the wine flow through her now and with each sip, the world seemed to blur around her - the edges of her vision growing hazy and indistinct. Her unease was beginning to ebb away, but she routinely felt out for her mental shields, fearing that they might have slipped again due to her own carelessness.
And then, just as she was starting to lose herself in the haziness of the wine, the sound of footsteps echoed through the kitchen, drawing her back to the present. She looked up groggily to see Azriel standing in the doorway, concern etched into the lines of his face.
"What are you doing here by yourself?" he asked, worry evident in his tone. "You didn’t want to come to dinner?"
Anastasia didn't immediately answer, instead letting out a weary sigh as she took another swig of wine. The alcohol had begun to take its toll, the room spinning lazily around her.
"Liquiddinner," she finally managed to reply, her words slurring slightly as she spoke. "I'm sorry I missed dinner."
Azriel's expression softened at her words. Without hesitation, he crossed the room and took a seat beside her. Oh – she could feel the warmth he radiated from his seat at the stool beside her. It took all her willpower not to lean into it.
"Besizes," She slurred, taking a piece of cheese from the plate that had been put in front of her and popped it into her mouth, "The House made sure I got something to eat."
In her slightly – well, maybe more than slightly - inebriated state, she turned to Azriel with a lopsided grin.
"Hey, you want some?" she offered, gesturing toward the assortment of food with a carefree wave of her hand. There had been so much that the House put in front of her, and it would be rude not to share.
Azriel's eyes widened in surprise, and he all but choked on his words before shaking his head quickly. "Uh, no, thank you," he replied, his voice strained as he fought to regain his usually stoic demeanor.
Anastasia shrugged nonchalantly and reached for another piece of cheese, popping it into her mouth with a contented sigh. But as she reached for her wine glass once more, Azriel's gaze followed the movement; he had seemingly overcome his earlier surprise, and the look on his face was now one of worry.
Azriel's concern deepened as he watched Anastasia, his brows furrowing with worry. "What's wrong?" he asked again, his voice gentle but insistent.
"Does something have to be wrong?" She asked, feigning ignorance. "Where I'm from, wine and cheese is a perfectly acceptable meal."
The look that Azriel shot her told Anastasia that he didn't buy it for one second.
Anastasia hesitated for a moment before setting the glass down in front of her. There was a part of her that wanted to keep it all to herself - avoid burdening Azriel. She'd been dealing with Cian on her own for months now, surely it wouldn't kill her to keep it to herself. But another part of her knew that secrets had only ever led to trouble in Prythian, and she couldn't bear the thought of keeping him in the dark.
"I heard him again," she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. She ignored the furrow of Azriel's brow at the mention of him as she continued, "In my mind. I thought it was getting better… I hadn't heard him in a while."
"You did?" Azriel's expression softened, a sympathetic look in his eyes as he reached out to gently squeeze her hand.
Anastasia nodded, her throat tightening with emotion. "I've been trying so hard to just block him out," she admitted, her voice trembling with frustration. "I thought I had my shield up. I just don't know how to do it all the time."
"No one expects you to do it all. You've been practicing your shields." he said softly, gently squeezing her hand. "You're doing the best you can, and you're getting better with your magic every day – I've seen it."
Anastasia felt a tightening in her chest at his words. She had spent so long feeling isolated and alone, bearing the weight of her magic, of Cian, in silence. It felt good to have someone in her corner.
"Thank you," she whispered, her voice barely above a breath. "For everything."
"Your shields are up now," he continued, giving her hand another reassuring squeeze. "And I'll do everything in my power to protect you."
Anastasia felt a lump form in her throat at his words, overwhelmed by the events of the day – and the depth of his kindness and compassion. As her own gaze met his hazel eyes – God, they really were pretty, weren't they? - she felt a familiar tug in her chest. There was a flutter of muscle in his jaw, and Anastasia felt her mouth go dry. Despite the haze of alcohol clouding her senses, she was acutely aware of the warmth of his hand in hers.
With each passing second, the space between them seemed to narrow. And as she leaned forward, closing the distance between them, she felt a surge of anticipation coursing through her veins. And in that moment, fueled by a potent mixture of emotion and alcohol, she learned forward, closing the distance between them. Hazel eyes widened a fraction just before her lips brushed against his in a clumsy attempt at a kiss.
But as quickly as the moment had come, it was over. Azriel pulled back gently, his hands coming up to cup her face. "Anastasia," he murmured, although there was something tight – something primal - in his voice, "You're drunk."
"I'm sorry," she whispered, her cheeks growing hot with embarrassment. "I shouldn't have—"
But Azriel cut her off with a gentle shake of his head. "It's not that," he began, his voice tinged with restraint. "But you've had quite a bit to drink tonight."
Anastasia's heart sank, and she couldn't help the humiliating burn on her cheeks as she forced a smile. "It's okay," she replied quickly, shaking her head as she pulled away from him. "You don't have to explain."
But deep down, she couldn't shake the nagging feeling that he was just being kind to her - letting her down gently. How had she completely misread things? She could hear the way he had restrained himself from saying what he truly felt. He was too kind of a male to tell her how that he just wasn't interested. She wouldn't prolong this anymore – wouldn't force him to endure this awkwardness.
"I should probably get going," she mumbled, her words slurred with alcohol. She pushed herself off the stool, the sound of it scraping against the slate floor of the kitchen echoing in the silence. She couldn't bear to meet Azriel's gaze, just knowing that she had ruined things irreparably between them.
He reached out his arm as if to offer her support. "Let me walk you—"
But Anastasia shook her head vehemently, a stubborn streak rising within her despite the haze of alcohol clouding her mind. "No," she insisted, her voice more forceful than before. "I can manage."
Anastasia stumbled slightly as she made her way back to her room, her mind swirling with thoughts of the day's events. First the invasion of Cian into her mind, and now this awkward encounter with Azriel. Had she ruined her friendship with him so completely?
But as she walked, her gaze flickered to the side, catching sight of a small wisp of shadow trailing behind her. It hovered at the edge of her vision, silent and watchful, as if ensuring she made it back to her room safely. She rolled her eyes – she had told him that she would be fine.
Despite the reassurance of its presence, her smile was bittersweet as she closed the door to her room behind her, leaving the shadow out in the hall.
-x-
"Keep your grip firm," Cassian instructed, his voice gruff but encouraging. "And remember to breathe."
Anastasia gritted her teeth as she wielded the heavy wooden sword in her hands, sweat beading on her forehead. Cassian stood before her - his own practice sword raised in a defensive stance. But she nodded, focusing on her breathing as she braced herself for his next strike. With a swift movement, he lunged forward, aiming for her side. Instinctively, she raised the wooden sword to block, feeling the impact reverberate through her arms.
The wooden sword felt heavy in Anastasia's hands, each swing taking a large amount of effort that she just didn't possess at the moment. There was a dull ache in her head, a punishment for the amount of wine she had drank the previous night. But Cassian wouldn't let her take the morning off, insisting that an enemy wouldn't wait until she was feeling better. He was right, she knew – plus, she needed the distraction.
As she sparred with Cassian, she focused intently on blocking his attacks, her muscles straining with the effort.
But despite her best efforts, Cassian managed to land a solid blow to her arm, causing her to wince in pain.
"Focus, Anastasia," Cassian's voice cut through the haze of discomfort, his tone firm but patient. "You need to be aware of your surroundings at all times."
Anastasia nodded, gritting her teeth against the pain as she forced herself to concentrate. Her arms trembled with exhaustion as she continued to parry Cassian's attack. Cassian was just too large and, despite her best efforts, she couldn't match his strength or speed.
Just as Cassian's wooden sword was about to land another blow, Anastasia's eyes caught sight of something peculiar—a small, transparent thread shimmering in the air. It was barely visible, but as she focused on the thread, she could see it clear as day.
Instinctively, she reached out and gave the thread a tug, her mind racing with the sudden realization of what she could do with it. With a surge of concentration, she wove the thread as quickly as she could, expanding it out until it was much larger in front of her.
Cassian brought the wooden sword down on her, but it met the invisible barrier with a resounding clang, sending shockwaves rippling through the air. Cassian's momentum was abruptly halted, his expression shifting to surprise as he stared at the empty air before him.
For a moment, silence hung heavy in the training ground as Cassian processed what had just happened. Then, a slow grin spread across his face, his eyes alight with pride.
"Well, well, well," he said, his voice dripping with innuendo. "Looks like you've been holding out on me."
She couldn't help the smile that spread across her lips.
"Let's see what else you can do with it," Cassian's gaze fixed behind to something behind her. "Try and extend that shield. Az, come here and stand next to Ana."
Anastasia's breath caught in her throat as she turned to realize that Azriel had been standing behind her, silently observing their training session. She hadn't even noticed that he was there. A flush of embarrassment tinged her cheeks as she met his gaze, unsure of what he must be thinking after the awkwardness that had happened the night before.
But there was no time to dwell on it now – she would not let him see her embarrassment again. She was determined to pretend that nothing had happened between the two of them. With a determined nod, Anastasia squared her shoulders and focused her attention on extending the shield to Azriel, ignoring the heat that was rising in her cheeks.
With a deep breath, she reached out with her mind, grasping at the thread that swirled around her. She directed her attention towards Azriel, visualizing the transparent shield extending from her towards him. As she pulled the thread in his direction, a shimmering barrier materialized between them, forming just in time to intercept Cassian's charge. The wooden sword met the invisible shield with another resounding clang.
Azriel's eyes widened in surprise as he stared at the spot where Cassian's weapon had been stopped, his mouth agape. He turned to look at Anastasia, a mixture of disbelief and admiration flickering in his gaze. For a moment, silence hung heavy in the training ground.
Then, a slow grin spread across Azriel's face, his eyes alight with approval. "Well done, Anastasia," he said, his voice filled with genuine admiration. "I don't think I've ever seen something like that done before."
Anastasia forced a smile in response, but she could feel the weight of his gaze lingering on her, and heat rushed to her cheeks again. Quickly, she took a step away, her movements almost too hurried as she made a beeline for a nearby waterskin.
As she uncorked the waterskin, she could hear Cassian's lumbering steps approach from behind her. She turned to face him, just as he began to speak. "Impressive," he said, his gaze lingering on Anastasia. "If you can extend that shield even more, it could be incredibly useful."
Anastasia's cheeks flushed with embarrassment once more – this time at the praise - but she couldn't deny the thrill of excitement that coursed through her veins. She'd been so worried about hurting other people – she still saw Kallon's lifeless body whenever she closed her eyes. But she had never before considered the idea that this strange power that she had been saddled with could be used to protect the people that she cared about.
"Just don't tell Amren," She laughed, a playful grin tugging at her lips. "She'll have me making shields for hours if she knew."
With that, Anastasia turned and swiftly gathered her belongings, not bothering to say goodbye to Azriel as she hurried away. The tension between them still lingered in the air, but she pushed it aside, focusing instead on what awaited her next.
-x-
"I'm going to head out, Madja." Anastasia called out from the front of the shop.
She let out a weary sigh as she finished packing up her supplies at Madja's. She was bone tired, her muscles aching from the day's work. Cassian had trained her hard this morning, refusing to let her create another shield since she had first conjured it two days ago. He'd insisted she learn how to defend herself without it, and her muscles were screaming from the workout. Madja, too, had kept her busy, performing sutures on a young carpenter that had come to them with a sliced forearm.
"Take care, dear," Madja called out from the back room, her voice filled with warmth despite the gruff exterior. "Will I see you early again tomorrow?"
"Probably," Anastasia replied with a tired smile. She was using any excuse to get out of the House, asking Cassian to fly her down to the healers almost as soon as they had finished their training. Cassian seemed to pick up on the fact that she was eager to get out of the House, but didn't ask any questions. He only said that he would be there to pick her up mid-afternoon, so as not to interfere with her training with Amren.
She had to wonder just what the small, scary female had in store for her. Amren wasn't known to go easy on Anastasia, and as Anastasia was getting better at differentiating between the types of threads in front of her, Amren had insisted they cautiously start to discern what each type of thread did. It was grueling – and anxiety inducing – work, but slowly but surely Anastasia was building her confidence that she would be able to use her magic without hurting anyone that she cared about.
She pushed open the heavy wooden door that separated the warmth of Madja's from the cool evening air of Velaris.
There, across the street from Madja's storefront, stood Azriel, unexpected and imposing- and waiting for her. Surprise flickered across her face, swiftly followed by a rise of heat in her cheeks. In truth, since that disastrous night when she had a little too much to drink, she'd been avoiding the shadowsinger. She'd willingly extended her lessons with Amren well into the evening, opting to have a late dinner alone in her rooms rather than make awkward conversation in front of Nesta and Cassian. She only said a few words of greeting to him if he stopped by the training grounds. She hadn't wanted to make him feel compelled to feign politeness when she had so clearly embarrassed herself.
"Hey," Azriel said quietly. She could hear him perfectly from across the street though. "I thought I'd give Cassian a break and take you back today."
Anastasia hesitated for a moment, but then she nodded, grateful for the offer of a ride and the chance to break the awkward silence between them. "Thanks, Az," she replied, her voice a little hoarse from exhaustion. "I appreciate it."
"I hope you don't mind," He began, as she made her way over to him, "I just need to make a quick stop at the River House first."
She only nodded, letting him lead her to the River House in a companionable – if only awkward – silence.
When they arrived at the River House, Anastasia's breath caught in her throat at the sight before her. She'd never seen the River House before, but the grandeur of the manor was breathtaking, its impressive structure softened by the vibrant gardens that surrounded it. It reminded her of the houses she used to read about in her favorite childhood books. The gardens seemed to burst with life, vibrant blooms dancing in the gentle breeze, while the scent of flowers hung heavy in the air.
Azriel led her through the opulent doors and into the grand hall, his footsteps echoing against the polished marble floors. He paused for a moment, turning to her with a small smile. "I'll just be a moment," he said, his voice low and reassuring. "I need to drop something off in Rhys' office. Make yourself at home."
With that, he disappeared down one of the corridors, leaving Anastasia alone in the grand hall. She hesitated for a moment, taking in her surroundings with wide eyes. The hall was spacious and elegant, adorned with paintings of the High Lord's family – and some people that she did not recognize. Voices drifted from one of the far rooms, a murmur of conversation that piqued Anastasia's curiosity.
Steeling herself, she ventured towards the source of the voices. As she drew closer, the voices grew louder, their tones filled with warmth and familiarity. She reached the doorway and peeked inside, despite her better judgement. She caught sight of Nesta and Cassian in the room, their figures illuminated by the soft glow of the afternoon sunlight filtering through the windows. Elain sat nearby, cocooned in a blanket, her gaze fixed on the world outside. Feyre stood protectively beside her; a look of concern etched on her face.
Something was wrong.
Realizing she had stumbled upon a private moment and was intruding, Anastasia quietly backed away, her steps careful and deliberate as she retreated to the safety of the grand hall. It was clear that whatever was going on in that room was not meant for her ears.
Anastasia's attention was drawn to the creak of the front door opening once more, and she turned. Stepping into the grand hall was a tall male with golden brown skin and vibrant red hair. As he approached, she couldn't help but notice the scar that ran down his face, stark against his features, and the gleam of a golden mechanical eye that replaced his left one. Despite the ruggedness of his appearance, there was an air of elegance about him, and Anastasia found herself momentarily captivated.
His brow furrowed slightly as his gaze met hers, but he approached with a polite smile, extending a hand towards her. "I don't believe we have met," he said, his voice smooth and rich with warmth.
"Hi," she replied, her voice tinged with nervousness. "I'm Anastasia."
The male bowed gracefully at the waist, a gesture of formality that caught her off guard. She hadn't been aware that people had still done that – certainly no one in Velaris had ever been that formal.
"Lucien," A voice from the back end of the hall called out. Anastasia turned to see Nesta, her face its usual mask of cool indifference, making their way towards them.
The male, Lucien, inclined his head in return, his gaze flickering between Nesta and Anastasia with curiosity. "Nesta," he replied, his voice calm but tinged with caution.
Before the male could saying anything further, Nesta continued, her words cutting through the tension that hung in the air. "Everyone is inside," she stated firmly, her tone leaving no room for argument.
Anastasia observed the interaction between Lucien and Nesta, sensing an undercurrent of tension in the air.
"And Elain?" Lucien inquired; his tone soft yet tinged with urgency.
Nesta's scowl deepened at the mention of her sister's name. "Yes," she replied curtly. "She's there too."
Anastasia watched as Lucien gave her a small, respectful bow before pivoting on his heel and striding purposefully towards the back room. There was something in his demeanor that left Anastasia with a lingering sense of curiosity – especially after the cool welcome that Nesta had just given him.
As Lucien disappeared from view, Anastasia couldn't help but turn to Nesta, her brow furrowing with confusion. "Who was that?" she asked, her voice low and cautious – as if the male who had disappeared behind the doors would be able to hear.
Nesta's expression hardened at the question, her features contorting into a scowl as she uttered the name with disdain. "Lucien," she replied curtly. "He's Elain's mate."
Mate. Anastasia had heard that term before when she had healed the male with the dislocated shoulder. It felt like ages ago, but she wouldn't forget the surprise she had felt when the female accompanying him stared daggers at her. She hadn't given it too much thought back then, even when Madja had tried to explain, but she had to admit that her curiosity was piqued now – especially after Nesta's response, "What does that mean?"
"A mate is supposed to be a Fae's equal—the Mother's choice for them," Nesta replied, the bitterness that was evident in her tone earlier now ebbing away, and becoming softer. She looked at Anastasia, as if watching for her reaction to the explanation. "It's a bond that, if accepted, is stronger than anything."
Anastasia nodded slowly, but she had to admit that it was something difficult for her to wrap her mind around. Talk of true love and soulmates sounded like they belonged in fairy tales, rather than the real world. But then, Anastasia supposed, magical thread weaving powers also belonged in the realm of fantasy books.
And, yet, here she was.
Nesta's expression softened slightly at Anastasia's bewilderment, a glimmer of empathy in her eyes. "Feyre and Rhysand are mates," she continued, her voice taking on a much softer tone as she said, "And Cassian and I."
Anastasia thought about the High Lord and Lady – she thought of the interactions she had seen between the two of them. They did seem to have a bond that was much deeper than the married couples Anastasia knew from back home. It did make sense…
"And Elain and this... Lucien?" Anastasia ventured cautiously, her curiosity getting the better of her.
Nesta's lips tightened into a thin line. "Yes," she replied tersely, and Anastasia knew that she had broached into dangerous territory. If anything, she'd venture to guess, the situation was more than just a little complicated.
"You don't like him?"
"I don't like the fact that my sister is trapped in a bond she does not want," Nesta's gaze darkened, her features hardening with resentment. "She has yet to reject the bond. I think she might be frightened to do so."
Anastasia considered Nesta's words – and her heart went out to Elain. She couldn't imagine the idea of being trapped like that – beholden to someone that she didn't want. Nothing like that existed where Anastasia was from, and having been human, it was a concept that she found hard to wrap her head around. If she were in Elain's shoes, she didn't know if she would want that bond either…
"Bonds can be rejected?"
Nesta regarded Anastasia with a scrutinizing gaze, her expression unreadable as she weighed her words carefully. There was a moment of silence as she seemed to deliberate her response, her gaze narrowing as if searching for something in Anastasia's expression.
"Yes," Nesta confirmed, her tone grave. "But I have heard it can be quite…devastating for both parties."
Anastasia's thoughts drifted to the image of Elain, the soft-spoken and gentle-hearted sister she had come to know, and the polite male she had just met. A pang of empathy gripped her heart at the thought of the two of them entangled in a bond neither had chosen, and she couldn't help but feel a surge of sadness for the both of them.
"So why did he come here?" she pressed further, her voice tinged with skepticism. "If Elain doesn't want the bond?"
"Elain has been having more troublesome visions of late," Nesta let out a weary sigh, her frustration and worry palpable. "Rhysand thought that having Lucien nearby might help her out—calm her down. Madja seemed to agree with him on that."
Anastasia raised her brows – she hadn't realized that her mentor had been treating Elain, or the Madja had been in the habit of keeping things from her.
The sound of raised voices rippled through the air, interrupting her thoughts, and both Anastasia and Nesta turned towards the source. It was coming from the room where everyone else had gathered. Her heart rate quickened as she exchanged a quick glance with Nesta. Without hesitation, Nesta took off in the direction of the disturbance, her steps purposeful and determined. She could see Azriel and Rhysand, emerging from the top of the staircase, quickly descend and make their way to everyone else.
Anastasia followed closely behind.
As they entered, Anastasia's eyes scanned the scene before her. Elain stood at the center of the room, surrounded by both Feyre and now Lucien. Feyre's arm was draped around Elain's, holding the female steady. But Elain didn't seem to register any of the concern; her eyes remained distant and unfocused, as if she were staring off at something in the distance.
Anastasia approached cautiously; her gaze fixed on Elain as she listened intently to the cryptic words that spilled from her lips.
"I see... his lake, he has it…his black box, surrounded by a tangle of shattered threads," Elain murmured, her voice carrying an otherworldly resonance as she struggled to decipher the meaning behind her visions. "He is searching for it, seeking the one who can retrieve it for him. He calls out to her, telling her to find it."
Anastasia felt her blood run cold.
The room fell into a tense silence as Elain's words hung in the air, their meaning veiled in mystery. Feyre's voice broke the silence, her tone soft but laced with concern for her sister. "Find what?" she inquired; her gaze fixed on Elain with unwavering intensity.
"His Death."