✦ ───── ✧ Bring Her Home ✧ ───── ✦

"Lord Devlon. Your reports of including the females in training have been...abysmal, to say the least," Cassian said, crossing his arms. His wings were tucked in, flared only slightly, and half of his hair was tied up, out of his eyes as he glared at the defiant lord.

Devlon eyed Cassian and snorted before drawling in his sniveling voice, "And you're sure none of this is for your bitch of a mate?" He sneered at Cassian, his depression sly.

Azriel watched Cassian carefully as Cassian's nostrils flared, aware that Cassian was currently plotting a thousand different ways to kill him. "No. I've seen firsthand the impact training can have on a female's life, especially after being told by arrogant pricks like you that she was lesser than the males," he said coolly, his tone only slightly underlaid with anger.

Azriel immediately thought of Velaria, fighting until her very last breath, and a pang of heart flashed through him, almost piercing his heart directly.

"So, no," Cassian continued, "this isn't for my mate. This is for every female whose power you've been diminishing by denying them the equal right to training they deserve. If you don't want them, send them to my mate's successful Valkyrie training program." He lifted an eyebrow in challenge.

Devlon bared his teeth. "You Illyrian–"

"I would suggest not finishing that sentence, lordling," Rhysand's voice rang out from the tent entrance. He entered the tent smoothly, wearing a mask over his emotions. Azriel recognized the mask immediately. It was the face of a fae to be terrified of, the face of the Rhysand the majority of Prythian believed him to be.

Devlon shrunk back at once, bowing. "Yes, of course, High Lord," he muttered, immediately gathering up the papers that had been laid out on the table in the middle of the tent. "What can my Illyrian camp do for you today?"

"Nothing, so long as you listen to my most trusted commander," Rhysand said, his voice cold. Then he directed his piercing violet gaze to Azriel. "I came for our shadowsinger here."

Cassian shot Azriel a glance, as if to wish him luck. They both recognized the edge to Rhysand's voice.

"Find somewhere else to be," Rhysand said, addressing both Cassian and Devlon. Cassian nodded and strode out, shooting Azriel one last wary glance, Devlon leaving shortly after.

"Rhysand. What do you need me for?"

Rhysand whirled on his spymaster, each movement precise and warrior-like. "You did not tell me of your most recent spy work," Rhysaind said, his violet eyes flaring.

"Which? The check-up on the human queens, or the–"

"Do not play dumb," Rhysand said, his tone lethally icy. "You know exactly what I am talking about, Azriel."

Azriel inhaled sharply, already dreading the conversation ahead. "You are talking about Velaria."

Rhysand swallowed, finally allowing that emotion to break free from behind his mask. "Is it true? Is she alive?" he asked, his voice now thick with emotion, his eyes shining with it.

"Rhys..." Azriel pinched the bridge of his nose. "This is precisely why I didn't want to tell you. I didn't want you to build up hope."

"And why are you not being more optimistic about this?" Rhys asked. "She was your mate. You knew each other since you were kids, were best friends."

"And I am aware of that fact," Azriel said, his temper flaring slightly, but he didn't allow it to show.

Rhysand leveled his gaze. "Azriel. I know you loved her. There is now a chance that your mate, a female you thought you could never be with again, is alive," he said, his eyes filled with sorrow. "You have a chance to finally tell her how you feel, to be with her, brother."

Azriel's breaths were heavy. "I refuse to hold out hope."

"Don't you love her?" Rhysand demanded. "I cannot understand how you aren't showing any emotion, or why you didn't try to find her the moment you heard. I don't–"

"I haven't felt the bond, Rhysand!" Azriel yelled, wings flaring with his temper. Azriel collapsed onto the cot, running his hands through his hair. "I haven't felt that bond, not even a flicker, since the day it broke. I would if she were alive. She would have tried to contact me if she wanted us to know she was alive."

"Az–"

"I don't want to hear it," Azriel said firmly. "I'll see you at dinner."

✿ ↬ - - - ↫ ✿

Dinner, as always, was still full of laughter, but it was more stoic than usual, an unusually tense air settling over the family.

The head of the table typically remained vacant during their family dinners, but today Rhys had decided to sit there, wearing not casual clothes but his High Lord's tunic. Feyre sat to his right in comfy clothes, watching her mate carefully. Nyx sat in a high chair to the right of the High Lady, babbling and cooing.

Amren sat to Rhysand's left, Morrigan on her left with her girlfriend, Emerie, next to her. Mor's eyes kept darting back and forth between Rhysand and Emerie, stroking Emere's arm absentmindedly. Cassian and Nesta sat next to Feyre, Nesta always keeping a careful eye on Elain, who sat in her typical position next to Nesta. Azriel decided to slip into the chair next to Emerie, who gave him a nod and immediately went back to cutting her steak.

Rhysand's gaze bored into Azriel as he, gracefully, tried to ignore it, instead digging into the buttery rolls and smoky collard greens in front of him.

"I was just telling Nesta how we are very likely to receive transfers into the Valkyrie training program," Cassian said to Azriel, tearing him away from Rhysand's strong stare.

Azriel reached over a bowl of mashed potatoes, snagging the bottle of rich, red wine and filling his glass, then taking a sip.

Nesta smiled at her mate, the expression serpent-like as always, rubbing his bicep affectionately. "We'll be very happy to pull females away from that snake Devlon," she said, smirking. "Besides, I believe Gwyn has been looking for more fae to teach."

The Valkyries had been reinstated soon after Nyx's birth. Azriel had avoided the House of Wind and its training ring ever since. It was difficult enough to see Elain every week; he certainly couldn't handle seeing Gwyn. Azriel winced slightly at the sound of the red-headed Valkyrie's name, spearing a collard green with his fork.

Nesta's eyes were trained on Azriel, waiting for his reaction. "That sounds good for you all," he said, shooting a pleading glance at Emerie.

Emerie's eyes widened. "Did I tell you all about the customer who came into my shop a couple of days ago?" she asked, laughing at the memory. She shook her head, her dark brown braid catching the light of the chandelier above. "He was the craziest fae that I've honestly ever..."

Azriel tuned everyone out, finishing the rest of his meal quickly. He sat in silence until the couples began departing, waving goodbye to Feyre and Rhysand, giving goodbye kisses to Nyx, waiting patiently for his turn to leave.

Just as he was about to stand up, Rhysand cleared his throat. "Azriel. Please sit for a second. We need to talk."

Azriel stared at Rhysand, who gestured for him to sit next to Nyx. He obeyed, reluctantly sinking into the seat next to the babe. "Rhysand, I told you that I don't–"

"Az," Feyre said softly, her eyes lit up with concern, "are you okay?"

"I'm fine," Azriel said, keeping his emotions in chains within his mind. "But I certainly won't be fine if I am forced to go through with this conversation." He shook his head, sighing, and gave his finger to Nyx, who grabbed it and squealed.

Feyre watched the interaction. "You could be happy, Azriel," she said quietly. "You could have a life with her again."

"I'm perfectly fine," Azriel said through gritted teeth. "She's gone, besides, I have–"

"Who?" Rhysand interrupted. "Which girl are you talking about, Azriel? Mor, Elain, or Gwyn? Or are there more?"

"I–"

Rhysand pinched the bridge of his nose. "Azriel. We all know that your love life hasn't been the same since she died – or didn't die," he said. "You haven't pursued any in the serious way you did with her."

"That's not true. You didn't even see any of it."

"I didn't see it at first, but the signs became obvious after the fact. And it is most certainly true. Look at your past relationships," Rhysand persisted. "You spent centuries pining after Mor, refusing to make a move and ask her out. You haven't done anything with Gwyn, and Elain–"

"You ordered me not to talk to her," Azriel said coldly.

Rhysand shot Azriel an exasperated glare. "No, Azriel. I ordered you to not pursue something that could potentially threaten your life if someone decided to invoke the Blood Rite," he said.

Azriel focused his gaze on Nyx, trying to ignore the heat of the stares from both his High Lord and High Lady.

"Azriel," Feyre said, her tone commanding, and he looked up. "You deserve to be happy, and you deserve to be happy with her. Please, follow the lead. Go after your mate. And if she's not alive and the tip is false – you didn't lose anything."

Azriel inhaled sharply, swallowing. "Except I lost her all over again. I had hope to be with her, and that would be destroyed if the report was false. I don't know if I could recover from that again. It was hard enough the first time." He let out a dry laugh, taking a sip of his wine.

Feyre reached across the table and placed a tattooed hand on Azriel's scarred one. "Think about it, Azriel. Is the risk of disappointment worth the possible happy ending? You deserve it, though I know you don't believe so. Cassian got his happiness. Rhys got his freedom. It's your turn, Az."

Azriel nodded, squeezing his eyes shut. "Thank you," he said, his voice hoarse. "Both of you."

"Go get her, Azriel, and bring her home," Rhys said, his throat thick with tears threatening to surface. "Bring our Velaria home."