Soraya stood at her bedroom door for a long while. Trying to decide whether she was hungry enough to warrant getting out of bed. Eventually, though, she yanked open the door and shuffled down the hall.

Azriel was there in the dining room, dressed in his fine Illyrian leathers. She hadn't made it one step into the kitchen before his hazel eyes zipped toward her. He wore a hard look on his face, brows slightly pinched. Soraya shifted uncomfortably in place.

"Are you alright?" He asked suddenly, worry lacing his tone.

Soraya nodded and opened up the cabinet closest to her. She tried to avoid his gaze as she pulled out a neatly wrapped loaf of bread. He didn't relent.

"Something happened." A statement, not a question.

"Excuse me?" Soraya, crippled with embarrassment, twisted at the waist to see that Azriel was still frowning.

He tilted his head, eyes raking down her form. "You feel different."

She felt different? 

"Well, if you must know," she chopped her knife through the loaf with a bit more force than necessary, cutting the slice lopsided. "My cycle began this morning."

Her face blazed. She didn't need a mirror to see the color spilling across her cheeks. Creeping its way down the back of her neck. Soraya dropped the knife again, cutting a second, slightly more even, piece from the loaf.

It was one of, if not the only, advantage to being unhealthy. While malnourished, her monthly cycle had ground to a halt. For so long, it was something that she didn't need to think about. Now, being taken care of once more, the dreaded thing returned in full force. And with a vengeance, it seemed.

Setting the knife aside, her hand rubbed anxiously at her bad hip. A huff rolled out of her. Soraya looked up from glaring at the bread on the countertop.

Azriel had gone still as death across the room. Panic flared in his eyes, strong enough that she could feel it radiating off of him. 

"You should be resting," he hurried, starting toward her. From the look on his face, one would think she'd been stabbed.

Soraya waved off the comment and turned to search the other cabinets for jam. There was a specific jar she was looking for, though she wasn't quite sure what it was made from. Or who made it, for that matter. But the berries in it were perfectly sweet with the slightest tang-

She jumped when Azriel's hand closed around her wrist, and he spun her to face him. He was so close to her now that if she sucked in a deep enough breath, their chests would likely touch. A lump formed in her throat. Soraya worked to swallow it down while she blinked up at him.

"Go back to bed," he said carefully, "I'll bring you something to eat."

"Azriel, I'm fine," she laughed awkwardly. 

Sure, she felt gross and a little lightheaded. Her hands shook a tad and a familiar cramp had nestled into her gut. All of which was normal for her cycle. It was just as annoying as she remembered. But it wasn't, at the moment, enough to leave her bedridden.

Azriel's lips thinned when he pressed them together, apparently unconvinced. His eyes gouged into hers, almost in search of something. A few long seconds passed. Slowly, his fingers melted away from her wrist.

"You don't hurt?" He asked quietly. Confusion left a wrinkle between his brows.

"A little. Nothing out of the ordinary." Soraya shrugged and tipped her head side to side in a "meh" type fashion. She smoothed back her hair.

Azriel scooted backward, settling a few more inches between them as if only then realizing how little there was. "The pain of a fae female's cycle is debilitating, I'm told."

Soraya studied him for a moment, trying to make sense of his odd expression. He almost looked suspicious, as if silently asking himself whether she was lying.

It was a taboo subject of conversation, a woman's cycle. For her people, at least. It was something most didn't talk about. Unless with a medical professional. At first, she'd thought maybe he would be afraid of the topic as well. Turned out, he was only worried for her. And if that didn't make her heart clench, she was sure nothing would.

A smile touched her lips. He frowned. The simultaneous suspicion and worry scribbled across his face drew a laugh from Soraya.

She couldn't help herself when she reached out and smoothed a thumb over the wrinkle between his brows. "I'm okay, Azriel. Really."

He blinked a few times, surprised into a stupor. Soraya's arm fell back to her side and she smiled again. Softer this time, she hoped. The best attempt to be reassuring that she could manage. Azriel's wings twitched and his chest visibly stuttered on an exhale. He nodded weakly.

Silence weaved itself between the pair. Warm and easy and comfortable.

"I can see if Madja has something for the pain," Azriel said softly. When she made to protest, he was quick to cut her off. "Even if it's only a little."

Soraya wasn't sure who Madja was, but Azriel seemed confident that she would have something that would help. Not that she wanted him to go through the trouble.

"Go back to bed," he repeated. It didn't sound quite so urgent this time, but a gentle request nonetheless. "I'll finish up here."

When he nodded past her, Soraya peeked over her shoulder towards the bread that she had yet to put away and the pieces she had sliced for herself. She sighed in defeat and rolled her eyes, deciding that she kind of hated Azriel for how sweet he was. If only because it made it more difficult to pick out a flaw.

Soraya took one last look at the Illyrian male. At the broad, unwavering strength of him standing there. She murmured a "thank you" and started for her room.

Even when she settled beneath the sheets and leaned back, she still felt herself blushing. 

When did that happen?

When did she start blushing at the deep timbre of his voice? Since when did his eyes lingering on her for a moment too long make her pulse skip and heat rush through her? His presence alone had her at a loss for words. It had become familiar. Comforting in the most unrecognizable way.

Soraya groaned and grabbed an extra pillow from beside her. She smooshed it over her face, hiding from the world.

Not good. Very not good.

A few minutes passed before a duo of knocks sounded at the door that she'd left slightly ajar. Soraya tossed the pillow aside and sat up, leaning back against the headboard. She cracked a smile at the sight of Azriel in the doorway. 

He was cringing at the whining of the door as it swung slowly open from the force of his knock. Which she now realized must have been with his boot. There was a tray balanced on one scarred hand and a mug held in the other. He glided across the room.

Soraya folded her legs when he sat the tray on the bed before her, lowering the steaming mug onto the bedside table. The smell of chocolate filled her nose and a glance told her it was because he'd fixed her some hot chocolate. He'd made her a sandwich as well, pairing it with some fruit on one side of the tray and some crackers on the other. 

A strange choking, laugh fell out of her at the sight. It was far too much effort on her behalf. "Az-"

"Careful, that's hot," he nodded toward the steaming mug and took a single step backward.

"I'll be back soon," Azriel carried on before she could say more. 

Soraya clamped her mouth shut and swallowed. She watched him for a moment before hesitantly reaching forward and plucking a raspberry from the tray he'd laid before her. She popped it into her mouth.

"Spymaster stuff?" She asked curiously.

Azriel grinned and stole a berry of his own. Soraya laughed when he tossed it into his mouth.

 "What else?" He spun on his heel and started for the door.

She hummed and shifted the way she was seated, laying a pillow across her lap. "Be careful."

"Always," Azriel called before the door clicked shut behind him.

~~~

The cabin's door creaked open in the dead of night. Soraya bristled at the gust of icy wind that swept down the hallway and through the threshold of her bedroom. She paused, listening for the door to latch shut. When it did and silence carried in the air, Soraya padded out into the main room.

Her mouth opened on its own accord, prepared to spew a greeting, only for her feet to falter. She stopped at the opposite side of the room, frowning at the strange wrongness clinging to the Illyrian before her.

Azriel was unnaturally still, wings drawn up in a way that looked uncomfortable. His brows were hard, the line of his mouth tight. The smattering of snowflakes that had caught in his hair were slowly melting. But as he stood there, he seemed to be waiting. For what, Soraya wasn't sure.

If his silent, statuesque demeanor didn't wave a red flag of warning before her eyes, the single drop of blood on his cheek did. Along with the way he tried subtly to shift his hands from view. More so than usual.

The silence stretched on and though she was dying for an explanation, Soraya didn't push. She merely tilted her head. Azriel's hand flitted toward the hilt of the familiar dagger on his thigh. Not that he made to fully grab it. More of an anxious brush of his fingers. Like the blade provided him some comfort. No sooner than he touched the dagger did his brows draw together.

Soraya couldn't help but notice the smears of red dusting his knuckles. Though she couldn't tell if the blood belonged to him or some other poor soul.

It occurred to her then that Azriel's "spymaster stuff" must have taken him to the prison today. To the same frigid room that she had been hauled into. She tried not to think about his short interrogation of her. Perhaps it wasn't always so short for others.

He was waiting for her, she realized secondly. Patiently awaiting her reaction to seeing what he did daily. The evidence of what he had done. Allowing her the chance to see what he was. As if he thought it was something bad.

That made her angry. At herself, of course. She was mad because she had put that flicker of unease in his eyes. She'd given him a reason to doubt himself. She'd thought him a monster until he worried that maybe he was one.

Soraya sighed and closed the distance between them. Azriel almost pulled away, but she hurried to snatch one of his wrists. He swallowed while she studied his scarred hand. 

His knuckles were split from dealing countless blows. She couldn't imagine how the other guy looked. Her lips quirked when she brushed a thumb across the shallow wounds, noting the faint purplish color that was beginning to blossom around them. He didn't so much as flinch.

"Raya-"

Soraya cut Azriel off with a sharp hushing noise that had his mouth clamping shut and his shoulders sagging. With a hold on his wrist, she dragged the shadowsinger into the kitchen. He protested weakly by trying to sidestep around her.

Azriel stilled when Soraya shot him a glare and shoved a hand against his chest until he'd backed his hips into the countertop. His breath noticeably hitched.

She met his hazel eyes for a brief moment, just enough to see them soften in the tiniest bit. Soraya lifted his arm again and carefully unbuckled the strap holding his gauntlet in place. As gently as she could manage, she tugged the gauntlet off from his arm and set it aside. She continued to slip off the opposite gauntlet as well.

It was strange, seeing his hands without those scraps of black leather. Without the burning blue siphons atop them. So rarely did he take them off. It made him look a little more raw. Strange, but beautiful.

Ashamed at drawing attention to them but unable to help herself, Soraya traced her fingers over the network of pale scars dancing across his flesh. Proof of his strength on display. Azriel shivered at her featherlight touch, wings shimmying. She traced over his callouses, hardened from centuries of wielding a blade.

A part of her wondered what he might do should she lace their fingers together, locking their hands against one another. Shaking the thought from her head, Soraya reached for a washcloth draped over the basin of the sink.

"You don't have to-"

"Stop talking," Soraya interrupted while she wetted the cloth.

Azriel sighed in defeat when she dragged it over his bruising knuckles. He didn't protest again, didn't try to pull away. He only watched her work.

"Did they deserve it?" She asked quietly after eventually switching to the opposite hand.

"Now you want me to talk?"

"Az," Soraya grumbled, peering up into his eyes in hopes that he would take her seriously.

He let out a breath. "I believe so, yes." 

His tone didn't sound unsure in the slightest. He didn't think they deserved it. He knew they did. That made her feel better. She nodded wordlessly and made another swipe across his knuckles.

"Does it upset you?" Azriel was trying to meet her eyes, but she kept hers trained on his hand. On the way his veins pressed against the scars there. The flutter of his pulse beneath his wrist.

It was almost funny, in a not at all comical sort of way. How they danced around the word that both knew would fit perfectly into place. "Torture" was a far uglier word than "it."

Soraya finally blinked up at him, noting the concern twitching Azriel's brow. She weakly lifted a single shoulder in a shrug, raising the cloth to his face. 

Did it upset her? No. Perhaps it should have. But no. It was no secret, the things he did as Spymaster of the Night Court. She'd encountered it firsthand. He wasn't inflicting senseless violence. He was doing what needed to be done, and if that meant punishing bad people, so be it. 

"I know your occupation, Azriel." She rubbed at the droplet of blood on his cheek which she was sure wasn't from a wound of his.

He seemed to crumple at that, body, expression, wings- all folding in as if he were trying to disappear. He was probably remembering her strapped into a chair, paralyzed and suspended in a drug-induced haze. Azriel likely pictured the dagger he'd threatened her with and the venomous words he'd spat.

"I see you," she added softly, smoothing a piece of dark hair back from his face. "All of you."

Azriel looked almost pained when he steered his gaze back toward her. Soraya set the cloth aside and touched a hand to either side of his face, just holding him there in the space between them.

"I am not afraid," Soraya finished.

A deep breath shuddered out of him, making her wonder how long he'd been holding it. She managed the slightest of smiles, hoping it was reassuring. Azriel's chin sunk further into her hands, as if all the tension in his lithe body had melted away. Soraya stood on her toes and tipped his face to touch a kiss to his forehead.