Chapter Text
The training ring buzzed with the usual mix of grunts and clashing swords as Cassian barked encouragements at her that somehow managed to be both helpful and mildly insulting. Gwyn wiped sweat from her brow, tugging her braid back over her shoulder as she adjusted her stance, waiting for another blow from the general. She cursed her sisters for making her spar against him this morning. Why was it always her?
Cassian claimed he couldn’t attack Nesta, not after they’d become fully mated – it didn’t feel right. And Emerie conveniently pulled the “my wings are achy” excuse any time she didn’t feel like going against the Lord of Bloodshed. So, of course, Gwyn was stuck with him. Again.
Cassian continued his onslaught of taunts. “Don’t drop your elbow. Watch my feet. Good. Okay… not so good. Hold the sword a little higher. See? You’re not entirely useless. That’s why you were the first Valkyrie! Oh – that one would’ve taken your head off. Afraid to duck?”
He was so lucky he was Nesta’s mate, or she might’ve had to shove this sword right up his—
“That’s a wrap for today, everyone. Good job!” Cassian called out.
There was a collective groan of thank the gods as nearly all the females dropped to the ground for their well-earned break after a gruelling morning session.
Gwyn flopped onto her back with zero hesitation, panting and exhausted. Her sisters joined her shortly after.
“Did you hear about Eris?” Emerie asked, diving straight into the day’s juiciest gossip.
Gwyn loved this part of training.
She rolled her head to the side. “What about him?”
“He’s getting married.”
It had only been a rumour for the past few weeks. “Wait—It’s been confirmed?”
Emerie nodded. “I heard Azriel mentioning it to Rhys the other day. Something about movement at the Forest House – decorations, deliveries. That sort of thing.”
Nesta snorted, tugging gently at Gwyn’s braid to fix it. “Ughh. What kind of person would actually agree to marry Eris Vanserra?”
“Someone in love,” Gwyn offered.
“Or cursed,” Nesta shot back, wrapping the hair tie around Gwyn’s freshly re-braided hair. “I still can’t believe I ever considered it.”
Gwyn laughed as Emerie teased, “Nesta Vanserra has a nice ring to it.”
“Hey!” Nesta said pointedly. “I was traumatised and angry. Don’t make fun of me!”
“He is really hot, though. I couldn’t blame you for considering it,” Emerie said with a smirk.
Cassian let out a low growl from where he was tidying up the ring.
All three Valkyries giggled at his macho display.
“We’re not talking about this anymore,” Nesta said firmly once they’d calmed.
“No, please,” Gwyn grinned. “Let’s absolutely keep talking about how you were nearly Lady of Autumn.”
Nesta slapped her arm.
“Alright, alright,” Gwyn laughed. “But to be fair... I don’t know. I don’t think he’s that bad.”
Both sisters’ heads snapped toward her.
“Gwyn,” Emerie said slowly, “you cannot be serious. Eris is the worst.”
She huffed. “He seems… complicated. And maybe there’s more to him than we know.”
Nesta raised a brow. “So you’re defending him now?”
“No! I’m just—Look, he fought in the war, he’s been helping the Night Court...”
Emerie deadpanned, “Are you his secret bride?”
“What? No!” Gwyn giggled. She pointed to her hair. “We’re probably related! I’m part Autumn, remember?”
All of them grimaced at the thought.
Then Nesta grinned. “Agh… so you’re defending your Court, not him. That’s acceptable. I thought I might have to throw you in the Sidra to knock some sense into you!”
Gwyn clutched her chest. “Such violence from someone who wooed him with dance.”
Nesta smacked her playfully again. “Okay, maybe I will throw you in after all,” Nesta quipped, getting up and tugging at Gwyn’s leg.
They dissolved into laughter, Gwyn struggling to get her leg out of Nesta’s grasp. This was definitely her favourite part of training. There was nothing better than time spent with her sisters – gossiping and joking around.
The laughter died down as a shift in the air signalled an arrival. A slight sting of powerful magic brushed the back of Gwyn’s neck, cool and commanding.
The High Lord of the Night Court was here.
He strolled over with that casual grace only Rhysand could pull off.
“You’re early,” Emerie moaned.
Rhys laughed. “Sorry to break up the party,” he said smoothly. “I’ve got some meetings in Illyria. I was hoping I could drop you off on the way.”
Emerie frowned. “Yeah, I suppose. Who am I to deny my High Lord?”
He threw her a charming, grateful smile as Emerie got up and dusted herself off.
Gwyn and Nesta rose too, the latter asking, “Wait—before you whisk her away. Is it true? About Eris?”
Rhys nodded. “It is.”
“Is it political? Does anyone know the bride?” Gwyn asked, curiosity bubbling up inside her.
“No one knows anything,” the High Lord said with a shrug. “Not even her name. The wedding’s happening at the Forest House. No guests. No announcement.”
“Of course,” Nesta scoffed. “You know how Autumn Court love their secrets.”
“Hey,” Gwyn said, raising a hand. “Part Autumn, remember?”
Emerie snorted. “And you love secrets.”
“What? No, I don’t!” She did love gossip, though… and rumours… maybe a few tidbits of information that few others knew – but that was all.
“Not that you’re any good at keeping them,” Nesta added, cutting through Gwyn’s thoughts.
She blinked at her sister. “I have no secrets,” she lied.
The look Nesta gave her made Gwyn’s stomach drop.
Emerie was smiling too, sly as a fox.
Gwyn narrowed her eyes. “I promise! I have no secrets.” They were bluffing. They had to be.
“Sure you don’t,” Nesta said, glancing far too obviously over her shoulder, to where Azriel was tidying up his side of the ring, seemingly ignoring them all.
Gwyn’s eyes widened. How did they know?
Nesta raised a brow.
Emerie waggled hers.
“Shut up,” Gwyn snapped.
“We didn’t say anything,” Nesta said sweetly, before adding a wink.
Gods, Gwyn was going to die.
Yes. Okay… she had one tiny, huge, giant secret.
She was hopelessly in love with the Shadowsinger.
Azriel, who was as funny as he was lethal – and far too beautiful for words. Someone who looked at her with pride and quiet admiration. Someone who trained her, who listened... and made her chest spark with just a look.
Oh yes. She had it bad.
And he had no idea.
It would stay that way. The last thing she wanted was to put him in some awkward situation where he had to gently let her down. There was no chance of the two of them riding off into the sunset together. There was more chance that Nesta would throw her into the Sidra one day!
Rhys gave her a look that suggested he knew, too.
Of course. She’d probably been screaming all her thoughts loud enough for any daemati in a thousand miles to hear. She checked her mental shields on instinct, shutting up the iron walls and blocking out the High Lord. He threw her a smirk.
Then he clapped his hands once, sharp and amused. “Well, best of luck with all that, Gwyn. Our little secret, of course.” He winked. “Ready, Emerie?”
Her sister sighed and nodded. As the High Lord scooped her up, she called over his shoulder, “Don’t gossip any more without me!”
Nesta and Gwyn waved them off until both Emerie and Rhys had disappeared from sight.
Then it was time to retire to the house. Gwyn was halfway through planning the longest, hottest bath of her life when Nesta’s voice cut in—
“Oh, here comes your boyfriend.”
“What!?” Gwyn spun around, catching sight of Azriel trailing after them. He gave her one of those half-smiles that always made her melt. Her cheeks flushed instantly, heart lurching. She whipped her head back around—
Just in time to walk full-force into the glass doors of the House.
So hard, the glass cracked. Or maybe that was her skull. Whatever it was, the sound was horrific.
Pain like she’d never felt before flared across her forehead as she bounced off the glass like a stunned bird. She staggered back, stars exploding across her vision.
There was red, too... blood?
That wasn’t good.
And then everything blurred and tilted.
The last thing she heard before she hit the ground, before everything went black, was Azriel’s voice – sharp and panicked.
“Gwyn!”