Rain had already begun to fall before Kaius announced that they'd reached their destination. Thunder boomed with a brilliant flash of lightning, granting Azael a glimpse of what the Phoenix was doing. Kaius stood before a massive tree, though its size wasn't what left Azael captivated.

    He'd noticed as they moved deeper into the woods that the trees were growing larger. They were some of the oldest within the forest, though not the very first seedlings. Those trees had been tended by Drenusha herself during her time in the mortal realm, and they remained protected within many of these hidden villages throughout the Vidar.

    No, it was the unique structure of this tree that had Azael intrigued. It looked as though two trees had twisted around each other to become one. As he watched, Kaius pressed his palm flat against the gnarled bark and whispered something inaudible. Instantly, a faint green light spilled from every crevice within the tree and the ground around its roots began to quake.

    Azael braced himself and watched in awe as the tree unwound itself, revealing a glowing passageway between the two trunks. Kaius beckoned them closer and led his horse through the passage. Tissaia was right on his heels, then Talarion.

    Azael drew a deep breath and tightened his grip on his mount's reins, then pushed himself through that illuminating light. A warm tingle filled his limbs and wind roared past his ears, but the sensations were short-lived.

    He blinked his eyes wider and gazed about the ancient structures sprawling into the distance. Each building featured delicate arches and vaulted ceilings. Verandas lined the once clear streets, still overrun by vines and forgotten shrubs. He could make out an elegant gazebo here and there, and many houses were nestled in the tops of trees, with winding staircases leading up to them.

    Others were made from hollowed out trees, while many more resembled buildings he'd seen in the older parts of Arcan. This village had been founded in the Elder Age, no doubt. The elaborate beauty of every minor surface was a testament to that.

    Azael drifted further into the village as his companions headed towards a large house just ahead. Rain no longer wet his face, though he could still hear faint claps of thunder. A part of whatever magic kept these villages separate from the rest of the world.

    They were usually devoid of storms, save for those permitted by whomever had created the pocket realm. He wondered what storms this village's founder had favored. Perhaps light mists or cold frosts, but apparently not harsh thunderstorms.

    He paused by the smaller structure adjacent to the house. Tissaia was already heading inside with Kaius and Talarion's supply packs, while the two males were unsaddling the horses and filling a water trough from an antiquated pump fountain. Patches of grass dotted the ground, but a quick look in one of the stalls revealed several square bales of hay and a large bin of grain feed that still appeared in pristine condition.

    That was a true sign of the power of this village's founder, Kaius had said. He'd been in many more abandoned villages that were all but collapsing in on themselves. For this village to have survived for so long and for its magic to still be sustaining it to this extent, it had to have been created by someone exceptionally powerful. Perhaps one of the gods' children themselves.

    They left the horses safe within the stable and made their way to the house presently. There was no immediate sign of Tissaia upon entry, but they soon discovered her slumped into a dusty old armchair in a sitting room. She had already lit a fire.

    "And look what else I found," she said with a delighted grin. Tissaia waved her arm to the small table at her side. Several antique bottles rested upon it. "The entire wine cellar is stocked. The pantry too. We can refill our supplies." An apprehensive look crossed her features. "Unless this stuff will age into dust as soon as it leaves this place." Tissaia faced Kaius.

    He shook his head with a smile. "It will last."

    "Well, that's a relief."

    "We should probably get going tomorrow as soon as the storm lets up," Kaius added.

    "Actually, we're going to stay a few days," Talarion cut in. The Phoenix's hazel gaze pinned on the male. "Only two or three, but long enough for you to rest."

    Kaius rolled his eyes and scoffed. "I'm fine. We can keep going."

    "We can, but we're not going to. I found more signs of the Blood Fae closer to us than the other. If there's even a chance we could run into them, we all have to be well rested and able to defend ourselves. I'm not taking any chances."

    Kaius's lips pressed thin, the most annoyed Azael thought he'd ever seen him. But he raised no further protests and merely stalked over to the table and snatched one of the bottles. He uncorked it and gave it a hesitant sniff, then tipped the bottle back. Azael couldn't stop himself from gawking as the male drained it in mere minutes, not pausing even once.

    "What?" Kaius demanded when he'd swallowed his last mouthful. "I think I'm owed a drink after the shit I've been dealing with."

    "You are. You definitely are," Azael agreed. "I just didn't expect that from...you."

    A pleased smirk curled the corner of his mouth. "Yeah? I imagine there's a lot you don't expect from me, your Highness."

    "Oh, here we go," Talarion groaned. "I guess someone should warn you now. Drunk Kaius doesn't know the definition of personal questions, and he's going to get very cocky."

    "That's not going to help your headache," Tissaia remarked as Kaius snagged another bottle off the table and dropped onto a second chair.

    "You're sharing that one," Talarion agreed. He hurried over to the male and snatched it away from him before Kaius had a chance to down the whole thing once more.

    "Sounds like you've seen this a few times before," Azael pointed out. He drifted to the table and lifted one bottle to his nose, then selected another. His stomach clenched at the sound of Tissaia's laughter.

    "Gods, yes," she said. "One of the first times Kaius came to Lochren, Talarion and I snuck out to meet him at a tavern near the docks, where Father's employees never go. I barely remember that night."

    "I remember more," Talarion chuckled. Azael took his chosen drink and moved closer to the fireplace. He leaned against the mantle before taking a slightly more measured sip than Kaius's. At his prompting look, Talarion continued.

    "We spent about two hours at the tavern, then swiped a few full bottles from the barmaid. They cost us one of Tissaia's earrings, but she managed to lose the other somewhere before morning too so I don't think she was too sad."

    "I remember the next bit," Kaius piped up. "Lord Roshan had commissioned a new ship and it was just finished. We heard from one of the dock workers that he hadn't paid anyone but the overseers for it. So we snuck on board, set fire to the ship, and watched it sink until dawn."

    "Were the workers punished for it?" Azael couldn't help but ask. From what he knew of Lord Roshan, the male was always eager to return violence for insurrection. If he hadn't paid those who built his ship, they would've been the logical culprits.

    Kaius remained silent, and Tissaia and Talarion locked gazes. "No," Tissaia answered shortly. "We took the blame, and made Kaius leave beforehand so no one knew he was involved." He didn't get a chance to ask what their repercussions had been.

    A cold smile lit her lips as she added, "Seeing how angry Father was made it worthwhile, and the city counselors refused to grant him the additional funds to commission another personal ship." She took a drink, then fixed her sapphire gaze on him. "Now tell us a drunk story we don't know about you."

    "I've never actually been that drunk," Azael answered honestly. He didn't prefer the mornings that followed after his few such experiences. This warm tingle in the pit of his stomach, sharpened by Tissaia's piercing gaze, was enough. "But I suppose you might enjoy this one."

    He watched her expressions intently as he told the story from his time on the Isle of Lorn. It had been his last night there, following his Last Rites, the final five days of any novice's training which were filled with grueling and brutal trials.

    He and the other novices who had become full members of the Cahirim were celebrating, and made the mistake of deciding to swim naked in the frigid waters off the coast of the Isle. All of them had been bedridden for at least a week afterwards, and he was no exception.

    That coaxed laughter from all three of his companions, and they continued swapping stories as they passed drinks around. 

•༻☽☾༺•

    The evening had grown late and Tissaia's sides ached from laughter, though the room had been quiet for ten minutes now. Kaius had gone to bed and Talarion had disappeared into the kitchen. She could hear him rummaging through cabinets in search of an appealing evening snack.

    Only Azael remained with her, still standing next to the fireplace and gazing vacantly at the dancing flames. She tipped her head to the side, letting it rest against the shoulder of her chair and continued to watch him. Tonight had been...nice.

    It had been nice for all of them to interact without any of the usual tension that accompanied them. In fact, it had been fun. Why hadn't they done this years ago? Why was it that protocol and duty always had to overshadow everything?

    Her gaze swept over Azael again, taking in his strong, noble features, which she'd always found more handsome than beautiful. His sharp jaw, the thin scar on the right side of his chin, and his deep set, pale blue eyes. The proud brow bones that gave him a firm look, and his ridged nose. That mouth that was somewhere right in between full and thin. The heart-shaped arch of his upper lip that always seemed begging to be kissed.

    How many times had she envisioned doing so? How many times had she looked at his tall, broad frame and envisioned wrapping her arms around his lean waist, or resting her head against his chest? How many times had she wondered what it would feel like to have his arms around her? His strength wasn't frightening. Not like her father's. He'd never used it against her, and she knew he never would.

    Gods, if he were anyone but the Prince. If she were anyone but a Lord's daughter. If they could just be them, without the strain of politics and expectations and whatever else it was that was keeping them apart. If she could just put aside her bitterness of the past, and if he would just tell her whatever it was he was keeping locked inside...

    "Azael?" She called softly.

    "Hm?" He didn't look up from the fire, though his head angled towards her ever so slightly. And had there been a hitch in his breath?

    "Tell me something no one else knows about you," she found herself saying, the words almost inaudible.

    He looked at her then, and silence dragged on long enough that she began to doubt he would answer. Then, "I sing, sometimes."

    "Really?"

    "Well, only one song. The one Oriana's lover wrote for her."

    "Hope of the East," she realized. Azael nodded. "That's a beautiful song." It would be even more so when carried in his low voice. She could almost hear it.

    "Mother taught it to me." His gaze returned to the fire. "She wanted me to sing it to the female I fell in love with, like Oriana and her mate."

    The memory of the necklace and her note stung her thoughts violently. Tissaia swallowed, but it did nothing to dislodge the rock in her throat. "I'm sure you will someday." She rose and left the room without another word.