Azael stood at the foot of the dais where his father's throne was placed. As usual, King Mavron was slumped in it, hardly paying attention to those who were brought before him. He only muttered a short greeting and sent them on their way, leaving it to Azael to make them feel as though they were being attended to. Yet another one of the King's duties he had to take on.

    He had just finished speaking with one of the many Elders in attendance when the ballroom doors parted to admit a few final guests. The warm light swept across Tissaia's pale, exposed shoulders with a golden gleam, catching on the jewels encrusting the gown that swept down every curve of her body with perfect attentiveness.

    But as usual, it was her face that captivated him. The candles in the chandelier overhead illuminated her angular features, and he knew he wasn't the only one who was watching her. As Gaelen had said, she was beautiful. Not a fragile beauty like her mother, but a sharp, shrewd beauty.

    There was strength in her lean jawline and the full pert lips that always seemed to be fixed in a sneer when he was around. Her eyes were bright and wide, beset with thin brows that perveyed her every thought. Her nose was straight and proud, her cheekbones high and arched.

    Azael glanced at her brother briefly. Most claimed the pair to be perfectly identical, and generally speaking, they were, but he could see the differences where others could not. Talarion had a more artistic beauty compared to his sister. Tissaia's face was captivating, but Talarion's was begging to be captured.

    He had the same straight and proud nose, the same full lips, although his were slightly more downturned, giving him a thoughtful or brooding appearance rather than a snide one. His cheekbones were as sharp as Tissaia's, but his jaw was more squared and his brows a bit fuller. His eyes were also a little more narrow, and while Tissaia's were a dark sapphire, his were so dark they were almost more black than blue.

    A lilting laugh broke from Tissaia, drawing his attention back to her, then to the other male accompanying them. A frown tugged at his lips but Azael wiped it away. He cleared his throat, catching his father's eye, and bowed. King Mavron only waved in dismissal and Azael strode away.

    He stood taller as he approached the trio, not that he needed to. He was already almost a head taller than Tissaia. Talarion was only about an inch taller than his sister, and Kaius was the same height as her. The three Fae paused when they caught sight of his approach.

    Azael kept his gaze fixed on Tissaia alone. He offered her a tight smile in greeting. "I've been asked to introduce you to some of the newly appointed counselors, if you're not opposed to it."

    "Oh, very well," Tissaia sighed. She drew her arm out of Talarion's and Kaius released the other one.

    "I'll find you for a dance later," the male promised. Tissaia grinned back at him while Azael rested his hand on the fabric-clad portion of her lower back and guided her towards the counselors.

    Tissaia remained surprisingly agreeable throughout the introduction and as they continued to make their rounds. Her only remarks towards him were brief snippets of praise and a few sultry glances whenever anyone mentioned their relationship. Not that she was fooling anyone, of course. Likely all of Asterria was aware of the fact that he was avoiding marrying her, and she knew it too.

    As usual, they had been expected to open the first dance, and even now, they were waltzing together effortlessly as they had so many times before. The music swelled louder, finally enough to mask any words he wished to speak, and Azael took full advantage of it. "You're not wearing the necklace," he said.

    "I'm surprised that stands out to you more than my lack of a tiara," Tissaia answered. She twirled away from him and when he drew her back, raised her hand to lightly tap the crown atop his own head.

    "The tiara wasn't my idea."

    "And the necklace was?"

    His jaw clenched. "No." Tissaia cocked her head, studying him intently. Azael averted his own gaze and ignored the warm weight of her hand on his shoulder, as well as the heaviness of his own against her waist.

    He couldn't stand it when she appraised him like this. It was as though she were trying to strip away every protective barrier he'd erected around himself, trying to find a way inside. A way to expose him. To weaken him. To gain a foothold.

    Just as she had when his mother died. When he'd been so broken and alone, and she had followed him to that training room. Watched him destroy every inch of it without so much as flinching. And when he'd fallen to his knees, crumbling under the weight of despair, she had been the one to hold him up, then oh so craftily tried to slip her way into his fractured heart. She had nearly succeeded too.

    "I know you gifted that one to her," Tissaia said quietly. "You may have it back, if you wish."

    "What would I do with it?" Azael gritted out.

    "Save it for someone you do want to give it to."

    He still didn't look at her, and didn't bother responding. His gaze swept over the throng of swirling couples until it locked with another that had followed them all day. His brows furrowed and the male looked away. "Why is your father watching us like that?"

    It was her turn to sound gruff. "Why do you think? Wouldn't you be attentive to the male who had slighted your daughter repeatedly for centuries despite being betrothed to her?" Azael flinched and her fingers tightened against his shoulder. "Aren't you going to say something?" Tissaia prompted when he remained silent.

    "What is there to say?" He looked at her then, in time to see anger spark within her eyes. Her jaw clenched as her throat bobbed. She ripped her gaze away with a turn of her head, and the force of the movement lifted the scent of dew and incense from her hair.

    Azael braced himself. Here was the explosion Gaelen had predicted, as usual. She might even leave a few scratches this time if he'd made her angry enough. Anyway, he wouldn't be surprised if she flew at him with her nails outstretched. He'd probably let her land a few blows. He knew he deserved them.

    Tissaia inhaled, the sound sharp and trembling. He waited for the inevitable outburst as the music slowed, then faded, and applause filled the room. Tissaia's hands fell from him and her crackling gaze met his.

    "You make me wish I could hate you," she spat, and despite the surprising quietness of the words, they lacked none of their intended venom. They plunged straight into his veins with an icy prick before she spun on her heel and sauntered off. Azael could only stare after her, the words ringing in his ears.

•༻☽☾༺•

    Tissaia didn't seek him out again, and rather than subject himself to his father's listless company, Azael digressed to dance with several of the other females in attendance. As he suspected, however, their fluttering eyelashes and simpering smiles did nothing to distract him from the sight of Tissaia dancing with Kaius several times, and numerous other males he didn't bother to name.

    When he finally decided he couldn't stand another dance, Azael tucked himself into a secluded corner where only a few servants were gathered. They paid him little attention, having witnessed his lack of societal enthusiasm many times before.

    He managed to escape company for almost an hour before he spied Gaelen approaching. The male was out of his armor for a change and tucked in a decent leather tunic instead.

    "You know, sitting back here and glaring at Kaius and Talarion isn't going to earn you any favor with her," the male remarked, pausing in front of him and folding his arms together.

    "What makes you think I'm trying to earn her favor?"

    Gaelen shrugged. "The fact that you're over here moping and she's been dancing with the Phoenix most of the night."

    "I am not moping," Azael grumbled. "And I barely noticed her with Kaius. I've been dancing with other females up until a little while ago."

    "Mmhm, sure," Gaelen scoffed. "You should probably consider dancing with her at least once more. You might claim to not notice, but others will."

    Azael lifted his gaze to the male's with almost the same amount of disinterest as his father. "Why should I care?" Now, Gaelen's features hardened with frustration. He stepped closer, shooting a warning glance at a servant who was paying a little too much attention and she scurried away.

    "Because your actions don't just affect you," he snapped. "I've already heard people gossiping. You know there are rumors that there's something wrong with her and that's why you won't marry her? And there are equal rumors claiming that something is wrong with you. That you're going to turn out just like your fa..."

    "Don't you fucking say it," Azael interrupted, the words grating in his throat like stone. He would never be like his father. That was the only thing he'd ever been certain of in his entire life. He would never be anything like Mavron Cadhael.

    "Then prove them wrong, Az," Gaelen urged. "If not for your own sake, then for hers. If either of you ever finally call this off, you want her to be able to find someone else, don't you? Letting these rumors spread could make that next to impossible. They're saying she's probably just a whore who..."

    Azael shot to his feet. "Who said that?"

    Gaelen's brows lifted. "It doesn't matter who said it. What matters is that it's being said."

    "No, it most certainly matters," he growled. "Who the fuck said it?"

    Gaelen only shook his head. "Ask her to dance again, Az. You're making this unnecessarily difficult for both of you." Azael brushed past him without responding.

    He stormed through the ballroom, ears pricked for even the slightest whisper of the insult. He wove between observers and dancers in turn, keeping one eye out for Tissaia but there was no sign of her or her companions. He turned towards the ballroom doors where a few guests were already drifting out to retire.

    Just as he was about to continue his search elsewhere, a sliver of blue caught his eye and he watched as Tissaia floated across the room, her hand on Kaius's arm, lips parted to laugh at something the male had said. Azael stared after them until they passed through the doors and beyond sight.

    The Phoenix had been given a set of rooms near his own, as opposed to Tissaia and Talarion's clear across the palace. If she was intending to join him for the night...

    His fists tightened, something slicing deep into his chest at the thought. Perhaps he should go after them. Suggest an evening ride, or a small private gathering with some of the younger guests after the older ones retired. Anything to keep them apart. To keep them from...

    "What further proof do you need?" A male's voice whispered behind him. "The female's nothing but a common whore, exactly as I said be..."

    Azael's fist collided with his jaw and there was a resounding crack before the male could finish his sentence. Pure, raging, and barely contained power locked his limbs rigid while the male staggered backwards with a startled cry, his hand lifting to his broken jaw.

    Azael stared down at him, barely keeping his harsh breaths in check. Gasps and whispers were already flying around the room and on the dais, his father had risen. "Someone fetch a healer," the King ordered.

    He barely heard the words. Azael's gaze remained nailed to the male, who flinched and wisely lowered his own. "I'll cut your tongue out myself if I ever hear you speak about your future queen that way again. Am I understood?" The male nodded vigorously. "Say it."

    The male worked his jaw, attempting to speak. Tears flooded his gaze and no words emerged. Azael stepped closer. "Azael!" He ignored the King's commanding tone and continued glowering down at the male.

    "Say it," he growled.

    "He...he can't, your Highness," the female beside the male stammered. "But he understands. See? He's nodding."

    A hand clasped his shoulder and Azael blinked, the touch startling him enough to clear the fog of rage that had engulfed him. He glanced at Gaelen and didn't resist when the male drew him away. He shot one last glare at the male, then faced forward. The remaining guests parted for them, all bowing their heads and averting their eyes.

    Guilt clenched his stomach at the sight. They were doing it out of fear...not respect. He slowed his steps and Gaelen looked at him worriedly. The peoples' eyes widened as he retraced the path back to the male. He was still on the floor.

    Azael swallowed and halted before him, then extended a hand. The male hesitated before allowing him to pull him up. "My apologies," Azael murmured. "My temper got the better of me."

    The male only nodded again and squeezed his hand, then let go. Azael rejoined Gaelen and followed his friend up the stairs and out of the ballroom. The moment the doors were closed, his shoulders slumped and his breaths came hard and fast. He'd barely been aware of holding them.

    "Gods," Gaelen breathed with a nervous chuckle. "I thought it would be her causing a scene, not you." His tone grew sincere with his next question. "You all right, Az?"

    "Yeah, I'm fine." He shrugged the male's hand off, unsure of when Gaelen had even grabbed onto him again. Azael turned towards the nearest flight of stairs and hurried up them. Gaelen took the hint and did not follow.