Ghost in a Shell | Azriel ACOTAR

1.

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Azriel's newly appointed High Lord had given him the mission of scoping out his opponents, Beron and the Autumn Court being at the top of the list. The idea of his brother ever being High Lord was a hard one to grasp. For one, well, that he was Rhysand.

Watching Beron lounge on his throne was quite a bore, for Azriel knew the real threat was the man standing next to him. Azriel had heard about the tales of Elador whispered around the campfire, stories of great conquest, of how Elador's voice was edged with the scream of arrows and the clash of shields. But on first inspection, Azriel decided that he was a snake. A good one at that. He noted the times Elador slipped away from Beron, then reemerging with a sneer on his face. The sneer of someone always planning two steps ahead.

The ball was just a drunken slur of wine and tangled limbs when a girl entered the manicured gardens. Azriel watched from behind a bush of the female taking a breath of relief. A halo of auburn hair adorned the female's head, the moonlight turning her skin iridescent. High Fae. Azriel inched his head closer, his shadows restless, assessing the potential threat.

The female whipped her head. A glint of metal appeared in her hands as she spoke to the bush, "I know you're there."

Azriel made no attempt to come out. The girl gripped her knife harder as panic started to flood her eyes, her stance giving away the girl's inexperience. Azriel blinked, the only sign of surprise, his shadows peering over his wings at her. The male admired her ballsiness, he'd give her that. He could easily disarm her and knock her out then go about his night as if nothing happened, but he wasn't about to harm a probably drunk female. So Azriel slowly walked out of the bush, both hands up. "Guess you caught me."

The girl did not release her iron grip on the knife.

Upon closer inspection, the blade was not of metal, but of pure obsidian. One made for slaughtering. What a courtier was doing with a weapon like that was beyond him.

"I won't tell if you won't tell," said Azriel, an edge too friendly.

The girl narrowed her eyes. "What makes you think I believe you? I could call the guards right now about how an unidentified male is creeping around the House's gardens."

"And I bet Elador would love to hear why his daughter is out and about when she should be mingling at the ball."

The girl paused.

Azriel did not fail to notice the resemblance, of the green eyes ringed with gold. He dropped his hands and the two stared at each other.

"Well, I won't tell if you won't tell," she said with fake sincerity. "Good night."

The girl stomped back to the roaring music.

Azriel bit back a chuckle and resumed his spying, albeit this time, not behind a bush.

That night, Azriel positioned himself high in a tree, awaiting sleep—his ever-faithful companion, to find him. It never does. Crickets and the occasional rustle of leaves were his only friends tonight. Suddenly, candlelight flickered on from behind a window in an otherwise asleep Forest House, and a mop of red hair appeared. The girl from the gardens. Trust the Mother to let Azriel conveniently find the tree just across her bedroom.

The male watched the figure stretch her legs on some kind of bar, head meeting toe. Azriel watched, perplexed, as the female carried out a series of spins and jumps, somehow never pleased with herself. It was when her neck was dripping with sweat and a crease marred her brow that the girl cringed. She took off her slippers to find them blood-soaked. This did not seem to bother her. The girl took a deep breath and simply carried on.

Hours ticked by and still, the girl did not relent. It was when even Azriel found it hard to force his eyelids open that the girl finally stopped and leaned out her window. She seemed to allow the cool night air to rake a hand over her blushed face, letting the chill seep into her pores. As she was about to close the curtains, her eyes snagged on Azriel's tree. Her head bent in curiosity and walked away from the window.

Azriel's eyes followed every step the girl took from a backdoor to the bottom of his tree.

"You," she said as she looked up. "Teach me how to fight."

Azriel wanted to laugh in her face. He was definitely not going to give a random girl from the Autumn Court a lesson in combat. It must've shown on his face because the girl pursed her lips. "Well, someone wearing Illyrian leathers must at least know how to wield a knife."

Amusement lit in his eye.

"I could still tell the guards. Or Beron."

Azriel knew she wouldn't, but...he was bored anyways. The girl took out her black dagger, somehow hidden beneath her nightgown, and said, "Teach me."

There was a glint of hope in those green eyes, something telling Azriel that the female did not have many opportunities like this presented to her. The female glanced around for any unexpected visitors.

"Rule number one; never take your eyes off your opponent."

Azriel moved as one with the shadows, somehow coming up behind the girl while snatching her knife and poised the blade against her throat. The girl stopped breathing.

Azriel let go of the knife, earning a deep exhale from the girl. "How–"

"Always move when your target isn't looking. Here," said Azriel as he came beside the girl, a hand guiding hers in a basic defensive position.

"You learn defense before any attempt at attacking."

Azriel continued showing her simple blocks and turns, when to duck and when to pivot. Surprisingly, the girl moved through the positions with grace, a dancer's grace. The female picked up quickly on where and when to move her body, coming to her as easy as breathing.

It was when dawn began to wake the earth that the girl snapped out of her concentration and said while panting, "I should go–"

"What's your name?"

The girl hesitated, understandably so. "Eillia."

Eillia. The name rolled perfectly on his tongue. "Azriel."

"Eillia," said Azriel while taking a mocking bow. "A pleasure to be in your acquaintance."

Before Eillia could take a breath, Azriel was gone, leaving only the phantom of his touch in his wake.

As Eillia walked back to her room, she found herself smiling.