Ghost in a Shell | Azriel ACOTAR

A few months later

"God, Cassian, that looks horrendous," said Feyre, pointing to the crooked wreaths.

"I don't think you and your ugly elf on the shelf have much to argue."

Feyre bit back a drunken snort as she took another sip from her wine bottle.

"Who let you guys be in charge of the decorations again this year?" Mor groaned and ruffled her hair. "You both look worse than I feel."

"I'm not the one who stayed up until dawn dancing before the hearth thinking I was the great fire goddess." Cassian quipped.

"This is just sad," said Rhys as he walked in and surveyed the room. "It's not even noon yet!"

"Come on, Rhysie," Feyre waggled her eyebrows and extended her bottle. "You know you want to."

Out of nowhere, Azriel appeared, swiped the bottle before Rhys could, and took one big gulp.

"You're no fun Az, get you and your shadows out of here."

Az poked a tongue at Rhys and plopped down on the couch next to Feyre.

"So, how's the ball coming along?" 

"If I weren't so blind, I would've thought someone was excited about the Winter Solstice ball for once," nagged Feyre.

It was true. Usually, he hated these types of balls, always thought they were too stuffy. But this time, it was different. Eillia was here. He had years to dream about swaying to music with Eillia in tow, bearing one of her signature grins that could bring Azriel to his knees. God, he had nothing but a bastard's hope that Eillia would somehow blink away the fog muddling her thoughts. To his complete and utter surprise, these past few weeks Eillia had slowly warmed up to Azriel, offering a quick smile whenever they passed in the hallways or a polite hello. But she still had her episodes; some days he knew she couldn't tell him and that Ajax of hers apart and it always crushed something inside him. Still, it was a hell of a lot better than when he first brought her back to the river house. The image of Eillia cowering under her bed had dragged its talons into his sleep every night and he would like nothing better than to wrangle Ajax or whoever else that had made her this way. 

Nonetheless, Azriel was grateful for the sliver of moments where Eillia didn't look at him like he was the devil given form.

"Blue or silver?" Feyre asked, holding up two ribbons.

"Whatever you choose, it better be done by tonight." chuckled Azriel as he looked around the bare house.

Feyre took another sip and groaned into the pillow.

"Is Elain still in the kitchen?" Azriel asked to no one in particular.

"Yeah, I just passed her this morning. Trust me, you don't want to go in there," said Mor.

Azriel shot her a concerned glanced and disappeared out the door.

Mor was right. As soon as he stepped a foot in, Azriel was bombarded with a thousand things going on at once; Elain was busy piping a dozen cupcakes while Nuala and Cerridwen bickered over a rather abstract cake design while a pot on the stove was screaming its head off. Elain looked up.

"Oh good, you're here! Quick, mix this for me, would you? And put it in the oven after." she gave Azriel a suspiciously looking batter and pointed to a cake tin.

"Um, okay."

Azriel whisked until his hand was about to fall off and looked around the kitchen. Mountains of flour and sugar covered the counters and a whole army of cakes and pastries lined every available nook and cranny of the overly large kitchen. "Don't you think this is a bit much?"