A Song of Ice & Shadow

That night, Azriel stood in the middle of the fighting ring, his wings tucked neatly behind him, when Y/n approached him, dressed in Illyrian leathers. Fortunately, he had kept his shirt on this time.

Otherwise, she doubted she'd be able to focus on their training. Their gazes met briefly as they greeted each other before beginning basic stretches in silence.

Azriel's sharp hazel eyes observed her intently, noting the fluidity in her movements. When they finished, they took their fighting positions. The tension in the air was palpable, an unspoken challenge exchanged between them.

"Want me to say a few words before we start?" Azriel asked, his tone neutral but with a hint of teasing.

"Depends on these words," Y/n quipped, a brow raised.

"I don't know how you trained back in the mortal lands or which techniques you learned, so I'll just say this: remember, it's about balance and control. Don't let your emotions dictate your actions."

"Are you worried lightning is going to erupt from me?" she shot back, smirking faintly.

"No," he replied smoothly. "But emotions tend to get the best of people when sparring. Want to strike first?"

"I'd rather if you did."

He nodded before they began sparring lightly. Azriel's movements were smooth and controlled, while Y/n's were sharp and precise. Each strike and block was executed with a blend of aggression and restraint, their bodies moving in a synchronized dance of combat.

"You're holding back," Y/n said between breaths, her voice laced with both challenge and frustration.

"You want me to go harder?" he asked, tilting his head slightly, his lips curving in the faintest of smiles.

"I heard training with you is ruthless. I don't want you to go easy on me."

"As you wish." Azriel lunged forward, striking rapidly. Y/n deflected, her movements quick but not quick enough to completely avoid his calculated blows. Their bodies moved so close at times their breaths mingled. When Y/n attempted to sweep his legs, Azriel anticipated it and countered, knocking her off balance.

"Still want me to go further?" he asked, extending his hand to help her up.

"I know you haven't even started," she replied, taking his hand.

As she jumped to her feet, she inadvertently closed the distance between them, their faces mere inches apart. Her chest rose and fell with her labored breathing. Azriel's shadows coiled lazily around his neck as his hand lingered on her wrist, his thumb brushing over her pulse.

Y/n's eyes flickered for a split second to his lips before meeting his gaze again. "Come on, Shadowsinger, don't be afraid to show me what you've got."

He released her wrist with deliberate slowness, stepping back. "Afraid?" he chuckled, amusement in his voice as he spoke, "Alright. Let's go again."

They resumed sparring, but with every movement, every touch, their unspoken attraction simmered just beneath the surface. Although Y/n's strikes became more aggressive, there was a softness in her gaze that belied her sharp moves. At one point, Azriel managed to pin her against the wall, his body pressing against hers. They paused, both breathing heavily as their hearts pounded.

"You're distracting me," he muttered, his tone almost accusing.

"Is that what you tell your opponents on the battlefield?" she asked, a faint smirk tugging at her lips.