Chapter Thirty
Nova
“I’ll never belong anywhere.”
The training went on for hours. We worked in sections across the base, completing archery, sword fighting, dagger throwing, medical work, and even some alchemy.
It ended with group movements, which was really just following the stretches, steps, and orders of the woman leading the training.
Az had disappeared for a few minutes afterwards, leaving me with Desi.
We talked about healing, but I was still suspicious enough of her that I struggled to listen.
Once Az came back, his smile wide, I eagerly told her goodbye.
Az forced me to race him to the damn wards—well, he dared me, which was the same thing—and I was so exhausted by the end that I couldn’t focus my mind enough to shadow walk us back.
Finally done and back home, Az and I took hefty breaths, worn out from so much constant movement. He looked my way, smiling as he said, “We’re getting lazy in this cottage.”
“I know quite a few exercises we could regularly be doing here in Snake Lodge, but you’re being difficult.” Az snorted, spitting out the water he had sipped. Chuckling, I grabbed the cup, sipping from it too. “I’m serious, you know. I could use some stretching.”
Groaning, he pushed off the counter, walking away from me. “You truly are a wicked little thing.”
“Oh, you haven’t seen anything yet.”
“How about you tell me all about it over some coffee and lunch?”
Submitting to my loss, I nodded, walking over to kick off my boots. He’d already discarded his, leaving them slightly askew. Without thinking, I bent down and aligned them how he liked, setting mine beside them. I stared at the pairs after, startled by my own actions.
“Coffee will be done in a few minutes. What are you hungry for? Want some hummus and crackers with that one food you showed me how to make? The one your dad taught you?”
“Falafel?”
“Yeah, that one. I might need a bit of help, but I think I can do it.”
Az didn’t turn around to face me, instead pulling out ingredients and getting the oil heated.
I watched in awe, too stunned to speak. He was cooking my favorite food.
Making my favorite drink. Soon, he even began humming the song Celeste used to sing all the time about a raven and a wolf.
Had I really taught him that? And why did I find it so endearing?
Trying my best not to lose my composure, I walked over to Death and scratched behind her tiny ear, wishing I could both freeze time and speed it up.
Because I was secretly enjoying watching as he almost danced around the kitchen, burning himself and nearly cutting off his fingertips when he used the really big knife.
I walked to him, laughing when I realized how poorly he was doing.
“You have to use the chickpeas that I already soaked,” I said, sliding my hand over his. He’d been attempting to smash the still-firm balls with the bottom of a spoon. “Also, you have a masher for this, believe it or not. I swear, it’s almost like someone from my house stocked the cottage.”
The joke didn’t seem to land right with him, because his smile fell. “That makes sense. I’ll grab them.”
He moved to the ice box, pulling out the soaked and dried chickpeas without looking back up at me. I helped him mash them, the two of us finishing the recipe together.
I snacked as we went, the crackers from the Farigh District my new favorite. The cottage warmed with each of our lame jokes and inappropriate suggestions, all of which led to small arguments about how the other was doing a task.
“You shouldn’t dice those,” I’d say.
“Why is it you insist on doing everything at once and leaving a mess in your wake?” he’d ask.
So I’d wipe hummus on his nose, and he’d chase me with huge chunks of onion. When he accidentally wiped his eyes and started screaming from the burn, I nearly choked on my own spit and peed my pants.
When we successfully pulled out the first ball, he broke out in the most ridiculous dance.
“Are you seizing right now?” I asked through my laughter.
Reaching out his hands, he brushed his fingers over mine, twisting his hips before bending back. “Come on then. Show me your best move.”
So I did. I shimmied and shook, probably looking ten times more insane. Death leapt onto the counter as we laughed and danced, watching us with a tilted head and swaying tail.
“Murder! Come here! Dance!” he said, darting for her. She leapt away, hissing at him as she ran.
“Her name is Death, you impossible man!” I shouted, laughing at the two of them.
In the end, he caught her, bribing her with a lick of hummus. We did successfully make a mediocre version of Dad’s favorite dish, which Mama once said Tershettas had been making for generations. As we ate, Death sitting on the table with a plate of fish, I thought of my family.
Mama would have scolded me for Death being at the table. Celeste would have made fun of us for our chaos. And Dad? He’d smile and tell me the food was great.
Suddenly, I realized something terrifying. They died thinking the absolute worst of me.
“Nova, seriously, what’s wrong?” Az asked, cutting into my thoughts. Looking up, I saw he was staring at me, a bit of sauce left on the corner of his mouth.
Laughing, I wiped my eyes, feeling the tears I hadn’t realized were falling. “Nothing, just baffled that a man raised in a castle is sitting across from me with sauce on his mouth.”
Tilting his head, he flicked out his tongue, licking his upper lip.
I chuckled again, grabbing my napkin and leaning over the table, wiping it off for him.
He held my gaze as I did, grey eyes pleading and wide.
When I sighed and pulled away, his hand darted out, gripping my wrist and holding me hostage there.
“Tell me what’s wrong.”
“I just…I miss my family. They’ll never see what I’ve become. They’ll never see me atone for everything I put them through and all that I sacrificed in my selfishness.”
Azazel grew quiet, his fingers loosening on my wrist. I wondered if I was becoming annoying. No one else had been a fan of my one-track mind. It was repetitive and exhausting, I knew that. Yet, I felt like I needed to tug him towards me, beg him to understand why I was the way I was.
Before I could do something stupid like apologize, Az stood, walking around the table and falling to his knees beside my chair. Stunned, I watched as he placed his hands on my knees, staring up at me with glassy eyes.
“Nova, they loved you. Neither—I mean none of them died thinking you were unworthy of that love. Maybe it was hard for them to feel as if you were on a path they couldn’t follow, but I highly doubt they were ever even remotely disappointed in you.
You have nothing to redeem. Loving them and wanting them to live wasn’t selfish.
You gave everything. Risked everything. Fought everything. Atonement isn’t needed.”
“You weren’t there the night they died. They all looked so angry—like they didn’t even know who I was anymore. I swear, they hated me in that moment. They died hating me, and I’ll never be able to make it up to them.”
Az pulled me down by my neck, forcing my forehead to press into his. “No, Nova. No. They loved you. I’ve never seen a family as happy and loving as yours.”
I felt myself snap, the emotions so heavy that all I could do was let myself break.
My body shook, muscles too weak to fight him off when he tugged me down into his lap.
Instead, I cuddled against him, breathing in the smoke and vanilla scent that clung to his clothes as tears streamed down my cheeks.
When his lips pressed into my hair, I lost it, the quiet cries turning into hysterical sobs. He didn’t seem to mind. Every hiccup only had him holding me tighter, until I felt like I was wrapped in his…his love.
And though I knew it was wrong, I accepted it.
I soaked it in and consumed it all. He picked me up eventually, taking me to the bed and covering us with the quilts.
I lay against him, crying and crying and endlessly fucking crying.
All Az did was stroke my hair and rub my back, not speaking or soothing, just there—present.
Something far better than fake apologies or faux reassurances.
His heat slowed my cries, his heartbeat regulating mine.
“How about a bath?” he asked when my sobs turned to short gasps.
“Yes, please.” Nodding, he sat up, lifting me again like it was nothing. He carried me all the way to the bathroom, setting me down gently. When he summoned the water, he faced me, his cheeks pink.
“Can I help you undress? No funny business, I swear.”
Smiling ever so slightly, I nodded. He pulled off my clothes slowly, his touch delicate, soothing my skin. When I was bare, he didn’t allow his gaze to stray lower than my face. His eyes were hollow and dark, the inner corners of his brows raised and pulled together. He looked tired.
“Will you come in too? No funny business, I swear.” His laugh was deep and rough, his head falling back for a moment. Then, as if suddenly fully aware of what I said, he nodded, clearing his throat. I reached forward, grabbing the hem of his shirt. “Can I?”
“Always.”
I pulled his shirt off first, needing his help getting it off his head where I couldn’t reach.
Then I unbuttoned his trousers, tugging them down.
He was better than me, because I did look at the noticeable bulge beneath his cotton undergarments, a lump forming in my throat as I freed him from them.
Looking up at him, I saw that it wasn’t only painful for me.
His entire face was tense, his jaw ticking as his hand threaded in my hair.
“Nova, no funny business,” he groaned. I nodded, standing back up, my arms wrapping around his torso as if they belonged there. He followed my lead, hugging me so tightly it hurt. But I didn’t care. It felt nice to be loved that much.