Chapter 5
Chapter
Five
Azelon couldn't stop watching.
He lingered in the shadowed doorway as Jamie sorted through a stack of books while Corin flitted around him, deliberately distracting.
Their shoulders occasionally brushed. With each contact, Corin's power rippled outward, a subtle pulse of warmth that made nearby objects shift slightly.
Books rearranged themselves. Pages turned without fingers. A mug edged closer to Jamie's hand.
And through it all, Jamie remained steady. Unmoved by the chaos Corin radiated.
"You're taking this too seriously," Corin complained, draping himself dramatically over the reading chair beside Jamie. "We've been organizing books for hours."
"I own a bookstore," Jamie replied, his mouth quirking. "This is what I do."
"Well, I'm bored." Corin stretched, accidentally knocking a book off the nearby table. "Tell me something interesting about Earth instead."
"Like what?" Jamie asked, retrieving the fallen book without comment.
"I don't know. Something exciting. Do you have sea dragons? Cursed islands?"
"We have sharks and lawyers. Close enough."
They laughed together, and something twisted in Azelon's chest.
How easily they had fallen into a rapport. How comfortably Corin leaned into Jamie's space… and how casually Jamie accepted it.
Azelon told himself he was watching for signs of instability. He'd spent eight months monitoring Corin's emotional state, learning to read the subtle shifts in his magic that preceded danger.
But the truth burned colder than any deep ocean trench: he wasn't watching for danger. He was cataloging every smile, every laugh, every casual touch that wasn't directed at him.
The jealousy was ugly.
Of course it was.
But he couldn't stop it.
A memory surfaced, uninvited. Corin thrashing in the drowning dreamscape, water closing over his head as his panic trapped him in a prison of his own making.
The villages had been evacuated, their inhabitants half-mad from the nightmares Corin's power had inflicted.
The local authorities had been ready to execute him.
But Azelon had insisted there was another way.
He'd waded into that mental sea. He'd found Corin suspended in darkness, terror etched into every line of his face.
He'd wrapped his arms around the smaller man and dragged him back to consciousness. Back to life.
And Corin had looked at him afterward with something like devotion.
"I didn't know someone could touch me during an episode," he'd whispered that first night, curled against Azelon's side like he belonged there.
Azelon had allowed the contact then. It was a medical necessity, he told himself. Corin needed grounding to prevent a relapse.
But he'd kept allowing it, night after night. Corin gravitating to him in the darkness, seeking his steadiness, his calm.
And each time, Azelon withdrew a little more the following day. Maintained his distance. Reminded himself of the price he'd pay for succumbing to the pull between them.
He'd told himself it was mercy. That he was protecting Corin from an inevitable heartbreak.
He'd told himself many things.
"Are you planning to join us, or just loom ominously in doorways all morning?"
Jamie's voice snapped Azelon from his thoughts. Both human and fae were looking at him now, Jamie with that direct gaze that seemed to cut through pretense, Corin with a carefully constructed mask of indifference.
"I was assessing the building's stability," Azelon lied. "It doesn't seem to be leaking as much magic noww."
Jamie nodded, accepting this at face value. Corin's eyes narrowed slightly, disbelieving.
"That's good to hear," Jamie said. Then he handed a book to Azelon. "Look at this one. It's about marine life. Thought you might find it useful."
Azelon took the book, careful not to let their fingers brush. "Thank you."
"We were talking about trying to map the store," Jamie continued. "It keeps creating new rooms."
"There's a chamber to the left side that wasn't there an hour ago," Corin added. "Has a pool that reminds me of the oceans near Tidespire."
The casual mention of his homeland caught Azelon off guard. "What do you know of Tidespire?"
Corin's expression flickered with something like hurt, quickly masked. "You mutter about it when you think I'm asleep."
A tense silence followed. Jamie looked between them, then decisively stood.
"I'll check the kitchen, figure out lunch options." He caught Azelon's gaze, his expression unreadable. "You two can handle exploring the ocean room."
Before either could protest, Jamie strode from the room, leaving them alone together for the first time since their argument.
Corin's projected emotions immediately intensified, making the air charged and restless. A book slid from the shelf, thudding to the floor between them. Azelon recognized it—"The Tideborn Exile Rituals."
"This store sure has opinions," Corin muttered, reaching for the book.
Azelon was faster, snatching it up and replacing it on a high shelf. "It's meddling in matters it doesn't understand."
"And what matters would those be?" Corin tilted his head, amber eyes challenging. "The ones you refuse to discuss?"
Azelon turned away. "We should examine the new room."
"Of course. Avoid the question. Maintain the mystery." Corin's voice was light, but his pain leaked outward nonetheless. "Lead on, oh stoic one."
They moved in tense silence to the new room.
Inside, a pool of crystal-clear water occupied most of the floor space.
Its surface was perfectly still, reflecting the luminescent coral formations that grew from the ceiling.
The walls had transformed into what appeared to be underwater cavern walls, complete with small crustaceans skittering along the rocks.
Azelon's breath caught. It was a perfect replica of a Tideborn sacred pool: the kind used for communication between settlements. The kind used for sending messages to the Council.
"It's beautiful," Corin breathed beside him. "Like something from a dream."
He knelt beside the pool, fingers hovering just above the surface. The water seemed to reach for him, forming a tiny peak that almost touched his skin before settling back.
"Don't," Azelon warned.
Corin shot him a look. "Why not? It's just water."
"It's a sacred communication pool." Azelon approached cautiously. "In Tidespire, only Council members were permitted to use them."
"Well, we're not in Tidespire." Corin dipped his fingers into the water.
Azelon tensed, but nothing happened. Of course not. Corin was not tideborn.
He relaxed fractionally, kneeling on the opposite side. "That the store could create something like this…"
"It's trying to give us what we need." Corin withdrew his hand, shaking water droplets back into the pool.
"You think I need a reminder of home?"
Corin shrugged. "Maybe it thinks you need to face whatever you left behind."
The statement hit too close to a truth Azelon wasn't ready to confront. He stared into the pool, seeing his own reflection—blue skin, the markings along his forearms pulsing with a dull light that betrayed his unease.
Behind his reflection, he saw Corin watching him.
"You never talk about it," Corin said softly. "Eight months, and I still don't know why they exiled you."
Azelon's jaw tightened. "It's not relevant."
"It's the reason you won't—" Corin broke off, pain flashing across his features. "The reason you keep me at a distance."
"I keep you at a distance because your emotional projection is dangerous," Azelon said automatically, the practiced line falling flat even to his own ears.
Corin's laugh was bitter. "You know that's not true. You're immune to the worst of my effects. You're the only one who can touch me when I'm projecting strongly."
"That doesn't make it wise."
"Because of what? Your precious Tideborn traditions? The people who threw you away?" Corin's voice rose, his frustration rippling through the water between them. "What could possibly be worth clinging to after exile?"
"The possibility of return," Azelon said before he could stop himself.
Corin went very still. "What?"
The words hung between them, impossible to take back.
"There's always a chance that the Council might revoke my exile," Azelon admitted. "Under certain conditions."
"What conditions?" Corin whispered.
Azelon couldn't meet his eyes. "It doesn't matter."
"It matters to me!" Corin insisted, and a wave of his anger sent a nearby group of crustaceans scattering. "What conditions, Azelon?"
"I would need to remain pure," Azelon said. "Take a Tideborn mate to continue my bloodline. Prove my loyalty to the traditions I was exiled for questioning."
Understanding dawned in Corin's eyes, followed by a hurt so profound that the entire room seemed to vibrate with it.
"And you can't do that if you're with me," he whispered.
"I'm not with anyone," Azelon said stiffly.
"But you want to go back." Corin's voice cracked. "You want to return to the people who exiled you for—for what? What did you do that was so terrible?"
Azelon closed his eyes briefly. "I prevented a ritual execution."
"You saved someone."
Of course Corin wouldn't understand.
"I interfered with Council justice."
"And now you want to crawl back to them." Corin stood abruptly, his emotions churning the water into small waves. "Even though it would mean abandoning?—"
"I haven't abandoned anyone," Azelon cut in. "I've simply maintained appropriate boundaries."
"Appropriate!" Corin's laugh held no humor. "Yes, very appropriate. Holding me every night when the nightmares come, then pretending nothing happened each morning. Saving me from drowning, then watching me drown in a different way."
Azelon rose to his feet. "You're being dramatic."
"I'm being honest!" Corin shouted. "Which is more than I can say for you."
"I never led you to believe there could be anything between us," Azelon said coldly.
"You never had to." Corin's voice dropped low. "I guess I deluded myself."
Before Azelon could respond, Corin turned and fled the room, leaving him alone with the churning pool and the echo of words he couldn't take back.
Azelon sank to his knees beside the water, watching as it gradually stilled. His reflection stared back at him, accusatory. His markings had dimmed to almost nothing, a sign of the emotional control he prided himself on.
Control that seemed increasingly pointless with each passing day.
He remained standing by the door for a while, he couldn't say how long, until the sound of Corin's voice drifted from elsewhere in the store. A laugh, slightly forced. Then Jamie's deeper tones, a question Azelon couldn't make out.
He found himself moving toward the sounds. He couldn't help it.
In the kitchen, he found them standing close together, Jamie's hand resting on Corin's shoulder as he guided him through some kind of cooking process.
"Like this?" Corin asked, stirring something in a pot.
"A little slower," Jamie advised. "You don't want to splash it everywhere."
It was the easy domesticity of the scene that struck Azelon. This was what he'd denied himself. What he'd denied Corin. The simple comfort of closeness, of touch without conditions.
And Jamie made it look so easy. He steadied Corin with a casual hand. He directed the chaotic energy into productive channels.
He didn't flinch from connection.
In three days, the human had done what Azelon couldn't in eight months.
It was easy to see why Corin was so enarmored with the man. There was nothing aggressive about his confidence, about the way he took charge.
The role of a caretaker seemed to come naturally to him in a way that it never had for Azelon.
As if he could sense Azelon's thoughts, Jamie looked up, catching sight of Azelon in the doorway. His expression softened, and he beckoned him forward.
"Perfect timing. We could use another set of hands."
Corin tensed visibly but didn't object.
Azelon hesitated, poised between retreat and advance. In the span of that moment, he saw Jamie's free hand settle on Corin's back in a gesture of reassurance, saw the chaos fae relax fractionally, saw the small smile they exchanged.
He turned away before they noticed his expression.
He'd tell himself it was better this way.
He always had.
Even as the truth carved deeper than any blade:
He could never be what Corin needed.
And Jamie could.