Chapter 34 – AZAREL
AZAREL
The palace.
She's in the fucking palace.
I stand frozen at the window, watching through the crystalline glass as my mother holds court in the throne room below. The sight before me defies every fucking expectation, every nightmare scenario that's plagued me for weeks.
Cosima sits at my mother's table like she belongs there, resplendent in a set of Surhiiran robes that seem crafted solely to enhance her ethereal beauty, surrounded by four alphas who look ready to tear apart anyone who so much as breathes wrong in her direction.
She's not in chains.
Not being held at gunpoint.
Not a prisoner.
She's… laughing.
The sound doesn't reach me through the thick palace glass, but I can see it in the way her head tilts back, silver hair catching the light like moonbeams. The way her shoulders shake when something genuinely amuses her instead of the sharp, bitter laughs I'm more familiar with.
What the fuck is going on?
The alphas around her are a mismatched collection of dangerous.
There's Nikolai Vlakov. Has to be. The white hair and garish round red glasses are obvious enough, by all descriptions I've interrogated out of the wasteland rats on my way here.
The most infamous warlord of the Outer Reaches, sitting at my mother's table.
Then there's an alpha with an eyepatch that looks like a grizzly bear on steroids who'd rather be anywhere but here. A golden-haired pretty boy sits beside him, his hand brushing against Cosima's hair and shoulders with a familiarity that makes my jaw clench hard enough to make the bones ache.
And there's a giant with a clawed metal arm and a silver mask. Must be the monster alpha those kids were babbling about at the market. The one they called Knight. He sits apart from the group, angled toward Cosima, watching her like a guard dog.
My brothers are here too. Revi is to be expected.
As future heir to the throne, he rarely leaves the palace grounds, but Plague is another story.
He's looking remarkably comfortable for someone who should be dealing with the aftermath of whatever clusterfuck led to this gathering.
Even Revi is half-cocked on Surhiiran wine and laughing out loud at something the golden-haired alpha just said.
None of this makes sense.
I've been tracking her for what feels like an eternity, but even when I realized she was headed to Surhiira, even with our unsolidified mate bond pulling at my soul like fishhooks, I never expected her to end up here.
In my childhood home. Wearing Surhiiran silks that make her look like she was born to them, violet eyes bright with something I haven't seen in too long.
Life.
Not just survival, not just endurance, but actual fucking life.
She's safe. She's whole. She's not being tortured in some wasteland pit or sold to the highest bidder or any of the other scenarios that have been eating me alive.
But the relief comes tangled with confusion that borders on paranoia. How did she get here? Why is she with these alphas? What hold do they have on her?
She's been passed from one set of hands to another for months. There's no scenario where she's here willingly.
The bandages on my hand itch beneath the cilice. A reminder of every day I've failed to free her. Every day the sword her father hung over her head stays poised to fall.
A sword she doesn't even know is there.
A sword I can't even fucking tell her about.
But I can get her out of here. Figure out the next steps later, once she's safe and away from this… whatever the fuck this is.
Movement below catches my attention. My mother rises from her cushion with that grace that age has only enhanced, extending her hand to Cosima. They're leaving together, heading toward the gardens, and my heart rate kicks up.
This is an opportunity.
Get Cosima alone, get her out, figure out what the fuck is happening once she's far away from here.
I move through the palace like a ghost, using servant passages and hidden corridors I mapped out in countless childhood games with my brothers.
The irony isn't lost on me that I'm sneaking through my own home like a thief, but I gave up any claim to this place the day I chose my new allegiance over Surhiira.
The gardens spread out below me as I position myself on a balcony, close enough to see but too far to hear what they're saying.
Cosima and my mother are walking together like old friends, arms linked, heads bent together in conversation.
The surreal sight makes my skin prickle with unease.
Two worlds that were never supposed to meet, colliding at the worst possible time.
My mother's face is animated in a way I haven't seen in years. She's laughing at something Cosima says, sincere joy lighting up her features.
And Cosima looks… comfortable.
Relaxed, even.
The guilt hits hard. Three years. Three fucking years since I've seen my mother. Three years of letting her think I might be dead rather than risk compromising my position in Reinmich. And here's Cosima, my secret, my sole weakness, chatting with her like it's the most natural thing in the world.
I remind myself I don't have a choice. Never had one. The mission always came first, had to come first. But watching them together, seeing what I've denied myself, denied them both...
A servant rushes toward them, bowing and speaking rapidly. My mother's expression shifts to fond exasperation, and she pats Cosima's arm before following the servant back toward the palace.
Leaving Cosima alone.
Giving me my chance.
My body moves before my brain catches up, years of training taking over.
I drop from the balcony, landing silent as death on the gravel path.
She's wandered deeper into the gardens, studying a fountain with that intense focus she gets when something truly captures her attention, rendering her far more captivating than the mere stone that's won her fixation.
Ten feet.
Five.
Close enough to catch that intoxicating, incredible scent of moonlight and twilight rain that's haunted every waking moment since I lost her.
My hand clamps over her mouth before she can scream and I pull her back against my chest, lifting her slightly off her feet.
She goes wild immediately, clawing at my forearms with those sharp nails that have left their mark on me before in far more intimate circumstances. Blood wells up through the tears in my shirt, but I barely feel it. And I wish I did.
"It's me," I hiss, trying to calm her. "Cosima, it's me. It's Azarel."
She goes completely limp in my arms, all that fight draining out of her so suddenly I almost let her go. Relief floods through me. She recognizes me. She—
The heel of her shoe slams into my groin.
Pain explodes through my entire body. My arms loosen automatically and I barely have time to let out a hiss of pain through my teeth before she spins in my grip, bringing her knee up for a second strike that connects with enough force to drop me to my knees.
"Fuck!" The word comes out as more of a wheeze as I haul myself back to my feet, ready this time. "What the fuck, Cosima?"
She's already winding up for another attack, murder written in every curve of her body. I catch her wrists just as she's about to claw my eyes out, using my strength to hold her at bay despite the nauseating pain making bile rise in my throat.
"Cosima, calm down!" I growl, struggling to restrain her without hurting her. She's usually so docile in her fugue states. Concerningly so. This is new. "I don't want to hurt you!"
"Really?" She hisses the word like poison, violet eyes blazing with a fury I've never seen directed at me before. "I can't say the same!"
I blink, trying to process this. She must be having another episode, another flashback. But rather than the usual catatonic glaze, her eyes are clear violet, sharp and piercing. And she's certainly not lacking in motor skills.
"You're confused," I say, keeping my voice low and soothing even as she tries to slam her head into my face. "You're safe now. I'm getting you out of here."
"Like hell you are!"
"You've clearly lost your mind," I mutter, making a quick decision. In one fluid motion, I shift my grip and throw her over my shoulder, clamping my arm across the backs of her thighs to keep her in place. "Running around with a bunch of degenerate alphas like some kind of fucking circus cult—"
She screams loud enough to wake the dead, pounding her fists against my back with impressive force. "Put me down, you lying sack of fucks! Put me down right fucking now!"
I ignore her, already calculating the fastest route out.
In this position, I can hold her easily without doing any damage.
The garden wall is only twenty feet away.
I can make the jump easily, even with her in my arms. Get to the safe house, figure out what kind of hold those alphas have on her, deprogram whatever—
A roar splits the air, primal and furious enough to make every hair on my body stand on end.
I look up to find death bearing down on me.
The monster—the Knight, as those brats called him—looms at the garden entrance, those burning blue eyes locked on me with single-minded murder. He's even more terrifying up close, all that augmented mass and ferocity focused entirely on separating my head from my shoulders.
His intentions are clear enough without words.
One predator knows another.
My blood suddenly turns to ice. I'd seen him at the table, dismissed him as just another freak wastelander following her around like a lost puppy.
But those eyes, that specific shade of burning blue, the gauntlet of curved metal claws, the severe scarring visible around the edges and eye holes of his impassive silver mask...
The monster from Cosima's nightmares is real.
The Knight takes a step forward, a growl building in his chest that sounds like grinding metal.
My vision flickers like it's glitching out.