Chapter 31 – Azaria
AZARIA
Ididn’t sleep. The dissection report sat on my desk, pages still spread open where I had left them hours ago. High-priority threat. Specific objective. The words burned into my mind, looping endlessly.
Someone in Kareth sold me to Dravareth. Someone sent those hounds to kill me. And I was supposed to sit here, on light duty, and wait for them to try again. My hands clenched on the armrest of the couch.
No.
Not this time.
But first?—
I pushed to my feet, ignoring the dull ache in my muscles. Myrin cleared Quinton yesterday. Released him back to his quarters with strict orders to rest. I needed to see him. Needed to know he was all right before I did what I was planning.
I walked out.
The palace barracks were quiet at midday. Most of the squad would be training or handling assignments. I climbed the stairs to the third floor, toward the residential wing.
Quinton’s apartment was at the end of the hall, shared with Elias and Lyra, though I knew they’d be with the squad today. He’d be alone.
I knocked once and waited. The door opened. Quinton stood in the doorway, dressed in dark trousers and a loose shirt, hair still damp like he’d just bathed. No bandages. No pallor. Just him: alive, breathing, whole. His eyes widened slightly when he saw me.
“Azaria.”
“Can I come in?”
He stepped back, pulling the door wider. “Of course.”
I walked past him into the small sitting room. Simple furnishings: a couch, chairs, a table scattered with books and papers. The neat stacks were Elias's precision; the cushions and throws were Lyra's warmth.
And Quinton’s presence was everywhere: the faint scent of steel, smoke, and something sweet; a blade resting on the side table, boots kicked off near the door. The door clicked shut behind me.
“You’re recovering well,” I said, turning to face him.
“Myrin cleared me yesterday. Magic’s back. Just need to take it easy for a few days.”
The tightness in my chest eased. “Good.”
He studied me for a moment, eyes dark and searching. “You didn’t come here to check on my medical clearance.”
No. I didn’t.
I looked away, gaze drifting to the window. “I needed to see you. Needed to know you were all right.”
“I’m all right.” His voice was soft. “Are you?”
I almost laughed. “I’m fine.”
“Azaria—”
“I am,” I insisted, but the words rang hollow even to my own ears.
Then I heard him move: slow, deliberate footsteps crossing the room. He stopped just in front of me, close enough that I could feel the warmth radiating from his skin.
“You’re not,” he said. His hand touched my arm. “Talk to me.”
My throat tightened. I kept my gaze fixed on the window.
“You’re planning something,” Quin continued. His voice dropped, rough with concern. “I can see it, Azaria. Whatever it is—don’t shut me out.”
My throat tightened. I kept my gaze fixed on the window. Silence stretched between us for a beat, then two.
His other hand lifted, fingers brushing my jaw before cupping my face, warm and achingly gentle. My breath caught. Not from fear, but from the absence of it. Weeks ago, this would have sent me recoiling. Now his palm was against my skin and every part of me leaned toward it instead of away.
“It’s all right, Quin,” I said softly.
“It’s not.”
His voice was rough enough to make something in my chest tighten.
“We’re both alive,” I murmured. “Thanks to you.”
His hand flexed lightly against my face, like he wanted to hold on and didn’t quite dare. “You should be mad at me.”
A small, tired smile touched my mouth. “Already forgiven.”
His dark eyes searched mine. “Azaria?—”
“It wasn’t your fault.”
His jaw tightened. “You don’t know that.”
I stilled.
For a moment, neither of us moved. I could feel the warmth of his breath, the tension in the hand still resting at my jaw, the weight of something unsaid pressing between us.
“Quin,” I said quietly, “what are you talking about?”
His gaze dropped, just for a second. When he looked back at me, there was guilt there—raw and ugly and old.
“Those hounds,” he said. “I helped make them.”
I didn’t pull away, but I felt my body go very still.
Quinton swallowed. “Malphyr had alchemists working on them. Handlers. Flesh-workers. They brought in corpses, and he ordered me to use blood magic to animate them.” His mouth twisted. “Not the abyssal corruption itself. That wasn’t me. But the movement was. I made them walk.”
Silence settled heavily between us.
“One of them infected you,” he said, the words rough. “One of them nearly killed you, and I—” He broke off with unsteady breath. “You should hate me for that.”
I blinked at him, then exhaled slowly.
“All right,” I said.
His brows pulled together. “All right?”
“You were under Malphyr’s command,” I said, voice steady. “You did what he ordered.”
“That doesn’t make it better.”
“No. But it makes it his sin, not yours.”
His expression hardened with pain. “Azaria, I put my magic into those things.”
“And Malphyr sent them after me,” I replied. “You didn’t.”
He opened his mouth, but I cut him off before he could argue again. “We’re both alive,” I said, a little more firmly now. “That’s what matters.”
His eyes searched mine like he didn’t know what to do with the fact that I meant it.
“Azaria,” he said again, quieter this time. “Talk to me.”
My smile faded. I stepped back just enough to put space between us, though I felt the loss of his warmth immediately.
“There is nothing to talk about,” I said.
Quin caught me before I could retreat any farther, his palm warm against my cheek as he tipped his forehead to mine. “Let me help,” he whispered. “Please.”
For one heartbeat, I wanted to. Wanted to lean into him and let him carry some of this weight. But I couldn’t. Not this time. I pulled back, his hands falling away.
“I’m all right,” I said, voice steadier than I felt. “And you need to rest. I just—” I stepped toward the door. “I needed to see you. That’s all.”
“Where are you going?” he asked.
I paused, glancing back. “I need to discuss something with Rylen.”
His jaw tightened. Concern and suspicion flickered in his eyes. “Azaria?—”
“I’ll be fine,” I said. “Get some rest, Quinton.”
I left before he could stop me.
I made my way through the palace corridors, past the training yards, toward the Velmara wing. The walk gave me time to think. To harden.
Quin had stood there like he should be ashamed of surviving Malphyr. Like the filth of that place still belonged to him. As if I’d ever waste my anger on him instead of the bastards who forced his hands in the first place.
But for now, Quinton was safe. Recovering. His magic was back; his life intact. And his blood magic was too distinctive. If he started using it the way I was planning to use my blades, people would notice. They’d trace it back to him. This was a job for someone quiet. Unnoticeable.
Someone like me.
The sentries at Rylen’s door stiffened when they saw me, but neither dared to stop me. I knocked once, then entered without waiting for permission. Rylen looked up from his desk, already rising. He’d been expecting me.
“Azaria,” he said.
I closed the door behind me, locking it. His eyes tracked the movement, expression shifting from concern to understanding.
“You know why I’m here,” I said.
“I do.” He gestured to the chair across from his desk. “Sit.”
“I’d rather stand.”
A pause. Then he nodded, arms crossing. “Then speak.”
I moved to the window, gaze sweeping the courtyard below. Training yards. Barracks. The council hall in the distance.
“The hounds were sent for me specifically,” I said, voice level. “Designed to counteract light magic. They knew where I’d be, which night to strike.”
Rylen’s jaw tightened. “The dissection report.”
“Someone in Kareth sold my location to Dravareth.” I turned from the window, meeting his eyes. “The council has been working with them. For months. Maybe years.”
“You don’t know?—”
“Yes,” I cut in. “I do.” I stepped closer, hands behind my back—captain’s posture, not victim’s. “Those hounds were designed to kill a light mage, Rylen.” I held his gaze. “They were designed to kill me. Because I am one.”
The words landed between us like a blade on stone. Rylen didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink. His expression stayed controlled, too controlled. And that told me everything.
“You knew,” I said.
He exhaled slowly. “I suspected.”
“For how long?”
“Long enough.” His voice was measured. “There were signs. Small things. The way the Abyss reacted to you. The way certain wards behaved when you were near. Nothing I could prove.”
I studied his face. Tried to find deception or surprise there, but found none. Just a man who’d been watching and waiting for me to say it out loud.
“And you said nothing,” I said.
“It wasn’t mine to say.” His eyes held mine. “And it wasn’t safe to speak of. Not then.”
I nodded once. Fair enough.
“This isn’t the first time they’ve tried,” I continued, voice clinical. “The crossbow bolt on the mission months ago; I thought it was random. It wasn’t. The ambushes that felt too well-timed. They’ve been testing. Probing. Waiting for an opening.”
“And when the abyssal hounds failed?—”
“They’ll try again,” I finished. “Smarter and quieter. And when they realize I’m still alive, still fighting—” My hands clenched. “—they won’t come for me next time. They’ll come for my people. For Dain. For Quinton. For everyone I’ve bled to protect.”
Rylen’s jaw tightened.
I stepped closer, voice dropping. “How many people has your squad lost to Dravareth over the years, Rylen? Ten? Fifteen?”
His face went blank.
“Someone told them where your people would be,” I said. “Which routes they’d take. And no one ever paid for it.”
Silence stretched between us.
“I won’t let that happen to my squad,” I said. “Not while I can still hold a blade.”
Rylen exhaled, rubbing his temple. “Azaria. Even if all of that is true—and I’m not saying it isn’t—you can’t take this into your own hands.”
I met his eyes, unflinching. “Watch me.”
His expression darkened. He moved around the desk, stopping in front of me. “You think you’re striking at them, but they’ll paint you as the criminal. You’ll give them exactly the excuse they need to eliminate you legally.”
“They already tried to eliminate me.” My voice was bitter. “Six days in a cell wasn’t punishment. It was a test. When I didn’t break, they sent hounds. When that failed,” I paused. “They’ll try again.”
“Then let me help,” Rylen said, voice firm. “Callan’s network can find them. We do this quietly, politically?—”
“Politics got me six days in the dark,” I bit out. “Politics let Hallen and Vareck flee. I’m done with quiet.”
Rylen’s jaw clenched. “Whatever it is you’re planning—don’t.”
I almost smiled. “You sound like you already know what I’m planning.”
“I know that look,” he said. “I’ve seen it before. In soldiers who’d lost too much. Who decided the only answer left was blood.”
“And were they wrong?” I asked.
He didn’t answer.
I turned toward the door. “I appreciate the concern, Rylen. I do. But my mind’s made up.”
“Where does this end?” he called after me. “How many bodies before you’re satisfied?”
I paused, hand on the door handle. “As many as it takes.”
The words landed between us, heavy and final.
“You are not alone in this,” Rylen said, voice strained. “Not while I stand.”
I glanced back at him. “Then don’t stand in my way.”
I unlocked the door and walked out.
The market district was loud: vendors calling out prices, children running between stalls, the smell of roasted meat and fresh bread thick in the air. I moved through the crowd with purpose, hood pulled low. Korr’s network had eyes everywhere. I just needed to find one.
I spotted him near the blacksmith’s. A young man, early twenties, leaning against a post like he had nowhere to be. Dark hair, nondescript clothes. But his eyes tracked every person who passed.
One of Korr’s. Struck silver on the first try.
I approached slowly and deliberately. Stopped beside him, gaze fixed on the blacksmith’s wares. “Nice day,” I said.
He glanced at me, eyes narrowing. Then recognition flickered. “Captain.”
I pulled a small, folded note from my pocket, pressing it into his palm. “Take this to the Wolf. As soon as you can.”
His fingers closed around it. “Understood.”
I didn’t wait for confirmation. I turned and walked away, disappearing back into the crowd.
The message was simple:
I need your help. Meet me on the 14th at dusk.
Darann would know where. That gave him three days to reach Tempest from Solmarin.
Three days to prepare.
Three days to be sure.