Chapter Text
“Is that a…is that a squirrel?” A snooty female voice calls from behind me, forcing me to turn from the grip of her sharp nails digging into my shoulder.
“Hey!” I cry, rotating to face the crowd of trainees that watch me try to wrangle the small, furry beast wriggling in my hands.
“Oh my fucking Cauldron, IT IS!” A curly-haired Illyrian male bellows, his massive wings shaking behind him. He’s tall and lanky, not quite grown into his lengthy span.
I roll my eyes, irritated and confused as I continue to cradle the little vermin intent on scratching my eyes out.
“The shadowsinger said he placed one hidden item in the Illyrian woods this morning for us to locate. This creature had his scent all over it!” I exclaim, searching the crowd of mocking trainees for him.
“Oh Gods, wait until the spymaster sees this. He's going to lose his shit,” Another male mumbles, elbowing his buddy who's holding his stomach while chuckling. I give them a snide expression, backing away from the crowd that’s formed to gawk at my little buddy.
I huff, stroking the squirrel’s head as it tries to nip at my hand, effectively cutting my cuticles in an unpleasant way.
“Ouch,” I mutter as heavy footsteps begin to fall in my direction. My back arches in response and I feel every muscle in my body strain.
The weight of his gaze is menacing; the entire space goes dark, like a cloud has covered the bright sun of the Illyrian skies.
I flinch before he even speaks, knowing that meeting his sharp stare will do many things to me at once - petrify me, intimidate me, and…and infuriate me.
He infuriates me in the worst way possible.
The way he smiles at some of the female trainees.
The way he walks around like he knows every question we could be thinking.
And of course, the way he never ceases to humiliate me in front of all the fellow trainees.
But he’s also my mentor and-
“Clove?” The shadowsinger asks, drawing my attention as my face flames. I look at him, his stance calm but aloof.
His Illyrian leather pants are worn in, softened over time and complemented by leather boots and a black tunic.
“My name is Clover,” I remind him, stroking the squirrel’s chirping head as I glare at him. I’ve been on his team for six months and he still can’t get it right.
He responds by raising an eyebrow, shadows thickening until I retreat. I wither instantly.
“Clover, do you plan to tell me why you’re carrying that…uh…creature?” He crosses his arms, his black tunic pulling across his chest as his wings twitch in amusement. The corner of his lip tips up too.
He’s…he’s holding back a laugh.
The trainees of the Night Court’s Intelligence Center watch our interaction for theatrical entertainment, feeding off of our tension.
“You said that we had thirty minutes to find the object you scented for us to retrieve,” I grit through my teeth. “This squirrel smelled like you,” I explain, thrusting the animal out to him.
He stares in disbelief, not moving to grip the furry creature in the slightest.
“You think…you think I smell like a squirrel?” He muses, lips spasming as laughter breaks out around us from the fifteen or so students watching.
I feel my cheeks redden further as I look to the ground, anger boiling in my blood.
Just as my fury reaches its peak, one of the female trainees with a generous bust and curves for days strides closer, the edges of her hips brushing one of the shadowsinger’s wings.
He winces slightly, pulling the wing in more but otherwise not reacting.
“I think she might have been making out with the squirrel too, Lord Azriel,” She feigns innocence, her hips swaying closer. “Maybe she wanted to taste you,” She smirks wickedly.
I feel my blood boil as I begin to think of all the ways I’d love to pay her back for her stupid comments while the crowd begins to make noise, their mockery heading towards a crescendo.
But before any of us can react, Azriel raises his fist, effectively silencing them while he eyes bore into my stance.
I feel the heat travel from my chest to my throat, coalescing angrily despite the fact that I’m a lowly, 51 year old trainee and he’s…well...he’s him.
Ancient.
Lethal.
Untouchable.
Azriel’s eyes travel to the corner of his face but he doesn’t look at the female, instead framed with irritation as he sighs.
“Release the squirrel, Clover,” He states plainly. “That’s not the object I marked. I’ve never even touched that creature so your scent-tracking skills need some work. In fact, Alec already found the object, which was a simple iron mallet,” He points to Alec who holds up the instrument.
I cringe, petting the squirrel lightly before placing its terrified body on the ground to scurry away. I watch it climb the nearest tree and wish desperately it was me.
I force myself to stand straight, squaring my shoulders against all of my fellow trainees as I command myself to meet his intense gaze.
“I…I apologize for the oversight,” I say to the shadowsinger, my eyes going to the ground to hover over his boots.
“More like a colossal fuck-up,” One of the boys snickers.
“Dismissed,” Azriel growls at them before the sentence is finished, dispersing the bystanders in seconds.
I continue to watch his boots, never leaving them as he begin to inch closer.
“Clover,” He says darkly.
“Sir?” I reply.
I flinch, peering up at his massive frame and deepening shadows.
“Take a good whiff,” He motions to his neck.
“Wh-what?” I grapple, staggering back.
“If you can’t scent me properly, you’ll never survive the basics of intelligence training,” He explains. “I left another object in the woods and since you failed, you will go out and find it. But first, scent me to memory this time,” He demands, anger lacing his voice.
I pale, the blood draining from my face.
“I know your scent from the scent cards you provided earlier and-” I start.
“Scent me, now, Clover,” He instructs, his face turning down in a grimace. “I don’t have time for you to bring me back more forest creatures.”
He wants me to smell him. Here. In the center of the training ring.
Gods. GODS. Why are you punishing me like this.
“I don’t have all day,” He exhales sharply, veins popping from his neck in annoyance.
I swallow, nodding before I angle my head slightly into his neck. I don’t let my nose touch his skin, too afraid of his shadows to really even approach him. I allow the smallest of inhales, his intense scent filling my nostrils.
His pheromones flood me instantly, beginning a barrage of energy that travels through my body before lighting up my nerve endings until I feel like I’m going to collapse.
I start to shake, eliciting a look of confusion from the shadowsinger when I back away, breaking into a run.
“Where are you going?” He snarls after me.
“To find the object,” I interject, disappearing into the woods.