Nyxara
"If you are so tired you can deep dream standing up, you can skip today's lesson," he offered, head tilting as he studied me, his aura smoothing itself down to something soft and warm. "Even I would not push you when you are so close to the edge."
But I shook my head, already stepping onto the polished floor. "I can still dance. I'm ready." His answering grin was half mischief, half pride."That's my little queen. Follow your instincts. Do the hard work now so the rest will be easier." He offered his hand, and I placed mine in it. His other hand came to my back, gentle but sure.
He drew me into the opening position of a slow-turn waltz — a formal, gliding dance popular in the West Continent regions. This would be the sixth western style he had shown me. Before this week, he had only taught me one. This week he has introduced a new dance every day. "Ready?" he asked.
I nodded. He guided me through the first sequence. It was simple, slower than the previous dances — turn, glide, shift, pivot. My body remembered the patterns he'd carved into me over the weeks, and exhaustion faded into a kind of meditative rhythm.
"You're picking these up very quickly," he murmured as we circled the room. "Your body's memory has been good this whole time, but this week has shown us that without the suppression, your body's memory has improved to excellent. Breakdowns aside, at this rate, you'll be well-versed in the most popular dances of the West Continent before Lux and Aspen's banquet."
I snorted. "Is that a threat or a promise?"
"A warning," he replied solemnly before breaking into a smile. "Your siblings will never survive it. Because this means you will be obligated to dance with possible suitors, male and female alike." I laughed — a loud, unfiltered one — and that alone was worth the fatigue. We danced until my breath evened, and the fog behind my eyes lifted. Azrail slowed us to a natural stop and searched my face.
"Good. You've got the steps. We add the next dance next week." Before I could respond, he snapped his fingers — and the ballroom dissolved into mist. A heartbeat later, the mist unraveled into my music room. Líma stood waiting by the door, holding my hooded shawl with both hands. "Your shawl, Mistress," she said gently.
I blinked at Azrail. "What do I need this for? What will we be essencecrafting?" Azrail's aura softened even more as quiet pride became evident.
"Today, I will share with you the Song of Invigoration. It is a demon song, so you must be selective in who you share this knowledge with. We will sing the lesser Vel'Sharii version. With me facilitating the song, you will merely be benefiting from our joint casting. When the remodeling was being done, I came in and added additional wards so nothing you don't wish to be known can be perceived in your suite. I gave Líma the guide on how to activate and control the wards, which she can do until you are cleared to perform mid-range essencecrafting."
Guiding us to the center of the room, he shakes out his limbs in a silly yet serious manner. When he looks at me with an intensity I'm not familiar with from him, I realize that this sharing may be more serious than I previously assumed. "You're wrung out, little queen. I want you to enjoy dinner, not fall face-first into whatever Venus cooks. Let us begin. I'll sing the song first without power behind it, then we can sing it together with me weaving essence into it for you."
I nod in understanding, then put the shawl on. The familiar pressure settled around my shoulders, drawing my essence tight and even. He waited until I exhaled. Then he began to sing. The sound started low — a deep, resonant hum from the chest, the kind that vibrated in the bones. Then it rose, layering into something lighter, almost ethereal. A melody shaped by intention rather than words, humming somewhere between lullaby and spell-casting. It wasn't loud. But it filled the room.
Filled me, and this was the song without power. Warmth spread slowly from my sternum outward, curling into my hands, up my neck, settling behind my eyes like gentle light. My essence — usually a sparking thing — hummed in quiet harmony. When he finished, I stared. "Azrail… you sing beautifully."
A faint sadness ghosted over his smile. "Everyone from our homeland does; sing, dance, or play instruments. The arts, but especially music, are deeply a part of our culture. I thought you hadn't inherited that aspect of the bloodline, but it appears you kept it hidden instead." His eyes looked like he wanted to ask me questions, but he knew because of my "amnesia" I would have no answers for him.
So instead, I lifted my voice. Softly at first. Matching the melody he had shaped. And when the notes settled naturally against my breath, he blinked — startled, then pleased — and joined me. I sang and felt the way he wove essence into the song.
Kai'therin vel'lae (Rise, flame of breath),
Thorin'kai sha'loren (Light flows into the resting heart)
Vael'kai nar'eth (Flowing strength returns gently),
Suuli'en vey'lora (The pulse of life sings awake)
Lir'ai shaen, drae'lin soar (Let stillness fade, and movement rise)
Vel'anar eira, Vel'anar eira (Let the soul sing forward (x2)).
We sang it three times. By the end, I felt… whole. Not fixed, not perfect, but awake and warm and present. "Better?" he softly asked as he examined me. "Much." I feel like I finally released a breath I had been holding since Monday. I think I forgot how it felt to breathe without my lungs feeling tight. Azrail shooed me off to get freshened up while he went to do the same.
After Líma helped me freshen up, and when I reemerged, Azrail was waiting by the door, hands clasped behind his back like he hadn't shifted his position at all. He offered his arm and I took it.
We walked the long route — past the main foyer hall, along the indoor garden corridor, under lanterns that flickered with floating lights. We meandered quietly for a while before I asked curiously, "Why the long way?" His voice was warm enough to fold around me. "Because I have to share you with so many people, little queen," his reply completely within scope of his current clingy parent persona. "So when I get a moment that is just us… I take it." I hugged his arm, leaning against him as we walked. Nothing more needed to be said.
When we finally stepped into the family dining room, we had barely made it through the doorway before someone — Keir, probably Keir — called out: "What took you two so long? Venus said if you were late she was serving your plates cold!" Azrail lifted my hand dramatically. "We were cultivating our snobbish personas, unlike the rest of you gremlins. To be on time is to be early and to be late is to be on time. Every snob knows this."
Everyone laughed as we sat around the table enjoying each other's company. But I could still feel the warmth of Azrail's earlier words in my chest. Just us. He loves me for me.