Chapter Text
I took a needle from my mouth and fastened the fabric with it, faintly hearing the doorbell chime. The Fae in front of me twitched.
"I'm not going to stab you", I teased, picking another needle. She gasped, but this time I hadn't even touched her. Looking up, I realized she had focused on something to our left - towards the door.
I knew who it was before I had even turned fully. The shadows in the shop had suddenly grown longer and seemed to move. I had seen that happen before.
The Shadowsinger.
He was an attractive male, and it certainly wasn't only my opinion - every female seemed to fawn over him. Attractive, but intimidating. He was darkness personified. Aside from wearing black and having dark hair, dark eyes and dark wings, he omitted shadows. I had seen them almost consume him and his surroundings.
"Welcome", I said politely. Not my typical customer, but anyone was more than welcome to come. "How can I help you?"
He stood next to a rack of dresses, his hands in his pockets, shoulders slightly drawn up. He observed the clothes rather than me. "I need clothes. An outfit", he added. His voice was rough, as if he hadn't spoken all day, and cold, kind of as if he willingly hadn't spoken all day and was now annoyed with having to.
"Is it for a particular occasion?"
"Feyre sent me. She said I need something proper to wear for a party."
I nodded, still focused on my current customer. "The high lady has been here herself for a new dress. I might have an idea. Anything you'd like me to keep in mind? Design, match someone else's outfit?"
"No. Nothing."
"I'm closing soon. Can you be here first thing tomorrow so that I can measure you?"
"Sure", he mumbled. I glanced over at him, but he was already gone. I hadn't even heard the doorbell.
"Odd, that one", Delina said quietly.
"I don't think he likes strangers", I replied cautiously. I didn't want to speak ill of people I knew nothing about, especially customers.
I finished up her fitting, wrote down the changes and promised it would be done late the next day. I closed the shop, but brought my notebook home with me as usual to get started on some sketches.
The high lady was throwing a party for her friend's birthday - Morrigan, a frequent customer of mine. She had paid more than needed for her dress and her husband's, the high lord’s, suit. It was an honor to create their outfits. The Shadowsinger, whom I didn't know by name, worked closely underneath Rhysand, and could often be seen flying over Velaris, taking the shadows with him. Almost every time I had seen him, it was in Illyrian leather. Not bad clothing, really. The material was perfect for its purpose, and to be honest, I found it quite attractive to see the tight leather around their muscular bodies. However, most Illyrians scared me. Misogynistic, brutal people.
I figured he'd like something not too dramatically different from his usual attire, and with that in mind, I picked up my pencil.
I sketched in my bed until I could barely keep my eyes open. I didn't even remember putting the sketchbook down when I finally let myself drift off to sleep.
I was awoken by a hand on my shoulder, pulling me away from my sleep. I opened my eyes and saw darkness.
Immediately I jumped with a loud gasp, jerking away from the person in front of me. Because it was a person, and not just darkness. A combination, really.
"I'm sorry", the Shadowsinger said softly. "I didn't mean to scare you."
"What are you doing here?" I wanted to throw in a curse there, but because he was now my customer, I refrained from it.
"You told me to come first thing in the morning."
"You and I must have different opinions on when that is." I rubbed my eyes. It was surprisingly bright outside.
"The sign on your door says 8."
My eyes were still itching to close, but I looked around as I tried to clear my foggy mind that just wanted to go back to sleep.
"What time is it?"
"9."
"Oh, shit!"
I scrambled, thankful for sleeping in pajamas so that I didn't embarrass myself completely. The Shadowsinger stepped back to give me some space.
"I'll... wait downstairs."
"Hang on." I grabbed the sketchbook. "Take a look at these and tell me what you think. I'll be right down." I only had time to glance at him for a moment before I hurried into my bathroom.
I came down ten minutes later - dressed, teeth brushed, and somewhat respectable.
"What do you think?" I asked, coming down the stairs. The Shadowsinger was sitting on a stool close by, his legs wide and bent so that his knees were by his chest. The view was nothing short of hilarious and I had to fight back a laugh. "I have taller stools, you know-"
"They're per..."
I paused, one foot hovering above the last step. He stared openly. The shadows around him weren't moving. It felt like time itself was still.
I saw him in a new light - literally. The sun shone through the windows and lit up his tanned skin. His black hair however, seemed to deflect the light. His membranous wings shifted in color with veins of crimson and gold.
I had to come closer. It felt like I was being tugged forward, like my body craved to be close enough to smell him, feel him.
We stood in front of each other, him a good bit taller than me, staring. I noticed that his eyes weren't as dark as I had thought. They were more of a hazel color, brown with specks of clear, moss green.
The Shadowsinger cleared his throat, and I recoiled. What the hell am I doing?!
"They're stunning", he murmured. "I'm not sure I'm the right person to wear clothes of such… elegance."
I had recovered a bit from whatever had just happened that had rocked my world, and led the way to the measuring room. I didn't have to say a word to get him to follow. Which was good, because I needed a moment to find my voice.
"Don't be silly. They're fit for someone in such a high position. Pants off, please."
He complied without hesitation, and stood in his underwear in front of me. He didn't seem particularly embarrassed, like most males that got measured were.
I quickly noted his measurements, careful to give him as much privacy as possible. That didn't stop me from noticing his muscled thighs, the large ass or the protruding bulge at the front of his underwear, and it was physically difficult not to run my hands over his skin to touch in a much more sinful way.
"Okay, you can put them back on and take off your shirt."
Standing in front of him to measure his chest, I noticed we had gotten very close and his breath fanned over my forehead. I looked up at his eyes but fought back the urge to stare again, and instead lowered my chin.
Just stare at the tape and look concentrated .
"What's your name?" His voice wasn't as rough as it had been the day before, but smooth, and although it was dark and cold like a male that was used to threaten and scare enemies, there was a softness to it. Hesitancy, almost.
"Isinn." I cleared my throat, because the view of his sculpted abs and prominent V shape between his hip bones was making me dizzy. "What's yours?"
"Azriel."
"I've heard that before." I stepped around him and took a look at his wings. He glanced back over his shoulder, his eyes lowered.
"Hm?"
"Probably when the high lord has been here. Do you usually have a button between your wings, like today?"
"If there's anything at all, yes."
"I wonder if-"
I never completed that sentence. As I moved his wing to get a better look, he recoiled, even stepping away.
"I'm sorry", I blurted out, squeezing my hands in front of me, afraid to touch again. "I hope I didn't hurt you."
He grunted something incomprehensible, returned to his spot and spread out his wings for me. I held up the measuring tape and wrote his numbers down. I told him how to move his wings so that I wouldn't make the same mistake again, and touched very gently whenever I had to.
I was caught up in my work, and the first sign that something was off was his back heaving with each breath. I hesitated with my hand remaining on the innermost part of his left wing.
"Are you okay?"
"Yes." He definitely did not sound okay, and I instantly worried. I ducked under his wing.
"You'd tell me if it hurt, wouldn't... you..."
Azriel's eyes followed me with a predatory gaze. They were blown out of proportion, his pupils almost swallowing the irises completely. He had a light sheen of sweat on his chest, and... he was hard.
Cauldron, was he hard. I had encountered minor hard-ons while measuring men’s legs before, but this was a full on erection and I had been measuring his... wings.
Azriel was watching my every move.
"Are you okay?"
"Are you done?" The softness was gone, and this was the man I was used to seeing in town. Dark eyes, emotionless expression, cold, flat voice. A spymaster.
"S-sure..."
Immediately he put his shirt back on, buttons open, and left the shop.
It took me a while before I could move at all. One moment I had been doing my job like usual, and the next, the Shadowsinger had rushed out without a word.
He's just embarrassed , I told myself. A man in such a high political position probably doesn't want to be seen aroused by the innocent touch of a seamstress measuring him for an outfit .
I carried on with my day in a somewhat confused, distracted state. My mind was occupied with him. Azriel.
The name sent a shiver down my spine. The carnal part of me thought about the way he had stared at me when I came down the stairs, or when I came around after the wing accident, and about his firm muscles on display. I had always found him attractive - just like I thought his Illyrian friend and the high lord were attractive. They were all beautiful men. But now, I couldn't stop thinking about it - how drawn I was to him. It had taken a lot of willpower not to touch him.
The other, more rational part of me was worried. I was still bothered by his exit and the sudden shift in his behavior. I must have done something wrong, perhaps rude - there was no other explanation.
My customer from yesterday showed up after noon, and I instantly remembered that I had forgotten.
"I'm so, so sorry, Delina. I completely forgot. I had a rough morning. It shouldn't take more than fifteen minutes, can I offer you some tea while you wait?"
Thankfully, Delina was a kind fae who was only mildly disappointed and accepted my apology.
After she had gone, I sank down in an armchair that was mainly meant for partners or children waiting on their significant other to be measured or fitted.
My head instantly focused on Azriel again. Could I apologize somehow? I didn't even know where he lived. I suspected he wouldn't come back for a while.
With a sigh, I got up and looked at my sketches from yesterday. The order was changed after he had looked through it. I had expected him to stay after the measuring so that we could discuss the designs. Now, I chose the one on the top and hoped that's what he liked the most. If he doesn't approve it's his own damn fault, I suppose.