A Rejected Wolf and a Court of Ash (Eden and Azriel) novel Chapter 83

Eden

I read the note again and again. My hands won’t stop shaking while I do it. Even the words blur in my eyes. flot from tears. No, the heat in ný ejes coéhe from the confusion knotting tighter and tighter in my chest.

The handwriting is oddly familiar. It looks like Azriel’s. The looping letters, the sharp slant. But that can’t be right. Why would he write something like

this?

A cruel joke?

A test?

My teeth run over my lips. It feels like the truth is just beyond my reach, like I should understand, but I don’t. This note… what’s the point of it?

It feels too intimate. Too purposeful. And that terrifies me more than if it were from a stranger because if it is from Azriel, then something is very, very

wrong.

I clutch the paper and then…I burn it with foxfire.

Whatever it was, I can’t let him find it. Not until I understand what game is being played.

Azriel brings me breakfast like nothing is

Jong. He enters silently with his shadows following him like obedient dogs. I don’t like them, but I don’t

comment on my mate’s new powers.

Instead I sit there in my seat while he sets down the tray. Fresh berries. Warm bread. Tea that smells like cardamom and burnt cinnamon.

He watches me for a moment.

Then smiles.

“You’re healing faster than I expected,” he says.

My lips curl. “Thanks to you.”

The lie leaves a sour taste in my mouth, but I don’t want to fight him. It earns me a brighter smile from him. He brushes a hand over my hair and I hate that part of me still leans into it.

“I will bring you something warmer to wear outside,” he murmurs. “The moon lilies are blooming. Maybe we could spend some time in the garden?”

“That sounds… nice,” I say.

His eyes narrow slightly like he doesn’t believe my positive mood is real and I hold my breath. I know that he can’t read my mind.

He doesn’t.

Good.

He turns and leaves.

The shadows follow him, but…not all of them.

One lingers.

Crawling along the edge of the wall. Watching.

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Chapter 83

I pretend not to notice.

If I don’t act sketchy they won’t suspect that I’m plotting my escape while trying to figure out what the hell is going on here,

The garden is beautiful even if it’s made of dreams.

Silver blossoms that breathe frost. Trees with leaves the color of dusk. A fountain in the shape of a Bleeding stag. Every flower glows faintly, but none of them has a scent.

That’s what reminds me of this being wrong.

Azriel walks on my side like we’re on a date. His hand brushes mine occasionally, but he doesn’t hold it. Maybe he can tell my mind is far away?

A stone bench turn into our seat. He hands me a plum. I take it.

I take a bite, then ask. “Is everything okay with you?”

I should ask if he is sneaking weird notes under pillows, but I keep that bitter comment under my tongue. I don’t want drama.

Azriel goes still, like he is suspicious. “Yes. Why?”

I shrug. “No reason.”

“Hmm…”

I look down at my feet. “What happened to the Dream pack after the battle against Mara?”

No answer.

I lift my eyes to his. “Azriel?”

Still, no answer.

I take another bite of the plum, uneasy since Azriel is distant. There are a lot of questions I want to ask. But I’m too afraid to ask them. I don’t know why, but Azriel is different. Less like my mate and more like…a caretaker.

I think that’s why I hesitate to ask him truths, but I can’t keep everything inside. I’m stuck inside some sort of dream world and it’s driving me insane.

“What about Elvira?” I whisper. “Is she alive?”

The wind shifts through the trees, but Azriel still isn’t speaking.

“And Cedar? He was with us. He fought. Did he survive?”

The silence presses harder.

I grip the edge of the stone bench. My throat feels tight.

“What about the dungeons?” I continue, my voice trembling. “Are Logan and Paris still locked away?”

The shadows around us don’t stir.

Nothing does.

I’m talking to ghosts. Or maybe I’m the ghost here, pacing through a kingdom made of ash and silence, hoping someone will

And all I get is stillness.

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Chapter 83

The same kind Azriel wore on his face when he tore through Mara.

“Maybe you could answer at least one-

Azriel’s voice cuts through the air like a whip. “Enough!”

I jump in fear.

Azriel is not looking at me, but into nothingness. His jaw is clenched, his hands shaking in his lap.

“Stop asking me about them,” he growls.

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