[Infinity's End] The Break of Day 01-11
Jul. 8th, 2011 11:33 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
n_wilkinsona/n: Sneaking this in right before midnight, it's the next update to Break of Day in which stuff happens. Plotty stuff. Finally! Please enjoy!
Title: The Break of Day
Series: Infinity's End, Prequel
Summary: A friendship that takes everyone by surprise slowly evolves into a deeper bond as Azriel, illegitimate son of the house Celestine, and Kieran, heir to the house Azura, throw themselves into the heart of a building altercation that explodes into an all out revolution.
(1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11) (12) (13) (14) (15) (16) (17) (18) (19) (20)
May 5, 1979
Early years of developing his own experiments and waiting for his ideas to bear fruit had taught Kieran the value of patience. Right now, however, he couldn't stop his feet from jittering or stop himself from craning side to side, trying to see over the tall idiot who'd sat in front of him.
On his right, Miss Neorah smiled at him and patted his hand. “It'll be soon enough,” she reassured.
“I know that,” Kieran replied with a faint flush to his cheeks as the voice of Asher Celestine floated in and out of his ears, names inconsequential as they weren't Azriel's.
There was only one person graduating from the Conservatory this year who Kieran cared about, and it certainly wasn't Penelope Basik or Grant Ether.
“I'm excited,” Kieran added as Harper chuckled under her breath to his left. Beyond her were Lyra, Yonah and Souya, all of them there to support Azriel in his moment of crowning glory.
Not only had he graduated top of his class, but he'd snagged the highest marks in the Conservatory's recorded history. And that was in spite of Holmes' attempts to drag him down. He was the first non-high noble valedictorian in a century, and with that, Azriel had effectively ground all of the protestors and naysayers into ashes.
Kieran couldn't be more proud. Miss Neorah was beaming, and way down in front, where Kieran could see a pair of matching faces, Aidan and Adair Celestine looked just as proud.
As for Asher Celestine, Azriel's father, Kieran could only guess as to his reaction. Asher, the bastard, who was here to act as the Master of Ceremonies. Which included introducing the valedictorian and call the names of the graduates as he handed out the diplomas. He had a good game face; that was for sure. Not a flicker of discomfort as he introduced the graduate who was his son by blood but not by name or recognition.
To be fair, Azriel was equally stoic. Pretending like High Lord Celestine was a complete stranger to him without a flash of emotion to show the truth. Though honestly, Azriel did consider his father a stranger and woe be the person who dared remind him of his parentage.
Kieran had heard on more than one occasion Azriel fiercely declare that he had no father.
Looking at the man onstage, Kieran could barely hide his own contempt.
To be fair, Asher Celestine was a handsome man, and he did have a charismatic presence. He smiled slightly when needed, gave the perfect joke to get the audience involved, and the breadth of his aether was nothing to sneeze at. He had the brown eyes and brown hair of the Celestine clan, making it easy to spot him for the twins' elder brother, along with a firm jaw and commanding features. Azriel looked just like him, a fact that he despised.
But there was an air of coldness to Asher that Azriel didn’t possess. An air of calculation and almost derision as his gaze swept over those gathered. He was stiff, too. Too hard. Too formal in a way that Azriel would never be. And he certainly didn’t hold the edge of warmth and amusement that his son possessed in spades.
Kieran didn’t at all like the way Asher’s eyes swept over his brothers before flitting to Miss Neorah and lingering. Still, if one completely ignored his personality, Kieran might even see why he would attract a woman like her. But he hadn't had enough good sense to try and keep her. Which made him a fool and an idiot besides. That he would throw away Miss Neorah and settle for some high noble twit, who could barely string together a complete sentence and hadn’t even given him other children yet.
Looking at Asher Celestine in his proverbial high tower made Kieran despise his own noble heritage if that was what it brought him. An empty marriage. An empty life. A son who despised him. A woman who had born him a child and been promptly discarded.
Miss Neorah was a wonderful woman, beautiful and caring, and Asher Celestine hadn't deserved even a moment of her time. Though if they hadn't been, then Kieran would have never got to meet Azriel.
He chewed on his lip in indecision. Such realizations were better kept to himself, however. Azriel would never forgive him for even spending a nanosecond of thought on why it was a good thing Asher Celestine had fathered him.
Miss Neorah squeezed Kieran's thigh then to attract his attention. “He's next,” she whispered.
Kieran immediately straightened, paying close attention to the proceedings.
He watched as Asher shook hands with whomever he had just called, congratulating a young lady on her graduation, before turning back to his list.
“Azriel Hadley,” he announced with no hesitation, no sign that Azriel was more than a student to him.
In that moment, Kieran shot to his feet, clapping and cheering with as much noise as he could possibly make. It was a true testament to the depth of their friendship that the others did the same – though Yonah restricted herself to a gentler level of noise. Even Miss Neorah had stood, the pride glowing in her face like a candle.
They made enough racket that other people turned to stare. Azriel cut his eyes up at them, a hint of scarlet tainting his face. No doubt Kieran would be hearing about it later, but right now, he didn't care.
Azriel deserved it. And to hell with the stuffy nobles who wanted them to be dignified. His friend had worked hard, and people like Holmes needed to realize that despite his efforts, Azriel had succeeded where everyone thought he wouldn't.
So Kieran would make a lot of noise just to remind them of that fact.
He clapped and cheered as Azriel shook hands with the man who was family by blood only, as calmly as though they were strangers, and accepted his certificate of graduation. Sadly enough, this was probably the most interaction father and son had had in years.
After Azriel had crossed the stage, Kieran dropped back into his seat. He didn't care one whit about the rest of the presentation or the other graduates, but it would be bad manners to up and leave. Besides, he wouldn't be able to meet with Azriel until after the ceremony anyway. His patience could last for the next thirty minutes or so.
Beside him, Harper giggled. “He looked so embarrassed,” she said in a stage whisper.
“He was trying to be dignified, and you ruined it for him,” Lyra added, but judging by the mischievous glint in her eyes, it was hardly a scolding.
“Ah, but it's better to be recognized and embarrassed than forgotten and composed,” Kieran shot back with a wagging of his finger.
Behind them, a stern-faced man made a shushing noise. Perhaps it was his kin currently crossing the stage. For whatever reason, Kieran pressed his lips together and resolved to be quiet. He didn't care about who else was graduating, but other people did. And Kieran had already shown his support.
Nothing remained but to wait for the end of the ceremony. And when it came – with a slightly off-key performance from the five-person harmony – Kieran shot up from his chair with the determination to find Azriel and congratulate him in person. Miss Neorah chose a more sedate pace, reassuring him that she'd catch up later.
“We'll meet you at Isley's,” Lyra called out to him as she and the others were swept away in the crowd, only Souya's head visible above the escaping audience.
Kieran waved goodbye to them, eagerly anticipating the fun to be had. Harper had volunteered her family's pub once again and a bottle of their finest. Azriel had protested, of course, citing that they just wanted an excuse to drink and party. Which might have been true, but Kieran legitimately wanted to celebrate, too.
Fighting through the crowd was easier said than done, and Kieran grew weary of trying to make his way to the lower platform where the graduates were milling about. He cut into a side hallway, walking through the empty, dim corridors, taking the long way around. It would be easier, no matter how unsettling it was to walk down quiet hallways that he was more accustomed to seeing bustling with life.
Kieran pursed his lips, prepared to whistle, when the sound of voices attracted his attention. He slowed his walk and approached the next curve in the corridor with caution. The voices became clearer, and he was more than familiar with one of them but unable to recognize the other. He peeked around the corner, careful not to get caught.
Azriel was there, arms folded over his chest, looking stiff and uncomfortable in the dark robes all graduates wore. Standing a few feet away, too at ease in expensive blue robes with silver trim was none other than Asher Celestine.
Kieran's eyes narrowed before he could stop them.
What the hell did he want?
“Valedictorian is no small accomplishment,” Asher was saying as he inclined his head. He even sounded as if he had some reason to be proud. “You've done your blood well.”
Azriel twitched, and Kieran knew that look. It was one he often held when he had to present a respectful appearance to someone who didn't deserve it.
“I appreciate the congratulations, sir,” Azriel said through gritted teeth, and there was perhaps a small flinch on Asher's part. Only noticeable to someone who was paying them the closest attention. “Was there anything else?”
The lord folded his arms behind his back. “We in Grayshire will be following your progress closely. It is an honor to be so approved.”
An honor. Right.
Kieran had to keep himself from snorting aloud. Grayshire had been utterly surprised that a lowly boy who might as well be commoner had snagged the top position despite their greatest efforts. Now, they were just trying to save face.
“I will continue to work hard then,” Azriel replied with the slightest dip of his head, a respectful if faint bow that no one would find insulting.
Again, a telltale twitch flickered over Asher's face. A sign of mounting frustration and something else. Did Kieran dare name it disappointment?
“I've no doubt of that,” Asher countered and appeared to hesitate before he continued. “I'm proud of you… son.”
Kieran flinched as Azriel stared the man who had fathered him. There was something not unlike bitter fury flickering across his face, and his brown eyes had grown dark, nearly black with emotion.
“Do not call me that,” Azriel retorted in a low growl that Kieran had never heard him use before. “You can't claim me when it suits you and forget me the rest of the time.”
Asher's stoic facade cracked for just a second. But Kieran couldn’t be sure what he saw. Anger? Exasperation? Disappointment?
“I am your father,” Asher declared with a lifted chin. He was still taller than Azriel but not by much. “Whether you like it or not, we are kin. Bound by blood.”
Celestine arrogance showed its face, as Kieran knew it eventually would. Which did little to calm Azriel, whose aether buzzed tangibly.
“You are a stranger to me,” Azriel spat, losing all traces of false attempts to be polite. “I don’t even know you, and you certainly don’t know me. You never even tried.”
Asher actually seemed taken aback for a moment, eyes widening just so. Something flashed across his face too fast for Kieran to discern, but he almost thought it looked like regret. Nonetheless, it was covered up quickly enough and replaced with a cool sense of superiority. The very same look Marduk, Kieran’s own father, wore when he was being his less than Azura best.
Azriel wasn’t having any of it though. “We're done here,” he announced and turned as though to leave.
Unfortunately, it was toward the very hall concealing Kieran. He tensed, prepared to dart away, thinking he shouldn't get caught. However, Asher took the choice from him when he gripped Azriel's arm then.
“We're done when I say we're done,” High Lord Celestine said in such a tone that expected to be obeyed. That was his noble, commander voice, the one he used on his troops and with the ruling council.
Brown eyes darkened with fury. “Release me.”
Exasperation flickered across Asher’s face before it quickly disappeared behind a mask of indifference. “All I wanted was to talk.”
“You've talked,” Azriel returned coldly, still looking as though he were going to run away the first chance he had. “Don't pretend you've changed your mind now. We both know that's not going to happen. We're strangers, Lord Celestine.”
Asher sighed then, and his grip loosened slightly. “There were extenuating circumstances, Azriel. Things you could not even begin to understand.”
“I understand enough,” Azriel replied through clenched teeth, every limb held in taut discomfort. “Are we through, sir?”
Brown eyes focused on his son in a long, evaluating look before Asher uncurled his fingers and an instant distance was created between them. Azriel looked two steps away from violence, his jaw clenched, fingers twitching at his side. Kieran's own eyes were wide. He'd never seen Azriel this unhinged before. Not even when Holmes had been making things difficult.
“Not matter what you think, you are my son. I have every reason to be proud,” Asher said, voice little more than a murmur as he held Azriel's gaze. “Goodbye, son. Extend my greetings and congratulations to your mother as well.”
With that, Lord Celestine turned on his heel and strode down the hallway, opposite of where Kieran hid, as if nothing was amiss. Shoulders back, head held high, the perfect picture of noble composure, not caring for the mess he'd left behind.
Kieran could only see his friend's profile, but it was enough for him to bear witness to the visible shudder that wracked Azriel's frame. The way his right hand clenched and unclenched. But it wasn't until Asher was out of sight that Azriel broke.
He turned and punched the wall, making the wood shudder and creak at the force of it, powered by a frazzled aether. Kieran's eyes widened, his own chest feeling tight and cramped. He'd never seen Azriel like this, not even remotely close.
Damn, his relationship with his own father was strained – he and Marduk disagreed on a lot of things. But it was nothing like what he'd just witnessed. Kieran couldn't begin to imagine what Azriel was thinking.
Swallowing thickly, Kieran felt the urge to do something. Anything. Azriel needed some kind of comfort, and right now, Kieran was the only one who could offer it. He pushed off the wall, steeling himself for announcing his presence.
“Their first face to face meeting in a decade; I'm surprised it didn't get more violent.”
Kieran whirled at the unexpected voice, heart pounding in his chest as he caught sight of Miss Neorah. Her eyes were dimmed by sadness, flicking past him to where Azriel was hidden by the curve of the hallway. Then, she stepped closer, lowering her voice even further.
“My son has made no secret of the fact he despises his father,” Miss Neorah added quietly.
Kieran lowered his gaze. “According to him, he has no father.”
Miss Neorah sighed. “Perhaps it is better that way,” she said and then looked at him. “There’s no use wasting breath on futile hope.”
“I don't get it,” Kieran replied with a sharp exhale. “Lord Celestine didn't sound like he was lying. Why does he keep up this pretense?”
“Because he is arrogant and ruled by his pride,” Miss Neorah answered, gaze turning faraway, as though memories were making themselves known to her. “Or maybe it's because he loves his status more than anything else. Perhaps the late Alastair Celestine forbade him. I’ll never know.”
Kieran swept a hand over his hair. “Doesn't that make you angry?”
“It used to,” Miss Neorah admitted, and she folded her arms into her sleeves. “But time has a way of numbing some things and helping me forget others.”
Brow crinkling, Kieran still didn't understand it. Why Miss Neorah could end up with someone like Lord Celestine. He didn't deserve her one bit. It had to have been a moment of blind foolishness. Or perhaps the stupidity of youth.
“Kieran.”
He looked up at his name. Miss Neorah watched him with an oddly solemn face.
“I don't presume to guess why you befriended my son,” she said softly. “I’m too grateful for it. All I hope is that you'll permit me to ask a favor of you.”
He blinked. “A favor?”
“Be there for him,” Miss Neorah replied and looked a bit torn. “I’m only his mother after all. There are things he will never tell me and things I can't help him with. But as his friend, you're different. You can make sure he's not alone.”
Kieran straightened. “You don't even have to ask, Miss Neorah. Azriel’s my best friend, and I intend to keep him that way.”
The ghost of a smile flickered across her mouth. She lifted a hand to pat his cheek.
“I'm glad to hear it.” She looked past him. “Now, however, is not the time to announce ourselves. Azriel will never forgive himself for displaying such weakness.”
Kieran hesitated but had to admit that Miss Neorah was right. Rushing out to comfort Azriel was all well and good, but it would only serve to make him uncomfortable. Instead, Kieran would be better served trying to chase away the bad memories later with good alcohol, great friends, and plenty of congratulations to go around.
It was the least he could do.
o0o0o
It took the better part of fifteen minutes for Azriel to get back under control, internally berating himself for the loss of it. Given any other situation, he would have been able to hold onto his temper, but Asher Celestine was able to get under his skin like none other. Taking credit, acting proud, when he'd had no hand in raising Azriel or helping him fight through the Conservatory, it made Azriel sick.
Sucking in several long, deep breaths, he gathered the straying tendrils of his aether back toward himself. He had to return to the auditorium before someone got to looking for him. Kieran, impatient that he was, would probably start yelling at any moment, and Azriel hoped that his mother hadn't left yet.
The silence of the hallway was a calming influence, helping to soothe Azriel's frazzled emotions, and he soaked it up as he headed back to the auditorium. The buzz of conversation and celebration floated to his ears as he pushed through the single door and into the massive room that had been created by talented earth-shapers long ago.
The auditorium was one of the largest buildings in all of Grayshire, capable of seating several thousand for a single event. The graduation of this year’s class didn't warrant that high a guest count, but the capabilities were there.
Azriel scanned the crowd looking for familiar faces as he easily merged with his fellow graduates and their families. He caught sight of his mother near the far exit, speaking with his uncles. His eyes skipped over Lord Celestine, deep in conversation with a few instructors, including the bad-natured Holmes.
As for his friends, Azriel didn't see them anywhere. And Tegan was of such height that Azriel would’ve easily been able to pick him out of the crowd. Had he missed them?
In their absence, Azriel made a beeline for his mother and his uncles. Adair noticed him first, and the smile that lit his face chased away the last of the shadows that his elder brother's visit had caused.
“Congratulations, nephew,” Adair said, and though Azriel had held out a hand for a polite shake, he found himself pulled into a hug anyway.
In public. In full view of everyone else. Including Asher Celestine himself.
Azriel fought not to squirm. “Thank you, Lord Adair,” he said and didn't fail to catch his uncle's wince as they parted. Azriel was the one who had to cling to propriety after all.
“From the both of us, nephew,” Aidan added, a firmness to his voice. He didn't much approve of Azriel's formality either and was quick to pull his nephew into a half-embrace.
Someday, he was going to disappoint the both of them. Azriel was sure of it.
Luckily, Aidan was not as physically demonstrative as his twin and saved Azriel by simply putting an arm around his shoulders. He knew the three of them had to be a sight. All looking so similar. Celestine blood will always out. As evidenced by the stares.
“How are you celebrating?” Aidan asked then.
Miss Neorah chuckled. “How else do graduates celebrate? His friends have arranged for quite the party at Isley Springs.”
Adair arched a brow. “How fortunate. They have the best brew in all of Talemar.” He inclined his head approvingly. “I'm sure that dear Kieran was the mastermind behind this?”
“When is he not?” Azriel murmured. Though it was meant to be a comment to himself, it elicited a chuckle from his uncles and mother.
They had all gotten to know Kieran quite well over the past few months. Unfortunately for Azriel. Especially since they were given to telling highly embarrassing stories.
“Speaking of, where is he?” Aidan questioned, his greater height giving him an advantage as he scanned the thinning crowd. “I thought for sure he’d be here.”
“Oh, he was,” Azriel replied, feeling his cheeks heat. “I'm sure you heard the noise from the audience when my name was called.” He was quite certain the instigator of that undignified demonstration was none other than Kieran.
His uncles laughed outright, and even his mother looked amused. Kieran had charmed them as effectively as he had managed to charm Azriel himself.
“Azriel!”
Ah. Speak of the devil and there he shall be. Azriel turned to greet Kieran and instantly found himself a pouncing armful of grinning teenaged boy. Who embraced him as though they had been parted for weeks instead of… well, an hour at most.
“Congratulations!” Kieran announced in his ear, entire body overcome with enough energy that’d make even a toddler exhausted.
“Thank you,” Azriel replied and waited until Kieran had hugged himself out before allowing a little space. “I also appreciate your support from the audience as embarrassing as it may have been.”
Kieran beamed as though Azriel had bestowed a compliment. “I had to liven things up somehow. I hope my graduation isn't this boring.”
“I think that you are confusing boring with dignified,” Azriel drawled, amused despite himself.
His uncles and his mother exchanged a round of smiles at each other.
Kieran shrugged. “It's all the same to me.” He threaded his arm through Azriel's, suddenly pulling the graduate to his side as he directed a beaming smile at Azriel's family. “Hope you don't mind that I'm stealing him, but he does have a party to attend.”
His mother waved him off. “No, dear. Steal away. I'm sure we adults can entertain ourselves in his absence.”
“You're more than welcome to come if you'd like,” Kieran corrected, fingers of one hand curling around Azriel's arm as though he expected an escape attempt.
Adair coughed into his hand. “Thank you for the invitation, but my brother and I must decline. We aren't as young as we used to be, and I dare say his wife will be expecting us back for dinner.”
“You're hardly an old man,” Neorah responded with a teasing look.
“Not young enough to keep up with half a dozen celebrating teenagers,” Aidan amended as his brother turned a subtle shade of red. “That was decades ago.”
Kieran laughed, and Azriel managed a snort of his own.
“I'm sure you'd be fine,” Kieran put in. “But if you insist, I'm going to steal Azriel away now.”
“Go right ahead,” Azriel's mother said, making shooing motions with her hand. “Just bring him back in one piece if you please.”
“I promise.” Kieran beamed his head. “Have a good evening you three,” he added, and before Azriel could put up a protest of his own, his friend turned and dragged him away.
“I'll see you later,” Azriel threw over his shoulder. “And thank you for coming, Lord Adair, Lord Aidan.”
“It was our pleasure,” Aidan answered with something all too much like laughter, and they waved at him but didn’t offer a single hand of rescue.
Then again, Azriel had chosen this bed. It was his responsibility to lie in it.
Kieran dragged him through the exit, which was conveniently close by, and into the May evening that was crisp and clear. Perfect weather actually. The sun was sinking toward the horizon, turning the sky shades of twilight blue. It wasn't until they were away from the auditorium and the crowds of people that Kieran slowed his walk to a more manageable pace, changing Azriel's sensation of being dragged to one of being escorted. Though he didn't release his hold on Azriel's arm.
“Your uncles are good men,” Kieran murmured.
Azriel glanced at him. “I know,” he replied quietly.
“You should cut them a break every once in a while,” Kieran continued, easily steering Azriel toward the section of Grayshire where their favorite bar was located. “Ease off the formality a bit.”
Easy for you to say.
The words crowded on Azriel's tongue. He bit them back. Kieran didn’t deserve the bitter statement. Especially since he was right.
“I'll do my best to try,” Azriel conceded, and it was apparently the right thing to say because Kieran grinned and looked pleased.
Lucky for his mood, Kieran didn't have any other pearls of wisdom to deposit, and the rest of the walk was spent in pleasant quiet.
Isley's pub came into sight, and though Azriel was a good twenty feet away, he could already hear the noise in full swing. A part of him dreaded the loud night that was to come. However, it was overruled by the fact Kieran seemed so damned excited about it.
Kieran insisted that Azriel go in first, and when he opened the door and stepped inside, it immediately became obvious why.
“Congratulations, Azriel!”
The flood of words and clapping and cheers smacked Azriel in the face as though it had tangible presence. He blinked as a horde of unfamiliar faces made an obnoxious amount of noise, though buried amongst them were the rest of their group.
“Thanks,” Azriel said and couldn't hide the confused note in his voice. He lowered his tone as he edged around the crowd of people with Kieran at his side. “I don't even know these people, Kieran.”
The younger boy grinned. “Nope. But I promised them a round if they'd help make sure your entrance was loud.”
That sounded just like something Kieran would do. Azriel felt oddly touched. Why a bunch of strangers wishing him congratulations made Azriel feel warm inside, he wasn't sure. He supposed he should just chalk it up to Kieran's strange magnetism.
The table holding their friends was tucked away in the corner, their favorite place as it offered privacy along with a perfect view. Misae was the first to step forward surprisingly, and she grasped his fingers firmly, tipping her head in a shallow bow that was a rare gesture of praise.
“You have every reason to be proud, Hadley,” she said. “You've achieved beyond all expectations.”
Coming from her, that was praise of epic proportions. It was honestly more than Azriel could’ve expected.
“Thank you,” he replied, feeling like he'd been saying it all day. Which he had.
Misae's lips fluttered with a smile as she slid away, heading back to her seat, and Miss Dryden was there to take her spot, more enthusiastic but just as reserved. She wrapped him in a quick hug that couldn't match Kieran's for exuberance, but the grin on her face was welcoming anyway.
“Congratulations, Azriel.”
“Thank you, Miss Dryden.”
She rolled her blue eyes at him. “Are you ever going to call me Lyra?”
It reminded him of his recent conversation with Kieran. Why this was suddenly a point of consternation for everyone, Azriel wasn't sure.
“Perhaps tomorrow,” he allowed.
Miss Dryden – Lyra – shook her head and closed the distance between them again, tilting her face toward his and pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. Thankfully, it better resembled the greeting some elder noblewoman shared before such things fell into obscurity. She stepped back afterwards, like they'd decided on an order of congratulations ahead of time, and Isley took her place.
“I'm not as reserved as them,” she announced, a challenge in her dark eyes. “So the next time you call me Isley, I'm going to punch you.”
Azriel's eyebrows rose. “If you insist.”
“I do.” Her eyes raked him from head to toe. “You did good, Azriel. Way to stick it to the man.”
“Thanks... I think.”
“Yeah, that was a compliment.” Isley – Harper – grinned and planted her hands on her hips. “Now come here and let me kiss you.”
Perhaps the heat of the bar was getting to him because Azriel could have sworn that Harper just demanded to kiss him.
“Excuse me?”
“Just following the leader,” Harper said with a dismissing wave of her hand. “Lyra did it, so I want a piece of the action.”
Harper was perhaps the most unnoble noble Azriel had ever met, though he didn't count Kieran in that because Kieran was in an entirely different category altogether. But then, Harper was only a second tier noble and more accustomed to doing things for herself.
Still puzzled by Harper's seemingly random decision, Azriel didn't see a reason to challenge it either. Hardly a chore at any rate. He tilted his head to the side, expecting Harper to copy Lyra in the modest peck on the cheek.
Instead, hands settled warmly on his face, and Harper kissed him fully on the lips, her tongue joining in seconds later. She tasted like she’d already started sampling her family's wares, and part of Azriel's reaction was saved for his relief in that it wasn't a kiss from Tegan. That was one experience he didn't care to relive.
What was more worrisome was that Azriel honestly couldn't tell who kissed better: a drunk Kieran or a probably tipsy Harper.
Catcalls and whistles echoed through the bar, prompting Harper to end the kiss with a satisfied look on her face. She even ran her tongue over her lips as though to savor the flavor.
“Mmm. Thanks for the treat,” she put in with a wiggle of her fingers and let Tegan take her place.
By the gods Azriel hoped Tegan didn't plan on emulating that.
“I'm not going to kiss you,” the taller boy said firmly, much to Kieran's amusement as he tittered at Azriel's left side.
Relief flooded Azriel, even as his elbow dug into Kieran’s side. “Perhaps after a bottle of Lotmer, you'll be more inclined,” he teased.
“I knew you had a sense of humor.” Souya grinned, clapped him solidly on the shoulder with a grip that didn't fail to remind Azriel how much stronger he was.
“I've been saying that for ages,” Kieran huffed.
Laughing, Souya squeezed Azriel's shoulder companionably. “Yeah, and maybe I'll actually start listening,” he replied before shifting his words to Azriel with a note of seriousness. “I'd say congratulations, but you've probably heard that a thousand times so instead I'll just say thank you.”
Azriel blinked. “For what?”
“For humbling those bastards in their high towers,” Souya said in all seriousness. “For showing them that they haven't managed to put you down.”
Again swept by feeling of being oddly touched, Azriel nodded in understanding. “Then I suppose my proper answer would be, you're welcome. Now, I expect you to follow my footsteps.”
Souya chuckled. “I don't think I'm going to snag valedictorian, but they'll know not to underestimate me anyway.”
“Okay, okay. Enough bonding,” Kieran insisted, shoving himself between them, knocking Souya's arm away in the process. “My turn.”
Azriel arched a brow. “I seem to remember you congratulating me already.”
“What? Is one more time going to hurt?” Kieran retorted with an innocent note to his voice that Azriel didn't believe for one second.
Souya laughed, waving his hand vaguely. “I can see when I'm intruding. I'll just be on my way.” He turned back to the table, where Harper was already doling out drinks.
“He's so quick on the uptake,” Kieran said with a laugh and then tugged on Azriel's arm, leading him toward the table. “I just want to make sure you enjoy the party. You deserve it.”
“I'm sure I will,” Azriel replied as Kieran showed him to a chair and plunked him right down into it, Harper quick to set a glass in front of him.
“Drink up!” she encouraged as Kieran slid into the next seat over. “There's plenty more to come. I even splurged for the good stuff.” One fingernail tapped the label of the bottle pointedly, the name Ablisch displayed in a sprawling script.
He couldn't very well turn down such an enticing offer. Azriel had the feeling it was going to be a long, soaked night. Full of laughter, drunken affection, and with a headache to follow the next morning.
Nevertheless, Azriel reached for his glass, took a hearty sip, and allowed himself to enjoy it. Kieran was right. He did deserve it.
*****
a/n: This chapter was one of those that just CLICKED. I hope you liked it!
Feedback is always welcome and appreciated!
Title: The Break of Day
Series: Infinity's End, Prequel
Summary: A friendship that takes everyone by surprise slowly evolves into a deeper bond as Azriel, illegitimate son of the house Celestine, and Kieran, heir to the house Azura, throw themselves into the heart of a building altercation that explodes into an all out revolution.
(1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8) (9) (10) (11) (12) (13) (14) (15) (16) (17) (18) (19) (20)
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Part One: Chapter Eleven
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Part One: Chapter Eleven
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May 5, 1979
Early years of developing his own experiments and waiting for his ideas to bear fruit had taught Kieran the value of patience. Right now, however, he couldn't stop his feet from jittering or stop himself from craning side to side, trying to see over the tall idiot who'd sat in front of him.
On his right, Miss Neorah smiled at him and patted his hand. “It'll be soon enough,” she reassured.
“I know that,” Kieran replied with a faint flush to his cheeks as the voice of Asher Celestine floated in and out of his ears, names inconsequential as they weren't Azriel's.
There was only one person graduating from the Conservatory this year who Kieran cared about, and it certainly wasn't Penelope Basik or Grant Ether.
“I'm excited,” Kieran added as Harper chuckled under her breath to his left. Beyond her were Lyra, Yonah and Souya, all of them there to support Azriel in his moment of crowning glory.
Not only had he graduated top of his class, but he'd snagged the highest marks in the Conservatory's recorded history. And that was in spite of Holmes' attempts to drag him down. He was the first non-high noble valedictorian in a century, and with that, Azriel had effectively ground all of the protestors and naysayers into ashes.
Kieran couldn't be more proud. Miss Neorah was beaming, and way down in front, where Kieran could see a pair of matching faces, Aidan and Adair Celestine looked just as proud.
As for Asher Celestine, Azriel's father, Kieran could only guess as to his reaction. Asher, the bastard, who was here to act as the Master of Ceremonies. Which included introducing the valedictorian and call the names of the graduates as he handed out the diplomas. He had a good game face; that was for sure. Not a flicker of discomfort as he introduced the graduate who was his son by blood but not by name or recognition.
To be fair, Azriel was equally stoic. Pretending like High Lord Celestine was a complete stranger to him without a flash of emotion to show the truth. Though honestly, Azriel did consider his father a stranger and woe be the person who dared remind him of his parentage.
Kieran had heard on more than one occasion Azriel fiercely declare that he had no father.
Looking at the man onstage, Kieran could barely hide his own contempt.
To be fair, Asher Celestine was a handsome man, and he did have a charismatic presence. He smiled slightly when needed, gave the perfect joke to get the audience involved, and the breadth of his aether was nothing to sneeze at. He had the brown eyes and brown hair of the Celestine clan, making it easy to spot him for the twins' elder brother, along with a firm jaw and commanding features. Azriel looked just like him, a fact that he despised.
But there was an air of coldness to Asher that Azriel didn’t possess. An air of calculation and almost derision as his gaze swept over those gathered. He was stiff, too. Too hard. Too formal in a way that Azriel would never be. And he certainly didn’t hold the edge of warmth and amusement that his son possessed in spades.
Kieran didn’t at all like the way Asher’s eyes swept over his brothers before flitting to Miss Neorah and lingering. Still, if one completely ignored his personality, Kieran might even see why he would attract a woman like her. But he hadn't had enough good sense to try and keep her. Which made him a fool and an idiot besides. That he would throw away Miss Neorah and settle for some high noble twit, who could barely string together a complete sentence and hadn’t even given him other children yet.
Looking at Asher Celestine in his proverbial high tower made Kieran despise his own noble heritage if that was what it brought him. An empty marriage. An empty life. A son who despised him. A woman who had born him a child and been promptly discarded.
Miss Neorah was a wonderful woman, beautiful and caring, and Asher Celestine hadn't deserved even a moment of her time. Though if they hadn't been, then Kieran would have never got to meet Azriel.
He chewed on his lip in indecision. Such realizations were better kept to himself, however. Azriel would never forgive him for even spending a nanosecond of thought on why it was a good thing Asher Celestine had fathered him.
Miss Neorah squeezed Kieran's thigh then to attract his attention. “He's next,” she whispered.
Kieran immediately straightened, paying close attention to the proceedings.
He watched as Asher shook hands with whomever he had just called, congratulating a young lady on her graduation, before turning back to his list.
“Azriel Hadley,” he announced with no hesitation, no sign that Azriel was more than a student to him.
In that moment, Kieran shot to his feet, clapping and cheering with as much noise as he could possibly make. It was a true testament to the depth of their friendship that the others did the same – though Yonah restricted herself to a gentler level of noise. Even Miss Neorah had stood, the pride glowing in her face like a candle.
They made enough racket that other people turned to stare. Azriel cut his eyes up at them, a hint of scarlet tainting his face. No doubt Kieran would be hearing about it later, but right now, he didn't care.
Azriel deserved it. And to hell with the stuffy nobles who wanted them to be dignified. His friend had worked hard, and people like Holmes needed to realize that despite his efforts, Azriel had succeeded where everyone thought he wouldn't.
So Kieran would make a lot of noise just to remind them of that fact.
He clapped and cheered as Azriel shook hands with the man who was family by blood only, as calmly as though they were strangers, and accepted his certificate of graduation. Sadly enough, this was probably the most interaction father and son had had in years.
After Azriel had crossed the stage, Kieran dropped back into his seat. He didn't care one whit about the rest of the presentation or the other graduates, but it would be bad manners to up and leave. Besides, he wouldn't be able to meet with Azriel until after the ceremony anyway. His patience could last for the next thirty minutes or so.
Beside him, Harper giggled. “He looked so embarrassed,” she said in a stage whisper.
“He was trying to be dignified, and you ruined it for him,” Lyra added, but judging by the mischievous glint in her eyes, it was hardly a scolding.
“Ah, but it's better to be recognized and embarrassed than forgotten and composed,” Kieran shot back with a wagging of his finger.
Behind them, a stern-faced man made a shushing noise. Perhaps it was his kin currently crossing the stage. For whatever reason, Kieran pressed his lips together and resolved to be quiet. He didn't care about who else was graduating, but other people did. And Kieran had already shown his support.
Nothing remained but to wait for the end of the ceremony. And when it came – with a slightly off-key performance from the five-person harmony – Kieran shot up from his chair with the determination to find Azriel and congratulate him in person. Miss Neorah chose a more sedate pace, reassuring him that she'd catch up later.
“We'll meet you at Isley's,” Lyra called out to him as she and the others were swept away in the crowd, only Souya's head visible above the escaping audience.
Kieran waved goodbye to them, eagerly anticipating the fun to be had. Harper had volunteered her family's pub once again and a bottle of their finest. Azriel had protested, of course, citing that they just wanted an excuse to drink and party. Which might have been true, but Kieran legitimately wanted to celebrate, too.
Fighting through the crowd was easier said than done, and Kieran grew weary of trying to make his way to the lower platform where the graduates were milling about. He cut into a side hallway, walking through the empty, dim corridors, taking the long way around. It would be easier, no matter how unsettling it was to walk down quiet hallways that he was more accustomed to seeing bustling with life.
Kieran pursed his lips, prepared to whistle, when the sound of voices attracted his attention. He slowed his walk and approached the next curve in the corridor with caution. The voices became clearer, and he was more than familiar with one of them but unable to recognize the other. He peeked around the corner, careful not to get caught.
Azriel was there, arms folded over his chest, looking stiff and uncomfortable in the dark robes all graduates wore. Standing a few feet away, too at ease in expensive blue robes with silver trim was none other than Asher Celestine.
Kieran's eyes narrowed before he could stop them.
What the hell did he want?
“Valedictorian is no small accomplishment,” Asher was saying as he inclined his head. He even sounded as if he had some reason to be proud. “You've done your blood well.”
Azriel twitched, and Kieran knew that look. It was one he often held when he had to present a respectful appearance to someone who didn't deserve it.
“I appreciate the congratulations, sir,” Azriel said through gritted teeth, and there was perhaps a small flinch on Asher's part. Only noticeable to someone who was paying them the closest attention. “Was there anything else?”
The lord folded his arms behind his back. “We in Grayshire will be following your progress closely. It is an honor to be so approved.”
An honor. Right.
Kieran had to keep himself from snorting aloud. Grayshire had been utterly surprised that a lowly boy who might as well be commoner had snagged the top position despite their greatest efforts. Now, they were just trying to save face.
“I will continue to work hard then,” Azriel replied with the slightest dip of his head, a respectful if faint bow that no one would find insulting.
Again, a telltale twitch flickered over Asher's face. A sign of mounting frustration and something else. Did Kieran dare name it disappointment?
“I've no doubt of that,” Asher countered and appeared to hesitate before he continued. “I'm proud of you… son.”
Kieran flinched as Azriel stared the man who had fathered him. There was something not unlike bitter fury flickering across his face, and his brown eyes had grown dark, nearly black with emotion.
“Do not call me that,” Azriel retorted in a low growl that Kieran had never heard him use before. “You can't claim me when it suits you and forget me the rest of the time.”
Asher's stoic facade cracked for just a second. But Kieran couldn’t be sure what he saw. Anger? Exasperation? Disappointment?
“I am your father,” Asher declared with a lifted chin. He was still taller than Azriel but not by much. “Whether you like it or not, we are kin. Bound by blood.”
Celestine arrogance showed its face, as Kieran knew it eventually would. Which did little to calm Azriel, whose aether buzzed tangibly.
“You are a stranger to me,” Azriel spat, losing all traces of false attempts to be polite. “I don’t even know you, and you certainly don’t know me. You never even tried.”
Asher actually seemed taken aback for a moment, eyes widening just so. Something flashed across his face too fast for Kieran to discern, but he almost thought it looked like regret. Nonetheless, it was covered up quickly enough and replaced with a cool sense of superiority. The very same look Marduk, Kieran’s own father, wore when he was being his less than Azura best.
Azriel wasn’t having any of it though. “We're done here,” he announced and turned as though to leave.
Unfortunately, it was toward the very hall concealing Kieran. He tensed, prepared to dart away, thinking he shouldn't get caught. However, Asher took the choice from him when he gripped Azriel's arm then.
“We're done when I say we're done,” High Lord Celestine said in such a tone that expected to be obeyed. That was his noble, commander voice, the one he used on his troops and with the ruling council.
Brown eyes darkened with fury. “Release me.”
Exasperation flickered across Asher’s face before it quickly disappeared behind a mask of indifference. “All I wanted was to talk.”
“You've talked,” Azriel returned coldly, still looking as though he were going to run away the first chance he had. “Don't pretend you've changed your mind now. We both know that's not going to happen. We're strangers, Lord Celestine.”
Asher sighed then, and his grip loosened slightly. “There were extenuating circumstances, Azriel. Things you could not even begin to understand.”
“I understand enough,” Azriel replied through clenched teeth, every limb held in taut discomfort. “Are we through, sir?”
Brown eyes focused on his son in a long, evaluating look before Asher uncurled his fingers and an instant distance was created between them. Azriel looked two steps away from violence, his jaw clenched, fingers twitching at his side. Kieran's own eyes were wide. He'd never seen Azriel this unhinged before. Not even when Holmes had been making things difficult.
“Not matter what you think, you are my son. I have every reason to be proud,” Asher said, voice little more than a murmur as he held Azriel's gaze. “Goodbye, son. Extend my greetings and congratulations to your mother as well.”
With that, Lord Celestine turned on his heel and strode down the hallway, opposite of where Kieran hid, as if nothing was amiss. Shoulders back, head held high, the perfect picture of noble composure, not caring for the mess he'd left behind.
Kieran could only see his friend's profile, but it was enough for him to bear witness to the visible shudder that wracked Azriel's frame. The way his right hand clenched and unclenched. But it wasn't until Asher was out of sight that Azriel broke.
He turned and punched the wall, making the wood shudder and creak at the force of it, powered by a frazzled aether. Kieran's eyes widened, his own chest feeling tight and cramped. He'd never seen Azriel like this, not even remotely close.
Damn, his relationship with his own father was strained – he and Marduk disagreed on a lot of things. But it was nothing like what he'd just witnessed. Kieran couldn't begin to imagine what Azriel was thinking.
Swallowing thickly, Kieran felt the urge to do something. Anything. Azriel needed some kind of comfort, and right now, Kieran was the only one who could offer it. He pushed off the wall, steeling himself for announcing his presence.
“Their first face to face meeting in a decade; I'm surprised it didn't get more violent.”
Kieran whirled at the unexpected voice, heart pounding in his chest as he caught sight of Miss Neorah. Her eyes were dimmed by sadness, flicking past him to where Azriel was hidden by the curve of the hallway. Then, she stepped closer, lowering her voice even further.
“My son has made no secret of the fact he despises his father,” Miss Neorah added quietly.
Kieran lowered his gaze. “According to him, he has no father.”
Miss Neorah sighed. “Perhaps it is better that way,” she said and then looked at him. “There’s no use wasting breath on futile hope.”
“I don't get it,” Kieran replied with a sharp exhale. “Lord Celestine didn't sound like he was lying. Why does he keep up this pretense?”
“Because he is arrogant and ruled by his pride,” Miss Neorah answered, gaze turning faraway, as though memories were making themselves known to her. “Or maybe it's because he loves his status more than anything else. Perhaps the late Alastair Celestine forbade him. I’ll never know.”
Kieran swept a hand over his hair. “Doesn't that make you angry?”
“It used to,” Miss Neorah admitted, and she folded her arms into her sleeves. “But time has a way of numbing some things and helping me forget others.”
Brow crinkling, Kieran still didn't understand it. Why Miss Neorah could end up with someone like Lord Celestine. He didn't deserve her one bit. It had to have been a moment of blind foolishness. Or perhaps the stupidity of youth.
“Kieran.”
He looked up at his name. Miss Neorah watched him with an oddly solemn face.
“I don't presume to guess why you befriended my son,” she said softly. “I’m too grateful for it. All I hope is that you'll permit me to ask a favor of you.”
He blinked. “A favor?”
“Be there for him,” Miss Neorah replied and looked a bit torn. “I’m only his mother after all. There are things he will never tell me and things I can't help him with. But as his friend, you're different. You can make sure he's not alone.”
Kieran straightened. “You don't even have to ask, Miss Neorah. Azriel’s my best friend, and I intend to keep him that way.”
The ghost of a smile flickered across her mouth. She lifted a hand to pat his cheek.
“I'm glad to hear it.” She looked past him. “Now, however, is not the time to announce ourselves. Azriel will never forgive himself for displaying such weakness.”
Kieran hesitated but had to admit that Miss Neorah was right. Rushing out to comfort Azriel was all well and good, but it would only serve to make him uncomfortable. Instead, Kieran would be better served trying to chase away the bad memories later with good alcohol, great friends, and plenty of congratulations to go around.
It was the least he could do.
It took the better part of fifteen minutes for Azriel to get back under control, internally berating himself for the loss of it. Given any other situation, he would have been able to hold onto his temper, but Asher Celestine was able to get under his skin like none other. Taking credit, acting proud, when he'd had no hand in raising Azriel or helping him fight through the Conservatory, it made Azriel sick.
Sucking in several long, deep breaths, he gathered the straying tendrils of his aether back toward himself. He had to return to the auditorium before someone got to looking for him. Kieran, impatient that he was, would probably start yelling at any moment, and Azriel hoped that his mother hadn't left yet.
The silence of the hallway was a calming influence, helping to soothe Azriel's frazzled emotions, and he soaked it up as he headed back to the auditorium. The buzz of conversation and celebration floated to his ears as he pushed through the single door and into the massive room that had been created by talented earth-shapers long ago.
The auditorium was one of the largest buildings in all of Grayshire, capable of seating several thousand for a single event. The graduation of this year’s class didn't warrant that high a guest count, but the capabilities were there.
Azriel scanned the crowd looking for familiar faces as he easily merged with his fellow graduates and their families. He caught sight of his mother near the far exit, speaking with his uncles. His eyes skipped over Lord Celestine, deep in conversation with a few instructors, including the bad-natured Holmes.
As for his friends, Azriel didn't see them anywhere. And Tegan was of such height that Azriel would’ve easily been able to pick him out of the crowd. Had he missed them?
In their absence, Azriel made a beeline for his mother and his uncles. Adair noticed him first, and the smile that lit his face chased away the last of the shadows that his elder brother's visit had caused.
“Congratulations, nephew,” Adair said, and though Azriel had held out a hand for a polite shake, he found himself pulled into a hug anyway.
In public. In full view of everyone else. Including Asher Celestine himself.
Azriel fought not to squirm. “Thank you, Lord Adair,” he said and didn't fail to catch his uncle's wince as they parted. Azriel was the one who had to cling to propriety after all.
“From the both of us, nephew,” Aidan added, a firmness to his voice. He didn't much approve of Azriel's formality either and was quick to pull his nephew into a half-embrace.
Someday, he was going to disappoint the both of them. Azriel was sure of it.
Luckily, Aidan was not as physically demonstrative as his twin and saved Azriel by simply putting an arm around his shoulders. He knew the three of them had to be a sight. All looking so similar. Celestine blood will always out. As evidenced by the stares.
“How are you celebrating?” Aidan asked then.
Miss Neorah chuckled. “How else do graduates celebrate? His friends have arranged for quite the party at Isley Springs.”
Adair arched a brow. “How fortunate. They have the best brew in all of Talemar.” He inclined his head approvingly. “I'm sure that dear Kieran was the mastermind behind this?”
“When is he not?” Azriel murmured. Though it was meant to be a comment to himself, it elicited a chuckle from his uncles and mother.
They had all gotten to know Kieran quite well over the past few months. Unfortunately for Azriel. Especially since they were given to telling highly embarrassing stories.
“Speaking of, where is he?” Aidan questioned, his greater height giving him an advantage as he scanned the thinning crowd. “I thought for sure he’d be here.”
“Oh, he was,” Azriel replied, feeling his cheeks heat. “I'm sure you heard the noise from the audience when my name was called.” He was quite certain the instigator of that undignified demonstration was none other than Kieran.
His uncles laughed outright, and even his mother looked amused. Kieran had charmed them as effectively as he had managed to charm Azriel himself.
“Azriel!”
Ah. Speak of the devil and there he shall be. Azriel turned to greet Kieran and instantly found himself a pouncing armful of grinning teenaged boy. Who embraced him as though they had been parted for weeks instead of… well, an hour at most.
“Congratulations!” Kieran announced in his ear, entire body overcome with enough energy that’d make even a toddler exhausted.
“Thank you,” Azriel replied and waited until Kieran had hugged himself out before allowing a little space. “I also appreciate your support from the audience as embarrassing as it may have been.”
Kieran beamed as though Azriel had bestowed a compliment. “I had to liven things up somehow. I hope my graduation isn't this boring.”
“I think that you are confusing boring with dignified,” Azriel drawled, amused despite himself.
His uncles and his mother exchanged a round of smiles at each other.
Kieran shrugged. “It's all the same to me.” He threaded his arm through Azriel's, suddenly pulling the graduate to his side as he directed a beaming smile at Azriel's family. “Hope you don't mind that I'm stealing him, but he does have a party to attend.”
His mother waved him off. “No, dear. Steal away. I'm sure we adults can entertain ourselves in his absence.”
“You're more than welcome to come if you'd like,” Kieran corrected, fingers of one hand curling around Azriel's arm as though he expected an escape attempt.
Adair coughed into his hand. “Thank you for the invitation, but my brother and I must decline. We aren't as young as we used to be, and I dare say his wife will be expecting us back for dinner.”
“You're hardly an old man,” Neorah responded with a teasing look.
“Not young enough to keep up with half a dozen celebrating teenagers,” Aidan amended as his brother turned a subtle shade of red. “That was decades ago.”
Kieran laughed, and Azriel managed a snort of his own.
“I'm sure you'd be fine,” Kieran put in. “But if you insist, I'm going to steal Azriel away now.”
“Go right ahead,” Azriel's mother said, making shooing motions with her hand. “Just bring him back in one piece if you please.”
“I promise.” Kieran beamed his head. “Have a good evening you three,” he added, and before Azriel could put up a protest of his own, his friend turned and dragged him away.
“I'll see you later,” Azriel threw over his shoulder. “And thank you for coming, Lord Adair, Lord Aidan.”
“It was our pleasure,” Aidan answered with something all too much like laughter, and they waved at him but didn’t offer a single hand of rescue.
Then again, Azriel had chosen this bed. It was his responsibility to lie in it.
Kieran dragged him through the exit, which was conveniently close by, and into the May evening that was crisp and clear. Perfect weather actually. The sun was sinking toward the horizon, turning the sky shades of twilight blue. It wasn't until they were away from the auditorium and the crowds of people that Kieran slowed his walk to a more manageable pace, changing Azriel's sensation of being dragged to one of being escorted. Though he didn't release his hold on Azriel's arm.
“Your uncles are good men,” Kieran murmured.
Azriel glanced at him. “I know,” he replied quietly.
“You should cut them a break every once in a while,” Kieran continued, easily steering Azriel toward the section of Grayshire where their favorite bar was located. “Ease off the formality a bit.”
Easy for you to say.
The words crowded on Azriel's tongue. He bit them back. Kieran didn’t deserve the bitter statement. Especially since he was right.
“I'll do my best to try,” Azriel conceded, and it was apparently the right thing to say because Kieran grinned and looked pleased.
Lucky for his mood, Kieran didn't have any other pearls of wisdom to deposit, and the rest of the walk was spent in pleasant quiet.
Isley's pub came into sight, and though Azriel was a good twenty feet away, he could already hear the noise in full swing. A part of him dreaded the loud night that was to come. However, it was overruled by the fact Kieran seemed so damned excited about it.
Kieran insisted that Azriel go in first, and when he opened the door and stepped inside, it immediately became obvious why.
“Congratulations, Azriel!”
The flood of words and clapping and cheers smacked Azriel in the face as though it had tangible presence. He blinked as a horde of unfamiliar faces made an obnoxious amount of noise, though buried amongst them were the rest of their group.
“Thanks,” Azriel said and couldn't hide the confused note in his voice. He lowered his tone as he edged around the crowd of people with Kieran at his side. “I don't even know these people, Kieran.”
The younger boy grinned. “Nope. But I promised them a round if they'd help make sure your entrance was loud.”
That sounded just like something Kieran would do. Azriel felt oddly touched. Why a bunch of strangers wishing him congratulations made Azriel feel warm inside, he wasn't sure. He supposed he should just chalk it up to Kieran's strange magnetism.
The table holding their friends was tucked away in the corner, their favorite place as it offered privacy along with a perfect view. Misae was the first to step forward surprisingly, and she grasped his fingers firmly, tipping her head in a shallow bow that was a rare gesture of praise.
“You have every reason to be proud, Hadley,” she said. “You've achieved beyond all expectations.”
Coming from her, that was praise of epic proportions. It was honestly more than Azriel could’ve expected.
“Thank you,” he replied, feeling like he'd been saying it all day. Which he had.
Misae's lips fluttered with a smile as she slid away, heading back to her seat, and Miss Dryden was there to take her spot, more enthusiastic but just as reserved. She wrapped him in a quick hug that couldn't match Kieran's for exuberance, but the grin on her face was welcoming anyway.
“Congratulations, Azriel.”
“Thank you, Miss Dryden.”
She rolled her blue eyes at him. “Are you ever going to call me Lyra?”
It reminded him of his recent conversation with Kieran. Why this was suddenly a point of consternation for everyone, Azriel wasn't sure.
“Perhaps tomorrow,” he allowed.
Miss Dryden – Lyra – shook her head and closed the distance between them again, tilting her face toward his and pressing a quick kiss to his cheek. Thankfully, it better resembled the greeting some elder noblewoman shared before such things fell into obscurity. She stepped back afterwards, like they'd decided on an order of congratulations ahead of time, and Isley took her place.
“I'm not as reserved as them,” she announced, a challenge in her dark eyes. “So the next time you call me Isley, I'm going to punch you.”
Azriel's eyebrows rose. “If you insist.”
“I do.” Her eyes raked him from head to toe. “You did good, Azriel. Way to stick it to the man.”
“Thanks... I think.”
“Yeah, that was a compliment.” Isley – Harper – grinned and planted her hands on her hips. “Now come here and let me kiss you.”
Perhaps the heat of the bar was getting to him because Azriel could have sworn that Harper just demanded to kiss him.
“Excuse me?”
“Just following the leader,” Harper said with a dismissing wave of her hand. “Lyra did it, so I want a piece of the action.”
Harper was perhaps the most unnoble noble Azriel had ever met, though he didn't count Kieran in that because Kieran was in an entirely different category altogether. But then, Harper was only a second tier noble and more accustomed to doing things for herself.
Still puzzled by Harper's seemingly random decision, Azriel didn't see a reason to challenge it either. Hardly a chore at any rate. He tilted his head to the side, expecting Harper to copy Lyra in the modest peck on the cheek.
Instead, hands settled warmly on his face, and Harper kissed him fully on the lips, her tongue joining in seconds later. She tasted like she’d already started sampling her family's wares, and part of Azriel's reaction was saved for his relief in that it wasn't a kiss from Tegan. That was one experience he didn't care to relive.
What was more worrisome was that Azriel honestly couldn't tell who kissed better: a drunk Kieran or a probably tipsy Harper.
Catcalls and whistles echoed through the bar, prompting Harper to end the kiss with a satisfied look on her face. She even ran her tongue over her lips as though to savor the flavor.
“Mmm. Thanks for the treat,” she put in with a wiggle of her fingers and let Tegan take her place.
By the gods Azriel hoped Tegan didn't plan on emulating that.
“I'm not going to kiss you,” the taller boy said firmly, much to Kieran's amusement as he tittered at Azriel's left side.
Relief flooded Azriel, even as his elbow dug into Kieran’s side. “Perhaps after a bottle of Lotmer, you'll be more inclined,” he teased.
“I knew you had a sense of humor.” Souya grinned, clapped him solidly on the shoulder with a grip that didn't fail to remind Azriel how much stronger he was.
“I've been saying that for ages,” Kieran huffed.
Laughing, Souya squeezed Azriel's shoulder companionably. “Yeah, and maybe I'll actually start listening,” he replied before shifting his words to Azriel with a note of seriousness. “I'd say congratulations, but you've probably heard that a thousand times so instead I'll just say thank you.”
Azriel blinked. “For what?”
“For humbling those bastards in their high towers,” Souya said in all seriousness. “For showing them that they haven't managed to put you down.”
Again swept by feeling of being oddly touched, Azriel nodded in understanding. “Then I suppose my proper answer would be, you're welcome. Now, I expect you to follow my footsteps.”
Souya chuckled. “I don't think I'm going to snag valedictorian, but they'll know not to underestimate me anyway.”
“Okay, okay. Enough bonding,” Kieran insisted, shoving himself between them, knocking Souya's arm away in the process. “My turn.”
Azriel arched a brow. “I seem to remember you congratulating me already.”
“What? Is one more time going to hurt?” Kieran retorted with an innocent note to his voice that Azriel didn't believe for one second.
Souya laughed, waving his hand vaguely. “I can see when I'm intruding. I'll just be on my way.” He turned back to the table, where Harper was already doling out drinks.
“He's so quick on the uptake,” Kieran said with a laugh and then tugged on Azriel's arm, leading him toward the table. “I just want to make sure you enjoy the party. You deserve it.”
“I'm sure I will,” Azriel replied as Kieran showed him to a chair and plunked him right down into it, Harper quick to set a glass in front of him.
“Drink up!” she encouraged as Kieran slid into the next seat over. “There's plenty more to come. I even splurged for the good stuff.” One fingernail tapped the label of the bottle pointedly, the name Ablisch displayed in a sprawling script.
He couldn't very well turn down such an enticing offer. Azriel had the feeling it was going to be a long, soaked night. Full of laughter, drunken affection, and with a headache to follow the next morning.
Nevertheless, Azriel reached for his glass, took a hearty sip, and allowed himself to enjoy it. Kieran was right. He did deserve it.
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