Chapter 102
Arwen rubbed the tips of her fingers against her scalp, hair threaded between the long bones. When she pulled her head and eyes up, her reflection in the vanity mirror met her. Pretty, she concluded. Nuala had been so kind to help her style her hair in loose curls and line her cheeks with blush and her eyes with kohl. On her neck sat a pendant necklace she was certain Mor gave her many years ago. The black dress was daring. The intricately cut material that clung to her skin, black as an endless abyss, winding up her body like a dark snake to cover all the right places and revealing the rest, was perfectly Night Court. All wore in honour of that court's General Commander.
So pretty might be an understatement in some way, but there was an emptiness that kept Arwen from labelling herself as beautiful that night. It was not a matter to be thought of, howeverânot on Cassian's birthday.
Hearing the front door open, she rose from the vanity seat and grabbed the small, black box from the wooden top as she left. The town house was already filled with chatter. It seemed she was the last of them to join. Making her way down the stairs, Elain was the first she saw, who was clad in a periwinkle dress with ruffled sleeves. Arwen gently took her arm, spying the rest of her family beginning to gather in the sitting room. "Enjoy tonight, Elain. And don't let them force you into anything. Their mopey faces are nothing but a ploy."
Elain looked nothing short of uncertain but gave a timid nod. "Should I expect them to force me into things?"
Arwen laughed and shrugged. "Nothing terrible. Dancing, perhaps. Downing your drink in a single breath. Be not afraid to knock them over the head if they get too pushy." Her step away had intended to take her to join them, but she faltered on an extra thought. "Azriel enjoys himself on these nights but sometimes he likes to take a step back. He will like the quiet company if you're feeling overwhelmed."
Elain peered carefully at her, as though she was aware of every conversation that Arwen had had with Azriel regarding her. "You would not be..."
"If I am to spend my eternity with him, I must trust him," Arwen said, carefully. "It does not mean I trust your intentions with him, but I cannot live being scared that I am not enough. I have far too many worthier worries to spend my time on. But do remember, Elain, that I won't take kindly to someone trying to take from me what I have just gotten back."
It was a sourer note than she would have liked to let their conversation finish on, but Arwen couldn't help the warning pouring from her lips. Elain's eyes hardened and she nodded once. Arwen glanced over her again before turning away and walking towards the sounds of her family.
"Do not fear, the light of your lives has arrived," she proclaimed, swinging into the wide room.
Rhysand rolled his eyes whilst Feyre and Cassian laughed. Azriel pursed his lips, attempting to flatten the grin she knew was threatening. Mor placed a hand on her hip, raising a golden brow and looked Arwen up and down. "Now I feel underdressed," her cousin said. "You must let me borrow that one day."
Arwen blushed, despite her own confidence and look down at it again. "I thought the occasion called for it."
"I for one, am certainly not complaining," Cassian announced, not bothering to hide his appreciative, wandering eyes. With a squint, he looked over his shoulder to Azriel who rested against the hearth. "Lucky bastard."
Azriel kicked off the stone and strode forward. Even as Arwen heard Elain entering behind her, Azriel's eyes never left her. He took her hand, looking handsome as ever in his formal black slacks and shirt, and kissed her cheek in welcome. "I certainly am."
Remembering the black box in her hand, she handed it to Cassian. "Happy birthday." Arwen gave him the box. "I don't expect you to really like it, but it was stuck on my mind."
Cassian's look at her was pointed. "Don't make presumptions," he chided her, prying the lid free. Sat on a white pillow was the golden chain. It was simple, the gold thick and the bends in each link angular rather than rounded. He looked to her and handed the box back. "Put it on me."
A breath of relief escaped her. Taking the box, she pulled the gold chain free and twisted the clasp open. Cassian held his wrist out in waiting, his sleeve tugged to reveal part of his tanned, muscled forearm. Once it was secure, the same hand rose to her head and scuffled her hair. Arwen whined and smacked his hand away, only to his amusement.
"Try not to throw a drink on me tonight," he crooned.
Arwen looked at him through her lashes. "Try not to earn it."
He laughed. She grinned.
They decided to walk to Cassian's restaurant of choice. Feyre and Elain fell into step whilst Cassian, Mor and Azriel became their own branch, leaving Arwen with her brother. "It worries me," she murmured to him, letting the other voices drown hers out to all but his ears. "How much Nesta upsets him."
Rhysand's expression was grim, his hands shoved into his pockets. "I've noticed too. I think it's hard for him to see both Az and me happy with our mates."
Arwen's heart twisted with painful empathy because she understood what Cassian felt, almost exactly. "He deserves that happiness, but I'm scared for him. We both know how hard it is to have a mate we believe does not want us."
He gave her a pitying look. "You know there's nothing you can do to change that."
She rolled her eyes. Yes, she did know that. But there must be something else she could do. "Then why did the Mother choose her for him?" Arwen looked to Azriel. She knew now why he had been chosen for her and it had never been a mystery between Rhysand and Feyre. Not to her, at least.
Rhysand's answer was a hand to the back of her neck and a small squeeze. She glimpsed up at him, his face half-alight with the golden hue of an oil lantern. The way his lips twitched, she knew he had something to say, but for whatever reason, did not.
The restaurant was a well-lit establishment with tables cloaked in fine white cloth, a large round one of which where Amren was already sitting in waiting. Arwen was mutely surprised that he chose somewhere where he would have to behave himself. Squat stools with plush red velvet were brought in place of chairs for her winged companions and Arwen couldn't help but smile at the sight, especially when they sat a little lower than her backed chair.
That smile did not leave her cheeks once through dinner. She sat between Azriel and Cassian, delighted at the sense of belonging that she felt there. Elain made quite a bit of conversation, seated between Feyre and Cassian's other side. As usual, Azriel kept a small distance between them but would run his hand over her thigh underneath the cover of the tablecloth. Though Arwen would rather be perched on his lap, uncaring to the eyes of others, she accepted his affections in the way that he could give them.
After dessert and a second glass of wine, they left for Rita's. Before they even found their seats, Cassian had his arm thrown around her shoulders, or more so her neck, and guided them both to the tap bar. "She's paying," was the first thing he said to the handsome server on the other side. Arwen shot Cassian an expression of amused disbelief but acquiesced.
They returned to the table with two silver trays of drinks. This time, she found herself at Rhysand's side, taking the end seat across from Cassian since they were last to sit. Arwen inspected a frosty blue drink. "I'm not sure what this one is."
Rhysand promptly took it from her grasp and sipped at it. With a satisfied nod, he handed it back. "You'll like it."
"I could have figured that out for myself, thank you," she griped, jutting out her elbow in preparatory defence against any more theft.
He grinned down at her. "Yes, but the insulted pout you give is as nearly as entertaining as the one you give when you realise you've already eaten all your dessert."
Her pout grew, not realising that anybody had seen her little moment of mourning when her silver spoon scraped the empty bowl. "You are finding entertainment out of my suffering?" Arwen leant forward, smiling flatly at Feyre on his other side. "Your mate is a prick, Feyre. He enjoys stealing my drinks and my mourning at a lack of dessert."
Feyre arched both her brows as she looked up at the male between them. "Yes, I've come to know. He made me write notes about how he was an invigorating lover and irresistible to all females."
"He once locked me outside in the middle of winter because I ate a pudding he was saving for himself."
Rhysand's head snapped back and forth, mouth agape.
Feyre nodded ruefully as though she experienced the same. "He stole me from my wedding."
"You know," Rhysand began, staring ahead but clearly speaking to them both, "I'm not entirely sure either of you were actually invited tonight so feel free to leave. And I stole you away from marrying Tamlin, darling. Which I think, in wise hindsight, was one of my best decisions to date."
Arwen cocked her head. "What about when you locked me outside for the pudding?"
"I believe I did warn you prior to the fact that I would do so if you touched it," he said, matter-of-factly. "And I let you inside before you got frostbite."
Arwen snorted into her glass. "You mean before Mother got home."
"Perhaps."
~
Arwen wasn't drunk, but the others were certainly varying degrees of the state. Even Azriel was unrestrained, freely enjoying himself with his brothers and Mor. Elain was the soberest of them all and after an hour, decided to head home. Feyre and Amren kept Arwen company at the table as the others danced in the pit of the crowd. That was, until Cassian returned only to yank on Feyre and Arwen's arms, Amren threatening to cut off his hair if he touched her, until they too were between bodies much taller and broader than themselves. Feyre quickly went to Rhysand's side and Cassian took Arwen's hands, tipping his head back as they danced haphazardly to the music, pulling her arms back and forth as she had to him only weeks ago.
It was clear soon enough, that Cassian had drunk more than the rest of them. But he was enjoying himself, without a wrinkle of worry to be seen. He didn't let her hands go the entire time. She didn't know how they were managing to stand by the end of the night as her own legs were weak with exhaustion. As they strode along the smooth cobblestone road, Cassian refusing to be winnowed anywhere (the night was too pretty to not walk under, in his words), Arwen had his heavy arm strapped over her shoulder, his weight slumped against her.
A glance over her shoulder ensured that Feyre still had Rhysand under her watch. Her brother was still walking upright, but his eyes had that haze about them that she knew not to trust him without Feyre's guidance. Amren watched over a prancing Mor from a short distance, arms folded over her chest. Azriel walked on Cassian's other side, his eyes also in a haze and his walk slightly uneven.
Mor shoved the door of the town house open, tumbling into the lit home. Arwen had to push Cassian in first, unable to fit side by side before careening in front of him and taking him to the sitting room. "Sit," she ordered him like a child, pressing down on his shoulders so he sat on the end of the main lounge. "I'll get you lot some water."
Cassian groaned and tipped his head back against the cushioning, eyes half-lidded.
Arwen passed Azriel as he came through the hallway. "You look tired," she told him. Azriel sighed and nodded, but his cheeks were pleasantly lifted. "You should go to bed."
"And leave with those bastards?" He kissed her, the scent of alcohol like a perfume on him. "I think not."
She smiled and kissed him back before urging him to go sit down with the others. Shortly, she returned from the kitchen with glasses of water that she didn't mind being accidentally broken. Taking the seat on the other end of the lounge, she sunk into the comfortable cushioning, taking a moment to be glad that the day ended all well. Rhysand seemed to be clearing up the fastest, Azriel behind him.
"I will not," Cassian grumbled, brushing off Mor's warning of a morning headache. "I don't get those."
Mor rolled her eyes. "We'll see what you say in the morning. Is everybody sleeping here? Do we have enough room?"
Arwen nodded. "You'll have to take the spare room with Cass, but everybody has a bed. I feel like a hostess," she muttered in thought. "Should I organise breakfâ" She was cut off by a steady weight falling into her lap. "Oh."
Cassian had spread himself along the lounge, stomach down for his wings, and laid his head in her lap. Her hands hovered before one finally fell to his shoulder as he grumbled something unintelligible into her thigh. Far drunker than she had seen him in many years. Hastily looking around, Arwen snatched one of the pillows and somehow convinced him to lift his head, stashing the pillow underneath it before the weight on her legs returned. It was thin, so as to not awkwardly prop his neck up and his face was turned inwards toward her stomach.
"I think that was his way of saying I'll get the room to myself," Mor said gleefully.
"Is he out?" Rhysand asked Arwen.
She tilted her head down and then shook it. "Nearly," she laughed, resting her second hand on the side of his face and pushing back the long hairs that fell over his cheek.
"I'm tired," he mumbled, the sound muffled as it was spoken into the tight space between his mouth and her body. "And youâ" a wild finger rose and somehow found its way to her ribcageâ "are comfortable."
"A strange compliment but I shall take it," she decided aloud.
"Do you need me to haul him up to his bed?" Azriel asked from his spot on the armchair. "Since he's acting like an overgrown child, using my mate as a pillow."
Cassian managed to turn his head towards the shadowsinger. "Are you jealous?"
Arwen's eyes fled to her mate, quick to examine his reaction. Azriel leant forward onto his knees. "I have nothing to be jealous of. The same cannot be said for you."
The room seemed to dim after that comment. Azriel acted non-the-wiser that he was the cause of such a shift as everybody else glanced at each other. Cassian didn't answer, rolling his head back to face Arwen. He seemed heavier and the placid smile that had remained all night was gone. She peered over at Rhysand, and he met the gaze. I know, he seemed to say to her, concerning their earlier conversation.
She knew that Cassian had enjoyed his night, but how much of it had been a mask? An attempt to cover up what he was feeling? Arwen knew that tactic all too well.
"Always entertaining you lot are," Amren muttered, picking at her nails. "Like children left unattended."
Arwen stroked her fingers through his hair, idly rubbing her thumb along the bone of his brow as soft murmurs of conversation ensued around her. Hazels disappeared behind his lids and she watched as the tension keeping his wings to his back eased, the forms beginning to droop on either side of him. After a moment's hesitation, she leant across him and carefully adjusted them to a position she knew would be more comfortable. What would usually be an intimate, almost sensual act, turned awkward under the heavy gazes watching her which she skilfully avoided when she finished.
Resting her head back against the lounge, she let her hand continue blindly stroking his hair, closing her own eyes.
When someone shook her awake, the lights in the house were extinguished. Cassian's head was still in her lap and the silhouette of wings of the person waking her was a quick informant to their identity. "Az?" she whispered, her throat croaking with tire. He bent over, hands scooping between the pillow and her legs, lifting Cassian's head, gesturing for her to slip out.
Arwen did, using him as support to push herself up.
"Leave him here for the night," he murmured. "I'm not dragging him upstairs."
She nodded, not in the mood to try. "Take off his shoes. I'll find him a blanket." Finding one in the closet, Azriel just finished prying off the second shoe by the time she returned. Billowing out the material, the blanket lay over him, the shadow resembling a dark plain of rolling hills. "It doesn't look terribly comfortable."
"That is going to be the least of his problems when he wakes," said Azriel. Arwen looked at him. "The headache, I mean," he added. "Come to bed with me."
Before she could answer, he silently swept her from her feet, holding her high to his chest. Sighing, she lay her head on his shoulder, wrapping her loose arm around the front of his neck. "You know it is not me that he desires, right?" she asked as he climbed the stairs.
Azriel kept his gaze forward in concentration. "I'm not jealous."
"Nesta is troubling him," she continued anyway. "I have to be there for him. I... I know the feeling." The shadow of his throat bobbed. "He was there for me."
"Arwen." He urged her ajar door open. "I know. You don't have to explain to me." Bringing her to the bed, he set her down on it, bracing one knee on the mattress next to her. "You look exquisite tonight. But you should take that dress off before I'm tempted enough to tear it as I've been imagining doing all night."
Laughing tiredly, Arwen rolled onto her back to give him access to the hidden buttonhooks. He worked at them from the nape of her neck down her spine. "I wanted to feel good about myself tonight. Wanted to be noticed." The exhaustion was making her talk.
"You certainly had enough eyes on you."
Resting her chin on her folded arms, she said, "You are the only one who has the fortune to touch where those eyes wander." Turning over once the last buttonhook was undone, she let Azriel peel the top of the dress down and shimmied her out of it. Already dressed in nightwear, he climbed over her to the other side of the bed, drawing her back into his front, pulling the blanket over them.
"Goodnight, Arwen."
She pulled his arm tighter around her stomach, threading her legs through his and fell asleep with a smile.