Chapter 15
Arwen glowered at Cassian who sat in the ornate chair. Her glass jar freshly baked cookies that had been neatly stacked in there were now subjected to his large, clasping fingers. He hugged the jar to his sternum, feet kicked up on the matching ottoman. But she would be leaving for a few days and no doubt would have plenty of spare hours to bake more that he wouldn't be able to touch.
"I thought you ate a specific diet," she noted with a note of accusation. Azriel, seated beside her on the small lounge, snorted in agreement. Her eyes were sore but dried. Rhys had eventually winnowed them both up to her room where they had laid until she had cried all she could give. They spoke more after that, their words raw and open as they let their wounds bleed out together. Arwen felt sickly gross when he admitted how pathetic he had felt the last few days, knowing that her attitude in part had been a fuel. Never good at apologies, she could only hope that he took her weak attempt to heart.
"He is," Azriel agreed, a slight smile adorning his tanned cheeks.
"I'm stress eating," Cassian refuted, pointing a cookie towards them before shoving it in his mouth. Through a muffled mouth he added, "It doesn't count."
She flicked her eyes over his body. "The only thing you have to stress about is gaining a few pounds with how much you're eating." Arwen winced as he flicked crumbs across to her, one landing in the corner of her eye. "In all seriousness, why are you eating so much?"
Cassian paused momentarily, then shrugged as he resumed devouring but at a more eased pace. "You're stressing me out, kid."
"Kid? I'm nearly two hundred."
He flicked over another crumb. "You'll always be a kid to me, kid."
Arwen thumbed the crumb until it stuck to her skin and then sucked it off, giving her tongue a brief tang of its sugary sweetness. "Will you at least save Azriel a few? They're his favourite."
He crumpled his nose in distaste, but she knew he would follow the request either way. Azriel gave her a hint of a smile when she glanced in his direction, which may as well be a grin from the brooding spymaster. Arwen knew that he had his reservations about taking them since they had been made by her hand but once she left, he would be free to eat them if he pleased without consequence.
"I'm not sure I told anybody that." He sat forward, arms braced against the point of his thighs.
She smiled tiredly at another raspberry and white chocolate cookie being shoved into the general's mouth. "You always snack on them when they're around. More than you do other flavours. Call it an intuitive assumption."
A gnawing hunger arising in her stomach but untempted to attempt prying the jar free from the arms of the General Commander, Arwen rose and wandered into the kitchen, browsing the shelves. No doubt she'd have a generous meal for lunch, but that was another hour away. She drew to the woven basket of fruits, contemplating between the apples and oranges when Azriel meandered into the kitchen, no sign of Cassian behind him. He moved like a catâsilent and smooth.
"You know," Arwen began, plucking a ripened apple, "I honestly don't know how you're still their friend."
He lightly frowned, leaning his hip against the marble benchtop as she twisted the stem of the apple off. "Who?"
"All of them. Rhys and Mor have been talking for over an hour now and I doubt it's all been about work, the gossip mongers." He had told her he would fill Mor in with anything that needed to be done for the next week whilst he would be away with Arwen in their family cabin. A well-deserved break for the both of them, he told her. But being the prying person Arwen was, she very well knew that his schedule for the coming week was rather lighter than usual. "Cassian doesn't shut up either and he has a unique skill of finding the way under everybody's skin. You aren't much of a talker, yet you're still here. I think patience must be your virtue, spymaster."
One corner of his lips rose in what looked like something of an amused huff. "They talk so much that I don't need to. I think it works perfectly."
She folded one arm across her sternum and leant the small of her back into the tabletop as she took a bite from the apple. "I suppose so," she sang. Arwen half-dropped her hand to shake a single finger in his direction. "Now you have to tell me, what has Rhys got planned for my birthday?"
It was a month away, but no doubt her brother had something on mind. It was different every year, from having the restaurant at Rita's to themselves for an entire night, served with a buffet of never-ending food, to a weekend trip to the cabin, all of them crammed into the one building. Their mother had always celebrated their birthday with the grandest efforts she could conjure. Arwen hadn't said anything aloud, but she had guessed that Rhysand had taken that mantleâso that something hadn't changed.
But she also hated not knowing. She hated not understanding what was happening next or being able to control it. And though Arwen utterly adored whatever the day held before her, there was always a slight twang of disappointment because it was never what she expected. Not in the way of expecting something grand and getting less but having an image of how her day was to be, crafted by her desires at the time only to have something completely different before her, could be jarring.
"You'll enjoy it," Azriel promised. Arwen scoffed at the display of arrogance as he knew exactly what was to come. "We're staying in the city if that helps."
Thinking on it for a moment, she said, "It does. Slightly. Velaris is a large city though." Arwen looked down at her apple as she asked, "You'll be coming, won't you?"
She could feel his eyes run over her. "I wouldn't miss it."
He had missed it before. Quite a few as she had matured, but she didn't count those. But he had missed it nine years ago, his duty calling him to investigate something in another court. It seemed like such a long time ago to even bother remembering such a small detail on one day of the year. But it had been the same year that she felt the bond snap into place. Azriel had done all he could to avoid her, taking missions anywhere and everywhere. Cauldron, he even volunteered to go to the Illyrian camps. Back then, there was still a part of her that clung to the bond and she had searched for him in the party that Rhysand threw in the House of Wind. When she hadn't seen him, Arwen let a piece of the bond go.
So now Azriel saying, "He wouldn't miss it," didn't mean much in its entirety. Because both she couldn't believe him when he said it, and neither did she intend to care.
"You can stay in the town house while we're gone," Arwen told him. "You're always welcome in any case, but if you need a break..."
He said, voice flooding with sincerity, "Thank you." Azriel turned his front towards the countertop, bracing his elbows along the polished surface. "Enjoy yourself, Arwen." Her eyes flashed with uncertain surprise, not expecting such a delicate request. "Nobody likes seeing you this wound up."
She gave a short humph. "We're going for Rhys just as much as we are going for me. He's been running himself into the ground lately. Hasn't had a break in weeks" And not just because of her whole debacle. He was still a new High Lord by their standards, barely a decade into the role. The people of Hewn City were teetering across the edge of defiance that had her brother pale-faced in anxiety some nights. Not to mention the Illyrian camps had thrown a riot at the naming of his new General Commander.
Cassian had taken the role quite seriously, almost immediately drilling his authority into the camps but even then they still held bold. Arwen knew it hurt the warrior, to be in such an esteemed position yet still treated like a stray dog in the eyes of his inferiors, both in rank and moral. It was why, whenever she knew a visit was upcoming, she would side with him on his arrogant remarks, peppering him with subtle assurances right until he left. And she'd do the same when he arrived home, not even entertaining to question how they treated him.
"Cassian will give him the same talk," Azriel said, then tilted his head at a slight angle. "And Rhys will mirror what you just said."
She hummed softly, ears prickling at the creak above her head, signalling a moving weight on the upper floor. "Do you just know us that well, or are we just that predictable?"
He arched a dark brow. "Can I say both?"
Arwen chuckled, then mimicked the movement. "Perhaps our cycles have been linked up. He's always moody when I am."
He paled marginally at her brazen remark, a dusting of rose painting the tips of his rounded ears but the concept of her brother in the woes of a female's cycle was enough to rouse a hearty laugh, her own joining. It grew by the second, Azriel leaning forward to laugh with his head hung between his shoulders and Arwen tossed her head back.
Rhysand strode into the kitchen, a calm smile at the sight. Until she let out a moan and wandered towards him. "Rhys, my dear brother, are you in pain?" Her hands heavily pressed against each of his cheeks, causing a small pout on his lips as his eyes turned from soft to bewildered. "You should have told me."
Behind her, she could hear the spymaster laugh harder. It wasn't louder by any means, but the sound strengthened.
"Uh, no," Rhysand carefully answered. "I'm perfectly fine."
"Oh, don't fuss, you need not hide this from us. It is completely natural after all. I know for many the signs start early and that must be what is happening since I am not due for weeks."
"Should I know what you're talking about?" he asked, attempting to turn his head, likely in search of Cassian who might have an idea, but she kept his head steady and pointed to her.
"Now, now. I have a whole list of food that will make you feel better. It is a good thing we're heading to the cabin for a week," she said, finishing with a righteous nod of her head. "I'll take care and watch over you."
He offered a croaking chuckle, not quite sure if he should be laughing yet or worried. Rhysand took her wrists gently and pried them from his face. Deciding to entertain her, he said, "I know you will."
Arwen's eyes thinned as she grinned, glimpsing back over her shoulder. Azriel was still hunched over the countertop, but his chin was over his shoulder with a slight grin back that created small hills on his cheeks. It warmed a tiny pit inside of her, knowing that she was the source of amusement for him. That she was the one to bring that smile on.
"Are you ready to go?"
Not needing to pack anything, she nodded and turned back to Rhysand. "Just let me say goodbye to Cass." Arwen brushed past him but shot a look back that told him to follow. So he did. She swayed her hips with each step as she wandered back into the sitting room where the warrior still sat with a near-empty jar. Cassian had a new one in his hand, his oncoming bite only stopping at the sound of her entrance.
Arwen moved around the back of the chair, bent over the spine, and wrapped her arms around his neck. "How are you going to live without me, Cass?"
"Comfortably," he stated with all confidence.
If she hadn't been planning on her next move, she certainly would be now. "You'll feel bad about saying that when I'm dead," she muttered in his ear with taunt ruling her tone.
Cassian sighed, sinking further down into the seat. He couldn't sit entirely against the back with his wings in the way, though it wasn't entirely uncomfortable with the padding. "Sweetheart, when you're dead, it will be because I am too."
Arwen smiled, tightening her arms momentarily. She understood exactly what that meant.
Rhysand, shoulder resting against the sitting room's arched threshold with crossed arms asked, "And how do you plan on dying."
"Iâ"
Arwen cut him off, pushing onto her toes so she leant right over his form and sunk her teeth into the cookie he still held near his face, plucking it free. Quicker than lightning, Cassian whipped his head around, strands of his dark hair lashing her eyes. Falling back, she laughed through her half-filled mouth and scampered away.
Rhysand threw his head back with a bellowing laugh. Azriel lingered in the main hall, still grinning like he was before.
Arwen almost made away too. But a thick, decorative pillow of red velvet struck her back with a force that had her tripping, shoulder banging into the opposite end of the archway to her brother. Turning back, she smiled slyly at the fuming Illyrian and munched on her reward as if daring him to try and get it back. He seemed to contemplate it for a while, but settled on a large, pointed finger of warning and slunk back to his seat, arms curling around the jar.
Once their squabbling all settled, Rhysand made his way to her side and held out a palm. Arwen looked at it, but asked, "Can I try and winnow us there?"
His fingers curled as they relaxed but he didn't move his hand away. A hinting smile told her that he was pleased to hear her suggestion. "You think you can do it?" Not a doubt whether he thought she could, she noted. Just an inquiry into her own confidence.
In answer, she took his hand, smiled at the others and the spot they stood on became empty within a blink.
Cassian loosened his protective arm around the jar. Realising there was still another in the room, he was about to tighten it again, before he took an interest in the way his brother stared at the spot where they had been standing. "You alright there, Az?" Azriel's hazel eyes sharpened and cut through the air as they turned on him, hearing the accusation. Cassian stood, taking long but slow strides out of the sitting room and into the main hall. Just as he passed the shadowsinger's form, he added, "It's just a week. I'm sure you can live without your High Lord for that long."
"It's not hiâ" Azriel cut himself off sharply, like the rest of the words never existed in the first palace.
Cassian raised both his brows, nose gently flaring with a long exhale as he moved around Azriel into the kitchen. "I don't know how you do it," he sang aloud in the otherwise empty kitchen but knew his voice carried. He tipped his head pointedly to the side. "I don't know why you do it."
"What would you do if you were her mate?" The coldness behind the voice had the general turning back, blindly pushing the jar back to the tucked spot it belonged. Azriel hadn't entered the kitchen, standing just shy of the entrance. The shadows crawled around him like moths to a flame. "What would you do, Cassian?"
Cassian frowned and went about cleaning up the remnants of his earlier snacking. "It doesn't matter what I'd do because we're different people." At the sight of Azriel's darkening face, unappreciative of the answer, he sighed again. "I would have freaked out, Az. Is that want you want me to sayâthe validation you're after? But then I would have realised not only is she my mate, but I'm also hers. It goes both ways. By denying yourself her, you're denying her a mate. If I were her mate and did what you have been, you'd hate me for it."
The coldness on the spymaster's face turned something from hard resistance to a barrier that withheld every thought behind it. "Is that how you feel? You hate me for it?"
"My feelings towards what you're doing shouldn't be the ones that matter." He cupped his hand and brushed crumbs into it off the tabletop. "I don't hate you for it. But I can't promise I won't feel that way if she ever comes to me upset on account of it. You're just lucky that hasn't happened yet. And that Rhys knows how to bottle things up."