Chapter 16
Water sploshed around Arwen's legs, a great wave of white billowing out in her peripheral to match the one around her. Her knees buckled with the unexpected landing, her boot-clad feet twisting at the ankles.
She gasped, arms flapping around as the river water engulfed her. From beside her, Rhysand let out a similar noise, sploshing beside her. The ground underneath her was thick mud that sucked her feet down.
"I didn't mean it!" she cried out, praying he wouldn't push her under for winnowing them into the water. There was no response from him for a few moments as they both gathered their bearings, then, a hand wrapped around her elbow as Rhysand guided her to the bank.
Water poured from them, leaving puddles along the stony shore. His black tunic glistened and hung with the weight of being soaked, unevenly sticking in odd areas. Her own assortment of black breeches and top matched.
Rhysand flicked out his hands, beads of water cascading from them. Then he laughed, head tossed to the open, sapphire sky. "Now I remember why Father made me winnow one hundred times from one end of Velaris to the other in practice."
Arwen pointed in an eastern direction. "But I am close," she said. "The cabin is only... another half an hour's walk that way." After a moment of silence, she shot her lips into a grin if only to add to her demeanour of innocence in the ordeal and keep sway of his amusement in her favour.
He stuck his tongue to his cheek, rolling violets to see the back of his head and held out his hand. "I don't feel like walking." She took it, but nothing happened. Rhysand lifted a brow. "Aren't you going to winnow us closer?"
Arwen startled slightly, entirely expecting him to take charge. Her lips softened into a smile as she thought once more of their family's cabin and the world around sucked her body through the channel.
They reappeared closer, the cabin off to their right. She had aimed for a few feet away from the door, but Arwen was happy to call it a victory, nevertheless. The early summer's sun battled the partial chill of her now soaked attire, but before they reached the door, they turned dry with a flicker of her brother's magic.
"Here we are," he said, pushing the door open as he looked back down at her. "Safe and sound."
Arwen grinned back, tipping her head to her shoulder. "I'm practically a master of it already." The cabin's welcome came in a wave of cool air that sat just right on her skin. The windows were open, curtains pulled back to stream the midday light in.
They each fell into their respective positions of lounging, Arwen pulling a book from the shelf next to the unlit hearth and laying across the long seat whilst Rhysand made himself something to drink. It stayed like that until her small snack passed through her gut and she became ravenous again. Instead of requesting some domestic magic, Arwen headed to the kitchen and spent the next hour preparing lunch and an apple pie.
"What has Cassian so stressed?" she inquired as Rhysand wandered into the kitchen. Following his nose of course, as she tilted the skillet to keep the vegetables cooking evenly. "We're not going to have any food when we get home, I hope you've realised."
He fell into the high bench seat, lightly tapping both his hands. "He's stressed because everybody else is. Like an animal feeding off everybody else's emotions."
Though Arwen was glad there was nothing personal that was igniting such a state in him, it was little ease to still know that he still was subjected to the effects of stress. "This is a break for him too, isn't it?" she mused. "How many duties does he have this week?"
The knowing smile was all the confirmation she needed but he still said, "Just reviewing a few documents on some laws I intend to implement with the camps. A letter from Delvon to respond to as well, perhaps. If he gets bored. Mor has promised to supervise a night out at Rita's."
"And does Cassian know that you've gone lax on him?"
Her brother scoffed. "Of course not."
Arwen hummed, amused by his meddling. Then she nearly dropped the spatula. "You asked me to bake those cookies! You absoluteâ" not having the word, she waved the utensil towards himâ "you knew he would eat them all. And here I was baking Azriel's favourite because I thought he might get one."
"I noticed that."
"You, my dear brother, are a plotter." Arwen shook her head with a grin. "Makes me wonder how many plans of yours I don't ever figure out. Care to inform me?"
He slid from the seat as she killed the flames of the stovetop, and extracted ceramic bowls painted black from an overhead cupboard. "I don't."
"Will you tell me the ones you're doing in the future? Maybe so I know to bake Cassian's favourite cookies instead of Azriel's, for example."
"You never tell me when you're plotting."
Arwen turned around to lean back against the benchtop as he finished collecting everything to set their meal on. They both knew he could have used magic to have it done within a second, but they both also appreciated the simplicity of doing it themselves. The synchronised movements that needed little thought so they could converse with busy hands. "Rhys, I do not plot. I flutter my lashes, and everything goes the way I want it to."
"Don't I know it," he snorted. "I remember when you were eight, you convinced me to take you flying in the middle of the night one winter. I tried to refuse."
Her lips tugged upwards. "We got caught in that blizzard."
"You loved the fact that I couldn't fly in a straight line." He folded his fists loosely, resting them on the edge of the table as he laughed softly. "All while I was panicking and didn't want to winnow in the air, but I couldn't even see the ground."
"I trusted you."
He shot his eyes wide, which only made her laugh. "Your lips were going blue, but you still managed to fucking laugh when I got caught in the wind."
"I remember when we finally got homeâmother screamed." Arwen couldn't even bring herself to feel terrible about it now. The memory belonged to the ones she held dear.
Rhysand shook his head, bringing a glass of amber liquid to his mouth and took a generous sip. "I'm certain the entire camp woke up and heard everything. I tried to tell her that I didn't know the blizzard was coming, but apparently, she didn't think that was a good excuse for taking my baby sister out flying in the middle of a winter's night."
"I think she even got a few wrinkles when you told her that I manipulated you into it."
He made a small gesture of a toast to her. "Because how could the heir to the Night Court, a warrior who has led a legion of Illyrian soldiers into one of Prythian's largest wars, a Prince of Night, ever be tricked by a little girl who still didn't know how to not make a mess when she ate?"
Arwen raised her hand, curving her pointer finger. "I had you both hooked around my finger."
"Then you had the audacity to crawl into my bed after and tell me you were cold."
"You were livid," she chuckled. "But I didn't care."
"To top it off, you continued to tease me the next day when I was put on muck duty for endangering you. Apparently, my misery was worse than yours."
"Rhys," she said softly. "Your misery will always be worse than my own."
Not in the amusing way. Not in the way that she could laugh at his misfortune. She understood full well the parts of his life that passed before her birth, and those after. She understood what weight his shoulders were burdened with where hers were not.
Arwen used to hide around corners, heart pattering painfully whenever their father would have Rhysand brought to him with scolding words. Rhysand would take it with a grim face, a nod of acknowledgement and leave like nothing more than a perfectly trained foot soldier. It would remain there even as he would take her hand, not saying a word, and drag her out of the house.
When she was too young to understand, she would pound her small fists against his hip until he told her what had happened, cheeks would wet with fretful tears. He would never tell her, of course. But she also, naively, loved it when they were in Velaris at the time because he would spend the rest of the day with her and buy whatever she pointed at. As she grew older, Arwen no longer asked but always waited around those corners, shrouded by the shadows.
His shoulders softened as he took a step toward her. Placing a hand on the far side of her face, he kissed her temple. "We don't compare those things. And you certainly do not minimise your own, Arwen."
In an effort to brush off the tenderness of the moment, she said, "You're always serious when you use my name."
They spent the day playing with cards, reading when talking grew tiresome, then as night fell, they turned to climbing the rooftop. Despite being summer, the nights were still with a chill and breeze so she sat against the rooftiles underneath a woollen blanket. Rhysand had attempted to reach for it in order to share its warmth only to receive her spluttering and repetitive slapping of his hand. He was promptly told to get his own.
The stars were just as awake as they were, blinking in a way that made her feel like they were saying hello. Part of Arwen was nervous that at any moment she would fall right through the roof of the cabin as she had in the town house, but knowing that the earth below would hold her settled enough confidence inside of her to deal with that fear.
"I give you everything," he declared. "I make sure you have a house, beautiful bedrooms in every home, cooked meals, Nuala and Cerridwen at your service. I let you do everything that you please to but when I ask to share your blanket, I get slapped away."
"Rhysand," she crooned, "Do I need to have a talk with you about expectations. Just because you do things for me does not mean I am required to give you anything back. Cauldron, we need to set this straight before you find a wife."
With a twitch of his finger, an invisible force stripped the blanket off her. Arwen scrambled to grab it before it fell over the edge of the roof and tucked it underneath her, so her weight held it down. Rhysand huffed a short laugh, but his eyes set back on the stars.
"Do you want a wife?"
Rhysand blinked, a subtle frown etching between his dark brows as he looked back across to her. He knew what she meant, for more than the words asked. Did he want to invite another person into his life that they both knew would make them a political target? Just as she had become. He decided to answer with his heart. "I do. Not for breeding or power, but I would like to have someone to love like that."
It hurt her heart to know that he felt a gap missing, wishing she was able to fill that void for him. But she knew that when that time came (for she was certain someone would find love in her brother), he would not need her as much anymore. That he would have someone closer, someone with a more intimate relationship with to rely upon. It was in no way jealously, as Arwen intended to welcome his choice with open arms, but perhaps something closer to grief. Their circle would widen, and she would lose a piece of him that would now belong to his chosen partner.
"My attention is not finite, sweetheart." Arwen broke from what had become a long stare at a single star, slowly turning her head back to the side where Rhysand was watching her. She felt the soft grace of his presence in her head. "You will not lose anything from me if that time ever comes."
Even as the daughter of a High Lord, Arwen had not had much stability in her youth. Not in the homes she stayed in, moving between cities and camps, between father and mother. She never knew if the next week she would be running through Velaris with her hair bouncing behind her, or stuck in the Court of Nightmares, putting in a brave face as she hid behind her mother's legs. Azriel, Cassian and Mor became lights in times shrouded in uncertainty but still she never knew if their visits would be in a week's time, or another year's.
Rhysand had always been that form for her. He was the pillar of familiarity that she could tether herself to.
She managed a meek smile and looked away. "I must sound like a clinging child."
"You sound like someone that I am blessed to have as my sister. We both know what the other end of the stick looks like." He reached behind her, fingers spidering out along the crown of her head, giving it something between a rough massage and scratch.
Arwen couldn't hold her gaze high. It was unspoken, but who he was talking about may as well have been highlighted by the stars themselves. Azriel's half-brothers weren't just unlikeable and crudeâthey were cruel. Rhysand and Cassian returned from the Court of Nightmares one day, shortly after being crowned the new High Lord, with their knuckles bloodied and scowls crafted so deep into their skin that even she baulked before finally asking them what had happened. As horrible as it sounded, she smiled at hearing how they had beaten Azriel's half-brothers down, breaking their wings. By the rumours, they still couldn't fly today.
"Are you going to talk to them tonight?"
Rhysand was looking towards her neck where she realised she had lifted her hand to, clinging gently to the small vial that now hung there, rarely ever taken off. "Am I going to talk to the stars?" she murmured, looking back up to the silver artwork against the dark canvas. "I don't think I need to. Are you?"
Rhysand huffed and leant back into his elbows, his fingers leaving the back of her hair in slight disarray. "I think I need to talk to them about my sister. She won't share anything with me, the ungrateful brat."
With a bitter mutter, Arwen pried the ends of the blanket from underneath her legs, scooted closer to him and flung the material over his body. "Tattling on me to the stars, Rhysie. That's just low. They're eternal, you know, and never forget anything."
"I don't think I need to tell them," he said, a tanned hand protruding from the blanket and tapping her nose. "They were watching down on us when you slapped me away."
Arwen's eyes turned wide like a deer caught in the forest, head snapping up. "I swear I'll be better," she promised those glittering lights. "You could have told me they were watching."
A resounding cough spluttered next to her ear. "You're upset at me for not telling you there were stars out?"
"Yes."
"Cauldron boil me. Fine then. Arwen, be careful because there are trees around, some flowers, and probably a few insects watching. Oh, and don't forget a few birds are awake during the night."
"Now you're just being condescending."
"Ah, what did it?"
"Everybody knows that flowers go to sleep at night."
"Now you're being condescending."
"Rhys... Flowers do close up at night. Most of them, anyways."
"I knew that."
Arwen leant against him, laughter that brought water to her eyes following. "I am so telling everybody that you didn't know that." Rhysand hugged his knees, muttering something along the lines of telling her to shut up. Eventually, as her laughter settled and a smile crept back onto his lips, he lifted one elbow to invite her inside his looped arms and she fell asleep on the rooftop of the cabin.