Chapter 23
Arwen peeked her eyes open to spy the rumbling storm clouds in the distance. They were such a lively, vibrant grey that she knew that by the later afternoon Velaris would be under pelting rain and lightning.
"Close your eyes," Amren's shrill voice snapped.
Arwen nearly leapt from the top of the hill they were perched on, forgetting that she was being watched. Tightening her folded legs, she placed her hands on her knees and closed her eyes once more.
"If you don't do as I say, you'll never learn."
Arwen formed a wrinkle in her brows and with her eyes still closed, asked, "Were you this mean to Rhys when you were training him?" Arwen had been around when Amren assisted Rhysand in honing his power, and even more so now that the power of the High Lord of the Night Court transferred to him but she had never seen their training sessions. He had come home one day though, grumbling something about how Amren was lucky he didn't mist her. Not that Arwen was sure that was possible.
"Worse," Amren answered. "Consider yourself lucky."
For what it was worth, she did. Amren continued instructing her breathing, then for her to remove the moonstone ring. Arwen did so blindly, not yet receiving the order to open her eyes but told to let the magic take hold in her. She waited, and waited. And waited.
"Ouch!" Arwen opened her eyes again, reaching to clutch at her chest. The guilty weaponâa stone the size of her fistâhad dropped into her lap. "Why did you throw that at me?"
"If you were doing as I told, it would have gone right through you and you wouldn't have felt a thing." Amren opened her palm and the rock appeared in it. "Now close your eyes."
Arwen gave the area on her chest a second rub of discontent but was too terrified to say anything more. Even Rhysand wouldn't protect her from Amren's wrath.
Her day had begun with training reinstated. Not that she was given any warning, other than the five minutes that morning when Cassian barged into her room and demanded for her downstairs and ready to go. It was quickly evident how out of shape just a few weeks of missing training had made her as Cassian drilled her into the ground. Rhysand and Azriel had joined too, but kept to their own training on the other side of the rooftop.
As if they would be in trouble for her not being in shape.
Arwen had barely gotten a quick snack in before Amren came to claim her for a different type of training. They stayed on the barren hilltop for hours. Though Arwen debated convincing Rhysand to send her back to the prison, by the end of the day, she had a margin more of control. Enough that half the time that rock was pegged at her, it went straight through. Commanding her body back to something tangible, however, came with more difficulty.
By the time Amren allowed Arwen to leave, her chest had a bruise qualifying a healer's soothing balm. One that she knew they had run out of since they used it almost every day with training. So Arwen, practising her winnowing, took herself into Velaris in search of Majda's healing quarters.
The winnowing was a somewhat success, landing in the district close by. The thunderclouds were now directly overhead, leaving the city under a haze of gloom. By the time she reached the green-painted door, light pattering rain formed beads across her hair.
Directly inside the healer's quarters was the main treatment room. It was wide and square, with cut off areas with privacy sheets. There was a back-end chamber where Madja stored her remedies from the apothecary and another chamber for patients she kept overnight.
It was particularly empty this day, with only one other High Fae male being treated. Madja, the ancient but kind woman who Rhysand favoured over any other healer in the city, tended to the male, instructing the use of a cream. The male, handsome with long brown hair that was braided on one side to his head, nodded, smiling coyishly. The apron with stains on it told her that he was a baker. His left hand was bandaged.
"Arwen dear," Majda called. "I'll be with you in just a moment."
"No rush."
Arwen sat down on one of the cushioned chairs and watched the baker and healer. The male glanced her way then back at the healer. Then back at her. Arwen continued smiling, making a raise of her brows and looking down to his hand.
"Burnt it," he said as Madja finished informing him. He held the cream in his uninjured hand. Madja shuffled over to Arwen who just asked for the bruising cream they so often purchased from her. "My mother thinks I'm incapable of using the oven and like always, I think she's right."
Laughing, she said, "They always are."
The male made an expression of exhaustion but laughed with her. "So what brings the Princess of Velaris down to Majda's?"
Her jaw unlocked. "Princess of Velaris? Is that what people are calling me?" She'd have to knock Cassian up the backside of his head if it was him that got the title spread around. It was rather ridiculous.
"It's what I'm calling you."
"Ah." She grinned. "So it is flattery."
He grinned back. "You sound like you abhor such a concept."
"Everybody that uses flattery has something to gain from it. I just intend to know exactly what." Arwen leant back into the seat, crossing one knee over the other. "So tell me, what is your excuse for flattering me?"
"Because you're exquisite." She barely smothered her bark of surprise. The baker, whose name she still did not know, at least seemed to gain a sense of consciousness and ducked his head, a blush cresting his pointed ears but a laugh informed her that he wasn't entirely shy.
"So it is my attention you are after," she crooned. The idea wasn't new, having males press themselves into her company, hoping to be the one she laid eyes on and be welcomed into the inner workings of her brother's court. It was a careful game she had to play, and one that she never thought she would again after the mating bond. But seeing how that had worked out...
"I'm sorry," he said, still smiling. "I'm not usually a forward person. But I figured that if I was going to talk to the Princess of Velaris then I wouldn't hold back. I assumed once you walk out of here, what are the chances of running into you again?"
"Considering I live in the city and make public appearances, probably not as low as you're imagining."
"You've been a recluse for quite some time now."
Arwen glanced down at her shoes. She couldn't tell if he had pieced together why that had been, but thankfully he never said so aloud if he did. "There's no such thing as a Princess in the Night Court, you know?" she said, veering the topic elsewhere.
"I've heard the General Commander call you that before."
Rolling her eyes, she leaned her head against the wall behind the chair. Of course that was Cassian's fault. Arwen had no title other than third in chargeâa conversation she and her brother specifically had. She did not desire to be caught in politics beyond association. She helped with duties here and there to ease their shoulders when in need, but it wasn't a burden she wanted to personally bare. There was a freedom to not have responsibilities of court on oneself. Being called a princess by Cassian had started as a taunt, but if people of the city started to call her as such, they'd put importance on her name. An importance she did not want to carry.
"Cassian has nicknames for everybody that he meets. He thinks I'm spoilt so that became mine."
"Are you?"
"Most certainly."
Arwen and the baker threw their heads back in laughter as Madja returned from her back-end chamber with three pots of bruising balm. Balancing them in her arms, she angled her head towards the baker to say goodbye, but he was on his feet and brushed past her, holding the entrance door open. The rain was growing heavier, a clash of thunder echoing somewhere in the distance.
"Thank you."
He gestured down to her bundle. "Do I want to ask why?"
"Illyrians are trained not to hold back even in training. We tend to end up with a few bruises along the way." She was not going to admit that a tiny female had been pegging a rock at her chest for two hours and done nothing about it.
The baker anchored his hands inside his pockets, walking alongside her. Arwen was headed towards the townhouse, unsure whether he was following her or conveniently going in the same direction. "Do you train with them?"
He was full of questions, this one. "I do," she answered. "I've taken a few breaks recently but I'm just starting to get back into it."
"And does the General Commander train you himself?"
"He's in charge of my training, yes. But also with my brother and Azriel."
"You spend much time with themâthe spymaster and the general?"
Arwen stopped in the middle of the street and turned to him. "I'm beginning to think you're a spy, baker," she mused, humming behind her lips. "Asking me questions about how the Inner Circle spend their time together."
He leant forward with a slight bend in his knee, lips twisting. "If I was spying, I would be asking about the High Lord, too." She continued staring at him, not following the insinuation she was sure was there. He coughed a laugh. "You're close with the General Commander. I'm asking whether you and he areâ"
"Oh!" Arwen broke into a fit of laughter, stepping back to regain her balance. Her chest cried in pain at the movement. "No, definitely not." She leant down, wiping her left eye with her shoulder.
The male nodded with another coy smile. "The laughter was a good indicator. Just wanted to make sure he wouldn't cut my ears off for talking with you."
Continuing walking she asked, "So is that the latest rumouring? That the General Commander and I are wooing each other into bed? I'm not sure what he'd make of that."
"You're shockingly blind, I must say."
She stopped again with an upfront expression. "Excuse me? I know Cassian far better than you do. And I can say with the utmost certainty that he does not feel that way about me andâ"
"But I do."
"Excuse me?" Arwen wasn't sure why it had come as such a shock. She even came to its conclusion within seconds of their initial interaction, but the thought swept away as they started talking and the flattery died out. It always happened that way; moving the conversation to the male members of her family, forgetting that she was anything but their gateway. Something she would entertain for as long as it amused her. But this baker, whose name she still did not know, was only enquiring into her circle to see if she was without a companion. His attentions were actually on her. "I'm sorry," she blustered out. "That was rude."
"No, no. I was obnoxiously forward." He gave a wince for show, then blinked up towards the sky which was freely opening down on them. "I... I was thinking about going to Rita's tonight. I know you go there often so I was wondering if maybe you'd be there tonight?"
"Oh, I wasn't planning..." Arwen shut her mouth, then opened it again. "I might fit it in my schedule."
"Good." He smiled, rolling his lips inwards. "So I might see you there?"
She nodded twice, twisting her own lips into a smile. "You might."
"Good," he repeated, then began to step away in a new direction but still facing her. "I'm looking forward to it."
Arwen rested her weight on one foot, jutting out her hip, still carrying the jars in her arms. "Still a might," she reminded him through a chuckle. The baker bowed his head in acceptance and slowly pivoted to face his path ahead. Arwen remained where she stood for a moment more to watch him, strangely baffled by the interaction. "Wait!" He stopped, turning back to her on his feel. "What's your name?"
His lips widened into a charming grin. "Come tonight and I might tell you."
Not waiting to see her reaction, he turned back around and started to jog out of the rain down the adjacent lane. Arwen stood there dumbly until a large droplet of water in her eye broke her daze and she winnowed to the town house.