Chapter 25
Arwen had waved to Mor and Rhys who returned home moments before she left for Rita's. Cassian immediately pointed at her and accused her of sneaking off. Arwen smiled and told her brother she would be in town, needing a break from them. A vigorous gasp came from the warrior at Rhysand's smile and request to stay safe, not even a question of where she would be. Mor only scented at her new perfume, asking to borrow it another time. Cassian had then attempted to follow her out the door, insisting that he came along as he would be the life of whatever she was going to. Feigning forgetting something, she turned back around. He remained right at her shoulder, barely missing stepping on her heels but she managed to pass a look to Azriel who slipped into action and distracted him as she pretended to get something from upstairs. Then bolted.
Wrinkling her nose at the still storming sky, she opened her parasol, heels clicking along the stone street. Winnowing was now a potential transportation, but there was a bundle of nerves for the night ahead that Arwen wasn't confident it wouldn't rattle her off course. Rhysand promised her that they would go through training together, but he had been occupied for some time now and she didn't bother him when he did have the time to relax.
Lowering and shaking the parasol off as Arwen entered Rita's, she was met with a wave of warmth that came from the bodies packed inside. The weather turned more people inside to enjoy their night. Dancers paraded themselves in front of the musicians and others lingered in their seats. Hanging the parasol on a walled hook, she ran a hand through her hair to tame what the wind had dishevelled.
Arwen waved at Rita, then stumbled back as two fae too engrossed in each other to notice anything else crossed her path. Laughing it off, she searched the crowds for the baker. He was sitting near the bar, alone but chatting with a server with a drink already in hand, the other still bandaged. Instead of the white apron with stains and singes, he donned a beige tunic tucked into brown trousers of fitted make. Simple, but handsome.
Alone. She reminded herself that. She was here to meet another male alone.
Had it been actual interest in him that brought her here, or just that he seemed friendly that she didn't want to turn down the invitation? The latter wasn't a terrible reasonâArwen obviously wanted to be there.
A casual glance around had him seeing her on approach, brows and a smile raising. "Arwen," he greeted as she approached. It struck her that it was the first time he had said her name. "Let me buy you something to drink." He gestured to the server who waited.
"My mother always told me never to let a stranger buy you a drink and mothers are always right," she said, leaning her side against the table separating her and the inside of the bar area. The baker paused, taking a moment to mull over her suggestion.
He smiled. "Prius, my name is Prius. I've been waiting here a while, I'll have you know."
Arwen took the seat next to him and gave her favourite drink to the server. "I don't remember you giving me a time to arrive at. And I never promised to come at all. You might have been waiting here alone for the entire night had I decided not to."
"But you did," he pointed out. He sat facing her, elbow braced on the bench and had what seemed to be a permanent, boyish grin.
Arwen laughed and nodded to concede that she had indeed come to meet a stranger that she met that same day. "You're lucky that I managed to come alone. You might be in a meeting with Cassian if I hadn't gotten him off my back. He didn't like the idea of being left at home while I went into town."
Prius licked his lips, tipping his glass to peer inside of it. "Can't say the idea of being interrogated by the General Commander doesn't terrify me. Does he know that you're meeting me?"
"No." She laughed. "Then you'd be under investigation and I wouldn't be here until a full-scale report was given by Azriel."
"So you didn't tell the General Commander because you knew he wouldn't let you see me?" Prius drawled the words out and she could see the examination of his own position sitting there happening.
Arwen laughed again and shook her head. "I'm overplaying it. I didn't tell them because they would probably be all up on our business right now, wearing some kind of stupid disguise and sitting in a shadowed corner. Besides, it's not Cassian that you would have to worry about meeting."
"Should I take that as a warning?"
She paused. Her implication had been Azriel, but that certainly wasn't a conversation that she was willing to explore. "My brother is a High Lord," she crooned over the music. The server placed her drink down in front of her. "I'm surprised that was not the part that intimidated you."
Prius chuckled and took a long swig to finish his drink. "I think Rhysand is a wonderful High Lord but seeing as I have intentions with you then yes, your entire family terrifies me. Cassian has just come up more as he has a... louder presence."
Arwen's heart missed a beat at his words and she turned her head away to hide the soft blush that came with them. Turning back, she took her own sip for liquid courage. "I'm inclined to pre-apologise if I bring my family up a lot tonight, but I won't. They're everything to me."
"No," he said. "No, I think it's wonderful. I'm happy to listen to you talk about them all night."
The words hit her hard. There weren't many people that she talked to outside of her family to the point that talking about her family to them sounded exhausting but still every fibre of her body desired to. Prius offering to sit there and let her babble about the one thing she held unrelenting passion for felt...warm. It felt warm.
So she did. More drinks came as they drank over stories. At one point they abandoned them to merge onto the dancing floor, loosely dancing as a pair. Starting to sweat, Arwen took his hand and led him back towards a table. With enough alcohol in her system to lose thoughts of guard, and her fingers already latched with his, she perched on his thigh instead of taking the opposite chair.
"Make yourself comfortable then," he said, grinning.
"I'm the Princess of Velaris," she sang. "I don't need your permission to do anything."
"Ah, so it does exist when you reap the benefits of the title?" Arwen wound a loose arm around his neck and played with the loose strands on the unbraided side of his hair. His outside hand lay gentle on her thigh, the other at her lower back, making light strokes with the pad of his thumb. "So I can call you princess then?"
"No. No, definitely not. Not sweetheart eitherâthat's reserved for family." A name used upon her since before she could remember. "But I'm sure given enough time you could choose one yourself."
Prius smiled at her, their faces level. "I'm glad you said yes. Well, you said you might, but you came. When I told my brother I was meeting you, he didn't believe me."
"I'm not untouchable," she whispered, the music dying out before another song started. "Even Rhys is in here at least once a month, talking to strangers. He enjoys that barrier being broken down. It connects him to the city."
"I think it would be easier to ask the High Lord into courting," he snorted. "I see how they protect you. It does make you untouchable."
"They're not here now," Arwen murmured. "So you can touch me."
"I can."
Her lips twitched upwards as the hand on her thigh slid under the slit of the silk emerald, caressing bare skin. It curved around to the outer muscle, tightening and nudging her closerâdeeperâinto his lap until she could feel the response of his body being so close to hers. Arwen breathed deeper, expanding her chest upwards. His gaze shot down to appreciate, then slowly trailed back up. She lifted her unoccupied hand to the side of his face and leant closer. He stared at her lips but didn't move.
Arwen adjusted her hips in a feign for finding comfort.
He leaned in andâ
And sniffed her.
Arwen blinked, opening her eyes which had fallen shut on his approach. He sniffed again. Prius's eyes shot wide, his pupils dilating to their widest berth. Before she could ask what was wrong, he uttered, "You have a mate."
Oh.
Oh.
"I can smell the bond."
The sweat from dancing must have worn off the perfume. She hadn't even intended to hide it, not having thought about the scent she didn't register, for years. "I know," Arwen responded quietly. "But we're not together. We never have been."
"Who?"
"Does it matter?"
"If it's someone in another court that doesn't even know this city exists, then perhaps not but if they're here then yes, it most certainly does." Arwen bit at her lip and slouched. It was answer enough for him. "I'm sorry, Arwen." His hand slid back out from her dress and he urged her off his lap.
Arwen raked her hands through her hair, watching him extract his coin purse and tip out enough gold to cover their unpaid drinks. "Azriel wouldn't hurt you. I would make sure of it."
Prius froze, icy eyes lifting from his hand to her. "Azriel? As in the spymaster and shadowsinger?" She only swallowed the lump in her throat, wishing she could rewind time. A maniacal laugh followed. "Cauldron, I need to bathe and get your scent off me. You need to get mine off you."
Finally breaking from her own frozen mind, Arwen threw a hand out. "Are you seriously going to run because of some Illyrian that doesn't even want me? You asked me here knowing they already protected me."
"And I could pray that they'd at least have some logical sense if they're intelligent enough to run a court." Prius tapped his head. "But when it comes to mates, logic doesn't exist. It has nothing to do with you, but I've seen what males do to protect their mates. They go feral. There are enough stories of what this court's shadowsinger has done while he's under complete control to make me shiver. I can't be on the receiving end when he loses that control."
There was no moment for her to say anything more, to convince him to stay. Arwen wasn't sure she wanted to if he ran at the first sign of trouble. A slap in the face reminder that she didn't know him at all.
She turned away from the table, then back to it, fingers re-tangling in her hair to pull taut at her roots. Should she just leave? What would she say to the others when she returned home? Prius was at least right in suggesting that his scent was on herâand they would smell it. But admitting that she had someone abandon her, leaving her alone at Rita's was... Mortifying. Rhysand would look at her and she would see a brief flash of fury, and then the pity would come. A mate that doesn't want her. A mating bond that scared off anybody else.
"Mother above," she muttered and wiped her hands down her face in an act of resetting herself. Turning her body back to action, she gathered her arms around her stomach and set her eyes on the entrance to Rita's on the far end of the building.
Hot bodies danced through the height of the night. Arwen twisted her shoulders through them, stopping and curving around other wandering patrons.
She stumbled back, nearly twisting her ankle with her shoe's wobbling heel as a solid force knocked into her side.
"Whoa," the voice followed. "Hey there. So sorry about that. I think someone dancing knocked into me." Arwen looked over the High Fae male that had stretched out his hands towards her, catching her arm. He had pale skin, and striking blond hair down to his chest. A frozen dagger stabbed her heart.
She pushed his arm away, staggering backwards.
He looked likeâ
Heâ
He looked like Tamlin.
It had to be the conversation she had earlier that was still reeling in her mind. But the torment of the similarities shattered any composure she had left. The male reached out for her again, a soft smile turning into a frown. Arwen's throat tightened, as did her back. Pivoting, she bolted towards the door.
A wave of bodies from a newly entering group surrounded her, limbs crashing into every part of her. She swiped at them, clawing her way out as faceless bodies surrounded her. Touched her. Trapped her.
"Move!"
The bodies scattered at the dangerous command. Arwen stood still, her arms pulled tight to her chest.
Before her, the only person now daring to be anywhere within reach was Azriel.
He was the first to move closer, though Arwen waited no longer than a second after. His wings flared out, despite the risk of being barged into. His arms opened and Arwen fell into them. She ensnared his waist, hiding her face into the space under his chin. One of his scarred hands threaded through her hair, firmly cupping the nape of her neck, the other spanning across her lower back. At a strange stillness in the world, she tilted her head to peek out. Azriel's wings encircled them both, cutting the rest of the world out. Arwen tightened her arms, fisting the back of the tunic he had changed into.
"My back," she wheezed. "They wereâ"
"I know," his low voice cut in with the softness reserved for his family. His chest rose against hers, just as hard, as if her panic was his own.