Chapter 29
Arwen plucked a glass of wine the shade of blood as she meandered through the throne room. The High Fae looked at her, some moving out of her way, others remaining in place until her shoulder knocked into theirs and finally they bowed their heads and shuffled out of her path. But it was the eyes on her back that was new. It made her skin itch as though she was feeling the pressure of their gaze examining the marring of her skin.
They knew the story. Most of the Night Court did and those that didn't hadn't been around long enough to hear it.
Arwen reached Cassian who adjusted his shoulders at the sight of her, but she only passed him a sly smile before continuing. Her lips remained with their uplift as she careened herself to Lucien's side, joining him in watching the rest of the court.
"You may find this place cruel, but you have to admit that at least we know how to throw a party," she said, glimpsing at him from the corner of her eye.
"I'm afraid I must say that it will never compare to what my h... What the Autumn Court throws tonight. Every person takes to the streets to celebrate."
"I would never seek to compare it," she replied. Lucien offered her back a tight smile. "This is a party, you know. You do not have to stand here and brood the entire evening. My brother is kind enough to allow you to enjoy yourself before things become dirty."
Lucien kept his eyes glued outwards. "That is your idea of kindness?"
"Does it look like there is much kindness in this place?" Arwen huffed and crossed one arm against her navel, holding it in place with the elbow of the arm still holding her wine. "It was kindness of him to not go down to the Spring Court upon receiving your letter and cut off the head of your High Lord for thinking he was even in the position to want to arrange a meeting. And trust me, he contemplated it."
Lucien finally looked to her, and at the empty space around her shoulders. The last time they had met, she had wings. He opened his mouth and Arwen knew an apology was rising from it. But he could not apologise for his High Lord. Nor could he, so new to the role, make known any disagreement to his new master.
"I am glad that you left your court," she declared. "It was about time by my mind. It's just disappointing which way you went."
"Glad?" Her cheeks tightened at the strained word of response. She unfolded her arms as Lucien turned to her. His throat bobbed and the tips of pointed ears redden to the colour of his hair. "I didn't just stroll out of my home. I ran because my father slaughtered the female I loved right in front of my eyes. I had nowhere else to go but Spring. Tamlin was the only one brave enough to take me in and risk my father's fury following."
Arwen's throat turned dry, a hand clenching her stomach. But before she could say anything, Lucien turned away from her and marched out of the throne room. She watched him go, disappointed in herself for not making her feet follow.
Losing her appetite, she placed the barely touched wine down on a servant's tray passing by. No one approached her as she stood there just off the main dance floor, even as she watched them gracefully glide around.
As one song ended and another began, couples moved off the floor for respite, others taking their place. Through the gaps of their forms, Arwen caught sight of the azure glow of a siphon. With a flaring nose, she turned her head away. But something pulled it back.
Ianthe stood next to Azriel, her front almost to his side. She was speaking to him, but Azriel looked in a distant direction, with only short, muttered responses. Ianthe's hand rose, long fingers sensually moving to dust over the front of his leathers, across his chest. His shadows swirled in the way that Arwen knew them to whenever he was uncomfortable. Ianthe touched the siphon embedded there which flared in response. Azriel looked down at her, a snarl forming.
And Arwen was already halfway to them by the time it happened.
"I've been looking for you everywhere," Arwen sang lowly as she approached. Azriel's head snapped to her, and Ianthe turned only her eyes away from the shadowsinger. "Azriel has promised me my first dance of the night. I hope I'm not interrupting but he always keeps his promises."
Arwen did not look at the other female's hand as it possessively drifted down to his stomach. "I was just asking him for one myself," the High Priestess said. "Perhaps he will take you after he's satisfied me."
Arwen stepped forward, not yet touching Azriel but close enough to state her position. "Be careful, Ianthe. Desperation is a horrid scent."
Ianthe straightened, a blaze of red crossing her cheeks. Arwen grinned, claiming a second victory tonight as the High Priestess's hand dropped from the stomach of Arwen's mate. "I believe Azriel can speak for himself."
Arwen turned her head in silent answer towards him as Ianthe formed a gaze of longing desire. Azriel looked only at Ianthe but moved the half-step closer to Arwen. A hand slid around her waist and she turned closer into his side, placing her hand exactly where Ianthe's had been seconds ago on the cool leather at his stomach. "I can," said Azriel.
As Ianthe read the loss of her situation, Azriel's fingers made small strokes at the bare skin of Arwen's lower back.
"I see," Ianthe murmured. "How many males here have you as their charm, hanging from their arm?"
"Just the three," Arwen answered through a smile. "You may try on Cassian next if that is your wish. I shall rather enjoy seeing it."
Her eyes glistened with a flame's reflection. "I do not care for that bastard," she spat.
Arwen's jaw rippled with a clench. At the flex of muscle under her hand, she pushed against Azriel's surge forward, keeping him planted at her side as Ianthe slithered away. "It is not worth a fight," she whispered. "Cassian does not care for the opinions of people like her."
"I should inform Rhys," he muttered as they turned towards each other. "She is a guest here at his will."
"A guest with purpose," she reminded him. "Trust me, Rhys is aware that she has ulterior intentions for being here. It seems you and my brother have become the tokens of her attention. If it gets out of hand, he will do something. Until then, we have restraint."
Azriel glared over her shoulder, his hand still resting on the hollow of her back. "Thank you. For coming over."
"Trust me, it was my pleasure." Azriel continued to stand close to her, the hand on her back with enough pressure to tell her that he desired her closeness. "Azriel, are you alright? Did she say something to you?"
"I'm fine, she was just... touching me," he admitted, and Arwen sighed in understanding. "Would you like that dance?"
Blinking, Arwen glanced around and listened to the slowing end of a song. Lucien had left. Rhys still sat perched on his throne, talking to a courtier or lord. Cassian was occupied sneering. "You wish to dance?"
"I do."
They hadn't spoken properly in days. Not beyond passing comments. But that had been the pattern for the past ten years. If she was going to live with him, she would do it as happily as she could. Arwen opened her palm in the narrow space between them. "Then lead the way."
He slipped his scarred hand into hers and led her onto the main centre of the floor. They fell into a smooth rhythm, both accustomed to the type of dance it called for. She was always and continued to be, surprised though at how natural a dancer he was.
"You look beautiful tonight," he said.
Arwen tightened her lips. "Please do not bother with flattery, Azriel. I do not need it from you."
She caught his frown as they swept past other dancers. "I merely wished to compliment you."
"I do not need that either." She set her eyes to the side, watching the path of their oncoming steps. "It becomes confusing, whether you mean them or not. It is easier to simply believe that you do not mean them at all than figure it out."
"I'm... I'm not certain where this is coming from." Arwen felt the search of his eyes along her face. It almost drowned out the sensation of the eyes on her back. "I don't know where you have gotten the idea that I have ever lied to you."
She spun under his arm, facing his back with only a hand clasped until he followed the steps to turn and face her. "Then you only make me more confused. Why bother telling me I look beautiful then? What good does it do either of us?"
His hands spun her around until her back pressed against his chest. "Because you are beautiful, Arwen. And I fear that it is not a thought you have of yourself enough."
Confusion prickled on her face. But not just confusion; frustration too. "What is it then?" They stepped forward, then back together. "If you think I am beautiful, do you think me not kind? Am I not graceful... Or is there someone else that I do not know of?"
"Not kind?" Azriel spun her back around, his face as fretful as her own, mouth parted. "I think you are one of the kindest souls this world has to offer."
Arwen tore her hands from him, stopping their dance. Bodies glided around them, ignoring the disruption. "Then why?" She had refused to listen to him before, but now she had to know. It was nowâand she would demand itâthat he would give her the answers she sought. On her own terms. "I remember that day, where you fell to your damn knees and begged to the Mother to change her mind. I have come up with many reasons why but I am at a loss, Azriel."
'Arwen.'
She blocked out her brother's call. He could watch. The people of Hewn City could watch. Arwen didn't care anymore. They saw the scars on her back, the deepest marks of shame she carried. Her mate's rejection was nothing.
As she stared at Azriel's face, panting, and waiting, something broke on it. A sorrow, a guiltâmaybe both. His voice was hoarse. "I begged to the Mother because I did not want to accept what it meant. What it meant for you."
"Me?" she croaked.
"Mates are equals. Equal in every way." He was pleading with her now. It was like her heels had melted into the stone, unable to move away. Azriel moved closer, his fingers dusting over her forearm. The dancers around them kept moving, the music preventing their voices from being carried. It was a wonder how Rhysand noticed them from afar.
Her brows pressed into a downwards point. "You do not consider us equal?"
Azriel looked away, his own shame bubbling across his face. "I cannot accept that you are equal to me. Not you, Arwen, not with what I have done. I have too much blood on my hands."
Not you. Anyone but you. Not Arwen
"You consider yourself inferior to me," she whispered. She wasn't sure if the crack in her throat or her heart were louder. "You do not wish to be my mate because you think you are not good enough?"
Azriel only breathed out and nodded.
Arwen rolled her jaw. This was not the place for this conversation. "You stole that choice away from me." He remained deathly still, as if he knew that moving a single inch might warrant her order of execution. "I am the only one who gets to decide what and who is good enough for me. You have denied me my mate by making an assumption on a choice you never gave me a moment to consider myself. Enjoy your night, Azriel."
She turned, people parting out of her way as she headed back to the throne, thoroughly over the temptations of the party. Rhysand waved his hand in dismissal to his current audience, his attention already diverted to her.
"Do I need to ask what that was?" he inquired lowly as she settled at his side.
Arwen looked down at him, waiting for the probe in her mind and when it came, she opened the memory for him. Rhysand stared at her as he played through it, then looked back out to the throne room.
"I will talk to him. But... But it does make more sense to me now."
"Don't bother," she said, her voice sore and rasping. "I don't feel anything for him beyond the bond. It is not worth making a fuss over. I just wish he had given me the choice of opening up to it. Perhaps given me the chance to learn if I might love him. He fucked up, Rhys. I will not spend my time trying to convince someone to accept me." At least know she knew it wasn't a flaw of her own that was the ignition for their demise.
He took her hand, squeezing the length of her fingers. "Why don't you find Cassian? Keep him out of trouble for the night."
"I think I will retire instead." Arwen strode forward to the edge of the dais, turned back and bowed. "Goodnight, brother."
Rhysand bowed his head with a soft blink. It brought a smile, for what it meant. I bow to you just as you bow to me.