Chapter 3
It was the day of Starfall.
Arwen barely contained herself all morning, singing around the House of Wind, biting into food then forgetting about it because she simply had energy bubbling through her that wanted somewhere to go.
Rhysand sat with Cassian in one of the main entertainment rooms, discussing a new development of houses to be built for the growing population of the hidden city. Arwen danced her way through the room in search of Mor. Rhysand watched her with a crooked smile, his stomach clenching with a silent laugh at the singing of his cousin's name. He was glad she still loved the day. It had always been her favourite and after the attack he feared that she would go into her shell. For the first few years, it had been somewhat the case, but she always came out in the end.
The High Lord became conscious of the tattoo marking their bargain that coiled around his bicep like a thorned cuff. A promise: a promise that they would never spend a Starfall apart, and if they did, she could ask anything of him and he had to oblige. After almost missing one, and realising that he'd never have another with his mother, the bargain was simply a symbol of a promise he made himself long before it was tattooed. Something she could look at and know. Something he could wear and in the few times he's seen the High Lord of the Spring Court since, show that they failed to take his sister too.
He rubbed the sleeve of his black shirt.
"Not sure why we bother keeping a calendar," Cassian remarked, leaning deep into the sofa. He had her half-eaten apple in hand that she discarded after greeting them only minutes before. He swore he saw her with something else to eat in her hand again.
"So we don't forget her birthday," Rhysand drawled. "It's the one thing she won't remind us of." Until the morning of with the ceremony of bounding onto his bed. The challenge had become to wake before her. "Speaking of, I can't think of what to do for her 200th."
Cassian snorted, biting into the apple. "It's still five years away, got plenty of time."
"One would think." And Rhysand had that exact thought for some time, until he did attempt one late, sleepless night to think of how to celebrate such a day. And his mind ran blank like it didn't exist. He, his sister and his mother had celebrated it with a beautiful party filled with song and dance and wine. Even eighty years past he still recalled it. He wanted hers to be just the same, if not better.
Arwen wrapped her arms around Mor. "I'll go tell the others to get ready." Mor chuckled in her leave as she bounded back to where her brother and Cassian sat. Arriving from behind the sofa, she wrung her arms around each of their necks. "We're going down to eat at the restaurant for lunch."
"It's not lunchtime," her brother pointed out.
Arwen paused. "Late morning meal then. Up. We're going now."
And that was all the command she needed for them to rise and stretch. Too easy, her mind told her. Arms swinging by her sides, she gave a moment of thought to the bond. It led her where it needed to and soon Arwen was knocking on the closed door of one of the small studies. Inside, Azriel sat with a book, elbows braced against his knees.
She came to stand in front of him and plucked the book, laying it on the nearby desk face down so the page was kept.
"I was reading that."
"I'm aware. I did not think I gave the impression of being blind."
Azriel watched her through his lashes, trailing his gaze across each of her limbs. His shadows whispered fervently in his ears, one even moving to coil around her ankle, threatening to slip up under the material of her dress. For both their sakes, he silently commanded it back. Though they didn't always listen, it did this time.
"We're going down to the Sidra to eat. You're coming."
Azriel tipped his head, voice cracking as he prepared an argument against her demand. But nothing came. Nothing came because he did not want to argue. "When?"
"Now."
That was all he needed. Arwen took a step back as he suddenly stood before her, towering in height. "Lead the way." She stared at him for a moment, looking up and down as he had done to her. Then, she smiled and gestured to follow with her head. He walked just behind her shoulder the entire way, his shadows carrying the weight of lead over her.
To her delight, Cassian, Rhysand, and Mor were already waiting for her and Azriel on the small pavilion that they took flight from. Arwen headed straight to her brother, hooking her arms around his neck and let her weight drop.
Rhysand grunted and leant forward at her weight. "Alright, you impatient rascal." Arwen simply laughed as he heaved her from the floor, the black hair and violet eyes shimmering as though a starlit reflection of one another. Mor allowed Cassian to sweep her from the floor, leaving Azriel empty-handed, but unburdened. "Amren will meet us there."
Rhys, with his eager sister in his arms, took flight first. He curved through the air, swerving and spinning and gliding. What should have been a simple flight straight down became a bee's line. Arwen let one hand drift out to the side, watching how the wind shook her fingers. He smiled down at her, knowing that he could at least give her that sense againâthe sensation of flying. He would stay awake all night, flying over Velaris and even the length of Prythian if she asked.
Arwen's head filled with only the thoughts of that day. The food, the flying, the coming night. Even when they landed near the Sidra and her feet touched the ground once more there was no remorse that she was not still in the air. It was her favourite restaurant after all.
"Sevenda!" she called to the owner. The High Fae woman with doe brown eyes opened her arms and pulled the High Lord's sister into them, placing a kiss on either of her cheeks. "I hope we're not too early."
"No, of course not," the woman dismissive with a quick wave. "Sit. Sit wherever you'd like."
Arwen grins and heads towards a large, rounded table in front of the store that overlooked the glistening river. Rhysand is greeted next, receiving identical treatment. Cassian and Mor happily went after him, and even Azriel stayed waiting. Just before he sat, Amren appeared. There was a soft, but derisive smile on her face. Sevenda bowed in greeting.
In the next twenty minutes, plates of food appeared in front of them, all except for Amren who had blood poured in a crystalline cup. She swirled and grinned down at it, sharing her great thanks to Sevenda. Arwen turned her gaze away as she drank, not so keen on seeing blood being guzzled. The table filled with somewhat merry conversation, drifting here and there into smaller ones. Arwen chewed contently on her fish and after finishing it all, used the prongs of her fork to steal some cut chicken from her brother's plate when he looked elsewhere. She had an inkling he was aware.
Rhysand was very well aware.
"You're still hungry?"
Caught with chicken in her mouth, she looked to her right where Azriel sat next to her, smiling with a brow raised in question. "Is that a problem?" she demanded after swallowing, tone ringing with the same mirth as his.
One side of his lips raised towards his cheekbone, blinking between her and the table. "No," he answered. Then, almost cautiously, he placed his hand on his own plate and pushed it towards her. "Take mine, I'm not that hungry."
It was a salad, also with chicken. "Not that hungry?" she said. "If you're still hungry, I'll just pick at any leftovers."
Azriel looked down at the plate that had a slightly concaved rim. "I'm not hungry anymore," he corrected. "Or at least not as much as Rhys will be after he only has half a meal."
It was significant to her, even if in all social customs it was not considered so. A female making and offering food to her mate was a sign of acceptance. Accepting his meal felt so much like a derivative of such ceremony. But she was hungry, he was her friend, and he was offering her food. Many years prior she called him a brother in all but blood. When the mating bond snapped, calling him brother made bile curdled in her throat.
"Then I don't want to hear any complaints coming from you when you get hungry early."
"I never complain."
"Aloud."
She had caught him there. Though a scrutinised argument might bring a few cases of his spoken complaints to light from good memory, most of it was spent with his shadows. Not that he ever really talked out loud to themânot unless he had a truly horrid dayâbut they were his companions. The only things that had been at his side longer than anybody at that table.
His gaze lingered longer than it should have as she used his fork and discarded her own. She pierced a tomato and tear of lettuce, bringing it to her lips. In all honesty, he was starving. He'd barely gotten through it when he saw she had scoffed down her own. He contemplated requesting a second meal, but it would have been smarter to ask one for her rather than lie and then proceed to prove his that very lie. He hadn't had reasoning in his head when he thought of his mate, however. He saw she was hungry, and the answer was in front of him.
He watched as a metal prong formed a small valley in the middle of her bottom lip as she left it there whilst she chewed. When she swallowed, he watched her throat move and her chest heave to take a needed breath of air. Azriel forced himself to look away, favouring the river instead.
Xx
Arwen was more than happy with her choice of dress this year. It was a dark blue like the one she had found in the store with Cassian. Rather than an open back, it favoured a steep neckline. The sleeves were nothing more than two loose hangings of fabric that were sewn to each shoulder then cinched back with a wrist cuff. Elegant.
Her raven hair hung loosely around her shoulders, fluffed from a fresh wash. A golden circlet, plain in craft yet just as elegant as the dress sat upon her head, the slight point like an arrow down her forehead.
It was night, and the stars greeted them in the way that stars talked. Arwen braced her hands on the balcony's railing, staring up at them as the others mingled behind her, waiting for the fall to begin. Her mouth moved in inaudible whispers.
Rhysand rested his side against the railing as his sister whispered words that didn't reach his ear. "What are you doing?"
She turned to him, and he saw the stars' reflection in her eye. "Talking," she answered.
He battled a frown. "To who?"
Arwen looked at him like the answer was obvious. "The stars, Rhys." Instinctively, his eyes fled to the sky above them. "Didn't you see Mother always talking to them? They listen to us, at least, I like to think that they do."
He had seen his mother whisper to herself, but he never questioned it. It had always simply looked like a prayer to him, but Arwen spoke like she conversed with themâthat they did answer her. He turned his front against the railing next to his sister. "What do they tell you?"
"That's between me and the stars, Brother."
He laughed down into her ear. "Can I talk to them, too?"
She tipped her head. "I don't know, they're pretty busy this time of year. But I suppose you are the High Lord of the Night Court and the night is when they dance so perhaps they will answer you."
Rhysand laughed again and leaned straight. "I will talk with them later, because right now I am happy with the company I have."
Starfall had begun. Lights streaked through the air, leaving a trail of stardust in their wake. The heads of all the Night Court, even those in Hewn City who left their miserable homes for the night looked up. Arwen couldn't see enough of it. Some splattered down across the city, painting roofs with the iridescent essence.
One splattered in front of them, painting the railings and their hands. The siblings laughed freely. Rhysand pulled a short dagger from his side and Arwen watched as he used it as a palette knife to scrap the star's essence from the railing. Then he pulled a small vial from another pocket and thumbed the stopped off. He wiped the blade across the opening and the essence dripped in.
"Your present," he told her. She had forgotten. "This way you'll always have Starfall with you." The vial was coated in the opalescent blue-green. It was delicate and small, hanging from a thin silver chair. The lid was also silver and the folded rim resembled a pattern of lace. "Am I forgiven?" Arwen stared at the vial, forgetting to answer. She took it from his palm and ran her thumb across the glass. Rhysand knew he had his answer. "I'll have to take it back tonight to have it preserved with an enchantment."
For now, she placed the chain around her neck and clung to it. It was far better than anything he could buy in the Palaces. "Thank you." Her arms engulfed his middle, head against his chest. Rhysand smiled to himself, placing his chin on the crown of her head and watched the rest of Starfall.
Late that night, the celebrations over and the wine glasses empty, everybody slowly moved back to their own spaces. Arwen had stayed in the townhouse for a few nights prior and chose that the House of Wind would be a fine enough place to sleep. By coincidence of their chambers being nearby, Azriel and Arwen walked together back to their respective bedrooms. Her fingers were wrapped around the new necklace, noting that her brother forgot to take it, but it would be fine until morning.
"You looked beautiful tonight."
She looked at him twice. "Thank you," she whispered. Azriel looked handsome as well, but she couldn't admit it. He always did, to the point where it irritated her to look at him. "I'm sad that it's over. I'll have to wait another year again."
"We've got plenty of them," he sang in his low voice. "That is the benefit of being immortal. And I see that you have a piece of it with you too."
They had reached her door. Arwen stood out the front of it, eyes dropping to her chest. "Yes," she affirmed. "Rhysand is going to have it preserved for me. Some enchantment."
"Did he buy your forgiveness then?"
"He bought a pretend of it. He didn't need my forgiveness to begin with."
They had talked through the night, but amongst others with wine in their hands. Now, they were alone in a hall. Azriel traced down her neck, to the valley between her breasts where the necklace hung. He reached out, forgetting the scars of his hands and plucked it gently away from her skin.
Arwen swallowed and watched him run his thumb along it as she had. She felt so bare in front of him, yet not bare enough and wanted to slip from the dress. She didn't even flinch when his knuckles brushed against the open curve of her breast.
Azriel was too aware of what he was doing and suddenly the blur that covered his scarred hands and the proximity of them against her became all too real. He dropped the vial, the backs of his fingers running down another inch towards her navel and sternum. He wasn't sure if he wanted to make his hands go back higher or keep travelling lower.
Both.
He wanted both at once.
Azriel forced himself to step back. The shadows weren't even whispering in his ears. He prayedâand he never prayedâthat she wouldn't look down. He didn't know how to leave. He both desperately wanted to, his mind scouring for an excuse, and wanted nothing more than to stay. The choice wasn't made by him.
Arwen took a step closer to her door, hand going back around her necklace. "Goodnight, Azriel." Firm, but not uncaring. She unlocked her door and slipped in but by the time she peeked back as she closed it, he was gone. Arwen stood in front of her mirror and looked herself over. Her hand raised to the spot he touched her. She imagined that it was him again, tipping her head back and closing her eyes. Her fingers splayed under the material of the dress, wondering how their roughened feel would compare to her own softer skin. She slipped each shoulder of her dress off, letting it pile at her feet.
Arwen opened her eyes once more and stared at her reflection. Slowly, she twisted her shoulders and gazed over her back. The scars were like two horrendous chunks of skin had been cut out, because that was almost exactly what happened. There was nothing left, not even stumps. The knife had dug so deeply, pulling her wings from their roots. Madja had done the best she could but most of her healing had been done in the camp where her brother was training the new legion.
Her door opened with a creak of warning. "I forgot toâ" Arwen's eyes rounded like an owl's as the door suddenly slammed shut, her entire room shaking under her feet. With cheeks of fire, she quickly tugged the dress back on and stormed to her door. Surprisingly, there were no cracks in the wood.
Peeling it open, a sheepish Rhysand stood on the other side, lips pursed so tightly that they hid between his teeth. Fisting her hand she rapped her knuckles once, but hard, against his forehead. "Knock," she drawled loudly.
He waved a finger. "Lesson learnt. Trust me." With the same finger, he pointed it at her chest, but averted his eyes. "I justâthe necklace. I'll have it enchanted." Sighing, she unhooked it from her neck. At least he had walked in after she had finished touching at herself. She wouldn't have come out if he saw such a thing. The necklace fell into his blind hand. Rhysand furled his fingers around it, finally meeting her eyes again. They softened. "Are you alright?"
Arwen nodded silently. She was fine. She would always be fine. But it was the anniversary of that night. Ten years. A long time to a mortal, barely anything to them. "I hate today."
She loved Starfall. She loved watching the spirits move across the sky. She loved Velaris and the Night Court. She loved her brother, the High Lord.
But she hated what happened. She hated today.
Rhysand crossed his arms and leant his side against the wall next to her door. He nodded towards the inside. "Go get something comfortable on. I'll make us some hot tea down at the townhouse." Arwen didn't move at first, but then suddenly swept herself away into her chamber and emerged minutes later wearing loose pants and a shirt. Rhysand led her down towards the pavilion, one arm around her shoulder, the other hanging by his side with the softly glowing light of the star, hanging from the chain linked around his fingers, shining against the dark siblings.