Chapter 31
Arwen tugged at the long, midnight blue sleeves to straighten the slight folds at her elbows. The neck sat like a high collar, close to her neck and there was not a single slit in the fabric.
She was late. Not enough to be obnoxious, but enough that Rhysand sought out her mind to inform her that they were awaiting on her presence. Ianthe was pushing for them to start without Arwen. And that wouldn't do.
Upon reaching the ornate wooden door with obsidian vines of metal swirling across it, she strode into the council hall. Each wall in the long room inside held bookshelves and cabinets filled with maps and artifacts from centuries of High Lords' meetings and conquests. Not that anything of significance would ever be kept there in the Court of Nightmares, but there was enough that foreign emissaries such as the one they hosted would easily note the collection of victories.
Extending well into two-thirds of the chamber's length, was a marble table. The black stone had flecks of silver, a mirror of the night sky. Sitting on one side were Lucien and Ianthe, both stiff and becoming even more so at Arwen's entrance. On the other side of the table, Cassian and Azriel sat on either side of Rhysand. Her brother, the theatrical male he was, had his crown adorning his head and his arms threaded through on of his best jackets.
Ianthe's attention on Arwen lasted a mere second before shifting back to the male directly across from her. Azriel.
"Sister," Rhysand greeted coolly, something between a performance and true annoyance at her tardiness. But he wouldn't reprimand her in front of themâthey had an image of being united, after all.
"You may place blame on Cassian," she replied, a hand settling on her brother's shoulder as she arrived at his side. "He had me up all night."
Cassian bared his teeth in a grin, a flex in his wings to lengthen them. Arwen kept her smile trained and moved from one side of Rhysand's chair to the other, looking down at Azriel. Then at Ianthe directly across from him.
"Azriel." Azriel cocked his head to the left where she stood just behind his shoulder. "I believe I'm always seated to Rhysand's right."
A generous lie. Though sometimes that is where she fell, out of comfort and familiarity it was by no formal measure her designated seat. In fact, Azriel was quite right to have taken it where Amren is not present as his Second. But his shadows had been twitching around his arms and curling around the legs of his seat. Protecting him.
Azriel's lips parted. "My apologies." The words were calm and edged with darkness. He stood, pulling out the chair enough for Arwen to comfortably fall into it, the heat of his body still lingering on the wood. He took the seat on her right, offering her a slight bow of his head that might have read as another formal request for forgiveness, but it was quite the opposite. Arwen had just become the central figure between both her brother and mate.
Arwen could not give him a smile, instead, turned her head straight and reached for his arm underneath the table. Finding it, she gave his wrists a quick squeeze before letting go.
"We were just discussing the celebrations last night," Rhysand announced, diverting the table's attention.
A light tickling caressed her ankle, twisting up underneath her dress along her calf. A shadow's touch. "Vanserra was informing me last night that we stand no comparison to the Autumn Court's celebrations, but I do hope we still held a night worthy of travelling remarks," said Arwen. She upturned her smile even more, her eyes moving to Ianthe who was glancing between Azriel and Rhysand. "Ianthe, you are wearing the same scent you did as last night. I must know what perfume you are using."
Beside her, an airy cough.
Ianthe leered at her. "It's natural," she replied with strained politeness.
Arwen hummed. At this point, it may have been easier to lose all fake pleasantries and get straight to the biting. Lucien was the only one in that room who may not be informed of Ianthe's diverting attention. Though she'd give him a good boot to the head if he missed it to hopefully right his obliviousness.
"Yes," Arwen murmured. "I do believe that."
"As entertaining as this conversation is," Cassian began. By the tone of his words, there was no lie in themâearning a roll of Arwen's eyes. "We have trading to discuss."
Lucien, who had been silent since her arrival, said, "You need your entire circle to make discussion about trade, High Lord Rhysand?"
Rhysand smirked, looking towards either side of him. "Not my entire circle. I'm still missing two. If you feel threatened that I have more companions, I am more than happy to dismiss them until we are in equal numbers."
Lucien examined the table once more. When those amber eyes turned to Arwen, she read thoughts behind them. The threatâor perhaps warningâhe gave her last night. To threaten her life if he felt endangered and ensure he could escape. Rhysand had to be present. If he asked Rhysand to dismiss two of his Inner Circle, it was almost with certainty that she would be one to leave, and with it, his potential leverage.
But if it did come to that (not that it would, but Lucien couldn't be certain), then threatening her with the General Commander, spymaster, and High Lord present was a very dangerous tactic. Just her and Rhysand on the other hand...
"No," Lucien answered. "I wasn't aware they would be joining us is all."
And so began three hours of tedious discussions that made Arwen wish her brother has waved her out.
~
Rubbing at her temples, she attempted to massage the small headache out of her skull. Lucien and Ianthe disappeared, heading towards the eastern wing of the palace where their quarters lay and readying to winnow themselves back to the Spring Court after a small feast for lunch.
It hadn't been the best outcome, unable to agree on the extent and price of what their courts would offer to pay. The Night Court's silver mines had enough value in them that the other courts competed for their output at high prices. But Tamlin wouldn't offer over half Spring's produce without a deal of cheap silver ore in return, with priority over the other courts.
But that wasn't what gave her the headache. It was Ianthe's probing flirtatious remarks the entire meeting. Rhysand had done the best in ignoring all that came his way, but Azriel had struggled to remain composed, making small movements in his seat at each one sent his way. Cassian had become incensed upon realising that he was being completely ignored.
"I don't think I've ever seen you in such a graceful catfight," Cassian mused towards her as they wandered down the corridor. "I was almost turned on."
"Excuse you," Rhysand muttered just a stride behind them.
Cassian raised his palms. "I said almost."
"Such a distinction," Arwen crooned, nudging him with the point of her elbow. One of Azriel's shadows was still wrapped around her calf, the tip of the tendril now sitting at the back of her thigh. It seemed to offer him some sort of comfortâan anchor, if one would. So she said nothing to draw attention to it. And it was... nice. It was nice to have that sort of contact with someone that her body recognised as safe. "And you can't say anything about that when you practically had Ianthe's scent crawling along the table to you. I regurgitated in my mouth a few times."
Rhysand shook his head with a wrinkled nose as she looked back at him. "Still not the same."
Arwen wrinkled her nose right back.
Cassian and Rhysand veered off before they reached the private dining chamber, stating they had someplace else to be before lunch. Arwen decided to continue towards it, knowing there would be food to nibble on before the main meal was served in an hour. Azriel trailed along with her.
They perched on a black futon in the far corner of the dining chamber with a small, lowered table near their feet. Arwen held a silver platter of grapes and cheeses to her lap, sending Azriel a mirthful warning each time he reached for something on it.
"Are you alright, Az?"
The azure siphons made a slight blaze as his dark brows twitched together. "What?"
Arwen stretched out her right leg, enough to draw the spymaster's eyes towards it to see his own shadow at her ankle before it disappeared underneath the fabric. "She's leaving today."
He was still staring at the sliver of skin when he said, "Thank you." She smiled and nodded, despite wondering if he could even see it. "I'm not sure why it bothers me so much."
Azriel was no stranger to a female's company. Especially in Velaris where his reputation held more truths. And emotionless sex had been a common time until the past few years. Arwen had been terrified that it would bother her when he continued his regular activities and she would have to scent it but the day never came. Either he abstained completely or took precautions so that she would never know. "Because her attention is not something you want," she answered for him. Then tilted her head. "Unless I am assuming wrong, and it is something you want but you have thoughts keeping you back."
He looked aghast at the suggestion. "No."
Arwen chuckled softly. "I'm glad to hear. I think I'd tear her eyes out if she was around any longer. Do you remember that female that thought one fuck with Cassian meant a lifetime of clinging to his arm?" It hadn't been a lack of communication on Cassian's part, who vehemently tried to inform her that he barely remembered her name.
Azriel's lips curled. "Yes," he said, even his low voice lightening. "I thought you were going to push her off one of the balconies at the House. I'm beginning to believe you don't want any of us near other females."
She couldn't help the laugh. "Trust me, if there is someone that Cassian chooses to be his partner in life then I will be the first to accept them. And probably leash them to keep them around until they learn to deal with his bullshit." He cracked a laugh that had her smile moving into her eyes. "But I won't let him settle for anything less. Same with Rhys and the same with you."
Her last words left a silence between them, but Arwen offered forward her tray of goodies to show that she was intending the silence to be awkward. He could take his time to read into her words how he intended.
Azriel looked down at the tray and took a small cut of her least favourite cheese. She hadn't realised he liked it and would have brought more over if she had. "What's this I hear about Cassian keeping you up all night?"
"Ah." Balancing the tray on one thigh, her other hand was free to stretch out and gave a light tap to his nose. "We were playing cards because he was sulking that you didn't want to play with him."
Azriel blinked at the tap, then again. "Child," he muttered, his smile growing.
"He certainly was when he lost," she sang.
He cocked his head to look at her. "From what I remember, you are infamously terrible at all card games. Are you certain you are remembering last night correctly?"
Arwen used the tip of her finger to shove the cracker that he had between his lips past his teeth. Azriel coughed, eyes widening with amusement as the cracker stretched his lips. "Stop ruining my fantasy," she told him. "Here I am, trying to make sure you're alright and you repay me by reminding me of how terrible I am at those stupid games. I didn't even want to play! Do you know how hard it is to try and win a game of strategy against a general? A general who is nearly a hundred years older than me and would rather cheat than lose? I'm trying to save a bit of my pride here and you come in and squash it like an ant under your boot."
By the end of her short spiel, he was laughing and it was one of the most beautiful sounds in Prythian. It was rare and wonderous and Arwen couldn't help but nurture and coddle the slice of warm pride it brought to her heart. Azriel continued to laugh as he broke the cracker with his teeth, cupping underneath his chin as the flakes flew out. "I'm sorry," he choked out eventually, patting his chest as the dry food likely stuck to his throat. "Didn't realise I would hit such a wound."
Rolling her eyes, she handed him the tray and left the futon to head toward the table. He remained behind as she poured a single goblet of wine. With her back towards him, she felt the shadow climb higher along her leg. What was before just the ghostly end against her thigh was now the length of its tendril, the tip flicking against the small protrusion of her hip bone. How the shadow fit between her skin and dress she would never knowâbut then again, it was a shadow.
Returning, she took the tray back and replaced his empty hand with the drink.
"Thank you."
There was another shadow around his ear, as it always would be whenever they talked to him. Did he realise what the one around her leg was doing, or was it a stray that had yet to return? But as she watched him, still standing, and his eyes flickered down across the scape of her clothed body, Arwen could see in his eyes that he knew.
I cannot accept that you are equal to me. Not you, Arwen, not with what I have done.
Azriel had not spoken of his feelings. He had not said that he did not feel anything for her, only that his own sense of worth kept him from accepting the bond. Arwen knew that she did not hold that type of love for him. Not the one of romance in her books. She hadn't allowed herself to. But there was undeniable affection that was reserved for him.
Curiosity flittered through her. What did Azriel feel for her, if anything at all? He was hardly an open romantic which only made it harder to tell. And with his composure trained to deathly stillness, there was hardly a chance of reading what he did not want to be read.
But she could be certain that he cared for her. To what extent remained a mystery, but his affection for her was there. She had seen it before, even before the bond.
As Azriel drank, Arwen found it in herself to sit back down. Closer than before. Pulling her knees onto the futon, she faced him entirely, her side leaning against the back of the chair. He already faced her, the length of his wings preventing him from sitting straight comfortably. With a slight shift of her weight, her knee touched his upper thigh, less than a hand's length from his hip.
The shadow tightened around her like a coiled rope. The tendril's tip now stretched across the lowest point of her stomach.
"You don't have to join us for lunch," she told him.
Azriel sighed lightly. "I will."
Rhysand and Cassian returned before the chime of a new hour and were soon followed by Lucien and Ianthe. Rhysand had been talking with Arwen as everybody fell into their seats at the table, and seeing the opportunity, Ianthe snatched the one on Azriel's left, Cassian on his right. Biting her lips to trap her remark about the movement, Arwen sat between Rhysand and Lucien.
They made amiable talk as they served their own plates, some things disappearing within a blink as she reached for them, only for them to reappear in front of her brother. She dug her heel into his toes. He pursed his lips to hide the grunt of pain and thumped her leg with the side of his fist. Arwen offered him a smile and removed her foot. And took food from his plate onto her own.
Their silent taunting of each otherâa struggle to keep under the radar as they hosted unaware guestsâkept her occupied enough to forget who else sat at their table for some time, even making talk with Lucien who seemed at the very least, lukewarm to her company. But he still acted as though she would leap at him like a rabid dog at any moment.
That response, however, was pinpointed on Ianthe. The desperate wench wouldn't give up on her conquest of... Well, Arwen wasn't sure what her ultimate goal was but apparently it needed a spymaster or a high lord.
"I'm becoming rather fond of the people here," said Ianthe. She leant back into the furthest part of her chair, draping herself so her body, even robed, was open to see as the fabric clung to her. As she spoke, the words were particularly sent to Azriel who avoided looking at her altogether.
Cassian raised a subtle brow, looking to Arwen who was silently examining the situation.
"You have a peculiar way of living," Ianthe added, now looking to Rhysand who only amused the topic with a flat smile. "I could get used to being underground."
"One can get used to smelling shit if they're around it long enough," Arwen retorted. At a look from her brother, she shut her mouth. Insulting her own city wasn't the smartest move to make. But beside her, Lucien covered his mouth with his fingers hanging from under his nose and the slight squint at his eyes gave her enough glee to be satisfied. "Forgive me," she crooned instead. "I just mean to say that being underground after being in Spring Court must have been a startling new environment."
"It doesn't faze me. I'm flexible." Ianthe's lips rose as she trailed a single fingertip along the far arm of her chair. "Very flexible."
'Cauldron spare us,' Rhysand sent to her mind. At Cassian's chuckle in her head, Arwen smothered her own, realising that Rhys had linked the minds of the Inner Circle together.
But her amusement dropped when an image was flung into her head. It was more of a feeling than an image, really. The sensation of a barefoot running down the front of a leg.
Arwen wasn't sure if Azriel meant to send that to them, and by the rigidness in his body, she wasn't sure he was in the mind to restrain what was sent through the link. Her sharp gaze became set on Rhysand's face. He had to do something.
"I might even request to stay another night, just so I can see more of this city and its inhabitants," Ianthe continued, oblivious to the silent communication around her.
Rhysand glanced down at her for only a second as she felt the link narrow down to just them. 'You're looking rather ill, sweetheart.' Arwen frowned at himâof course, she wasn't looking like a perfect artwork at that very second. Her cheeks were already heating in agitation.
Then she caught on.
Arwen lifted her chest in a long sigh, leaning to rest her temple against her fingers.
"Are we boring you?" Rhysand inquired.
She made a slow shake of her head. "I do not think I'm feeling adequate for a vivacious lunch. I want to blame it on the lack of sleep but I think I may have eaten something earlier that hasn't agreed with me."
"We hardly want you pouring your stomach over little Vanserra now." He flicked his hand lazily towards the entrance of the chamber. Lucien grumbled something, sinking into his chair. "Azriel will take you back to your room. I'm sure he can catch up on lunch later."
"Of course," Azriel obeyed.
Arwen feigned an ache in her stomach as she nodded. Azriel's chair legs scraped against the stone floor. He strode around the table. Arwen didn't move until he was at her side, taking the hand of assistance. She took a close position to his side, letting him leave the hand that came to the hollow of her back.
She offered a formal farewell to the rest of the table before making an exaggerated slow walk out of the chamber. As the door closed behind them, she dropped the façade in her face and stride but they kept walking until they reached the private-most part of the palace where their chambers were situated.
Arwen turned to Azriel. "Go home," she told him.
The order puzzled him. "Home?"
"Yes, Azriel. Go home."
He opened his mouth, taking a few seconds to come up with something to say. "Rhysand might need me here."
Arwen smiled gently and placed a hand on his cheek. "Rhys is the one that is giving you the permission. Ianthe is out of line but it is easier to not cause a fuss when they are leaving today." They risked ruining what little progress they made on their contracts today. Though if Ianthe would have her way, her leaving might not be for another night. "It is not right for you to have to stay here."
Azriel's brows moved together. "I don't want to leave you here without me."
The confession was so raw, so unfiltered by the usual security his words came through that it stunned Arwen into a few moments of unprepared silence. Gathering her composure, she said, "Cassian would love any opportunity to break someone's neck here, so you don't have to worry about me. The only ill that is coming my way is my worry for you so please help me destroy those by going home."
The hazels of his eyes flickered around in a search across her face before a slow nod came. "If you're sure."
"I am." Arwen stretched her lips wider and gave a small stroke with her thumb against the peak of his cheek. Then she stood back, jerking her head in an outwards direction. Azriel looked down towards his now vacant cheek, to the floor between their feet and finally back up at her. He said nothing, disappearing into a void of shadows that swallowed him and left behind an empty hallway around her.