Chapter 32
Arwen stretched through a yawn and grabbed her book. She had just returned from giving Lucien a formal farewell and delivering the signed contracts, Rhysand occupied with Keir. Their stay was to be extended another night because of some new, unsettled minor lords.
Striding down the lone halls of the private palace quarters, Arwen hadn't been prepared to hear many voicesâespecially the female's coming from her brother's chamber. The door was cracked open, enough for a line of gilded light to stream out of it.
Her eyes widened, shuffling a step back at the idea of stumbling into something she really did not wish to see. But at the familiar tone, Arwen halted and turned her ear closer.
"I see the way you look at me, High Lord."
Arwen's brows shot high, quite sure her incredulous expression would earn a room of laughter as she listened to Ianthe's seductive tone. A shadow shifted past the doorâher brother.
"You see what you want to see," he said. The door swung open, though he didn't look back to see her standing there. "Get out."
Ianthe, who was further in his room, only replied, "I heard you like to play games."
Arwen mouthed to herself: 'Snowball fights,' and added a silent scoff.
"I think you'll find me a diverting playmate."
It was then that Arwen could imagine how Ianthe had positioned herself. Someplace on her brother's bed by the direction he was looking, probably splayed naked out or in some of silk robe she took from her guest closet.
Rhysand made a small glance towards the door and Arwen met his gaze of steel. She raised a single brow, her own scowl set on display. He made no acknowledgement that she was there, but did not tell her to leave either.
"I thought your allegiance lay with other courts," he said, the firmness giving no room for the game she suggested.
"My allegiance lies with the future of Prythain, with the true power in this land." Arwen could smell her nowâunclothed for certain. Then a gasp and a light thump against the mattress. "Do you know what a union between us could do for Prythian, for the world?"
"You mean yourself?"
So that was her ploy. Of course, it was rather obvious in hindsight but Arwen couldn't have been certain. Azriel was powerful, both in magic and status. But he was a toy-thing compared to Rhysand's.
"Our offspring could rule Prythian."
A splinter of amusement appeared on Rhysand's face. "So you want my crownâand for me to play stud?"
Ianthe's voice turned more strained but still that rasp of desire remained. "I don't see anyone else worthy of the position."
Arwen held another scoff, determined to stay undetected so she could entertain herself with the obnoxiousness of the entire conversation. It wasn't even on behalf of the Spring Court she accompanied Lucien for. It was her own greed and most likely that of the other High Priestesses who were putting their talons in the other courts.
Rhysand's voice had turned cold and hard. "Get out of my bed. Get out of my room. And get out of my court."
She prepared to move herself out of the way, not keen to be in the path of Ianthe's exit of shame but the sound of movement inside was slow. Purposeful. Bare feet on the stone floor was the only sound until Ianthe emerged into Arwen's line of vision in front of the door. The High Priestess was entirely naked, her body perked at attention.
"You have no idea what I can make you feel, High Lord."
Arwen began to roll her eyes, unable to believe that Ianthe had yet to notice her standing there. Or perhaps she had noticed but did not care. Either one was agitating. But the languid movement cut short as the High Priestess' pale hand liftedâand reached between his legs.
Hot blood shot to her face. Arwen had crossed the four steps in less than a second, Ianthe's short yelp breaking her from the trance. And she was glad she fell back into full consciousness because she wanted to see every second of what was to come. Arwen had yanked Ianthe's wrist away from her brother, then hauled her back towards the door.
She placed the High Priestess' hand against the threshold, reached behind her for the door, and slammed it shut.
Ianthe screamed.
Screamed so loud that the entire mountain echoed with its sound. It came along with a sickening crunch. She fell to her knees as Arwen let her wrist go. Ianthe held the hand to her bare chest, a distinctive line of mangled flesh and bone marking just underneath her knuckles. Not just broken but shattered.
Tears were already pouring down the female's cheeks, the screams morphing into heaves for air.
Arwen dropped to a crouch, her face set flat. "You're lucky," she told the female. "If you had actually touched him you wouldn't have a hand to heal."
Ianthe only glared at her, seeming to restrain against withering in agony. Her eyes darted behind Arwen who stood once more, feeling her brother's presence at her shoulder.
"I don't think my sister approves of the proposition," he crooned, the words like a dark and dangerous dance. "You might have succeeded better trying to seduce her first."
With a flick of his finger, Ianthe's body was flung out into the hallway, her clothes soon following. The High Priestess held no concern for her bare body on display where anybody could walk through. She was far too busy sending a promise of death through her eyes. To them both.
"You will not touch another male in my court, Ianthe," Rhysand continued. "Better yet, you will not return to it. My spymaster has a particular fondness for taking care of people who threaten us."
In a blink, Ianthe disappeared.
Arwen continued glaring at the spot for some time until a hand settled at her side and she finally dragged her eyes across her shoulder. Rhysand tightened his lips. "You alright?"
"Me?" she whispered. "Boil me, Rhys. She wasâshe..." Her lips curled into a disgusted downturn, her stomach curdling at the thought of what might have happened if neither of them stopped her. "Nobody has a right to your body. Nobody."
"Thank you." He held the side of her head still and kissed her hairline.
She gave a short huff. He hardly needed the help. He could have done what she did without lifting a finger. But Arwen couldn't let herself stand back. Not when she knew how it felt to be violated and not have someone there. Perhaps that is what he was thanking her for. For just being there. "It felt good," she admitted in a mutter. "Especially she had been trying to get into Azriel's lap as well."
"I doubt she'll try and return here any time soon but I'll ask Azriel to have his plants keep an eye on her, especially if she has contacts in Day and Dawn."
Arwen looked back at the empty hallway even as the door shut with a silent lick of magic. Rhysand lightly flicked the hollow of her cheek, which she turned to glare at, expecting his taunting grin but was met with a face as solemn as hers. "Tea?" he asked.
Feeling a soreness in her throat, she nodded to give herself a moment to clear it. "I'll get it."
"No." A hand slid to her shoulder as he veered around her. "I'll do it."
With no energy to protest, her reserve seeming to have leaked after Ianthe's disappearance, Arwen only nodded again and found her way to the comfiest chair. It was his favourite, but that thought barely crossed her mind enough to contemplate moving. A minute or so ticked by before a steaming tea hovered in front of her. Far too quickly to be made without magic.
Rhysand sunk down into the opposite armchair, a muscular knot at the hinges of his jaw.
"Do you think it's going to affect the trade contract?" she inquired.
He shook his head. "It's signed. She was here for a different reason. Had been begging me for years to visit the city personally. And if she wants any access here, politically or otherwise, it'll be through Tamlin. So she'll keep the channel open."
"That's assuming she's not pissed off enough to consider ruining it," she countered. "I did just slam a door on her hand and shatter at least five bones."
His lips twitched. "At least five?"
"It's a good guess." The tea had an overdose of honey, almost burrowing any other herb but the warm sweetness still did as intended.
Rhys cocked his head to his shoulder. "You've got something on your mind. Tell me."
"You're not going to just read it?" she challenged with a rueful smile over her tea. He only waited for her to continue. Arwen sighed, shrugging her shoulders. "It's nothing important. Ianthe was here to use her body for power. It just had me thinking about myself." Her brother's brows deepened over his eyes and she could see the concern for her where her trail of thoughts was heading. "I was never married off. As I came of age, I expected Father to auction me off to the highest bidder. It was clear that the Night Court was powerful and that it would be as well under your rule. Our closeness is well known across the courts. There must have been males dying to get their hands on meâand get access to you. Yet there was never a single courter, not unless it was me that engaged them."
Arwen had never brought herself to ask why. For a time it had been under the foolish hope that her mother and father had somehow forgotten that she needed to be wedded to the most beneficial male available. But as she grew into her thirties, then fifties and eventually one hundred, it was clear that her parents never intended that for her. And still she never dared asked, terrified that the questioning would prompt them into action.
"Because I told Father," Rhys said, "that if he tried to have you wed to someone not of your choosing, that you would do the exact same thing Mor did and I would let you. After I pointed out your affection for Cassian at the timeâ"
"You knew?" Arwen shrunk in her chair.
He laughed. "Sweetheart, Cassian knew."
She let out a strangled moan, pulling the small cushion from behind her back to her chest, burrowing her face into the lining. "That's mortifying."
Rhys hummed in agreement and the cracked chuckled was enough for her to lift her head up and listen again. "I convinced him that you would pursue Cassian out of anger and he would reciprocate."
"Father would have murdered him," she muttered, shivering at the thought. "Not to mention Cassian wouldn't have." For numerous reasons, but especially since he regretted his time with Mor.
He lifted a finger from where it curled around his mug to point at her. "Father didn't know that and wouldn't take the risk. He thought it would be better to have a pure daughter unmarried than a tainted one."
She snorted into her tea. "Did he die believing that I was?"
Rhys shrivelled his nose and investigated his own drink. "I am also going to die with that belief."
"And one day when I might be a mother?"
"A miracle from the Mother." Arwen shook her head at his exaggerated expression of disassociation. "You seemed happy talking with Azriel earlier."
Her eyes thinned, hearing the curious accusation in his murmuring tone. "Yes," she agreed slowly. "I like when things are normal between us. Against what belief you might hold, I do consider Azriel my friend. Family, if that's not too strange to label him as."
Rhys smiled pointedly. "I wasn't thinking that you weren't. But I can't imagine how hardâ"
"Are we going to have this conversation again?" Arwen clenched her jaw and looked away. "I feel like we've had it a thousand times over and I give you the same answer." She could almost hear his voice saying: Someone's tetchy. "When will you learn to drop it, because I'm beginning to believe you're incapable of such a simple task."
Rhysand rose from his seat. Sinking deeper into her own, she shrunk down as his form hovered over her. The plane of his face was flatâunreadable. Instead of a scolding, he took the tea from her hands. "Go to bed."
"What?"
"Go to bed and sleep today off. I don't feel like being snapped at and I'm sure you don't want to be in a snappy mood so off to bed."
Arwen's hands slapped down on the armrests, challenging him with a stare. She lost first, pushing from the seat. "I'm going to bed because I'm tired, not because you are telling me to."
"I'm sure."
Her face twisted into a scowl, unable to admit that he was doing what she could not. And she was tired. "At least I'm showing my emotions," Arwen said under her breath. "You're trying to act like Ianthe wasn't in here five minutes ago trying to seduce you, asking about me instead."
Rhysand tilted his head with a growing glare, turning on the spot as she veered around him. "I don't want you snapping at me because I'm on the edge of snapping back. I'm keeping my thoughts to myself for your sake."
Arwen bit a single point into her cheek. "How thoughtful of you," she crooned quietly.
"What is with you right now?" he asked, sounding something between bemused and irate. His lips hung parted as she turned to stare at himâto see if he could see anything that she did. But Rhysand only stood there, waiting for her answer.
"You don't even realise you do it, do you?" she inquired. Her brother's confusion deepened into the map of his skin. Arwen held her hand out to him. "You ignore your problems, Rhys. You pretend that they are not there because you think it's easier to do that than speak of them. Instead, you try to deal with mine."
He curled all his fingers except one, pointing it like a marker to the ground between them. "If I spent every second worrying about my own problems every day like you do, then I wouldn't be fit to be a High Lord."
She felt somethingâjust a small, almost unnoticeable flakeâbreak off inside of her. And worse yet, Arwen could see the moment he understood what he just said to her, yet he only looked away.
Is that how they saw her? As some whining female that was stuck in her own reality of broken thoughts? Something that they had to deal with?
Arwen had never thought of it all that way before. Rhysandâthese were his friends. He grew up with Mor, met Cassian and Azriel when they were still children and fought in a war together, even if not in the same battles. They had a mortal's life together. Nearly one hundred years before she came into the picture. It wasn't a choice for them to accept her or to not. Rhysand felt the obligation and they did too by extension of their loyalty. If she had been a runt in the camps, would they have ever even looked twice at her? Felt enough joy in her presence to want to have her in their circle?
"I..." Her voice trailed off but as Rhysand opened his mouth, she interjected. "I think I'm going to head home tonight instead. I miss Mor."
A sigh cracked through his lips. "Sweetheaâ"
"Don'tâ" Arwen lifted her finger between themâ "because I will snap at you. And we wouldn't want you snapping at me, would we?"
He looked as though he wasn't sure whether to bite back at her remark or try to apologise. Dropping her hand, they stood there with nothing but thick silence between them before she broke off and left his chamber. Two steps out, she winnowed home.