Chapter 33
Arwen wished she had the mind to have bought lunch before she travelled such a far walk away from the restaurants and cafes. Instead, she leant against the marble column with a complaining stomach, watching the Sidra's tide lap against the stony edge a few feet away. It was high tide, drizzles of white wash reaching over the top of the river's edge.
She had stayed in one of the city's few inns that hosted merchants and their sailing crews the past night after hearing Mor around the town house. It wouldn't have been easy to sneak past the blood-hound female, who would have loaded her with questions on what had come to pass in Hewn City. Explaining all that would have dumped Mor with Arwen's own problems and as she recently learnt, that was something Mor already dealt with every day.
Arwen curled her knees to her chest, staring at the water with a frown.
She tried not to focus on her disastrous mating issue with Azriel every day, but perhaps her shield against it wasn't as reinforced as she led herself to believe.
Then there is the fiasco of becoming a celestian. Something Arwen still wasn't sure she understood but the ring on her finger kept it under control to the point where she didn't need to think about it until her training with Amren. But it had caused enough stress that Rhysand took her to the cabin for a week to give both of them a break as well as giving Cassian a break from them... From her. It had been to give Cassian a break from her.
And it had been ten years, yet she still could not find the strength to accept her body without wings. Mirrors were still daunting, shopping for dresses became too overwhelming that she could only do so once a year. Had her burdens become theirs as well?
Arwen stayed there, her thoughts moving from hunger to boredom, wishing she had her sketchpad around. Or even something to sew with. Her mother used to fill in her time making the most divine designs, some for Arwen or herself, others that were gifted to Rhys for his own future use as he pleased.
At a small, dark blip in the corner of her eye, she looked to the sky and squinted. Cassian, if she could guess by the outline of the flying Illyrian high over the city. He didn't seem to be heading to the House of Wind, but it was also the wrong direction to the town house. Perhaps Rhys had him surveying something. Arwen wouldn't know anything, having put that block in her mind before she even left her brother's chambers. She might thank him later for the extensive training.
When the day grew old and night was being born, she finally rose from her spot against the marble column. The tide had retreated, only traces of moistness on the rocky edge. Her back ached from the positionâsomething she hadn't noticed until then. She had been too busy watching Cassian soar for over two hours across the city. He would dive down into the streets and reappear someplace else. It was mind-numbing; something to take her interest but need not a droplet of thought. Which was exactly what she needed.
But now she had her thoughts aligned and soothed enough that she didn't contend with the idea of returning home. Though there was no rush in the endeavour, so Arwen meandered through the quiet streets rather than winnowing.
The town house was quiet upon her return, but not empty. Amren sat in the sitting room, playing with a bejewelled chain between her fingers. Arwen smiled. "Amren. Didn't expect to see you here."
Amren merely glanced in her direction before focusing once more on the necklace. "Yes, well, I was rather bored sitting in my apartment all alone."
Arwen pursed her lips, examining the town house. This didn't seem much different from sitting in the smaller apartment, but she knew that understanding Amren would not be an achievement she gained her in her lifetime. "Alright. I'm going to make some dinner."
She didn't expect to hear Amren's footsteps following, but it was no mistake of her senses. Arwen smiled over her shoulder again, moving into the kitchen. She would have asked one of the wraiths, but they appeared occupied elsewhere.
"How did the meeting go?" Amren inquired, lounging on one of the chairs at the island bench.
Arwen paused before she answered, wondering if any of the others had come down there at all to inform the female. How long had she been here alone? "It came to an understanding. There was some agreeance, some not so much. Lucien is earning his title if anything is certain." Arwen grinned to herself at the thought. "Makes quite the emissary."
Amren couldn't have looked more unenthralled if she tried. "Interesting," she muttered, tapping her nails against the benchtop. "And where have you been?"
"Down near that small pier. The one with the marble walkway." Arwen cut into her carrots. "It has a nice view of the Sidra."
Amren hummed. "You must have been down there for a while."
Arwen tipped her head from side to side as she brushed the carrots off the chopping board and into a small bowl. "I suppose. I would have come home sooner but I just wanted some time alone."
"It seems you could still use some time in quiet."
Licking her lips, Arwen paused her movements once again and smiled at the jewel-hoarding creature across from her. "Yeah," she admitted softly. "I don't mind it. Not that I'm asking you to leave, you're easy to have around."
Amren gave a quiet snort and said, "You're the first to think so," before going back to playing with her necklace and Arwen to her cooking.
It wasn't until her bowl of dinner was nearly finished as she sat next to Amren that their comfortable silence was ruined by the sound of heavy footsteps thundering through the town house. Arwen looked up from her food as Cassian stalked into the kitchen, his face stern and tight until he met her gaze.
"Arâ
"Cassian," Amren interjected. Arwen curled her lips into a small smile towards the warrior as Amren's tone suggested that he was in some sort of trouble. Cassian's eyes widened, looking between the two females. "Excuse me, Arwen. I need to talk with the dog."
"All good," Arwen responded, clearing up the dregs of her soup.
Amren tugged Cassian out of the kitchen, then out of the town house. Arwen looked over her shoulder to see if she could see them into the window overlooking the garden, but they were out of sight. She kept her ears perked for any yellingâand any sign she should make move to stop her house from being torn apart by another fight but there was nothing of the sort.
Eventually, the pair returned, Cassian even with a small smile. He wandered around the bench, peering into the empty pot. "You didn't leave me any?"
"I didn't make you any," she corrected with a chuckle. "I didn't know you would be here. Speaking of being places, why the hell were you flying around for hours on end? Lose your favourite shoes or something?"
Cassian laughed, leaning his thick forearms against the bench. "Something like that."
Arwen hummed. "I'll make you some more," she told him, sliding from her high-legged chair. Cassian insisted that she didn't have to, but the act of service was the only thing she would let occupy her thoughts and brushed his insistences away.
As she leant against the bench, stirring the simmering pot, the town house's front door opened again. Arwen's eyes flickered over at the sound of more than one pair of feet. She pulled her bottom lip inward, realising that Mor, Rhysand and Azriel had all come down. Her quiet home had ended. Although she could contend that it ended with Cassian, even the warrior had been more placid than usual.
Amren sent a look to Cassian that Arwen couldn't read properly, only watching next the short female's chin jerk in the direction of the hall. Cassian nodded and patted the bench he leant against. "Smells good," he said to Arwen, leaning over her shoulder. "I'll be back in a minute."
Just as the voices in the hall were rising, something verging into an argument, Cassian veered around the archway out of sight. More shuffling followed as they moved to a far end of the houseâprobably the sitting roomâand whatever discussion they were having became smothered under their breaths.
"You can visit my apartment if you need it, girl."
Frowning, Arwen looked up from the soup. "What?"
"My apartment," Amren reiterated. "As long as you come alone and keep quiet you may visit."
Arwen wasn't certain where the offer was coming from but thanked her with a soft smile and appreciative nod. A few more quiet minutes passed over before the Illyrians and Mor entered the kitchenâwhich was becoming cramped with the added wings taking up space.
She glanced over each one of them. Mor smiled then drew Amren into a conversation. Azriel stood like a statue guard, his siphons giving off a slight, pulsating flare. Rhysand looked... Well, he looked tired. Not a shocking revelation considering they had probably only returned from Hewn City that morning.
"It's ready," said Arwen quietly to Cass, handing him the ladle to serve himself. She was ready for an early night in her own bed. The inn hadn't been all that terrible, but the emptiness of familiar heartbeats had put her in a cell of solitude.
Nobody questioned her as she departed from the kitchen and lower floor of the town house, her echoing steps the only sound to fill the void. A worm in her mind told her to question it, but she ignored the idea.
Her room gave a warm welcome, despite the cooling autumn days. Arwen took to her desk first, moving half-done sketches out of the way in room for something new. The piece of paper and paper-wrapped charcoal lay in front of her as she waited for an image to come to mind.
The knock almost became a welcome snapping from blankness.
Peeking over her shoulder, Rhysand stood on the threshold of her still open door. His hands were deep in his pockets and his hair looked as though he had just seconds ago run his hands through it. "What are you drawing?"
Arwen turned back straight. "Nothing yet."
Footsteps sounded and soon he was standing behind her chair. She picked up the charcoal, tapping the end of it on the edge of the paper, leaving small, dark smudges that would irritate her if it turned out well.
"I don't like when you're angry at me."
Her brows furrowed. "I'm not angry at you Rhys." She craned her neck to look up at him. "I have nothing to be angry at you for. I'm sorry I didn't make you dinner. Cassian was complaining because I made some for myself when he showed up and..."
"Don't apologise," he said as Arwen looked back down. Finally, her hand began working a curved line. "I'll have Nuala and Cerridwen make something that Azriel can actually eat. Mor said you didn't come home last night. And you didn't let me in." He tapped her skull with the light pad of his finger.
The prodding was slightly infuriating, wishing he would just ask whatever it is that he wanted. "I just wanted to have a night alone. I had no way of getting up to the House unless Azriel came down so I just found another spot to sleep."
"You sure you're not angry at me?" Arwen shook her head. "What are you drawing?"
"Lucien," she answered. "He has a... captivating face."
Rhysand leant his arm across the back of her chair, bending until his head was level with hersâand letting her see the scowl. "Don't tell me you like him."
"Don't tell me you don't," she shot back. "He's a reasonable male. Lived in bad circumstances. Unlike you, he just doesn't think he has any power." Her brother gave a slight frown at the comparison but said nothing. "And I think he liked me, even if he wouldn't let himself."
"Should I be worried about keeping my spymaster's temper under control?"
She snorted at that. "I said I think he might like meâas in, can stand to be in my presence more than he can yours. Azriel was fine even after I went to meet that baker, so you're underestimating him."
Rhysand curved his face in front of her own. "You really think he was fine after that?"
Her glance at him was sharpened into a glare. That was not something she desired to know. "We don't need to worry about all that stuff. But how is Azriel, after everything with Ianthe?"
With a sigh, he turned to sit on her desk, facing the opposite wall. "What do you think? He doesn't want to talk about any of it. I'm not going to pry answers out of him."
"How are you doing?"
"Ianthe is like a fly. Annoying, but can be swatted away."
Arwen twisted her lips as she thought, forgetting her drawing momentarily. "Don't underestimate her. You of all people should know that. She won't do anything obvious again. Not with weapons bared. Ianthe will be sneaky, and I highly doubt she counted the night embarrassing enough to deter her."
"I have reason to keep you around then. I'm sure she'll never forget you slamming a door on her hand."
She pointed the end of her charcoal at him. "Show that memory to Cassian. I want him to know my threat about stealing my sugar cherries was real. And Mor too, but just because I know she'll appreciate it. Now shoo, I'm trying to remember Lucien's face."
Rhysand held his hands next to his chest, sliding off the desk. "I'll let Azriel know why you won't join us tonight."
The charcoal stylus threatened to snap under her finger. "You're not funny, Rhysand."