Chapter 34: Chapter 34

Chapter 34

Arwen lay in an abyss of darkness.

Voices above her were muffled like she was underwater, and the light creaking of floorboards signalled movement. She lay on her back, hands on her stomach, playing with a simple gem ring. It was claustrophobic and had taken her a while to still her fidgeting, but it would all be worth it in the end.

She waited a few more minutes, until a small whisper from Rhys came into her mind and Arwen shot up.

Her upper body flung through the floorboards of the town house, a ghastly cry making her throat itch. Cassian, who was standing just inches in front of where she appeared, screamed. He leapt towards the roof, booted feet thudding heavily back against the floor and laughter from around them ensued.

Azriel leant against the sitting room’s wall, head resting back with a loose grin and silent laughter racking his shoulders. A black sweater covered his arms, sinking down into trousers just as dark. Rhysand and Mor sat on the lounge, their crowing laughter uninhibited. Amren who elegant draped herself across the single-seater, offered a mildly amused tip in one corner of her mouth.

Cassian nothing, his lips tightly sealed as his chest rose in a long draw of air. Arwen grinned up at him. He pointed at her, saying nothing as red flushed across his cheeks and ears, then turned around and walked back towards the main hall.

“Cassian!” she drew out in a chuckle as he strode away, wings tight to the back that faced her. The others only laughed harder at his reaction. Arwen giggled and pushed to her feet, the floorboards around her knees. Unable to return to normal inside, she waded through the floor of the house to the dark street outside.

Closing her eyes, she imagined Amren standing in front of her—threatening her with the stone to return to her tangible body. There was nothing to feel, nothing to sense. But when Arwen opened her eyes, she knew. Placing the ring back on, she darted inside.

Cassian stood in the kitchen, one hand on the bench, the other on his hip. Still grinning, there was no falter in her step as she went to him. “Happy birthday. I did promise you a surprise this morning.”

He shook his head. “I’m not talking to you.” He too was wearing a nice, dark collared shirt and pants. Although his hair was unbrushed, it was loose and relatively tame.

“I think you put a hole in the ceiling with how high you jumped.”

His lips rolled inwards, turning his head away from her. They were preparing for a night out at Rita’s, and by Cassian’s demand, to get so drunk they don’t even remember it in the morning. Arwen decided that she wouldn’t drink too much, intending to remember his scream until the end of time.

“I’m not talking to you,” he repeated.

“Come on!” She lugged his arm over her shoulder to her front and tugged him out of the kitchen. “If we wait any longer, Mor is going to have a conniption.”

Eventually, they made it out of the door and decided to take the long way to Rita’s by walking. Cassian continued to ignore her, which only brought her more entertainment with his methods, even managing as she hung from the back of his neck.

“I’m not sure how we’re all going to get home,” Azriel said to her as they walked behind the other four. “I’m not sure how we do on any of our birthdays actually.” Arwen made a snorting sound of agreement and folded her arms against the cooling night’s breeze. It would be muggy inside Rita’s once they were there, so she hadn’t bothered bringing a coat. “I haven’t seen that dress in a while.”

She looked down at herself. The silver dress had a fitted bodice and loose skirt with a slit up to her mid-thigh. The back was made of three thin strands from either side weaving over each other, leaving the span of her back on display. Rhysand hadn’t asked about it either, but the look he gave her when she came down from her room was enough for her to nod at.

“I’m surprised you remember it,” she said. “It’s been a while since I’ve worn it.” It wasn’t what he was truly inquiring into, but she wouldn’t give him the answer he sought unless he directly asked for it. “You look handsome tonight.”

The smile came, however small. “Thank you.”

Arwen bit into her lip, still looking up at him as they walked. A tuft of dark hair that usually sat behind his ear had moved over it. Without permission, her hand stretched towards it, tanned fingers curling the piece behind his rounded ear tips. Azriel’s ears and cheeks twitched, eyes darting down to the road, then to her. “It was annoying me,” she told him.

The raw uncertainty morphed into something of smooth confidence. “My apologies for the inconvenience, princess.”

“Oh, don’t you start calling me that.”

“I thought it was starting to catch on?”

“Have you not, in your near three hundred years of knowing Cassian, ever learnt that he’s an idiot and not to follow in his footsteps?”

Ahead, Cassian whipped his head around with an ‘Oi!’

“I thought you were ignoring me,” she pointed out. Cassian narrowed his eyes, then looked forward. Arwen rolled her neck and smiled at Azriel. “Don’t follow in his footsteps.”

“Duly noted,” Azriel said.

Inside Rita’s they were ushed by a server to their favourite table near the back. Arwen waved them on, heading straight for the tap bar. Upon her return, she held a round dish with a drink for each of them, minus Amren. “First drinks are on me,” she sang.

Rhysand gave her an unamused look to which she only smiled back at. Arwen didn’t exactly have a personal account under her name. With her brother, Mor and Amren on one side of the table, Arwen slid in the opposite with Azriel and Cassian. She almost sat off the edge to give their wings enough room and not accidentally knock Azriel’s.

“Are you going to talk to me now, Cass?”

“I hear a buzzing noise.”

Arwen leant forward onto the table so she could see past Azriel’s form. Cassian smiled blithely at Mor opposite, ignoring her piercing gaze. “You have to admit it was hilarious.”

“I have never heard him scream like that,” Mor added.

“You are not helping my case,” Arwen muttered. Reaching across, she prodded the warrior with her finger. “Cassian. Cassian. Cassian.”

Finally, he looked at her. “You are like a mosquito. And you know what I do when a mosquito annoys me?”

She leant closer, her body hovering over Azriel who sat in between them. “You’re talking to me. You’ve forgiven me.” Arwen grinned up at Azriel. “He’s forgiven me.”

Cassian took a little longer to forgive her, but at the bargain of another drink it was like the joke never happened. The drinks kept appearing, so fast that Arwen had another lined up before she had even gotten halfway on her second, which already seemed enough for the night. Mor eventually dragged most of them into the dancing area, but Arwen retreated to the table early to sit with Azriel.

She shuffled closer to him, not out of seeking his presence, but because the backs of the chairs were low. Through the dancing, hands had brushed over her skin, feeling what even she had yet to brave and touch. Now she wanted the barrier back up and Azriel’s body was the only thing other than the wall to offer it.

“Is everything okay?”

Arwen turned her head towards him, her body facing outwards. The words were at the tip of her tongue. Azriel would understand. Of course he would. But she held those words for the same reason that she wore the dress in the first place. Rhysand was right—she spent far too much time on her own problems. “I’m fine.”

“It’s my job to know when people are lying and to get the truth out of them.”

He said it so nonchalantly that she took a moment to piece together an image in her head. “So are you going to torture me for the truth then?” She wiped her finger along her nearly empty glass, through the condensation.

“I won’t have to resort to it because you’ll tell me.”

Arwen gave him a hard stare which he only returned with quiet patience. He had his own drink—his third, if she counted right—in front of him. The small wine-red beads reminded her of one of the few times that she had seen their spymaster perform the truly horrid side of his duties. “I don’t believe you have the position to give me orders, Azriel,” she said, though there was a notable lack of accusation in her voice. Azriel huffed, a quirk of his lips revealing his agreeance. Arwen sighed, turning her head to gaze back out. Her brother was now at the bar itself, talking with someone she didn’t know the name of. Mor and Cassian were performing something akin to a dance, but she refused to call it as such with how ridiculous they both looked. Amren was talking with a bland expression to a serving fae. “I shouldn’t have worn this dress. It’s… Not right for dancing in.”

Azriel made no comment on her half-lie, but from the corner of her eye, she watched as he tugged on the end of his dark sweater. Returning her full gaze to him, he pulled the material over his head, shifting his wings until they too slid out from the fabric. Then he scrunched it up until he held the entire thing in his fists and stretched open the neck-hole. And then held it out to her. “Put it on,” he told her. An offer, but also an order.

Arwen sat frozen but her stiffness wasn’t read as refusal. He leant forward, aiming the sweater over her head. As soon as the fabric passed over her eyes, she snapped back to focus and guided her arms into the sleeves as he adjusted the rest over her torso. It was warm, perhaps a bit too warm for where they were but it held every bit of comfort that she wanted at that moment.

Pulling the long sleeves over her palms and resting her chin in her cupped hands, she scented him on it as well and her body flooded with ease. “Thank you.” Not for the sweater, but because he understood. He understood that she didn’t want to brave it through, didn’t want to hear him tell her to be strong and get over it.

But it reminded her again that Rhysand was right. Her problems had become so prevalent and linked with her identity that she did not even need to speak for them to be seen. The thought sobered her and the drink in front of her looked nowhere near as refreshing as before.

The others returned to the table, Arwen now cramped between Cassian and Azriel. She had to cross her knees to make room for theirs. Rhysand’s noticeably hazed eyes skimmed across the sweater, met hers for one moment, then left it be. Arwen pushed her drink towards Cassian who promptly forget any remaining ire towards her and downed it in a single go.

Her foot nudged Rhysand’s under the table which brought them into a war of shoes that the others remained oblivious to until she hid her foot behind Azriel’s which had one folded over the other. Rhysand frowned as he likely scanned the area and couldn’t find her. Arwen smiled behind her sweater-covered hands. She could feel Azriel’s calves, the side of her thigh pressed against his. As she felt the presence of her brother’s feet nearing through vibrations against the floor. St Azriel’s curious gaze, she let out a giggle and lifted her feet into the air, stretching them towards the wall, over Azriel’s legs.

Rhysand scoffed, sinking a bit in his seat to stretch his legs. Mor jolted and shuffled in her seat with an odd look to him as he did what Arwen had done and knocked her seat neighbour. Azriel, however, gave a small laugh under his breath. Arwen almost forgot about her unspoken game as his hands, hot and steady, smoothed across both her calves and guided them down onto his thighs so she wasn’t using her strength to hold them up. He moved underneath her, a scuffing underneath the table informing her that he had joined in the game and Rhysand now had a defence to get through.

Arwen laughed and pushed her legs further away from the other side until her knees pressed into Azriel’s stomach. Cassian, who she was now leaning back against, mistook her presence for wanting affection and loosely swung an arm around her chest as he spoke to an oblivious Amren (who Arwen was sure was purposefully not paying attention). Mor, finally catching on, joined in the battle.