Chapter 35
Arwen held a tight grip on Rhysand's wrist as she led them through the quiet street. She and Azriel were almost stone-cold sober by the time they left Rita's. Mor, Cassian and her brother on the other hand... Not trusting herself to winnow them all to the town house in one piece, she succumbed to having to lead him across the city like he was a toddler on a sugar high. Amren had waved them off to return to her apartment. Cassian had gained the proclivity for flying aimlessly. Just a few feet off the ground but his drunken staggers were enough to send warning signals blaring through her mind. Fortunately, Azriel would tug him back down each to earth time. Mor, at least, was easy to deal with and Arwen would certainly be informing Cassian and Rhysand that her cousin held her liquor far better than them.
The sweater fended off the cooled breeze of the late autumn night.
"It's strange seeing you like this."
In wonder of what he meant, Arwen moved her gaze from the road ahead to Rhysand at her right. "Like what?"
He used his unrestrained hand to swipe a finger down the slope of her nose. "Stern-faced." She huffed at his laxed toneâsomething that always came out on this day of every year. Cassian's birthday certainly was a call for celebration.
"I'm just tired. And you dragging your weight doesn't help."
"I didn't ask you to haul me along like a cart."
"I'm making sure you don't trip over yourself."
"It's not your job to take care of me."
Arwen didn't answer at first. She just kept walking, her 'stern' face deepening into a now settled frown. Slicing her gaze to Azriel between Mor and Cassian, she deduced that he would be fine to handle both of them for a few minutes, and stopped walking, pulling Rhysand to a stop as well. He sighed, looking down at her like he already knew exactly what she was going to say and had an argument prepared. "Do you tell that to everybody?" she asked. He said nothing. "Because if you say that to everybody then there's going to be nobody left to take care of you when you need it."
He tightened his lips inwards. "I'm strong enough to deal with my own burdens."
Arwen felt a burning in her eyes. She hadn't expected itâhadn't felt marginally upset until that very second. Frustratedâyes, just not upset. Perhaps she wasn't as sober as she first assumed. "And you'd prefer that I just didn't try to help you with anything?"
"I'd still be fine without you." The burning spread like a plague through her throat and down into her stomach. Rhysand closed his eyes with a sharp breath. "That's not... I'm in the right mind for this conversation, Ar."
Certainly not if he was calling her that. It sounded like he intended to say her full name then drifted off at the end. "Nevermind it," she muttered, pulling on his wrist again until they matched stride with the others who had moved ahead. Reaching the town house, Mor took herself up to her bedchamber. Cassian assured everybody that he was fine to see himself to bed, his feet thudding up the staircase.
Azriel looked at her. "I'll follow him."
Arwen hummed in agreement. Last time Cassian had drunk as much as he had tonight, he had found himself exploring through her wardrobe, trying to figure out with her nightgown wouldn't fit over his shoulders.
She followed him up with Rhysand still under her control. Before she made it up three steps, a hard yank freed him and her fingers clutched air. Arwen turned back, a bit aghast by the harsh gesture. But Rhysand only replaced her empty palm with his hand. She waited for him to follow, to give in to the slight tension of their muscles.
"I don't need you to take my burdens." He squeezed her hand and Arwen felt the tightness climb her arm and into her heart. "I need you as my sister. To just... Be here. No expectations, no responsibilities, just be at my side."
She remained silent, staring at an empty spot of black on his jacket. She wanted to tell him that it didn't feel right to just stand back and watch him take the weight of loads he could share with her. That she didn't want to just be there, because when she stood at the side there came an emptiness where purpose was supposed to be.
Part of her was terrified that it changed everything. That now they saw her as something that needed handling. Still a child.
Arwen took her hand back. "If this is your way of telling me you can get to your bed on your own, then fine. Go ahead." She jerked her head towards the second floor.
He sighed as he took breached the first step, yet his height stood over her, bathing her in a shadow. "Your dedication to my safe journey into sleep has been appreciated."
"But unneeded," she filled in. "I understand."
He took another half-step up, a challenging expression rising through his eyes but the exhaustion must have won out. "Let's talk in the morning. I'll take you down to that café along the Sidra. Just maybe not at sunrise like last time."
Arwen didn't give him a confirmational answer, only gesturing upwards again with her teeth clamping her lips. With a final sigh, he moved past her, his quiet footsteps the only sound in the town house other than an occasional, hard shuffling against the upper floorboards signalling Cassian moving around without an inkling of grace.
Following everybody else's footsteps, Arwen returned to her room, changing out of the dress and into nightwearâa comfortable set of fleece pants and shirt. With a moment of thought, she put Azriel's sweater back on as well.
She picked up the open letter on her desk, admiring the curved letters of her name. A trained hand, no doubt. It had come through a week ago, and she left it there to remind herself to send a reply to Lucien. He didn't think of her as a child in need of help. Quiet the opposite in truth. Though he wouldn't say it outright, she could read between the lines his struggle with adapting to a new court. The grief he still felt and the lingering pain f his own family's betrayal. He never mentioned Tamlin.
Their shared letters were polite and courteous to the point where a stranger could read them and not think much of them. But Arwen knew that they were a way for them both to slip out of their life, if only for the duration of writing it.
Placing it back down, she ventured back onto the first floor of the town house in search of a warm drink to soothe her muscles. She wasn't the only one.
Azriel stood in the kitchen, spooning raw sugar into a mug. "Want one?" he inquired, already reaching for another mug. Arwen nodded and curled her arms around her stomach. "Cassian is tucked in like a babe and will sleep till midday."
"So he had his favourite type of birthday, getting drunk with his brothers and being unable to remember it the next morning," she crooned, leaning against the bench next to him. Azriel chuckled and nodded. Her smile strengthened as she watched him stir hot water into their tea. "You're allowed to join in with them. Amren and I are more than capable of ensuring you all get home. Or I'll make sure you're comfortable in the gutter."
He smiled down at her. "I know." She believed him. "And I do, usually when it's just the three of us. I didn't feel like it tonight. You're allowed to, as well. You barely drank anything all night."
Shrugging, she told him, "I didn't want to either." He handed her a steaming tea, holding his own close to his chest. Arwen sipped the concoction of sugar and herbs, the taste far more riveting than any alcohol she had tasted. Her eyes traced the length of the cotton sleeves along her arms. "You might have to fight me for this sweater back. It's really soft."
He examined the material hanging loosely from her. "You may have it if you want."
Heat rushed to her cheeksâsomething she put down to the flooding of heat from the tea throughout the rest of her body. "That's no fun though," she murmured, smiling over her mug's brim. "An Illyrian should care for when his things are taken without permission."
He taunted her back, leaning forward with a growing smile. "Did I not just give you that permission?" At the roll of her eyes, he laughed. "I will ask for it back then. Tomorrow. I'll be prepared to fight for it."
Arwen twisted her shoulders to point one towards him and cover part of her lips. "Are you going to use Truth Teller to threaten me?"
His brows furrowed in a serious manner, leaning so close she wasn't sure if she was still smelling his lingering scent on the sweater or something right off his skin. "Stealing from an Illyrian male is a grievous crime and you will be duly punished."
"What if I steal that too?" Her lips careened into a cattish grin, moving her mug into one hand as the other moved silently between them towards his thigh where it was always safely lodged. It wasn't visible, covered by his shadows but Arwen knew him too well to know that he wouldn't go anywhere without it.
"I'd warn you against it."
She tested it, her fingers grazing the clothed skin of his outer thigh until they edged onto the leather sheathe. Azriel remained still as death, everything about him pinpointed on her like a predator with a single prey in mind. But she wasn't scared like the prey would be when they noticed. Her thumb skimmed across the wrapped hilt until she met the cold Illyrian steel of the pommel. Then dropped her hand away.
"Don't worry." She laughed under her breath, pressed onto her toes and placed a kiss on his cheek. "I know it's off limits. Even for us."
Taking a step back, she prepared something of a smirk but he snatched her hand. Arwen stumbled forward, droplets of tea spilling onto her wrist but the burn was nothing compared to that of his hand grasping hers. Azriel led her hand back to his thigh, fingers curling around hers and guided her palm around the hilt of Truth Teller until they both held onto it.
They stood together, her chest moving in small pants, their breath mingling between them.
"Nothing is off limits to you."
Her heart, as painful as it was considering it was what was keeping her alive, pounded against her ribs so hard she felt the tremors through each individual bone. Her fingers flexed around the forbidden hilt, his with hers. Eventually, after it was almost becoming unbearably uncomfortable to stand there, he let her go.
If felt anything of the effects she did, he was skilled enough to hide it. "You need it, you take it," he said. "Don't bother asking me and I won't ask for answers. When I'm sleeping it's under my pillow. You wake me. Otherwise, I might hurt you." Arwen nodded as though she was being given orders.
Her lips wobbled into a smile. "I might need it if Rhys continues eating my uncooked cookie batter." It might work quite well when he recognises the bladeâknowing he just became a worthy target of such a weapon. At Azriel's characteristic silence, Arwen lifted her shoulders in a stretch. "I think I might read for a while. Get a fire going."
When he said nothing still, she took her tea with another 'thank you' and set off to the sitting room. The fire was already alight upon entrance, meaning Mor or Rhysand had used their magic before disappearing upstairs. Arwen picked up her abandoned book on the small stand that she was well into. Sinking into the lounge, she pulled a loose throw-rug over her legs and bundled herself against the pillows then let herself fall into a world far away from Velaris.
The lounge gave under an extra weight. Azriel leant forward partially. Arwen glimpsed at him. "Here," she whispered, handing him one of her pillows and gesturing towards his back. He placed it against his low spine, letting him lean back without the pressure against his wings. Kicking the end of her rug, she let it billow out over his legs but left him to adjust it as he saw fit.
"Thank you," his hoarse voice came.
Arwen smiled and went back to the book in her lap, legs folded underneath her. Every few page turns, she'd sneak a glance back over. He just sat there, content to do and say nothing. Unable to stand his ability to remain so unnervingly at ease, she twisted around until her side leaned against his resting arm. Arwen placed her cheek on his shoulder, never once removing her eyes from the book as she moved.
Azriel softened under her.