Chapter 53
Arwen didn't have the motivation to venture all the way down to the library underneath the House of Wind. So she settled on the bookshelves she knew were stacked in one of the main sitting rooms instead. The books that Rhysand brought were fine, but there was one she wanted that he hadn't brought her. The hour was late as she wandered through the halls, the silk pants of her nightwear sliding over her skin with each step.
She left the lights untouched, content to walk through the shadows alone. Turning into the living room, Arwen quickly discovered she wasn't the only one with thoughts keeping her away from sleep.
Mor, alike the day before when Arwen first saw her, sat on a lounge in front of a lit hearth. Next to her, golden hair tumbling loosely over her shoulders, was Feyre. Their heads gradually turned at Arwen's entrance, Mor perking. Feyre smiled gently but looked between Arwen and Mor as if she wasn't sure what to do.
Arwen stilled just inside the entrance and gazed upon her High Lady who wore a soft blue dress that hung loosely from her waist. Modest by Night Court standards.
"Arwen," murmured Mor, rising from the lounge. Arwen remained in place and let the events unfold. Mor pressed her brows together, but a smile lifted her cheeks. An odd sort of happiness, Arwen noted. "Do you need something?"
Arwen glanced at the bookshelf just across from them.
Mor followed it and smiled again. Feyre decided to stand as well, moving to Mor's side. "Hello, Arwen," she said, her voice clear and smooth. "My name is Feyre."
Something tightened in Arwen's throat at the sound of it. She had known Feyre as long as Rhysand hadâbut it was different. Feyre was someone that Arwen had truly wanted to meet. Having been there, stuck Under the Mountain, she knew exactly what Feyre went through to save Prythian. What she meant to Rhysand and this court. Who she had become. What she had done to Tamlin's court and Ianthe.
But Feyre was also new; someone that she hadn't met before her death. And that made it so much easier for the words to tumble from her lips. "Arwen," she greeted back, despite Feyre very well knowing.
Mor smiled wider, a weight dropping from her shoulders. "I suppose Rhys was hoping for the honours, but I will happily steal it from him. Feyre is Rhysand's mate, and our High Lady."
Despite the momentary pleasure that meeting Feyre broughtâto see the person who saved her homeâit was replaced by a sudden resentment. Feyre had known this place for little less than two years and already she had her part in this court. A part far more important than Arwen ever played in her two hundred years of living. Not a burden to Rhysand or the others. It was by his desire that Feyre had her place. And it was by his desire that Arwen did not.
At Arwen's silence, Feyre added, "Mor and Cassian have been telling me more about you. You wouldn't believe how much they have to say."
She gave a slight huff, not strong enough for their ears to hear. "It must be pouring out of them." She didn't acknowledge the lack of Rhysand's name. Azriel wasn't a surprise. He wouldn't talk about anything if given the choice. Mor and Feyre looked at each other and she realised how her choice of words came across (exactly how she thought them, but not how she intended for them to sound aloud). "It's a pleasure to meet you, Feyre. I apologise for not making a... Finer introduction of myself."
"It's hardly a matter," she waved off. "I thought of coming to see you today to introduce myself, but I didn't want to intrude."
"Cassian said you managed to eat a bit at lunch," Mor prompted. "How did you find dinner?"
"I haven't eaten it yet." Arwen wasn't in the habit of remembering to eat yet. The plate still sat untouched on her nightstand, forgotten the moment Azriel left.
"Oh," Mor uttered. "Well lunch was big."
Arwen nodded in agreement, then walked around them to the bookshelf, skirting around the patterned rug that stretched from underneath a lowered table. Tipping her head to her shoulder, she made her way down the line of books and looked for the gold-leafed title. It didn't take long until she was pulling it from the shelf. The feel of the leather calmed something inside of her. Holding it to her chest, Arwen set her stride back on the hallway that would lead to her chamber. She stopped before she passed the two females.
Arwen ran her tongue over her lips. "I'm glad that the Night Court is the first to have a High Lady. It's about time Prythian put someone sensible in charge of something."
Feyre blinked at the sudden compliment but smiled and gave a small bow of her head. "I'm glad that you are here to help me."
Arwen stammered. She opened her mouth to say something else, but her mind remained blank. Instead, she ducked her head and took a charging start on her path out of the sitting room, not stopping until she reached her chamber. Tossing the book to the side, she climbed onto the mattress and buried herself in the blanket, calling upon sleep to take her.
~
The sun aroused her the next morning. Or rather, her stomach did. Arwen looked to the nightstand, but the plate she had left overnight had disappeared. Probably for the best and save her the stomach ache of stale food. But Cassian would be by sooner or later.
He did, an hour later. Hearing him approach from the hall before he made it to her door, Arwen left the bed and strode to it in anticipation. Grasping the silver knob, she pulled the door open just as Cassian raised his knuckles to knock on the other side. But to her disappointment, he didn't carry a bowl or plate for her morning meal.
He gave her a crooked smile. "Excited to see me?" Arwen lifted her brow, making a pointed gesture with her head towards his empty hands. He looked down at them. "Ah. I have a proposition instead. We're having a small family breakfast and I want you to come."
She leant against the doorway. A family breakfast? That sounded marvellously horrendous. "Who's going to be there?" she inquired.
"Only one that you haven't met yet. Her name's Feyre and she's rather fantastic if my opinion counts," Cassian laid out for her with a humorous wink.
Arwen sucked on the inside of her bottom lip. "I met her. Last night."
Cassian rounded his lips. "Oh. Then I suppose you'll know everybody. It'll be smallâsomething like we always used to."
Used to. They still did, but the choice of the term was apparently for her sake. "In the House?" Arwen wanted to be able to leave at any moment without the reliance of an escortânevermind that she probably wouldn't accept if she had to fly somewhere.
"I wouldn't offer if it wasn't." Cassian opened his arm to the hallway. "Would you like to join or should I send for Nuala and Cerridwen to have you brought something to eat?"
It might save her from being prodded at later for not leaving the chamber again for some time. Or it might backfire and they would try and pry her out more. It was a risk, but she calculated it. "Can I sit next to you?"
Cassian chuckled warmly. He stretched on arm overhead and braced it on the threshold. "I'm popular so it might be a fight for the spot, but I'll root for you. Come on." She followed him out, arms crossed over her chest. "Are you going to talk to anybody else today or am I going to have to interpret all your looks."
Arwen glared up at him.
He held out his hands. "You've got plenty, so I suppose I don't mind," he muttered. He chuckled out of nowhere. "You were probably too young to remember it now, but some days when I got to spend time with you at the camps or the cabin, we'd have these conversations with just our faces. You were supposed to be sleeping and I didn't want to be smacked up the back of the head for keeping you up, so we learnt to be silent."
She remembered the barest memory of something like it, but she couldn't be sure it wasn't her mind making a phantom memory. "Sounds like such a long time ago," she muttered.
Cassian made a noise of agreement. They walked a little further when he came to a stop mid-hall. Arwen, a step ahead, looked back. He narrowed his eyes at the ground between them. His voice was low and slow when he spoke. "We didn't want to throw anything on to you too soon," he said, "and I don't know how much you do know but... It's been two hundred and fifty years, Arwen." Each word carried so much weight that she could almost see his shoulders drooping under it.
She sniffed hard and pulled at the sleeves of the simple green dress she had put on. "That's a long time," she replied, voice dry and hoarse. A long time was an understatement. Cassian nodded stiffly.
"How does it feel for you?" he asked, taking the step forward that she left between them. "After waking up? Now?"
"Like a long sleep," she lied.
He squinted into the air, nodding slightly as he took in her answer. "You don't remember anything? What it was like?"
Arwen shook her head. "No." His lips rolled into his teeth as he thought to himself for another minute. "Everybody seems rather busy." Skirting around the fact she knew a war had just occurred was frustrating. Even at her prod of Azriel's damaged wings he hadn't mentioned it. Arwen didn't need it all slowly given to her, and it meant that she had to continuously watch her tongue. Remember what they have told her and what they haven't. "You said you were injured. Azriel is hurt as well."
"Yeah," Cassian breathed quietly. "We had, a-um, a war, sweetheart. There was a war."
She twisted her lips around, the grief spiralling through her not something she had to force. Hundreds of Illyrians died. Cassian nearly died. Rhysand hadâsomething he hadn't spoken of to her. Having to stand there, helpless and watch it all happen, itâ
"Did we win?"
He bared a gentle grin. "We won," he confirmed with a pinch of his familiar arrogance. But the same grief she felt sat behind his hazel eyes and lined the map of his skin. "Mind you they would have been annihilated without me there, but I thought I should do my civic duty."
Arwen took the distraction of his tease with both hands. "Yes, General, I think you would be quite important." He seemed pleased with her dry attempt at humour. If one counted sarcasm as a joke.
"It's actually when we found you." He frowned and reconsidered his words. "Rhys found you. He brought you back along with Amren. Don't ask me anything more because honestly, I have no idea."
Arwen turned back the way they were walking, talking a few slow steps until Cassian took the hint and kept at her side. "How do you know it's actually me?" she inquired out of her own curiosity. "Not some trick of the Cauldron?"
"Would a trick of the Cauldon be putting that doubt in our heads?" he countered. "Rhys. Apparently, our minds have unique signatures. As soon as that was brought into question, he shot it down."
"Was it Amren that doubted it?"
"I see you have no memory loss problems. Old habits die hard." He chuckled to himself and shook his wings in a small release of tension. "Nobody wanted to doubt it. She was being wise when the rest of us were only clinging to hope."
Her gut tightened. "Hope?"
"Yeah," he said. "Hope that we really had you back."
The word stirred her mind, and not in a pleasant way