Chapter 57
Arwen refused to acknowledge anybody that morning. She hadn't the patience to listen to them question and prod her. It was the same things every day, and her lack of sleep, taunted by the same nightmare each night, only cut her temper shorter. But she sat at the table in the casual dining space, because if she hadn't come out, Cassian would have stormed into her room an hour ago and dragged her out of bed by her ankles.
Out of your room. That was the order he gave her each day, and really, the only one she listened to. Partially because she wanted to listen to him, partially because he was the only one that dared lay a hand on her and would actually go through with his threat.
Azriel laid a plate, decked with an assortment of breakfast foods in front of her. "You've lost weight," he said. Arwen looked at it, then into the near distance. Nothing about it looked appetising. "Arwenâ" he dropped to a crouch beside her chairâ "eat."
Rhysand watched the exchange from where he stood on the other side of the table, arms crossed and braced on the back of a chair. Feyre had made an appearance earlier but left for something Arwen didn't listen to. Cassian hadn't made a show yet and neither had Mor.
They did the same thing every day. And she told them the same thing every day; she ate when she was hungry. That morning, she wasn't.
Snow was beginning to fall across the mountaintops. It would drape the city in white, but not for weeks to come. Arwen hadn't made the journey down into the city yet and probably wouldn't gather the energy to for some time. Rhysand's birthday was a nearing celebration, Winter Solstice close by.
She did want to buy him something. Didn't know what, but the urge lay in her. Winter Solstice, however, she didn't want even to begin thinking about. If Feyre's sisters agreed to join, then they too would be present. Arwen hadn't met them yet, each party secluded in their respective residence.
Azriel looked up at her through his dark lashes as he crouched next to her chair. "Tell me what you will eat," he said quietly, his voice so low and flat that she had to repeat in her mind to understand. "Please."
"Aren't you sick of doing this?" she asked, the words croaking and weaker than she intended. "I take care of myself."
Azriel gave a slow shake of his head. "No, Arwen. I'm not."
"If she won't eat, she won't eat," a new feminine voice drawled. Amren sauntered into the open room, her eyes dull and sheer boredom painted her expression. Azriel sent a glare in her direction. "She'll starve and then she'll learn."
Arwen wasn't sure whether to appreciate the support or feel belittled. Rhysand moved his lips into an empty smile. "Amren, how lovely to see you."
"The pleasure is all yours. We were supposed to work on that proposal yesterday, Rhys, but you blew me off. Do I need to remind you that we're on a tight schedule? And you, Azriel, have about three piles of stacked reports to get through. Today." The small female huffed and rolled her eyes. "You'd think I'm the one running this entire court. Forget that; I am."
Cassian strolled in, the drooping of his eyes almost amusing as Arwen guessed that he had just been victim of Amren's scolding moments prior. Azriel rose back to height, placing a hand on the back of her chair.
Rhysand rubbed at his forehead like he had a pounding headache. "I'll come down now."
"The reports can wait," Azriel growled.
Amren returned the glare he had sent her. "They've been waiting over two weeks." Arwen had been wondering why she'd been seeing so much of him. He had been avoiding work.
Rhysand placated his Second with a downward wave of his hand before glancing at his spymaster. "Azriel, see to them."
Azriel snarled. It was so rough and unrestrained that Arwen guessed that it hadn't come with any thought, especially as it was aimed at his High Lord and Second in Charge. Amren arched a brow, baiting the challenge.
"Azriel," Rhysand murmured, soft but firm. Azriel tore his eyes off the female who had crossed her arms. A silent minute lapsed where they communicated in a way that no one else was privy to.
The hand dropped from the back of her chair. Azriel stalked across the room, passing Amren a final dirty look before stopping at Cassian's side. He leant in close to Cassian's ear and muttered something unbeknownst to Arwen. Cassian nodded reassuringly and squeezed his brother's shoulder. Azriel left the room. Rhysand passed by the general next, Amren stuck to his side, making sure he couldn't run off.
Cassian made large but slow steps towards Arwen's chosen seat. He tipped the closest chair onto its two hind legs and let them screech as he dragged it out. He turned it to face her, sitting so close that his knees were a hair's width away from her thigh.
"I have a surprise for you," he proclaimed.
Arwen's interest made a small spike. "Surprise?" she echoed, taming her curiosity from showing.
"I do." He laid a hand on her leg. "But you have to eat before you can see it."
Her curiosity ceased at the conditions. Pressing back to laze against the chair's spine, she muttered, "What if I don't like the surprise?"
He shrugged. "Then you've eaten something, and I learn that I'm no good at surprises. Only I can lose." Arwen could argue that fact. "But if you don't, then you won't find out what it is and that's a firm loss on your part."
It intrigued her again, mostly because whatever it was, she couldn't guess. She examined the plate once more. "I can't eat all of this," she whispered.
Cassian snorted. "I could barely eat all that. Just get through something."
The extent of 'something' was left undefined, but Arwen made small headway into the meal. What she did not reach for, he helped himself. Chewing slowly through a cut of bacon her stomach gargled in complaint. But she pressed on and he let her finish after that.
With a smile, he stood and offered a hand. Arwen rose as well, slipping her hand into his. Cassian led her from the open dining space into the hall, leading her towards the main entertainment wing. "I'll admit, the surprise really isn't all that interesting," he remarked as they walked. "I find it pretty dull, but Rhys thinks you'll like it."
"Rhys?" she repeated. "This was his idea?"
He nodded. Arwen began debating whether forcing food down her throat had been worth it. They turned into the foyer, then crossed it to the spacious hosting chamber where guests to the House would be greeted and accommodated. Her feet slowed upon seeing a head of fire seated at the main lounge.
"Lucien?"
Lucien twisted his neck, making a slow rise as their gazes met.
Arwen had seen Lucien enter Velaris with Feyre all that time ago, but he had become reclusive and she hardly saw him around. She hadn't even realised or thought to consider that he remained in the city after the war. Perhaps it was her own personal vendetta against Spring that made it so gratifying to see him there in her home instead. For him to see to the truth of her family.
He edged around the lounge, clad in a white tunic and brown leather jacket. His lips had parted, both his true eye and the gleaming gold one examining every inch of her. Arwen's throat constricted at the sight of the scars etched into his face. She had been there when they were struck.
"You look good for someone who's supposed to be dead," he breathed, like all of them, not knowing what to say. A braid on the side of his head kept half his hair pulled away, accentuating the sharp cut of his long jaw.
Arwen glanced down at herself. "I would have dressed more for the occasion if I knew it was happening." A black shirt clung to her arms, cotton and warm, whilst her legs were draped in silk pants that had forgone their matching singlet. She gestured back to the lounge, inviting him to seat himself again. Cassian trailed alongside her as she joined Lucien on the red lounge, settling on her far side, not impeding on her conversation with Lucien, but not so far away that he was forgotten about either.
Arwen pulled her bare feet up, so they weren't resting on the carpet the lounge was situated on top of and faced Lucien. The fabric still made her feel sickly. "Velaris isn't quite like Hewn City, is it?" she asked.
Lucien let out a long breath, but the words of agreement took a little longer to come. "It's certainly not what I expected. But I understand why you protected it."
The sides of her lips made a small twitch upwards. Cassian stretched his arm along the back of the lounge, his hand extending into her view, the side of his leg pressing into hers. An offerâfor her to take if and when she needed it. And perhaps a reminder to Lucien to mind his space. Arwen decided to rest her arm over the top of his and trace the faded veins on the back of his hand as she spoke. "Do you plan on staying here?"
Lucien tilted his head, looking beyond her to the glass windows. "I don't really know what I'm doing." His eyes found hers again. "I'm... sorry," he uttered. "For what Tamlin did to you. For what happened to you." The apology he couldn't and wouldn't give her at Hewn City all those years ago. Arwen hadn't expected it then, nor had she now but took it with a gracious nod. "I wanted to believe that it was warrantedâthat he only did it because of what we believed you all to be."
Behind her, Cassian grumbled deeply, shifting in his seat. Arwen huffed to herself but understood his temper on the topic.
"You were always too handsome for Spring Court," she remarked somewhat off-handed. "While the green did suit you, I think you look far better under starlight." Lucien arched his brows, a crooked smile revealing itself as he attempted to deduce whether her words were flirt or taunt. Not that he'd care for the former, considering he had a mate now, and even Arwen wasn't sure what she had meant.
"You already have me in the heart of your court," he said. "Should I be wary if you're attempting to flatter me?"
"If memory serves me correctly, Lucien, I think I have always been open with my opinion of you."
"And it continues to surprise me." Lucien chuckled lightly. "Considering what I admitted I might do to you all those years ago."
Cassian's heat enveloped her back, his deep voice in her ear. "What you might do, Vanserra?" he echoed with a darkening edge in his tone. Lucien's smile dimmed as he seemed to realise the general was still present and his own ill choice of words.
Arwen glimpsed over her shoulder, recoiling as her temple nearly knocked his jaw. "It's nothing. It was under Tamlin's order whilst he was in Hewn City. A way for him to escape, and we can hardly blame Lucien for considering it with the way you scowled at him all night."
Lucien shifted. "Which, might I add, is very similar to the one I'm receiving now," he muttered.
"Ignore him," she murmured to Lucien.
"Don't ignore me," Cassian corrected with a growl underlining his tone.
Arwen rolled her eyes and moved the conversation onward. Lucien recounted his time in the Spring Court with Feyreâthings that Arwen hadn't known before and drew every drop of her attention. For himself or them both, he skipped over his experience Under the Mountain, though Arwen's ears rang with the ghost of his panicked screams, remembering how her own heart hammered before Feyre screamed her name to save him. As their conversation trickled back to a slow, he told her of his apartment in the city, and offered to host her, if she ever wished to visit.
"Thank you."
Lucien smiled. "I think I was supposed to see your spymaster about his reports on the Spring Court."
Arwen lifted her chin. "He'll be in the study, just over in the east wing past the main balcony. Fair warning, he's in a foul mood."
Lucien sighed and thinned his lips, bidding her a final farewell before heading off in search of Azriel. Arwen let her shoulders stoop as he disappeared, eyes fluttering and the slight but constant tension in her cheeks releasing. She tipped her head back, resting against the front of Cassian's shoulder. She had enjoyed the talkâenjoyed seeing Lucienâbut it had taken what little energy she had.
Cassian kissed her temple. "How are you feeling?"
It took a moment to find a suitable word. "Heavy." So damn heavy. "You don't have to be like that with him, you know."
"Forgive me," he growled, twisting the hand that she still had her own laid over until his fingers threaded through hers, "if I'm not overly keen on having outsiders of this court near you." But Arwen didn't meet his worry. "Do you want to go back to bed?"
She shook her head, but turned into him, nestling her head in the space between his neck and the lounge, soaking in the warmth it offered. "I just need a few minutes."
His laugh was gentle, as if purposefully subdued for her sake. Despite her insistence on needing only momentary respite, Arwen fell asleep to soft strokes making their way along the nape of her neck and when she opened her eyes again, it was to be greeted with the soft breeze filtering in through the open window in her bedchamber.
That night, as she picked at her dinner, Arwen looked across the table at her brother and said, "Thank you." Rhysand's smile was soft.