Chapter 58
Cassian wiped his hand down his face, hoping that he would wick his tire away with it. He had been in and out of Velaris over the past two weeks, dealing with the surging unsettlement within the camps. A stone weighed on top of that responsibility; Arwen hadn't been handling his disappearances well. Mor recounted to him over a late glass of wine that she had become more volatile of late, particularly in those times when he left. That night, before he had returned, she had broken her drinking glass in her hand and fled the dining chamber after Rhysand tried questioning her.
Cassian wandered down the House's shadow-shrouded corridors, half thoughtlessly, half with an end place in mind. It was late, but not so late that he felt like accidentally waking her would be rude. He hummed softly, feet taking him a right through the familiar corridor.
At her door, he knocked twice, almost too light to be heard. No response followed so he reached for the handle and edged the door open. Arwen's bedroom was just as dark as the halls, except her window remained open, allowing a stream of the waning moon's white light to sweep across the hardwood floor. Despite being in the early weeks of winter, Arwen had kicked her blanket off and lay exposed on her back, arms bent to each side of her head. On one hand, he could see a makeshift bandage, crafted from a scrap of fabric. Had done it herself, he concluded from the simple fact he knew the others wouldn't have settled for such a poor method.
Silent in step, he made his way to her bedside and sat on the edge of the mattress, picking up her injured hand. Blood already seeped through the light blue fabric, but it hadn't soaked which meant that it was healing as it should. He'd check it in the morning for infection.
Cassian carefully placed her hand back down then reached for her head, letting his fingers stroke down her temple and to her cheek.
He frowned. She felt wet, as though she had just gotten out of the bath or come inside from the rain. A quick sniff of his fingers confirmed that it was sweat. His gaze moved down to her chest, which moved at a quickened pace. He called her name. "Arwen?"
Her eyes jumped around under her eyelids, twitching at the sound of his voice. A nightmare, he quickly reasoned, only this time she wasn't thrashing and screaming for them to be warned. Cassian slid off the mattress and instead turned towards it, bracing a knee on the blanket at her side.
He grasped either side of her face. "Arwen," he called again, louder. "Sweetheart." As she twitched again, this time shooting through her entire body, Arwen inched under the moon's gleam and he saw the extent of her condition. Her skin was slick, tendrils of raven hair clung to her neck and forehead, a patch of the bed just under her darkened from it.
Cassian brought his body forward, digging his arms under her back and neck, lifting her into a seat. Arwen's head lopped against his arm, her chest making small convulsions. He kept calling her name, but it was until he decided to jostle her that her eyes opened. They peeled apart slowly, like a painting breaking from its frame over years. Unlike before, there was no panicked flurry, no hands flinging out to grasp the nearest thing, no gasping for breath.
Cassian readjusted her to lean against his front so he could use a hand to lift her still lopped head. "Hey, hey," he whispered, unconsciously falling into gentle rocking. Arwen tipped her head against his shoulder, the only effort given were a few, weary blinks. "You know where you are?"
He got a small grumble in response.
Cassian held her for a few minutes as he decided what to do. She did nothing but continue to lean against him, her breath fanning across his neck. "I'm going to make you a bath," he told her. Moving to lie her back down, he was stopped by a weak noise and her hand clutching at his shirt. He pried it off to hold it instead. "Come with me then," he said.
Arwen pushed herself up and then crept off the bed's edge, standing at his side. Cassian led her with him into the washroom, letting her hand fall back onto his shirt as he leant over the bathtub to set the taps on.
"Same dream?" he asked. The answer was the same every time, but this was the first time she had reacted so distantly. Arwen nodded. She reached past him to the wall lined with additives, taking the one that would fill the bath with suds. She damn near poured the entire bottle. Cassian gave a small laugh and took it from her, "I think any more and you'll start filling the entire room."
Arwen sat on the tub's edge, leaning down to swirl her fingers through the rising water. He watched her. She still breathed hard and her eyes were dull, like a blade that had gone blunt. She kept a clutch on the fabric of his shirt at his shoulder, pinching the seam to her palm as if letting go would mean the end of something. Couldn't see me. Or hear me. A prison. That had been what she told him. He didn't understand why it was him that she chose, over her mate and her brother but he accepted it. More than accepted it.
He turned the gilded taps off as the water risked overflowing once she placed herself in it. "I'll leave you to it," he murmured. "I'll stay just out there." Arwen let him peel her hand off. He left, closing the door behind him and sunk down onto her bed.
He ran his hands down his face again, trying to ignore the ache in his wings from the extra flying that Madja had advised against. But it had been weeks and if he didn't push himself, he would barely be able to carry the weight of another, let alone journey further than Illyria. But by the Mother it was exhausting. Just for a moment, he promised himself, he closed his eyes to the sound of water sploshing.
Cassian jolted, waking from his sleep. He blinked away the remnants of sleep, figuring out where he was because it certainly wasn't his own chambers. Apples and cinnamonâArwen's room. He groaned and placed his feet to the floor. It was still night and the moon had barely moved from where it had been before.
He dragged his feet along the floor, knocking on the bathroom door. How long had his nap been? It could have been anything from a few short minutes to an hour. "Sweetheart?" With a yawn, Cassian leant against the door and awaited her answer. There was none. "Arwen?" he called againâlouder.
Nothing.
He strained his ears and he could hear the ever-so-light sound of water moving. His heart started to fasten.
"Arwen, you need to tell me you're okay or I'm going to open this door." His hand was already curved around the handle. "Arwen?" With a grunt, he shouldered the door open and tried to prepare himself for what he might find.
Arwen sat in the middle of the tub, knees drawn to her chest. Her hair was wet but hadn't been in the water for some time, forming slumps that appeared like thick strings from her scalp. She stared, unmoving, at the water. Cassian crouched beside the tub. "Arwen?" he called again. She didn't respond to him. Bubbles frothed around her like snow, covering her up to her shoulders. "Sweetheart, you hearing me?"
It was like she was a statue, not just unmoving, but not responsiveânot hearing or seeing. He touched her face, swiping away the strings of hair. Cassian grasped her cheeks into his palms. "Look at me, Arwen. You need to look at me." But no matter what he did, no matter if he shook her face or her shoulders, she wouldn't respond. It was so dark that she resembled a wraith. "Shit."
He pushed off the edge of the tub and veered out of the washroom. He yelped at Azriel appeared from thin air, the shadows moving like smoke around him. Cassian snarled and pointed a finger at him in warning. "Mother fuck me from above, you're lucky I didn't have a knife in my hand."
Azriel smacked his hand away. "Where is she?"
Cassian squinted. "You were coming in to check on her? It's the middle of the night, Az." He didn't know why he treated it like such a surprise. He was certain Azriel had been doing it since the day she woke.
Azriel squinted back. "I see you already beat me to it."
Caught him there. "She's in the bath, Az." Azriel cocked his headâa dangerous warning to Cassian who had the sense to feel the urge to explain himself more before Truth Teller was driven through his sternum. Knowing how Azriel could be, how rash and untamed he could react, it wasn't a warning he took lightly. "I put her in the bath because she had another nightmare and was covered in sweat. But she's gone unresponsive."
"Unresponsive?"
"Like she doesn't even know I'm there." Cassian swivelled back on his feet and lead Azriel back into the washroom. The sight in there startled him. The bathtub still sat full of water, the frothing suds covering a thick layer on top. Arwen was nowhere to be seen. "Whaâ"
Azriel cut him off, barging past his shoulder. Quicker than Cassian could conjure a single thought of reason, Azriel pressed up against the tub's edge and reached into the water. Cassian gave another vulgar curse as he heaved Arwen's body from under the water. Water spilled over Azriel's boots as it poured over the lip of the bath and off Arwen's limp body. Yet her eyes were slit open and coughs sent more water pouring out of her lips.
Azriel dragged her away from it and then dropped to his knees in the middle of the room, holding her over his arm as she dispelled her water-clogged lungs. Cassian tore a towel from the hanger, falling next to them. Arwen hung in Azriel's grasp, her legs splayed out to the side, not a care for anything.
"Get Rhys," Azriel hissed. Cassian, stuck staring, didn't move. "Cassian, get Rhys!"
Cassian lurched back to his feet, the door smashing against the wall as he thundered past it. Not caring whether his footsteps shook the entire mountain, he made it to Rhysand's chambers in less than a minute. He didn't knock, elbowing his way in uninvited. Rhysand lay asleep next to Feyre. A single, hard shake to his High Lord's shoulder awoke him.
"Cass..." Rhysand muttered, drifting off with a croak.
Cassian said nothing, feeling the claws at his mind as Rhysand forced himself into attention. He counted four heartbeats before the High Lord ripped the blankets off and for the second time, had his shoulder barged into. Rhysand stormed across the room. "Rhys," Cassian hissed.
Rhysand stopped with a fiery gaze and panting chest. "What?" he growled.
Cassian snatched the pair of pants hanging off the closest chair. "It's urgent, but not urgent enough for you to go without pants." He thrust them into Rhysand's chest who grumbled and scrambled to put them on, attempting to walk at the same time.
The pair hastened their way back to the chamber. Rhysand careened around Cassian, moving into the bedroom and washroom first.
Arwen sat between Azriel's legs, her head placed against his collarbone. Azriel held the towel Cassian had abandoned to her, one arm around her chest, the other hovering near her head. Rhysand knelt beside them and took hold of her face.
A moment of silence grew, as did the thickness of the air.
"She's not conscious."
Azriel's face shot into a frown and his eyes snapped into a rough examination of her face. Cassian argued, "I woke her up. She got herself into the damn bath."
Rhysand shook his head. "Her mindâit's not clear which only happens like this when someone's sleeping. I'm going to pull her out of it." His thumbs pressed gently to each of her temples and Cassian could hear his own heartbeat with how silent the chamber fell. The flicker in the High Lord's face went unmissed by neither him nor Azriel. His brows deepened, eyes shifting as though he saw what she did.
Arwen blinked and her body lifted with a deep draw of air. Rhysand gradually pulled his hands away as she inched her head off Azriel's front, taking in what was before her. The panic that had been missing earlier now seeped back into existence. Her lip trembled, her hand raising to graze across the forearm along her chest. Cassian waited for the lurch away, the realisation that she was being held by someone else, but it did not come.
Her fingers curled around Azriel's arm and she lay her head back on his shoulder, curling her legs in closer. Cassian watched as Azriel strengthened his hold, the hand once hovering now settling on her cheek. His nose buried into her hair.
Water filled her eyes. "I couldn't get out. I couldn't escape."
The confliction pulsated off the shadowsingerâwhether relief that he could hold her, and that she held him back, or the torment of his mate's pain won inside of him.
Cassian laid a hand on Rhysand's shoulder, squeezing when the High Lord still did not look his way. Rhysand's face was taut and downturned. Cassian gestured out of the room with his head. Rhysand flared his nose indignantly, looking back down at his sister but Cassian didn't relent. Azriel murmured into her ear as Cassian pulled on Rhysand again, finally tugging him out of the room.