Chapter 60
Arwen hadn't slept. She was too scared to.
Guilt pricked at her upon seeing Cassian return last night. She knew he was needed down at the camps and knew that he took his job seriously, only for her to pull him from it. Trying to rectify it all, she buckled up her composure and told him that he could return to his duties. Cassian shook his head and kept her company the entire night. He had fallen asleep but she settled for the quietness of his presence alone.
When morning rolled around, he rose with the sun and told her to go eat something while he went to train with Azriel. Arwen didn't argue. She pulled on the thick gown over her night dress, having swapped the emerald one out for another of a softer material. The kitchen, where Nuala and Cerridwen would be, preparing meals for the House's residents before moving on to the later waking ones of the town house, was to the left. Arwen took a right. She pulled the sleeves of the gown over her palms and couldn't keep her eyes straight ahead, especially when she knocked on the door of her brother's chambers.
No answer.
Arwen twisted the cold knob and peeked in. Empty. Feyre and Rhysand must have slept in the town house. Since hunger didn't call her yet, she decided to slip into the room nonetheless.
It was the first time she had smelt itâno longer just her brother's scent, but Feyre's mingled with it. Her things interweaved between his too. Arwen circled the chamber at a snail's pace. His boots, as they had always been, were kicked off near the wardrobe. Their mother had scolded him for it even through his adult years.
She sat on the edge of the bed and looked towards the window across from it.
Arwen remembered coming in here the weeks after her mother's death. She hadn't even thought about when they would just spend hours sitting, watching the city through the glazed windows, how much work he had ignored to take care of her. He was mourning too, she supposed. Both their mother and father. But it had been her way of mourningânot his. She hadn't given him the chance to move on in his own way. Hadn't asked him if he was okay. She just assumed he was because Rhys was always alright. He never let her believe otherwise.
Arwen looked down at the dark nightstand next to his bed. A candle had been half burnt away. A ring Mor gave him years ago, simple and black banded by gold. There was also a small bracelet, made from a woven black and silver thread.
She pulled up the sleeve of her gown, eyeing the one on her own wrist. Matching. The ones she made when they went to the cabin alone and forced on his wrist. He had kept it, after all these years.
When Arwen entered the kitchen, she reached for the glass jar full of plain crackers. Nuala and Cerridwen paid her little mind when she paid them none, leaving her to nibble in silence. Once she had eaten what she knew would satisfy Cassian's pestering on her diet, she set way for her bed chambers to change into something more appropriate for the day.
Yawning and wiping her eyes, she had to blink twice to wipe the blurriness away as an Illyrian form stalked towards her. She arched a brow at Cassian's dishevelled form. His hairâwell, that was always a mess, but his bottom lip, just right to the small pout had been busted. Dark blood crusted the split, remnants of it ingrained into the thin lines of the plump tissue. His nose also was swelling slightly, and a thick line of blood had oozed down to meet his upper lip. Almost invisible marks across his cheek revealed his previous attempts to wipe it away.
He gave her a tired smile. "We may have gotten a little excited during training."
She didn't believe it. "Your nose is broken," she told him, as if he didn't already know. He made a small sniff then winced at the stupid action. Arwen grabbed his wrist and pulled on him, letting Cassian swivel on his heels to keep up as she took him to her room.
She guided him to the bed, pushing him to sit at the foot's edge. He did so, albeit a little gruffly. Sighing, she narrowed her eyes at himâa silent accusation for not diffusing whatever happened to lead to it. He had been calm leaving for training, and the same now, which meant that he was in the mind to prevent the escalation. Cassian may be one to give way to his temper, but she knew the signs of it.
Arwen pursed her lips together and stood at his knees.
"You eat something?" he asked.
Giving a nod of answer, she cupped his jaw with one hand to keep it steady and pinched his nose lightly with the other, feeling for the deviation. He hissed and jerked away from her hand at a light squeeze.
"Illyrian baby," she muttered and solidified her grip on his jaw.
He huffed, wincing again. "You get that from Feyre?"
Arwen nodded, although she hadn't heard it used since awakening. "I think it fits," she said. "You and Rhysand are the biggest whiners I've ever met."
"The pleasure of meeting," he corrected. "And I'd like to add you to that list. 'My dislocated arm hurts so much, Cassian. Rhys is so mean, tell him to stop. It's raining, I don't want to train and get my hair wet.' So don't think you aren't a part of this Illyrian babies club we've got going on."
Arwen smiled at his impersonation, momentarily forgetting her work at his nose. She didn't even realise the movement had come until she found Cassian staring at her lips. They wavered, before strengthening once more and his eyes rose to meet hers. "How you remember that after so long is a mystery to me."
"How could I ever forget?"
Her smile did flatten at that, though she tried to hide it behind the natural form of her focus. For a moment she wondered why he was even bothered to let her do this, but he was a trained warrior. Anyone wise, especially a soldier, knew to take proper healing when they could afford it. Even Cassian in his bravado. "I can fix this," she said, inching a half-step closer as she readjusted her grip.
He squinted his eyes in anticipation and she felt his jaw clenched under her hand. Arwen made a small twist with her fingers, realigning his nose. He jolted at the snap but she let go immediately to let him wince off the pain.
"Ah, damn that hurt," he grumbled and made a small nose scrunch to test her work.
"Baby," she repeated, smiling again. He laughed. Arwen made a gesture for him not to move and headed into her connected washroom, sourcing a clean cloth and filling a small bowl with fresh water. He reached for them on her return, but she careened them away from his hands with a small 'tut'. "I'll do it. You'll probably make it worse."
"I survived a war I probably shouldn't have. I think I'll be fine with a busted lip."
"Let me fuss," she told him. "It's distracting." He didn't argue again. Arwen dipped the cloth into the water and pinched Cassian's chin. She wiped the blood away on his nose first, then gently pat the cloth to his lip where the split was.
"Can we talk about yesterday?" he asked after minutes of what she had believed was a comfortable silence.
She sighed and wet a new spot on the cloth. "I don't exactly what to talk about how I destroyed a room."
He shook his head before she regripped it. "Not the afternoon, the morning."
The correction made her hands hesitate just before she put the cloth to his skin again. Her brows pinched. "Which part?"
"About Azriel. And Elain." Arwen's eyes turned down and she slowed her efforts at cleaning his face. Cassian gripped the underside of her arms. "It's not true, sweetheart. But where did you hear that? Did Az say something to you? Feyre?"
"Azriel hasn't said a word about Elain," she replied shortly. She regretted her words from that morning. It had been her true thoughts, but ones she intended to keep internalised. Now they were open, like pulling the stitches off a fresh wound.
"Then I'm assuming I should be blaming Mor and her talkative mouth."
Arwen dumped the cloth into the bowl. "This was supposed to distract me, not make me think about things I don't want to. I think I'd rather talk about how I disrespected half a library of books."
Cassian lifted a shoulder with a half-ounce of energy. "I didn't think we needed to." Arwen frowned at the sliver of ground between them, not understanding. One of Cassian's hands rose to rest against her cheek, the other slipping down to her hand. They were near the same height when he was sitting. "You were angry. Frustrated. And have every right to be. I might not understand it, but I don't need to."
Tears fled to her eyesâones she had avoided for hours since they had dried after Cassian returned and she flung herself to him. "I hate it." Her voice cracked. She couldn't meet his eye. "I hate that everything is so different. I hate that I'm different. I feel like a stranger to myself. I know I must be a stranger to you."
"Arwen," he uttered slowly. "Turn around."
She frowned at him and his tone. He grappled at her waist and twisted her to face the wall behind them. Arwen met her reflection in the mirror over the vanity. Her eyes dropped to the hands around her waist. His fingers almost met over her stomach. Azriel was right. She had lost weight. Cassian urged the robe off her shoulders, letting it puddle at their feet and leaving her in the silk slip she had become so fond of despite the winter weather. The rest of her was ghastly, but she gave herself the benefit of considering the sleepless night behind her would probably be a factor in that.
"Do you know what I see?" he asked.
Arwen shook her head, because she truly had no idea what he saw. If he saw some helpless girl or if he saw a ghost of his past.
"I see Arwen." Cassian looked at her. Not her reflection, but her. "And I know Arwen very well. I know that when's she happy she puts this little dance in her walk. I know she likes to hold people when she's sleeping and likes something to drink when she reads." Arwen cracked a tearing smile. Cassian smiled back at her. "I know that she loves gifts. I know that Starfall is her favourite day of the year. But I also know her when she's not walking with that small dance. I know that when she's frustrated, she cries and sometimes she snaps at people. I know that when she's feeling lost, she gets quiet and likes to think, but I also know she hates being alone so I always wait nearby."
Everything inside of her became light and heavy all at once. Arwen had to look down at her legs to make sure they weren't shaking.
Cassian stood behind her, his wings almost looking as if they were her own. "I know you, Arwen. Every part of you, even when everything's not perfect."
The tears now made treks down her cheeks. Her fingers went to pull the sleeves of the robe over her palms only to remember she no longer wore it. So she used the sides of her fists to dry her face. Her throat burned, but she forced herself to say it anyway. "Thank you." It wasn't like him to put his thoughts so concisely together, so emotionally. It would have been as hard for him to say as it was for her to hear. Arwen knew she'd value this moment for a long time.
"If you let the others in, they'll tell you the same. Azriel..." He sighed. "Azriel was upset seeing you like that yesterday. He doesn't know what to do to help you."
"I don't want to talk about him."
He lifted his hands to either side of his chest. "I'm not going to push all that right now. I got a smile from you today and that's my greatest victory." He flicked her cheek.
Arwen gave another, even if it was weaker than her earlier ones. "You were the last person I spoke to," she found herself saying, not even her thoughts certain where she was going. "I told you that I loved you and you said it back." The last thing she remembered of her old life. She remembered what happened after that too, the pain and the weakness, but it was the last voice she heard that hadn't sounded like she was underwater before dying. Arwen wanted him to know that she remembered it. That it helped her.
Cassian sat back down on the edge of the bed and tilted his head. Arwen mirrored it as a line burrowed between his brows. "I don't remember that," he said, sounding agitated at the fact. He ran his hands over his knees and frowned at the empty air between them.
Arwen's stomach shrivelled in disappointment. "Maybe I imagined it," she whispered. It was possible, that after all this time she conjured a false memory to deal with everything. Arwen wasn't so sure herself now.
"Whatever it is, I'm glad you have that," he said. "I wish I had that memory."
Arwen made herself shrug. "It was two hundred and fifty years ago."
"Would have been nice to have on my conscience." He tightened his lips and offered her a tired smile. "But I'll settle for the fact that I get to tell you now instead." With a grunt, he pressed once more to his feet and shuffled past her. Arwen parted her lips, stepping back to offer him the room to pass. He made it to her door before turning back to see that she was still standing in the same spot. "Starving after that training session. Come keep me company so I can mope about it."
With a sharp nod, she joined at his side.
As they strode down the otherwise empty corridor, he slung an arm over her shoulder. "Sweetheart?"
"Yeah?" she whispered.
He leant down, still walking, to speak into her ear. "I love you, but if you start feeling like you need to destroy something, come to me. That was my favourite sitting room." He gave a rumbling laugh from the pit of his chest as she smiled and gave a sigh of contentment, leaning her head against his shoulder.
Today, she felt a little more... Alive.