Chapter 62
It was a narrow, two-story building with a cherry-red door that Arwen found particularly fitting. Cassian thumped the side of his fist hard against the wood. It took a minute and another loud knock until the door swung open to a scowling Lucien. At the sight of them, which she imagined was rather pathetic, the scowl was erased.
"Are you going to gawk or let us in?" muttered Cassian.
Lucien skirted to the side and opened the door wider. Snow flurried in with them as they scuttled into the building. It was homely, with an open sitting room and dining space connected. A staircase acted as a separator between a short hall to a kitchen and a washroom on the other side. "What in the Mother's name are you doing out in that storm?"
Arwen held up the box which her fingers had permanently frozen around. "Shopping." Part of her was surprised she could say anything, given how stiff and frozen her face felt.
"Shopping?" he yelped. "There was a storm warning given last night."
She turned towards Cassian who had already found his way in front of the raging hearth. The blizzard could still be heard through it as a whistling howl. "Nobody told me," she said to the air, but there was no doubt who it was pointed to.
Cassian rubbed his hands together and his wings let out a shiver, shaking off the stuck flurries. "I told you I forgot how long it takes you to shop. Get over here." It was her turn to submit to him, so she offered a weak smile at Lucien and joined in front of the hungry flames.
Lucien went upstairs, returning back down with two rugs. They were soft, so she accepted one and wrapped it around her shoulders. Cassian denied needing the other so Arwen took it as well.
"I have a soup cooking," Lucien informed them. "It'll be ready soon."
She went to deny the offering, but her teeth chattered. "Thank you," she said instead. Even if she couldn't eat it, the bowl would be warm to hold.
Cassian settled in his spot by the flames. "This is cosy," he muttered with a brow arched at the expanse of the apartment. Arwen rolled her eyes at his tone.
"I'm hardly in it," Lucien replied. "This storm isn't supposed to pass until tomorrow. Since I haven't been given the choice, I suppose you'll be staying here?"
Cassian tightened a smile. "Such a host you are," he crooned. "You're welcoming nature has warmed me from the inside out."
Lucien glowered at the general.
"He means to say thank you," Arwen interjected. "Unless he wants to be kicked out to that crate he was talking about." His smile loosened into something more natural for her before moving it to Lucien, revealing his playful natureâif still one that bit, as the shapely canines promised.
Lucien eyed it. "I only have one bed but it's big enough to share if you want both want to take it."
"I'll take the lounge," said Arwen, then patted Cassian's knee. "He's happy to take the floor." Her own grin rose at the sound of his spluttering and swift opposition. Even Lucien revealed his amusement with a tip of his lips. "It is only right to offer it up for me."
"My wings," he griped. "If they hurt in the morning, I won't be carrying you back home."
"Fine," she said with a feigned sigh.
Lucien's soup was sent from the Mother. Arwen attempted to huddle her entire form around it, leaving the hearth to warm her back, managing to eat half. Cassian even acquiesced to forming a compliment. It set them into a genial evening where a bottle of wine, gifted from Feyre, was broken into. Arwen hesitated at the offered glass, having not touched alcohol for so long, but took it in the end. She and Cassian migrated onto the lounge, Lucien taking the armchair adjacent.
Lucien shuffled out cards between them, but Cassian denied wanting to be involved in the card game. Arwen shrugged and rested up against the lounge's arm, pressing her feet into the warmth of his thighs on her right.
"Rita's is a fun place," she told Lucien. "But only if you like that type of scene."
"What type of scene would that be?" he inquired as they sorted out their cards.
She tipped her head. "Music. Drinking. Grinding. Probably not your scene," she decided. He chuckled.
They started on their game, using the lowered table that had been dragged close to their legs as a place to put their cards down. Arwen contemplated her future moves, and couldn't help but notice Cassian's eyes set on her hand. "Are you sure you don't want to play?"
He wrinkled his nose and shook his head. Lucien played his card, so she plucked her next one out of the splayed set in her hand. The action was instantly met disapproving hum. Arwen tilted her head back. Cassian leant forward and tapped a different card. Humouring him, she placed her chosen card back and played the one he suggested. Within three rounds, Arwen noticed that she had the upper hand.
Cassian remained leaning over her shoulder and by the middle of the game, she had been demoted to a card holder. He had an arm thrown over the back of the lounge behind her shoulders and a still booted foot perched on the table where their empty glasses lay. All sense of personal space had been tossed. "I thought you didn't want to play," she sang quietly, his face hovering right next to hers.
"I don't," he replied as if it were still obvious. "But I'm not letting you lose to Vanserra."
Lucien kept a crooked smile, only glancing up from his own hand of cards.
"Don't you get lonely here?" she couldn't help but ask. "Living alone?"
Lucien surveyed the room, coming to give a slow shake of his head. "No," he said. "I've lived my life in mansions and palaces. This is the first space that's ever truly been my own. If I had anything larger, I wouldn't know what to do with it. But I like keeping it to myself."
Cassian grew impatient at their conversation and drew a card from her fingers himself, leaning across her to plant it on the pile. Arwen jerked out of the way of his wings. "I suppose you only have to walk out the door to be with people," she said, more for herself. Her arms grew tired so she lowered them to the velvety blanket covering her legs. The cards were promptly snatched from her.
"You've just shown the enemy your hand," hissed Cassian as she gaped at him. "It's like I haven't taught you anything."
She put her hands into defence. "You play then."
He did. And they drank more wine, keeping the fire going long into the late afternoon and into the darkness of the night. They had another bowl of soup each for their evening meal. Sure enough, the blizzard wasn't relenting so they set up spaces to sleep.
Their conversation turned quieter, and Cassian eventually fell out of it completely. His head leant against the lounge's backing, eyes half-closed and his arms comfortably crossed over his naval. Exhausted. She didn't blame him, even if the day hadn't been much in comparison to a war, he had still fought to keep his wing steady against the storm to hold her within it. He had flown her down, still fending off injuries. He had trained that morning. And he had put up with Lucien, which was a feat in itself. Arwen, though, had a new sense of energy that she hadn't felt in... a long time. A very long time.
"Would you like me to move so you can have the lounge?" she whispered to him, laying a hand on his leg.
He peeked an eye open, and a subtle grin ghosted his mouth. "We can share."
Arwen huffed and examined the size of the seat. But he would be content to fall asleep how he was and she could always move him into something more comfortable later. And it wasn't long before his light snores filled the sitting room. Lucien poured what he declared would be their last glasses for the night. Arwen took it and curled her legs tighter.
She went to say something to him, but was caught by the baffled burrowing of his brows, gaze set on Cassian. "What is it?"
A strange smile lifted his cheeks and it took him a moment to answer. "I was... Always taught to be scared of him. Cassian, the General Commander of the Night Court. Lord of Bloodshed, marked by seven red siphons. A warrior like no other. I hate admitting it, but they did scare me. Still do now that I've seen what he's capable of."
Arwen looked to her right, observing her companion with the eyes of someone who knew little truth of him. She understood it, could even put that fear into herself, but it wouldn't last. It was like striking a match in the wind.
"It's just seeing him here in his homeâfeels like I'm being played with some days." Lucien coughed and folded his arms. "That it's all some wicked joke."
"Cassian is a wolf," she murmured, turning back to Lucien. "All my family are. To outsiders, they are predators with claws and sharp teeth. Hunters. Wild. But wolves are a pack. They protect their own. And once you're a part of that pact you'll start seeing what happens when the hunting is done. As cliché as that sounds."
Lucien's lips twitched back into their smile. "You're close with him."
"Cassian?" Arwen gave a short nod. "I am. Why?"
Lucien unfolded his arms and interlaced his fingers. One leg had been brought up, ankle resting over the opposite knee. "I know that you're going through a rough time, coming back from the dead and all," he spoke, careful and slow with each word. She understood why he was being sensitive in his choice of phrasing around her. "It makes me wonder; why him."
"...Why Cassian?" she echoed.
He nodded. "Why not your mate? It's Azriel, isn't it?" Arwen closed her mouth, unprepared for such a question. Lucien gulped. "Feyre keeps me to date. I don't particularly want my head cut off for saying the wrong thing and I think your spymaster would be happy to take the job."
"Don't take that personally," she muttered. Or maybe he should, she thought on a re-evaluation. The realisation of why, and what exactly, he was asking came over her. "Elain is your mate, isn't she?" Lucien nodded stiffly. "I... I know that they've grown close."
He blinked and cocked his head. The fire crackled in warning of its dying flame. "Actually, since you've returned, I don't think they've been around each other. At least I can't smell it on either of them." Arwen had avoided all questions that might lead to an answer involving Azriel's activities with the Archeron sister, so hearing that had come as a surprise. "But she still doesn't talk to me. Doesn't acknowledge me really." He chuckled with bitter emptiness and dropped his head into his hand to rake his fingers through the flame-kissed locks. "You have your mate here too. Yet you find company in another male. I just want to know why. Is there something Azriel could have done? That I should have done?"
Her cheeks flushed uncomfortably and grew tight. "That's... A lot to answer," she murmured, tilting her head down and towards Cassian. "I know our situations might look similar, but they're not. From what I know, Elain is dealing with something entirely different. Adjusting to a new home and a new body. She never knew you before you were her mate. I've known Azriel for centuries. I haven't exactly been open-arms with my brother either."
"But he's your mate," he said. "And you're here with Cassian and not him. Elain likes Azriel, even when I'm right here."
Hearing confirmation of Elain's affection for Azriel stung somewhere deep in her stomach. Arwen placed her glass back down on the table and pulled the blanket to her shoulders. "Mates aren't made to be perfect for each other," she said with a cracked voice and a raise of a single shoulder. The sting in her eyes promised the ensuing flooding. "My mother and father certainly weren't. Thinking about Azriel is hard." Her brows melded together over her nose as she confessed her inner thoughts. The wine was certainly doing its job of loosening her tongue. "Call me a coward but I don't want to face it."
"So why Cassian?" he repeated.
The words barely formed to be heard over the still howling storm. "Because it's Cassian." Arwen put her chin to her clothed knuckles. "I don't have to think around him. He lets me forget everything else. With Azriel, my brother, Mor... They want to ask questions that I don't want to answer and even when I tell them that, I can still see it there in their eyes. I don't see those questions in Cassian and I'm not constantly on edge waiting for him to bring up those things. I feel safe with him."
"Do you love him?"
At that question, she smiled. "Yeah," she whispered. "I do."
Her answer seemed to crush Lucien who slumped deeper into his seat and the shadows flickering across his face grew fiercer, as if her answer promised his own destiny.
"I love him the way that I love sunsets and sunrises. The way I loved to draw. I love him the way I love the Rainbow and the Sidra."
Like the room disappeared around him, he looked only at her again. "But..."
Arwen shook her head and it left a little more hope in him.