Chapter 72
Arwen had forgotten what day it was. In hindsight, she was sure Rhysand never mentioned it for that exact reason. Feyre had left an hour ago with a remark about a painting studio in the city and Elain was curled up in her room somewhere as usual. Mor and Azriel were likely at the House of Wind, and Nesta... Well, Arwen didn't know where Nesta had gone. Nobody told her and she never asked. But she was well aware that Rhysand wasn't particularly happy with whatever those circumstances were. Arwen commented that his love for Feyre must be stronger than the mountains the city was built within if he kept his temper for her.
"It's testing me," he had replied lowly.
Now she sat with him in his office, sorting through his personal letters as Rhysand reviewed the drafts for the new treaties with the other courts that he and Mor had been working on.
"With love?" she read aloud. Rhysand frowned at her, then at the letter she held up which was signed with a beautiful cursive signature that led into a heart. "Do I have to inform our darling High Lady of your relations with..." Arwen checked the letter again. "Helion?"
He snatched the letter from her hands, tossing it to the side. "Prick." But a chuckle came a moment later. "What are you thinking for lunch? I don't expect Feyre will be back till late so we can do whatever you want."
"Oh, I see." Arwen pulled up her knees to press them against the edge of the desk. "So I wouldn't have had a choice if Feyre was here."
Rhysand thinned his eyes at her. "I meant," he began slowly and flicked her nose, "that if she was here we would have come to a compromise. But she isn't so it is entirely your choice." Arwen winced at the flick, swatting his hand away, a smile played her lips. A loud knock reverberated throughout the entire house. Rhysand peered up over her head towards the office door. "Maybe you will have to compromise after all."
She didn't understand what he meant until the second knock came along with a guttural call of complaint. Arwen bolted to her feet, the legs of her chair scraping against the floor, the loose dress catching between her legs. Veering out of the office, she looked down the long hall to the foyer entrance on the far side.
Cassian had grown impatient as she felt, already stepping inside, the talons on each great wing just missing the top ledge of the doorway. She met his hazel eyes. He smiled. Arwen's feet were moving before she commanded them to, barely feeling the thud in her knees, her pace quickening into a run. His arms were open before she reached him.
"Cassian!"
Leaping, she flung her arms around his neck, latching her legs around his waist. He caught her weight, not even a stumble under the brunt of her force. His scent filled her and for the first time in a week, she felt perfectly safe.
His laughter flooded her ears and if it was possible, she held him tighter. He kissed her cheek where he could reach, her head buried deep within the slope of his neck and shoulder. "Hi, sweetheart."
After the past three nights spent in doubt of his return, running Nesta's words over and over and over again in her head, feeling him hold her back with the same vigour, the same unwillingness to not even let air slip between them was a relief that Arwen would never find the words to describe.
~
Rhysand knew what was coming when he situated himself in the middle seat of the longest lounge, guiding Arwen to the one on his left, Feyre taking the right. Mor and Cassian each took up an armchair. Amren, like Azriel, was ignoring his existence for an undefined length of time. Though, he assumed Amren's annoyance was less with the memory itself and more to do with the fact that Rhys meddled with her head at all. But his balls were still intact so he was pleased with that outcome.
"I couldn't stand to hear Lucien's voice anymore," Cassian told them, "So I headed up to the camps a few days ago instead." Rhysand translated that as he couldn't stand not working and needed a better distraction. But it also explained the heavier weight on Cassian's shoulders, the hardness in his eyes. The camps weren't exactly in the best stateânot that they ever were. "Spring is a dump though. Lucien says it's nothing but remains."
"I'll be going down before Solstice," said Rhys.
Arwen leant forward, elbows digging into the tops of her knees as she cupped a glass of ruby liquid. "Do you have to? He can rot down there alone."
"I'll be seeing to it that, that is exactly what is happening." He tipped his own glass to watch how the wine stained the inside only to dissipate and leave it clear again. "We think Beron is looking at expanding into human territory. He'll need Tamlin's permission to be at those borders."
His sister raised her shoulders. "Stab them both. Problem solved."
Cassian toasted his drink. "I'll drink to that."
"And about twenty new ones made," Rhys chuckled. "The pair of you make me feel better about my decision making every day." He turned to Feyre. "You see why I'm glad I have you?"
Mor tipped her head and said to no one in particular, "And I am a pebble in your shoe, apparently."
"You are a gemstone in his shoe, Mor." Arwen winked at her cousin, but Rhysand noted the letharge in the movement, the waver in her smile. "Don't downgrade yourself."
She hadn't eaten all day either. Lunch was forgotten on account of Cassian's return, and Rhys didn't feel like being the advocate of morose memories and said nothing of it. At dinner, she had retreated to her room in favour of a nap that hadn't done her any good by the rings under her eyes, dark as bruises. Cassian had noted them but Rhys shot him a warning look before he could bring it up in front of her.
"I think that it is good to have a variety of opinions on a matter," said Feyre and Cassian teased her on the neutrality of her position.
As they laughed and bickered, Rhysand watched his sister. Violet eyes set on watching the match between Feyre and Cassian blinked slower with each moment. Weaker. The signs he had observed in the hours leading up. Moving around as though she had constantly just battled Ramiel, like her muscles ached even though she never complained they had.
Arwen's weight began to tip sideways, the wine inside her glass tilting closer to the thin rim. Rhysand lurched forward as the wine poured out. Cassian cursed in surprise, but Feyre and Mor had already been expecting as Rhysand was. He cupped her forehead first, keeping her from tumbling off the seat, letting the wine glass fall from her hands, its contents spilling along the floor, glass shattering. Mor's magic wiped it away in a second later.
Cassian had risen from his chair, but Rhysand remained the image of ease, softly pushing her back upright and then guiding her to his side. Arwen's lashes still fluttered as she hovered in the liminal space between lucid and unconscious. Laughter fled the room.
"This is the fourth time," he said to Cassian quietly as he situated her head against his chest, kissing the crown as she went completely limp against him. "Not as bad as the first. Lasts a few minutes to an hour."
"Madjaâ"
He cut Cassian off with a shake of his head. "We're going to see Helion." Rhysand glanced at Feyre, if only for the strength it offered him. He had been speaking to Helion ever since he saw something in her mind. The High Lord of Day already knew of celestians and Rhysand trusted him enough to share the details of his sister's condition. At first it was seeking an answer to why he was able to pull her out of death, and now it was for this. "After Solstice though. Poked and prodded but not until after the fun," he recited the deal they had made. "If anybody has any idea, it'll be him."
"It's like she's getting weaker instead of stronger with each day," Mor murmured. She was getting weaker each day, Rhysand corrected to himself.
"You think it's smart to wait until after Solstice?" Cassian asked.
"I think it's the only way she would agree to it," Rhysand replied. It wasn't ideal, but he made it for the sake of not arguing with her. "Azriel hates it more than I do. But if it goes from bad to worse in the next week, then she won't exactly be conscious enough to argue the travel."
"Should we take her up to her room?" Feyre asked, but Rhysand shook his head. Each time it happened bar the first, she had sought him out straight after waking. That might change now that Cassian had returned, but it was all the same. He could see the uncertainty in her dull eyesâwondering how much time had passed or trying to recall where she had left off. He could slip into her mind during these moments, but her thoughts were blurred and messy.
"This place feels too quiet," Cassian said after a minute, his eyes still on her form.
"Azriel comes through the day when Rhys and I are working," Feyre answered, but it wasn't the question Cassian was asking. "Elain still keeps to her room."
Rhys cracked his lips apart, contemplating the best way to say it when Mor cut to the chase. "Nesta no longer lives here."
He sent her a half-hearted glare as Feyre sighed. It had taken a toll on his mate, but she understood and agreed that Arwen had more right to have the town house as a home than Nesta.
Cassian arched his brows. "Explain."
Rhysand sent him the memory of what he had walked in on that evening. A concoction of frustration, rage and grimness shadowed Cassian's face. "I'm paying for the rent," Rhys added. "I've offered her every job under the sun but she won't take them." Of course, Cassian already knew that part, but Rhysand wasn't sure how Cassian would take having Nesta being thrown out like she had been and wanted to ensure his brother knew that he was giving his mate's sister more than she deserved. If Rhysand's suspicions were proven true, Cassian would be in a difficult spot.
Rhys still danced around the subject of his sister with Cassian. He could still distinguish the certain eye Arwen had when it came to Azriel, but it was far dimmer than it ever had been before. Not a lack of feeling, he realised after a while, but resignation. The same look he had knowing Feyre's wedding to Tamlin was approaching.
"Glad I wasn't there," is all the general said through a low breath. Rhysand wasn't sure how he was supposed to imagine that night going if Cassian had been present, but he wasn't about to question and find out.