Chapter 75
Arwen stood in front of her long mirror, adjusting the loose sleeves of the emerald dress that had come to be her favourite. She could hear her family moving around downstairs. Lucien had come earlier, a pleasant surprise though he hadn't stayed long. But Arwen managed to give him her gift, surprised to see that he had bought her one as well. It was a gold cuff that would fit her bicep, decorated with a carving of flowers.
Not for Spring, he had assured her, but because she reminded him of violets.
Azriel had stiffened from the threshold he was passing through just off to her left. "What do you know?" Arwen had gone pale at his voice which sent a trill down her spine.
Lucien had stammered. "Her eyes," he answered eventually. "They remind me of violets."
Arwen's eyes dropped to Azriel's hand which danced around the hilt of Truth Teller at his thigh. She took his hand, alarmed at the sudden snap of his temper. But Lucien's answer satisfied whatever he was looking for and he pulled away from her, leaving for another room.
Violet Death, she remembered later. The poison.
That was an hour ago. The presents that had lain neatly in a pile on her bed disappeared around that time, joining the main pile that Rhysand had amassed. Cassian had already tried snooping in her room yesterday as he feigned interest in asking about her day, but she had watched him in the mirror investigate the present with his name inked into the tag and told him that it was socks. He promptly put it back down.
Arwen left her bedroom. Elain was in the hall. She had changed out of her flour-stained shirt from that morning into an amethyst-coloured dress that softened her already smooth curves.
Arwen hesitated. "Thank you... For cooking," she said. "I'm sure it'll all be gone by tomorrow."
Elain frowned at the space between them. "It was distracting," she replied before continuing down the hall. Arwen glared at the empty space, contemplating whisking away the present that had Elain's name labelled on it. She had no doubt Feyre's sister did not bother with a present for her.
But by the time Arwen reached downstairs, most of the thought was pushed into the dusty corner of her mind.
Arwen took her spot next to Cassian at the fireplace where they toasted. Amren stood with Varian, her chin high and haughty. She couldn't help but watch as Azriel entered, decked in a rather handsome attire of a black jacket and pants. Two siphons remained on the back of each hand and his shadows trailed him like whisps of smoke. Not swirling wildly and reaching or hiding away. Just a part of him.
He went to Elain.
Arwen turned around, smiling to Cassian and then looked to the fire instead. Her knees weakened, but not for the reason they had been for the past weeks. She stared at the flames, half-listening to the conversation between Mor and Amren behind her.
The fire faltered, shrinking down into itself like it was suddenly being starved. Shadows replaced it. Azriel appeared in the corner of her eye. "Are you prepared to be spoilt?"
"What?" Her voice barely formed the word.
He smiled at the room, his attention constantly shifting but there was no mistaking he was speaking to her. "Spoilt. You think we wouldn't spoil you on your first celebration with us again?" Azriel turned around as Rhysand kissed Feyre's cheek and left the room. Arwen stilled as he inched closer to her, both facing the fire. "I shouldn't know this, but... Rhys bought you something every year."
The heat in her cheeks could only partially be explained by the fire. And it wasn't comfortableânot even in the way of a blush. It was hot like a fever. "What do you mean?"
He shrugged. "Every Winter Solstice when he bought our presents, he would always come back with an extra that we'd never see again. I realised they were for you."
Conversation grew behind her as a new event passed over but Arwen went blank to the world. For all the years that she was forced at Rhys's side, she had never paid thought to notice. Someone realised she hadn't joined the party, tugging her into reality once more. A great tiered cake rested on one of the tables, Feyre blowing the candles out. Arwen denied a slice of it, saving any appetite she had for something of proper nutrition.
"Arwen," her brother called. From her spot, sat on the stone of the fire's hearth, Arwen perked. "What time is it?"
Her lips rounded, eyes shooting towards one of the clocks before she caught on to his tone. Lopping her head back towards him, she smiled and lifted her shoulders to her ears. "Presents," she sang.
A moment later, they appeared in the bay under the windowâfar more than she had seen in many years. Arwen remained seated and let the celebration continue around her. Amren swiftly took the lead and tore into her package with such urgency that Arwen prayed nothing delicate was inside. Pearl earrings from Azriel.
Arwen snorted at Cassian's present for Morâred negligee which she thought was actually rather nice and considered whether to ask Cassian where he bought it from. More presents were passed around, two already placed at Arwen's side. She had a hand laid on one with the intention to open, but her thoughts felt out of place and distant.
Azriel reappeared at her side, a hand curling around the back of her neck, the other taking her closest arm. "Come away from the fire."
Her brows furrowed over the bridge of her nose. "But I'm cold."
Hazel eyes searched her face. "You're tired," he told herâsoft but firm. Not for her to argue with. "If you drop out, you're going to fall right back into the flames." Drop out. The term they'd come to label her periodic wavering of consciousness. It hadn't felt like anything other than sleep to her. Sure she felt sluggish, but to Arwen, they were small - albeit inconvenient - naps.
Her gaze dropped to the scarred hand holding her arm. To the rippled skin that had once been soaked in oil and set alight. She couldn't deny him. Azriel rose with her and she held the presents to her chest, letting him lead her to the armchair that Mor abandoned on her search for more presents. He was called away with the duty of handing out more gifts.
Arwen finally made a tear in her first when a single, cold and hard knock at the door silenced the entire town house.
~
Her presents began to pile at the foot of the chair, but Arwen hadn't even made it to her second. The first was an awful pair of leather gloves from Morânothing less than expected. Arwen had shut herself down, becoming the shadow in the darkness again. Nesta sat directly opposite her, looking exactly how Arwen felt, unmoving and unspeaking.
Everything seemed to happen like a blur around her, her existence stuck in a single moment whilst theirs sped on. She wanted to hurdle upstairs and crawl into her bath. Wanted to shout and remain silent at the same time.
Rhysand and Feyre kept each other occupied, nearly atop of one another. Mor floundered around, half-drunk and with presents spilling from her arms. CassianâArwen didn't dare head to his side with Nesta around. Not when a single scathing look might be her undoing. Not when she didn't know if Cassian would want her there, for the message it might send.
Amren and Varian were below the spiders in the dusty corner behind the bookshelf on her list of companions to keep.
It left Azriel and...
Mor handed him a small gift. He peered down at the box, unfolding the lid to whatever was within.
"Oh, that's from me." Elain. Of course. Azriel didn't smile or make a single shift at her voice. "I had Madja make it for me." Azriel's dark brows moved together. "It's a powder to mix with any drink. It's for the headaches everyone always gives you. Since you rub your temples so often."
In the silence, blood rushed through her ears, gushing like waves of the Sidra through a storm. The only sound louder was Azriel's laughter. It was booming and warm, nothing like the soft chuckles that usually reveal his amusement. The ones he had given her today.
Arwen pushed from her seat, her hand making a subtle flick by her leg and a present from the remaining main pile disappeared. She meandered from the sitting room and into the kitchen, pouring herself a glass of cold water but she could still hear them. Footsteps slowly followed as she held the glass to her lips, barely making a sip.
"I was wondering if you've seen my sister?"
Arwen lowered the glass back down, peeking over her shoulder. Rhysand came to her side, resting his hip against the bench. "Looks like you, but by now she would have torn into every present and shoved hers into everybody's laps."
She couldn't laugh. Not now. "I just don't feel like it tonight."
"Not even mine?" Arwen looked at him, letting her eyes speak her answer. He tightened his lips. "I just want you to see it."
Crowing laughter from the sitting room interrupted her reply. She exhaled instead, letting her gaze fall to the window where only signs of life came from the golden spots of street lights that cut through the cloak of night.
"Come on." Arwen shrunk away from his reaching hand, something invisible crawling up her spine at the thought of another's touch. "Let's go to my office. You won't hear them in there."
Agreeing, they walked the dim hall to the far end of the town house and into the office. His magic set the room alight and the merry calls of their family died with the closing click of the door. She didn't want to take him away from the celebrations but she also couldn't help the greed inside of her that wanted him to herself for just a few minutes.
He took her hand. Just one at first but Arwen didn't pull away so he took her other and led to her his desk, urging her to sit on the edge. "Technically," he began, a crooked smile adorning his cheeks, "this isn't a present you get to keep."
Her gaze dropped to her hanging feet. "I don't really feel like being given anything right now."
Rhysand shed off his tailored jacket, and then his fingers began to work on the buttons of his shirt collar, beginning to reveal the dip of his chest.
Arwen looked at him sceptically. "Rhys, I know you think you were made by the Mother herself, but I'm not exactly interested in seeing the details."
He laughed, joyous and warm, still working on the buttons down his naval. "Considering its positioning, there's not much choice."
She didn't know what to make of that, watching him shed his shirt as well. His skin was tanned and toned, inked with the markings of bargains and Illyrian tattoos in whorls over his shoulders that would stretch down to his back.
And a new one. Situated over his left pectoral was a splatter of small dots. Not dots, she realised, but stars. A constellation of them. Her mind racked with her knowledge of the skies. "Tariel?" she asked.
He nodded and continued smiling. "This was the brightest constellation in the sky on the night you were born." Her lips parted, going dry. Rhysand chuckled to himself. "It was my first time seeing a childbirth and I remember going outside in shock after."
Her fingers skimmed the inked skin. What it meant. Over his heart that beat beneath her fingertips.
"No bargain," he whispered. "It won't ever disappear."
Her voice cracked. "Why?" Why would he put that on himself? A reminder of her life when he had tried so hard to erase it before. What lengths would he go to, to strip it off if she died again?
"To honour and cherish you." Still smiling, he tipped his head. "Do you not like it? It is a bit permanent."
"I do," she whispered. "I love it, but..." Unable to finish her words, she let them trail off. "Thank you." Arwen wasn't sure who initiated it, but soon her chin was hooked over his shoulder and she hugged her brother.
Speaking with a new lightness, he said, "I've got more for you if you want to see it now."
Pulling back, she wiped at her eyes. "You don't mean more tattoos, do you?"
"No," he laughed. "These things you get to keep for yourself. Come here." He ushered her off the office and without warning, they winnowed away.
Arwen blinked, but quickly settled upon seeing the contents of her own room. Then stiffened again. Her room. Not the shell of it that it had been. First, she noticed the trunk near the vanity where her shoes had once been stored, heels that she hadn't seen in two centuries piled on top. On the vanity itself, jewellery boxes and a small silver stand, both stacked with jewels that she thought she would never see again. On her desk, every single journal and scrapbook she had ever drawn in, stacked next to her supplies. Her small trinkets, gifts she had forgotten about, all of it. Everything.
"I know this isn't anything new," said Rhysand. "And it... Took me a while to find it all but I didn't want you to feel like you were starting over."
Arwen threw herself at him, her toes barely touching the ground. She had missed her things, the comfort of her own belongings, more than she thought she ever had. They were materialâshe knew that. But it wasn't their value in price. It was their memories, the knowing that they were hers. Pieces of her existence.
Feet finding the ground again, she grinned up at him and though he smiled too, it didn't equal her exhilaration. "Don't thank me for this," he said. Arwen closed her lips which had indeed been about to say those words. But she understood why. Rhysand kissed her hairline and moved them to the foot of her bed, pulling her to sit at his side. "None of these have been new or yours to keep so I have one more thing. Although it won't technically be yours for a while."
"There's a lot of technicalities tonight," she remarked, the morose gone.
"Apologies," he crooned. He laid a heavy hand on her knee, taking a moment to speak. "I'm buying Feyre and I an estate by the Sidra. It was destroyed in the war so it's going to take a few months to be built. This place is getting too crowded for all of us, especially when we decide to add to our family. It's going to be our main residence, so I'm giving you the town house. It'll be under your name."
Blood rushed to her feet, leaving little in her head.
"It's always been your home," he continued, "but now it'll be your land as well. Everything inside of it will belong to you. You can knock it down and rebuild it if that's what you want. You lock us out, change the rooms. Anything."
"Rhys," she croaked. He made a gentle lift of his brows. "I bought you sweets for Solstice." Sweets. And he was giving her a house. "And I almost ate them."
He laughed, throwing his head back to her ceiling as she gave an empty chuckle of disbelief. He hooked an arm around her neck and brought her to his side. "That is all I want," he promised.