Chapter 77
Arwen held Azriel's present close, slipping out of her room. The halls were dim, lit by only a single wall candle. She had hoped that he was still downstairs, but her fortune had gone thin for when she knocked on the door, he answered.
Azriel looked at her, still dressed in the night clothes he had been in all day. Then those striking eyes moved to her hands. "I... Rhysand forgot to add it to the pile," she lied. "I didn't realise it was still in my room."
His brows twitched, but a gentle smile tugged on his lips as he opened the door wider. "Thank you," he said, taking it once she held it out. He gestured for her to move inside. "I still have yours."
Azriel glided across the small room, between the two beds and placed her present on what she assumed was his. On the nightstand next to it, a box sat, wrapped with beautiful precision. He took it, leaning across the bed that she stood on the other side of to hand it to her. "It needs instruction which is why I kept it." Arwen couldn't feel anything specific from holding it other than whatever it was, was solid. Azriel tilted his head. "Are you alright, Arwen? You weren't yourself tonight."
"Overwhelmed," she replied breathlessly. "Thank you. Should I open it now?"
He smiled. "Unless you have daemati abilities coming through, I'd rather not explain through the walls." There was the quick-witted, dry humour that she so enjoyed from him.
She coughed a laugh and shook her head. "I have enough going on without a new power showing up."
Arwen sat on the edge of his bed and pulled gently at the wrappings, almost disappointed to ruin it. It revealed a solid grey box inside just slightly longer and wider than her hand. Lifting the lid off revealed two things inside. The first she saw was a quill, the tip a stunning silver. The feather was long and white, reminding her of the soft clouds that marked the skies in summer. She ran her fingers across it, barely feeling anything even though the soft ripple proved she touched it.
Arwen placed it aside and pulled out the second item. It was a glass bottle, rounded with a thin and short neck with a cork stopper. Inside, the liquid was as clear as water. "I assume this is where the explanation comes in," she said.
Azriel gave a slight smile. His eyes ran over her, his hand rising only to hesitate half-way before ultimately lifting. His fingers combed through her hair. Blinking, Arwen remained still as he gently pulled a loose strand of her raven hair free and gave a nod towards the bottle. She obliged the unspoken instruction and pulled the stopper free. He threaded her hair through the neck and into the liquid.
Almost instantly the liquid reacted and like someone had poured ink into it, darkening before her eyes to a shimmering shade blue-black. The exact shade of her hair. Arwen brought it to her face, swishing the liquid around.
"I know you don't like working with paints," Azriel said. "But you used to sketch with ink sometimes. It's enchanted. It will take on the colour of anything it touches. The quill... The quill was just pretty and I thought you would like it. You've always had a taste for pretty things."
That much was true. There was little to say that would match what she felt in her heart, so she settled on, "Thank you. I love it."
"May I open yours now?
Arwen looked to the other side of his legs where her present rested. She had worked up the scenario in her mind of tossing it at him then running, but her feet felt like lead. "If I said no, how long would you wait?" she asked.
He chuckled and picked it up. Unlike his, her gift to him was soft, flopping slightly as he held it. He peeled away the wrapping which was nowhere near as perfect as his, revealing the leather binding underneath. Azriel held the portfolio, flipping it open to the sheet music inside. Hundreds of them.
His face remained still as he looked over the first, then the second, then the third, reading each note as though they told a hundred words.
Arwen took a long breath. "I was in a music shop. I told the owner that I knew someone who liked to play the pianoforte and was looking for sheet music. She showed me theseâshe wrote them but never published or played them outside of her home. So she gave them to me. Wanted them in the world even if just with another family." Eyes turned to her lap, she added, "So maybe it's her present to you rather."
"Well tell them that I said thank you. Nobody has ever given me something so... So personal."
"Not even the toothbrush Mor got you last year?" she inquired.
He shook his head with a laugh. "Everybody knows I brush my teeth." The laugh ended. "I don't play for other people. Only a few know that I enjoy it at all. Even fewer that would remember and go out of their way to find something like this for me."
"So you like it?"
"Yes, Arwen. I love it." She sighed and released her hands from the fiddling she kept trapped in, running them over her thighs instead. Azriel paused his continuing search through the sheets. "How did you know Mor gave me a toothbrush last year?"
Her throat tightened. "Rhys mentioned it," she answered with a sharp breath. A lie. She had seen it. "I was worried about what to get you and he said as long as it was better than that I'd be fine."
The amusement painted his features, softening them ever so slightly. "She gave me towels this year. I think she's trying to say my washroom needs redecorating." Arwen dropped her head with a small laugh. "Is that the common thought?"
She shook her head. "I don't know, Az. I've never been in there. Are you in the habit of inviting people into your washroom? Is there something curious inside there that I do not know of?"
"Not in my washroom, no." That left the suggestion that there was something interesting somewhere. He rose from the bed, placing his journal aside but keeping hold of the portfolio. "Come with me."
Arwen raised her brow. "To your washroom?"
"To play with me." He lifted the sheet music. "Up in the House."
She looked to the door. She hadn't decided where she would be sleeping that nightâor how the night would be spent. But she was tired, exhausted from the dancing and the day despite the long nap she had at the cabin. The idea of being alone up in that House with him while her thoughts were hazy...
"I'm tired," she told him.
"I'll carry you back if you fall asleep." Stepping forward, he took her hand in his. Arwen stared at the scarring, of how it fit with hers and felt so right. Yet so wrong. Still, she couldn't tear away. "I want to play for you, as a thank you."
"How could I deny that," she whispered, letting his strength pull her to her feet, the quill and bottle disappearing to her room.
They tiptoed through the town house, past Mor passed out on the lounge. They snickered at the choked snore. Arwen quickly came to regret not bringing a jacket as she stepped into winter's realm. Just as she thought of summoning one, Azriel's arm went around her back. Her own snapped around his neck in instinct, gripping the soft material of his shirt.
Suddenly, Arwen realised that she couldn't remember the last time he had flown her anywhere.
His wings flared in preparation for flight, his eyes set on the sky above them as he bent to heave up the rest of her body, holding her to his chest. Gasping as he took flight with a single, hard flap of his wings, Arwen tucked her head to his neck, hiding her face against the frigid air. His skin warmed her nose.
"I'm sorry," he said as they flew over the city. "I didn't think of the cold."
Shivering, she shook her head to dismiss his claim of fault. He flew faster, even if a part of her wanted to enjoy the solitude and closeness. He glided through a window rather than directly onto the balcony, landing inside and the beating of his wings echoed against the stone walls.
Arwen shifted in preparation to be let down but froze at the sight of what was below them. Carpet. Her feet were bare. Azriel was already walking before she could say anything, still carrying her as he strode out of the room. "It's okay," he murmured, thumb stroking her ribs. "I know. I've got you."
She watched the shadow and pale moonlight shift over the side of his face. Once they reached the hall, the floor a polished marble, he let her find her footing. They were only a short walk from the music room. Without her heels and his already near silent footwork, they barely made a sound until they entered. Arwen set the lights on, letting him settle at the pianoforte.
At her lack of presence, he looked back, gesturing with his eyes for her to join him on the small stool. Gathering her dress skirt, she perched next to him. Azriel opened the portfolio in his lap, flipping through the pages. "Do you have a favourite?"
"Not until I've heard them be played, but I do like the look of this one." She pulled out the second one. "A Child's Song." From a glance at the bars, the tune seemed light and soft. He took it, placed the portfolio aside, set the sheets into the stand and opened the casing over the keys.
His fingers ghosted over the keys, eyes running over the parchment as he read ahead, learning before he played. Arwen couldn't take her eyes off himâof the beauty of his face. She hadn't admitted how good it felt, how her stomach felt heavier and warmth spread through her at Cassian's sensual touch. But what would it have felt like if it had been Azriel's touches rather than his? How much more powerful would it have been? She imagined she might melt into a puddle.
Arwen blinked herself back into reality. He had already started playing. Azriel's fingers danced across the keys, as graceful as he was when he played with his blades. The tune was exactly as she imagined; something light, like a child's voice singing how they saw the world. The perception unstained by the horrors of truth.
Arwen kept having to drag herself back into focus, the music pulling her into a bliss of another world. She wanted to hear every note, see how his fingers moved to each key, watch how his body made small shifts as he played. Despite her intentions of convincing him to play for them all, to have nights of song and music together, she began to spin the idea of never letting anybody else see this part of him. That it could be forever hers to know and love.
The music ended well before she grew tired of it.
He smoothed his fingers silently over the ivory, dragging them finally down onto his thighs. "Did you like that one?" Arwen eagerly nodded. "Would you like me to play another?"
She nodded again. Her voice would ruin the delicate continuation of such exquisite sound. Azriel searched through the portfolio once more in his lap. She couldn't help but lean against his side to watch, the heat of his body ridding any trace of the shivers from the flight over. He chose one to his own liking, doing the same as before and setting it on the stand, reading over before he started.
This one kept a faster pace, the melody was joyous but heavier. It reminded Arwen of the feasts and parties she attendedâa delight, but no longer through the eyes of a child. He cut short.
"What is it?"
Azriel smiled at her. "I want to hear you play."
Her eyes rounded and she was quick the shake her head. "I haven't played since I was young, Az. I don't even think I know how to play anymore." But he was already shifting further along the seat, dragging her by the waist into the centre of the stool. "Azriel," she warned in her own amusement. "I cannot play."
"Amuse me," he said. "Play for me."
There was no battling the way his attention made her feel. So Arwen took a long and deep breath and set her fingers on the ivory keys. She began from the beginning, eyes darting between the sheet and her hands, trying to recall each note's position in accordance with her movement. Her tune was slower and bit a clunkier but not as bad as she imagined.
Until Azriel's soft snicker tickled her ear. "What?" she demanded, coming to a stop. She was playing for himâas he askedâand now he was laughing at her?
"That was nowhere near how that was supposed to sound. Look." He pointed to the bar she had just played, humming the tune.
"That's what I played," Arwen said, assuring herself more so than him. Her fingers pressed down again, repeating the tune. His laughter came once more. "Stop laughing at me!"
"I'm sorry." He closed his eyes and leant down, pressing his lips to her shoulder in a hard kiss. Azriel collected himself but the glee was as clear as the sky was that night. "It is just your concentration that amuses me, not your ability. Let me show you." Arwen began to pull her hands away, but his own slid underneath her palms and guided their paired hands back to the keys. He replayed the tune once more, her fingers moving with his.
It did sound better.
"I hardly hear a difference," she muttered as he finished.
Azriel removed his hands, letting her continue the tune. Arwen carried on, her focus zoning on the keys and the sheet. Until her ear twitched seconds later from a light touch. "I would think with your pointed ears that you might hear better than I."
"I'm not sure that's how it works."
"Perhaps not." His finger traced down the long curve of her ear, down to the line of her jaw before ending in the air. Making it to the end of the second page, her magic flipped it to the third. "I want to ask you something." Arwen hummed in acknowledgement. Azriel didn't speak for another moment; long enough that she wondered if she had conjured the remark in her mind. "What would have said that day?"
"What day?"
"The day that you died."
Arwen skipped a note, but he didn't move to correct her.
He continued. "Rhysand gave me that false memory because he knew that it was what I wished I could have said. He could read that in my mind. But you were nothing more than a conjuration made to meet that desire. I want to know what you would have said, if that memory had been true."
What she would have said if he told her he loved her. "I cannot play and hold a conversation at the same time," Arwen murmured.
"Then stop."
She didn't. He took her wrist, leaving a harsh note to ring throughout the music room. She looked down at her hand, unable to meet his eye. Arwen removed her remaining hand from the keys, letting him continue to hold her other. "The memory Rhysand gave you was not just made to fit your desires, Azriel."
"I don't understand."
Her chest caved in with a sigh as she looked up at her once-mate. The attention he gave her now was as unwavering as the mountain they were upon. "That same morning, I told Rhys that I loved you. I told him that I was going to wait until Starfall to tell you. I haven't seen that memory, Az, but I'd imagined it would have gone down mcuh the same way. I'd be irritated at you for beating me to it. You know that I like planning things out. But I would have been...Happy."
A shadow coiled tightly around his neck, almost like a rope intending to choke him. "You loved me?"
Still loved. Arwen didn't bother voicing the correction. Instead, she turned back to the pianoforte and restarted the song. Azriel let her continue playing without interruption, without sound beyond his soft breathing, for the entire first page. Then slowly, he came into her narrowed field of focus, gently pressing against the far side of her chin to pull it towards him. His body pressed against her and the position was solidified by his second hand grasping the far side of her waist.
Azriel's nose brushed her cheek first, then her nose, lips skimming lips. Arwen watched him through half-lidded eyes, her playing completely stopped. Just behind him, his wings flared in display, yet they were tense and high as if every part of him was on alert.
Her own heartbeat thrummed through to her stomach and lower, unconsciously lifting her arm to hang around the front of his chest, her hand making its way into the short, dark strands at the nape of his neck.
Arwen's eyes snapped shut as he kissed her. Any thought beyond him fled her mind. She forgot where she was, what she had been doing or intended to do. It was soft and sensual yet passionate at the same time, each movement deliberate and greedy.
She pulled away.
Just enough to open her eyes again, still within proximity that angling of her jaw would rejoin them. Azriel took an extra second to reveal the dazzling hazels. He examined herâone, three, five seconds. Then kissed her again. Arwen felt too light for it to be real. She couldn't quite put her thoughts into coherent words.
He sucked gently on her bottom lip, running his tongue over it. Not yet asking for it to open, giving her a thrill of what it would feel like when she did. Her fingers tightened around the short waves at the back of his head, earning her a sharp inhale from him.
Azriel's hand at her face inched lower, nails skimming the column of her neck, down between the valley of her chest and onto her naval before traversing back north. The knuckles of his fingers dragged along the underside of her breast as their lips became more fervent. Arwen could almost arch into the sensation, willing him to grasp and play to his delight.
But she couldn't. She could barely move.
Azriel inched away from her as though he came to the same realisation, and she watched through languid eyes as he licked his upper lip. Licked something glistening off it. His eyes dropped to her mouth. Arwen could taste it on herself now. The blood. The skin at her nose felt wet.
"A...Az..."
It didn't feel like falling into a nap this time. It didn't feel like she just hadn't had enough sleep. This time, she felt weaker, like it was a wound or sickness that pulled her into unconsciousness. Arwen's hand dropped from the back of his head as she lost her ability to distinguish the features of his face.
Panic obliterated the lingering traces of desire on his face. He clutched her around the shoulders, bringing her into his chest. "It's okay. I've got you."
"I-I can... Can't..."
"I've got you. I've got you."
She lopped onto his chest and became lost to the world.