Chapter 88
Arwen was greeted with a honeyed stream of morning light. She stared at the hazy, golden sheen against her transparent curtains for some time, not quite comprehending that she was awake. When she did, she realised just how hungry she was. On the growing, fervent desire, Arwen slipped her legs out of the soft blanket of her bed, pressing them to the cool wood of her floor. Stretching her chest high with a long inhale, she pushed her weight onto them.
And promptly collapsed to the floor.
Her knees jarred against the wood with a loud bang. The stinging pain travelling up her thighs into her hips, her lips parted in a silent gasp. Every part of her felt weak. Broken. Just how she had felt before the abyss took her. The stinging migrated to her eyes. They hadn't done it. Helion couldn't do itâshe was still dying.
By the time Arwen had gathered her senses and reigned in her tremors, her bedchamber door creaked open with the approaching footsteps she had heard in the hall entering. It was Feyre that swept in front of her, offering her hands of assistance. Arwen slumped her hands into Feyre's but didn't react to the strength that would support her efforts to stand.
"How are you feeling?" Feyre asked, dropping to her knee instead.
Arwen shook her head in answer. She felt awful.
Dark feet clad in brown sandals appeared in the corner of her eye. "That's to be expected." Helion knelt on her right, his hands clasped over his white-robed knee. "I work magic, not miracles."
Feyre smiled fondly at the High Lord of Dawn. "It was close enough," she said to him before looking back over Arwen. "How about we get you back into bed? It's only been a day and a half, your body still has plenty of recovery to do."
The word struck her. "Recovery?" Arwen murmured, having no strength to speak anything louder. Her eyes widened as violets darted between the two. "You meanâ"
"I think if I failed, I might have become your spymaster's next playtoy," Helion said, with a pointed look beyond Arwen.
She followed the point of the gaze, peering over her shoulder. She could just see Azriel on the bed, sleeping on his side. He wasn't wearing his leathers, just plain black pants and a loose-fitting cotton shirt. His uppermost wing was half-draped over him, and his hand was eased in an extension, fingers splayed over the rumpled sheets where she had just been lying.
Azriel was dead still. Something Helion picked up as well. "We heard your fall from the other side of this delightful little house."
"Little?" Arwen echoed in insult, tearing her eyes back. The town house was humble for certain, but it was... a grand humble. Perhaps it stung a little since she would be taking ownership. But that was beside the point. She was alive. She was living. But that meant there was nothing more for her after. This life was it. She shoved that worry into a dark corner of her mind for later. "I'm really hungry," she breathed.
Feyre grinned. "That can easily be cured."
~
Arwen scoffed down a broth despite Feyre's urging to slow. Even if she vomited it up again, Arwen was just glad that it tasted delightful. Soon, her silver spoon was scraping the bottom of the bowl. They had left Azriel to sleep, Arwen teasing that he seemed to need it more than she did. She wasn't oblivious to the quietness of the town house.
"Thank you," she said to Helion. "For everything."
He winked at her. "You can owe me a favour."
Grinning, she crooned, "I'm sceptical about what that will be. But I suppose it is owed, whatever it is."
"Time will decide." He patted the arms of the chair he sat in, inside the sitting room. "I wanted to make sure that you would wake. Now that I see that you're looking lively as everâ" Arwen scoffed, having caught glimpse of herself in the hallway mirrorâ "I think it's time that I return to my court before it catches fire without me. I must say I find this city of yours quite charming."
"You're welcome any time," Feyre said, taking the words straight from Arwen's mouth. "And thank you... Again. From both Rhysand and I."
Helion sighed with a smile. "He's certainly dousing me in that gratitude," he remarked with a roll of his eyes, but Arwen could read the light-heartedness.
They exchange embraces before Helion left onto the street, outside of the wards and winnowed away. Arwen stared out of the window at the space he disappeared from, arms folded. "If I would wake? How confident was he that the spell would work?"
Feyre offered her a meek smile. "Are you glad that it did?"
It took her a moment, but she nodded, looking down at her scars. "We don't know what's beyond death. Even I don't."
"Rhys told me," Feyre whispered.
Arwen attempted a smile to show that she was okayâbut she wasn't. Not entirely. Rhysand had pulled those memories into her most conscious thoughts and they lingered there. They reminded her of what it felt like to be so alone, even amongst the ones she loved. Now they knew. "I hope you understand now, why I resented you." Dropping her hands to the windowsill, she looked to Feyre. "I had to watch you do everything I wished I could, but couldn't. A stranger. Human. I am nearly five hundred years old and the greatest achievement I have made in my lifetime is that I have died and come back. That I'm some anomaly. Suppose I'm not even that anymore."
Feyre laid a hand on hers. "I could never have done what you did. At least, I wouldn't be standing here like you. Strong."
Tears beaded on her lashes. "I fell out of bed, Feyre. I hardly think that is strong," she coughed out with a broken chuckle.
"I wouldn't have even attempted to get out of bed," she sang softly. "You're trying and that makes you strong. I see the resemblance of that in you with Rhys. That you just keep going. You don't let yourself fall apart, rebuilding yourself each day."
Arwen angled herself towards the window, leaning her temple against the pane. "When I was younger, he's the one that taught me how to dust myself off. I would fall and scrape my knees and he would smile at me and tell me that I was fine. When he did that, I wouldn't cry. I'd do as he said because I believed him."
Feyre stared onto the street. "I wish my sisters and I had that devotion to each other. Nesta has it for Elain but I was never granted that love from either of them." At Arwen's pitying look, she shook her head. "I have this family now and it is more than enough for me."
Arwen gazed across the street. Spring was coming. There was no snow left, even in the shaded lanes between the houses. The cobblestone was dry and sprouts of green were beginning to populate the trees. "Where are they?"
"At the House of Wind." Feyre sighed almost inaudibly and Arwen could hear the light clicking of her tongue against a wet mouth. "I told them I would call for them the moment you woke, but I thought it would be best to make sure you were okay first. Rhys... He's struggling at the moment. Cassin and Mor are trying to help him. I wasn't here through that time so I thought I would be more useful down here. It's not your fault at all, but he's just..."
"I know," Arwen whispered. She understood her brotherâprecisely what would be going through his mind. "I think I could use a quiet night without questions." She had forgotten the way she had felt caged around them, how Rhysand had ignored her mind's protection, tearing it apart.
"I thought I told you to wake me, Feyre."
Arwen spun at the voice that felt like silk against her ears. There in the middle of the sitting room stood Azriel, still dressed in those unremarkably plain clothes. One side of his face was paler and odd-looking. The one he had been sleeping on. Her heart leapt wildly, meeting those hazel eyes.
"Must have slipped my mind."
Azriel walked forward and Arwen welcomed his company, reaching her hands up, lacing her fingers together behind his neck. It gave her a strength that she knew wouldn't come from resting. His hands slipped to her waist, then around her back, drawing her near. Azriel kissed her temple, then her cheek, lips dusting her nose as he repeated on the other side. Arwen giggled as the touch tickled her. "Youâ" his breath breezed over her lips as he kissed her cheek againâ "scared me."
"I'm sorry." Her lashes fluttered as her hands moved to palm his cheeks. "And I'm feeling fine," she said before he could ask. "A little lousy, admittedly, but fine."
'He doesn't know yet. About your time in death. He knows you saw things but he doesn't understand the extent of it yet.'
Arwen barely restrained her display of shock as her High Lady's voice spoke in her mind. She had forgotten about Feyre's daemati abilities. Smiling up at Azriel, she hoped that he never would know, however foolish it was to waste her hope on such a thing. There was so much Arwen wanted to say to himâher close brush with death once more had her realising how much was left unsaid between them. But the only words to come from her mouth were, "I'm hungry." Despite having just finished a broth, her stomach still complained.
To the side, Feyre gave a soft chuckle. Azriel concurred with the High Lady's reaction, the corners of his lips uplifting. Another kiss to her hairline. "I can get you something from in town if you'd like."
She shook her head. "There's still more broth." Smiling wider, she cocked her head and traced her thumb over an indent in his cheek, made from sleeping on rolled fabric. It was adorable.
Feyre snorted and Azriel's cheeks tinted red. Arwen's lips partedâno, they were already parted from speaking that thought aloud.
"That never leaves this room," Azriel grumbled to Feyre. "I won't hear the end of it."
"Of course," came the dutiful reply. "You have a reputation to upkeep, spymaster. Feared Illyrian warrior. Adorable thing."
He sent a glare to the empty window space, but it was quickly replaced by the near-invisible smile again. Azriel led Arwen back to the kitchen and handed her a fresh bowl of the meaty broth, but also a muffin. She snatched it out of his hand before he could even place it on the island bench.
Moaning without regret, the spurts of raspberry and vanilla were divine in her mouth. "I've fucking missed food," she gargled out with another groan of pure delight. Azriel chuckled to himself and sucked off the remains of raspberry on his thumb. "I'm sorry, would like a bite?" Extending the offer of the remaining muffin, Arwen watched a shift cross his face.
"Thank you," he said quietly after a generous pause. "But you eat it."
Shrugging, she returned to her ministrations. She eyed him as he busied himself with cleaning up the empty bowl Arwen had eaten from earlier, his back to her. Something called her to him at that moment, and it was moving beyond the comprehension of being alive. It was like her whole world was narrowing and he was the focus. The reason for her every move from there onwards.
Azriel turned back around, wiping his scarred hands with a towel. He caught her gaze and held it for some time. Then smiledâ
Smiled at the exact same time that she realisedâ
"I felt it come back the moment Helion finished the spell."
Arwen slipped mutely from her chair, eyes never once leaving his face.
The mating bond was back. She could feel it, just as it was before. It didn't snap into place; not in a sudden or striking way. It was like it had healed. The fractures mended back together and she didn't notice it straight away because it felt so right.
His arms captured her as she sunk into him. Her head burrowed into his neck as she pressed the rest of the world away and focused on that single feeling.