Chapter 95
Arwen watched the tanned, scarred fingers trace up and down the inside of her arm that was extended beyond her, the movement almost lulling her back to sleep. Her head pounded, but certainly not as terrible as one might have expected. Her back pressed up against his bare front as they lay on her bed the way they had been since he brought her home last night.
Cassian had been demanding, but she had also been foul.
Bastard. That was a crude thing to call him.
Arwen inched her head over her shoulder to look at her mate, the rest of her body soon following. Azriel smiled down at her. "How's your head?" he whispered, pressing his lips to her warm forehead. She could feel the heat on her own skin.
"S'alright." She loved looking into his eyes. Loved finding the lightness behind them. Whether it was for her, his family, or just a good day in particular, she didn't care. "Does Cassian hate me?"
"So you remember." Arwen spared him a glare before burying her face into the hidden between his neck and the mattress. Azriel chuckled warmly and moved his hand to the back of her head. "A little splash isn't going to damage his pride. I think he's more worried about why you felt the need to waste my drink on him. Which I wasn't finished with, by the way."
The presence of his teasing mood gave enough indication that her little drunken scene hadn't been taken too terribly. Or at least, her mate found it humorous. "You left it under my trust," she mumbled. "It is no one's fault but your own that you lost it."
His thumb made light trails on the low of her back under... Well, she wasn't sure what she was wearing but it was thick and warm. "I didn't realise how intoxicated four drinks was going to get you. I wouldn't have let them pull me away if I had realised."
"I liked watching you have fun." Her voice muffled against his warm skin. "Cassian was just... Annoying me. I talk when I'm drunk. Talk and blabber and overreact."
"I won't make a judgement on that." Arwen untucked her head for another glare through her dark lashes. Azriel smiled. "I wasn't there to hear, is all."
Rolling her eyesâwincing at the pain it flaredâshe turned onto her back. The dress she had worn last night was tossed over the back of her vanity chair, which drew her eyes back down to her body. Her legs were bare, the blanket shifting against her skin but her upper body was clad in a dark shirt. "Is this yours?"
Azriel's nose dug behind her pointed ear. "You wouldn't let me dress you in anything else. Peeled it right off me." She gave a single, sharp laugh of mortification. "I'm afraid that I must ask for it back before we leave this room. I do not fancy flying home without one. The mornings are still chilly."
"Well, that is a problem." Arwen bit her lip, curling her hand up to rest against his outer cheek. "Because I like this shirt very much." It smelt of him. Reminded her of him, even though he was right there. A claim to him while the bond was still unaccepted.
A large shadow passed over her. Azriel braced his forearms along either side of her head. He let his wing droop on either side of them, resting against the bed. He leant low, lips skimming hers. "I like seeing you in it."
Arwen entangled her hands into his hair, pulling him down that extra inch until he brought her into a proper kiss. It was tender and light, nothing close to a desperate passion. The type of kiss that comes when both know there are plenty more. Pulling her head back, she spent a moment admiring him. Admiring how the sunlight that peeked through her curtain shied away from him. She stroked the high point of his cheek with her thumb before curling one of his dark waves behind his ear. "You do know I tease, don't you?" she asked. "Yesterday with the whole accessory thing. I would hardly think so little of you to be nothing more than a piece of jewellery to wear." She tapped his nose. "Diamond or not."
"I know," he murmured, wrinkling his nose at her touch. "I did not take it as an insult."
Arwen let her finger drift down over the soft pout of his lips. "Yet I don't think you took it as a compliment either."
His reluctance toward the topic was painted across his face but that only made her all the more intent on understanding. "It has nothing to do with compliment or insult." He sunk down next to her, his wings retreating to his back and Arwen silently lamented the loss. "But I will be on your arm. When people look at you, they will also see me."
She could read the unspoken words left. She could hear the resentment of himself which made her bitter at the rest of the world for putting him in that position. "Good. I want you nowhere else." He smiled, but it wasn't bright. "You were a reason to stay, Azriel. When you held me, there was no other place I wanted to be. Not even in a great eternity."
He looked to the window beyond her. Arwen saw it. The heaviness. The weight of the memory. She regretted saying anything. "You may have sacrificed another life."
"Yes," she agreed smoothly, comfortably resetting herself back into his front. "But I would have lost the one I have now. If I were asked again, I would not give up my family, the love I have, for uncertainty."
He tightened his hold on her, as though he planned to stay within the confinements of her bed for all hours of the day. An idea she could be content with if she hadn't the need to explain her actions and possibly apologise for them. So when she gathered the motivation to pry herself free, Arwen pulled his shirt off and handed it back, dressing in leggings and a loose cardigan instead.
Venturing downstairs, she was surprised to find that everyone was already down there other than Azriel who trailed behind her. Rhysand and Feyre sat together on the lounge, both with drinks in hand. Amren and Mor talked near the unlit hearth which Cassian braced an arm on, and Elain sat in the small, windowed alcove.
Cassian was the first to catch her eye. His face remained unreadable, and Arwen had to worry whether Azriel's dismissal of his insulted pride was anything near truth. There was a platter served for the informal breakfastâa silver tray of crackers and cheeses and fruits. A large jug next to it, the tangy citrus alerting her that it was orange juice.
"I remember why I don't like getting drunk now," she said, breaking the tension that perhaps only she felt. Soft chuckles filled the room as she moved deeper inside. Azriel passed her in favour of pouring himself a glass of juice. She denied wanting one. He sent her a silent look and made a glance towards Elain. Arwen nodded and gave a smile that was weak for another reason. If Azriel found friendship in Elain, she would not interrupt that. It would be hypocritical whilst she had her intentions of talking with Cassian.
But she didn't. Not until well after she had eaten. Elain had retreated to her room. Mor and Amren decided to head into the city and Azriel took Feyre for another flying lesson. Which left Arwen between her brother and the general.
She nibbled on a cracker, the cheese long since finished off.
"You ruined my favourite shirt."
She scoffed. A lie. It would have been cleaned away with a simple flick of Rhysand or Mor's magic. But it was the prompt of conversation. "I'm sorry," she said, sitting on the lounge as he loomed over her. "I was angry. Didn't realise how much so little alcohol would get to me. It was..." Arwen trailed off, wiping her eyes with the balls of her palm. When the blur dispersed, she found Cassian had sat himself on the arm of the closest armchair. "I shouldn't have called you a bastard."
"I don't need you to apologise." She looked up in surprise. "You were angry. I understand. But now I need you to understand me." Cassian held her gaze, his brows inching together. "You died because we didn't listen to you. Not just with the poison but Ianthe too. You were so alert at her being there, but we dismissed it because we thought we could take care of anything that came up. We should have listened to your instincts and it's a mistake we will never make again."
Arwen's dry lip parted, glancing between him and Rhysand. Her brother only sat there, listening.
Cassian slipped from the armchair and fell to a knee in front of her. "We will listen to you, but you have to talk. If you don't, I can't promise that we won't miss these things. Things that hurt you. Things that Azriel needs to know."
She sunk deeper into the lounge, pulling her legs up. "It was in the past. He doesn't need to know."
"Do you think we don't care?" asked Rhysand. "That your mate doesn't?"
"I know you care," she whispered. "That's why I didn't want you to know. Why I don't want Azriel to know. I can see it in your eyes I hate it. I hate when I feel happy and then I look at you and all I see is dread like I'm still on a deathbed. I can't stand to look into Azriel's eyes and see the same."
It was why she stayed out of the house all day. To both avoid them and to prove she was fine. That she could dance away the night if she wanted. Rhysand and Cassian glanced at each other, and it was clear neither of them had a response beyond what was already said.
Finally, Rhysand looked back at her. "Before I knew, that weight was in your eyes. Every day I saw it hiding. Now it's for us to share. That's how this whole family thing works."
"Then you must share too," said Arwen, pointing at her brother. "I know there is so much you have not spoken about. Things that hurt you. I already know of them so at least speak with me. Let me take your pain as you take mine." Rhysand ran his tongue over his lip and gave a small nod at their deal. Arwen turned back to Cassian. "I will speak with Azriel. But by my own choice when I feel comfortable."
"That's fair," Cassian agreed. "As long as that doesn't mean years from now."