𝒜 𝒞𝑜𝓊𝓇𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝑅𝑒𝓈𝒾𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒮𝒸𝒶𝓇𝓈 | ᴀᴢʀɪᴇʟ

Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Cassian meandered through the townhouse where he had slept for the night, not too drunk to fly home, but drunk enough that he knew better than to try when he had his own room somewhere on safe ground. As soon as dawn cracked, the streak of sunlight through his open window awoke him and within minutes he was dressed in his training leathers, two siphons on either arm, the rest tucked neatly away.

He gave a knock with the back of his knuckles on Arwen's door out of courtesy but knew that the response would be nothing more than a grumble anyway and walked in. The relatively young half-Illyrian woman was curled up near her pillow, more than half her face buried in the feathered pouch. "Sunrise," he announced, shaking her upper-most arm. She stirred, the lines deepening between her brows. "You earnt yourself training by running that mouth of yours." Arwen only tightened her hold on the pillow. He could imagine that she had a headache which is why he had a tall glass of water and something for the pain waiting downstairs.

"Not today," she growled, turning onto her stomach.

Cassian sighed, striding around her bed to the other side of her room where her curtains were drawn closed. He yanked them open, golden light piercing through the room. "Up," he commanded. To encourage the process, and show her that he wasn't messing around, he began to rifle through her draws until he found something that he knew she would wear to training regularly and tossed it on the empty side of her bed.

When she still hadn't moved by the time he had finished, the general resorted to tugging the blanket away from her. Surprisingly he wasn't met with the resistance of her clinging fingers as though she had let it slip away. "Up," he repeated, traversing back to her side of the mattress. At her still closed eyes, he pursed his lips and sat down on the bed near her middle. "We won't go too hard," he promised her. "It's good training to be able to fight even when you don't feel like yourself. Builds resilience."

Arwen furled her fist around her pillow and for a moment he feared that it would be next flung into his face, but she only used it as leverage as she pushed up with her knees until she was sat on her ankles, facing the headboard. Cassian tightly held his lips against any remark about her less than dignified appearance. "Do I have to?" she asked, voice a croaky whisper. Cassian almost felt bad. Almost. That was the keyword that separated him from both his brothers. It only worked on him when he let it. "I already have resilience for not punching you right now."

He cracked a chuckle. "Get dressed, meet me downstairs in five."

Arwen submitted to the order that paraded behind a soft tone.

Cassian smiled at her half-hearted glare and squeezed her shoulder before leaving to allow her privacy. He sauntered back downstairs, the rest of the house which included Mor and Rhys still in a heavy slumber. Azriel no doubt was enjoying having the House of Wind to himself for the night and early morning. It took more than five minutes for Arwen to arrive downstairs, but he decided to say nothing of it upon observing the foul look spread across face. He offered her the water and the powder to mix it with that would give a slight relief to the pounding in her head. She downed it quickly.

The moment Cassian noticed that something might truly be wrong is when she simply waited for him to pick her up outside of the townhouse so that he could fly her to the rooftop. He had been bracing his muscles for the usual jump where she'd claw to his front. It was a habit she picked up in her youth before she was old and strong enough to fly. But that morning, he was the one to bend at the knees and lift her, a single arm loosely going around his neck. Nevertheless, he flew them to the rooftop on the House of Wind.

Arwen wiped at her eyes as she was placed back on her feet, sniffing and trying to clear the fog in her mind to navigate her way around the rooftop. She distantly heard Cassian's direction of stretching. It wasn't terrible and the slight pain was more awakening than anything else.