𝒜 𝒞𝑜𝓊𝓇𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝑅𝑒𝓈𝒾𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒮𝒸𝒶𝓇𝓈 | ᴀᴢʀɪᴇʟ

Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Arwen had her fingers entangled by thick tendrils of black and silver threading. She wound them in a pattern, crossing under and over with muscle-engrained memory. There was already one bracelet finished, tied off around her left wrist.

Her feet were kicked up on the back of another chair, black slouched against the one she perched in. The black tresses of her hair had been bound into a high in an effort to keep the strands from falling across her face as she diligently worked away.

At the sound of footsteps behind her, she pinched all four strands of thread between two fingers, leant away from the chair and clasped her brother's writs. He made a sound of discontent as she yanked his forearm under her armpit and held it steady, encircling the woven bracelet around his wrists.

"You're twisting my arm," he griped.

"Cauldron's tits you have fat wrists."

Letting his arm go, Rhysand straightened back to his full height and made a show of readjusting his black sleeve. Then, with a frown, measured the width of his wrists with his other fingers. "What are you making?"

"I'm making friendship bracelets," she said, tipping her head to grin up at him. "And you're going to wear it everywhere you go."

He snorted, bracing his forearms across the back of her chair. He reached over her shoulder and plucked her adorned wrist to inspect the finished product. Arwen paused her crafting and let him. "Are you going to make me wear it in Hewn City as well? Their fearsome High Lord wearing a matching friendship bracelet with his sister. Hmm."

"It's the entire reason I'm making it."

She soon finished it with Rhysand still watching over her shoulder. Arwen made a motion with her hands for his own. Winding it around, she knotted it in a way that would be impossible to remove without cutting it or using magic. Flinging her arms out with a sigh, she declared, "I am a craftswoman. I should start my own business."

He inspected his new adornment with a slight smile. "You know Cassian would love one."

"I'd bet he'd wear it proudly everywhere," Arwen said, her lashes fluttering with soft blinks towards him. He set a line between his brows, tugging the end of his sleeve down to reveal it more. Laughing to herself, she knew that he would now raise to the challenge of proudly bearing the child's jewellery. Just as she planned.

Rhysand stood back up, taking a step away as he remembered his initial reason for wandering into the open dining area. Gods, he knew well what she had just done. And now he'd have a constant reminder at his wrist that she always got her way with him. At least if she did make one for Cassian, he'd be able to point out that the warrior fell to his level as well.

The rest of the day passed over quietly, and so did the morning of the next. He awoke later than usual, unbothered to change from his loose trousers that he had been sleeping in or even look in the mirror to tame his morning mane. As Rhysand wandered heavy-footed into the sitting room with a yawn, his pace slowed to a halt as Arwen stood at one of the bookshelves.

The dress was familiar. Simple, black, and elegant, it hung gently across the upper scope of her body, loosening from the waist to the floor. The sleeves were tight and long, ending at her wrists. All of it was familiar to him because he used to see her wearing it at least once a week since the day she brought it thirty Starfalls ago. Every week, that was, until ten years ago.

The plunging back was the only daring thing about the dress. It was a sharp cut, right down to an inch above her tailbone. And it left on display the marred canvas of her back. The wicked scars were still a mix of fleshy pink and white. The marks of the deepest grooves where the stems of her wings had been hacked off.