𝒜 𝒞𝑜𝓊𝓇𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝑅𝑒𝓈𝒾𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒮𝒸𝒶𝓇𝓈 | ᴀᴢʀɪᴇʟ

Chapter 23

Chapter 23

Arwen peeked her eyes open to spy the rumbling storm clouds in the distance. They were such a lively, vibrant grey that she knew that by the later afternoon Velaris would be under pelting rain and lightning.

"Close your eyes," Amren's shrill voice snapped.

Arwen nearly leapt from the top of the hill they were perched on, forgetting that she was being watched. Tightening her folded legs, she placed her hands on her knees and closed her eyes once more.

"If you don't do as I say, you'll never learn."

Arwen formed a wrinkle in her brows and with her eyes still closed, asked, "Were you this mean to Rhys when you were training him?" Arwen had been around when Amren assisted Rhysand in honing his power, and even more so now that the power of the High Lord of the Night Court transferred to him but she had never seen their training sessions. He had come home one day though, grumbling something about how Amren was lucky he didn't mist her. Not that Arwen was sure that was possible.

"Worse," Amren answered. "Consider yourself lucky."

For what it was worth, she did. Amren continued instructing her breathing, then for her to remove the moonstone ring. Arwen did so blindly, not yet receiving the order to open her eyes but told to let the magic take hold in her. She waited, and waited. And waited.

"Ouch!" Arwen opened her eyes again, reaching to clutch at her chest. The guilty weapon—a stone the size of her fist—had dropped into her lap. "Why did you throw that at me?"

"If you were doing as I told, it would have gone right through you and you wouldn't have felt a thing." Amren opened her palm and the rock appeared in it. "Now close your eyes."

Arwen gave the area on her chest a second rub of discontent but was too terrified to say anything more. Even Rhysand wouldn't protect her from Amren's wrath.

Her day had begun with training reinstated. Not that she was given any warning, other than the five minutes that morning when Cassian barged into her room and demanded for her downstairs and ready to go. It was quickly evident how out of shape just a few weeks of missing training had made her as Cassian drilled her into the ground. Rhysand and Azriel had joined too, but kept to their own training on the other side of the rooftop.

As if they would be in trouble for her not being in shape.

Arwen had barely gotten a quick snack in before Amren came to claim her for a different type of training. They stayed on the barren hilltop for hours. Though Arwen debated convincing Rhysand to send her back to the prison, by the end of the day, she had a margin more of control. Enough that half the time that rock was pegged at her, it went straight through. Commanding her body back to something tangible, however, came with more difficulty.

By the time Amren allowed Arwen to leave, her chest had a bruise qualifying a healer's soothing balm. One that she knew they had run out of since they used it almost every day with training. So Arwen, practising her winnowing, took herself into Velaris in search of Majda's healing quarters.

The winnowing was a somewhat success, landing in the district close by. The thunderclouds were now directly overhead, leaving the city under a haze of gloom. By the time she reached the green-painted door, light pattering rain formed beads across her hair.

Directly inside the healer's quarters was the main treatment room. It was wide and square, with cut off areas with privacy sheets. There was a back-end chamber where Madja stored her remedies from the apothecary and another chamber for patients she kept overnight.

It was particularly empty this day, with only one other High Fae male being treated. Madja, the ancient but kind woman who Rhysand favoured over any other healer in the city, tended to the male, instructing the use of a cream. The male, handsome with long brown hair that was braided on one side to his head, nodded, smiling coyishly. The apron with stains on it told her that he was a baker. His left hand was bandaged.