𝒜 𝒞𝑜𝓊𝓇𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝑅𝑒𝓈𝒾𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒮𝒸𝒶𝓇𝓈 | ᴀᴢʀɪᴇʟ

Chapter 29

Chapter 29

Arwen plucked a glass of wine the shade of blood as she meandered through the throne room. The High Fae looked at her, some moving out of her way, others remaining in place until her shoulder knocked into theirs and finally they bowed their heads and shuffled out of her path. But it was the eyes on her back that was new. It made her skin itch as though she was feeling the pressure of their gaze examining the marring of her skin.

They knew the story. Most of the Night Court did and those that didn't hadn't been around long enough to hear it.

Arwen reached Cassian who adjusted his shoulders at the sight of her, but she only passed him a sly smile before continuing. Her lips remained with their uplift as she careened herself to Lucien's side, joining him in watching the rest of the court.

"You may find this place cruel, but you have to admit that at least we know how to throw a party," she said, glimpsing at him from the corner of her eye.

"I'm afraid I must say that it will never compare to what my h... What the Autumn Court throws tonight. Every person takes to the streets to celebrate."

"I would never seek to compare it," she replied. Lucien offered her back a tight smile. "This is a party, you know. You do not have to stand here and brood the entire evening. My brother is kind enough to allow you to enjoy yourself before things become dirty."

Lucien kept his eyes glued outwards. "That is your idea of kindness?"

"Does it look like there is much kindness in this place?" Arwen huffed and crossed one arm against her navel, holding it in place with the elbow of the arm still holding her wine. "It was kindness of him to not go down to the Spring Court upon receiving your letter and cut off the head of your High Lord for thinking he was even in the position to want to arrange a meeting. And trust me, he contemplated it."

Lucien finally looked to her, and at the empty space around her shoulders. The last time they had met, she had wings. He opened his mouth and Arwen knew an apology was rising from it. But he could not apologise for his High Lord. Nor could he, so new to the role, make known any disagreement to his new master.

"I am glad that you left your court," she declared. "It was about time by my mind. It's just disappointing which way you went."

"Glad?" Her cheeks tightened at the strained word of response. She unfolded her arms as Lucien turned to her. His throat bobbed and the tips of pointed ears redden to the colour of his hair. "I didn't just stroll out of my home. I ran because my father slaughtered the female I loved right in front of my eyes. I had nowhere else to go but Spring. Tamlin was the only one brave enough to take me in and risk my father's fury following."

Arwen's throat turned dry, a hand clenching her stomach. But before she could say anything, Lucien turned away from her and marched out of the throne room. She watched him go, disappointed in herself for not making her feet follow.

Losing her appetite, she placed the barely touched wine down on a servant's tray passing by. No one approached her as she stood there just off the main dance floor, even as she watched them gracefully glide around.

As one song ended and another began, couples moved off the floor for respite, others taking their place. Through the gaps of their forms, Arwen caught sight of the azure glow of a siphon. With a flaring nose, she turned her head away. But something pulled it back.

Ianthe stood next to Azriel, her front almost to his side. She was speaking to him, but Azriel looked in a distant direction, with only short, muttered responses. Ianthe's hand rose, long fingers sensually moving to dust over the front of his leathers, across his chest. His shadows swirled in the way that Arwen knew them to whenever he was uncomfortable. Ianthe touched the siphon embedded there which flared in response. Azriel looked down at her, a snarl forming.