𝒜 𝒞𝑜𝓊𝓇𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝑅𝑒𝓈𝒾𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒮𝒸𝒶𝓇𝓈 | ᴀᴢʀɪᴇʟ

Chapter 61

Chapter 61

Arwen wrinkled her nose at the view. Dull grey swathed the world, clouds shielded the sky and light snow trickled down across the land. She had spent the night convincing herself of her next endeavour—a bit of shoddy weather wouldn't stop her, but it would be a pain. Leaving the view, Arwen crossed the House to the main dining room where Azriel and Cassian were already eating.

"Morning," Azriel murmured in greeting. Cassian offered her a sharp wave of his fingers, cheeks puffed with food. Azriel glanced at the general, lips cracking apart with a sigh before looking back to her. "Five hundred years of living and he still hasn't learnt how to eat."

Arwen took the chair that left one between her and the spymaster, opposing Cassian who twisted his face into offence at the remark. Before she could pull a plate from the pile stacked in the middle of the short table, Azriel grabbed it for her. He silently worked to fill her plate.

Finally gulping down half of his meal, Cassian pointed his knife at the shadowsinger. "There are some things in life that you don't do in moderation. Eating is one of them. Never know when your next meal is going to be."

"Or your next fuck," Azriel uttered back, placing the plate down in front of Arwen, but his eyes were set on Cassian. Cassian stiffened and his eyes narrowed into a glare. "From my experience, you don't do that in moderation either once you start."

Arwen's hand paused on its reach for cutlery, alarmed at the unfitting conversation occurring over a morning meal. But, in a passing moment, she was glad that the attention had moved on from her.

Cassian ran his tongue between his lip and teeth, placing his knife next to his plate. "I thought we had this conversation yesterday. And agreed to not bring it back up."

She was missing a piece of the story, but Arwen had no intention to interrupt them. Cassian's sex life was not of her interest, and quite frankly, she tried to keep her interest out of Azriel's as well. She knew he had lovers over the decades, finding them in pleasure houses. He never met with them more than once.

Azriel did not reply, turning to look out of the far end of the open room and sip on his drink. Cassian gave a low snarl as he retook his knife. Eyes darting to Arwen, he nodded down to her plate. "Eat." Since they both seemed hell-bent on ignoring the tension that had just swallowed the room, Arwen did as ordered and continued her reach for a fork.

Shadows smoothed over her thigh. They curled around her flesh like a vine.

"Plans for the day?"

Arwen spent the next moment lathering her toast, feigning concentration to give her the time to build up the strength in her voice. "I want to go down to Velaris. Rhysand's birthday is soon and I need to buy him something."

They both looked at her, mirrors of surprise. "I'll take you down," Cassian said.

Arwen hadn't seen Rhysand since she destroyed Cassian's favourite sitting room. She wasn't sure if he was staying away to give her space, or because he needed space for himself. Either way, she was grateful for it. His name alone inflicted too many responses within her to be able to predict how she would react upon seeing him. If the anger would boil again. Maybe it would be the emptiness. Or maybe that would all shed way for the love she held for him. That despite all that happened, it hurt her to have been so helpless when he needed somebody.

It was like a soup with too many spices mixed in.

Cassian's speech to her yesterday had reminded Arwen of that part of herself—her love of gifts. A part of her hoped that Rhysand would understand what it meant for her to give him something. That beyond her anger, beyond her refusals of his attempts to speak with her, he still meant enough to her.