𝒜 𝒞𝑜𝓊𝓇𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝑅𝑒𝓈𝒾𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒮𝒸𝒶𝓇𝓈 | ᴀᴢʀɪᴇʟ

Chapter 65

Chapter 65

Cassian was gentle in placing her down on the balcony, but that was the only moment of tenderness to be seen from him. His wings were tight to his back, stiff shoulders hardly moving with each stride that led him inside. Arwen pinched the skirt of her dress and hurried after him.

It took a moment of jogging to reach his side and even then she required a longer-than-usual gait to keep at his pace. "Cass?" she called softly. He didn't answer but a head tilt and a glance that didn't quite make it to her signalled that he at least listened. "Cassian, please talk to me."

"Not in the mood for talking, princess," he grumbled.

She caught his hand and had to dig her heels into the marble floor to hold against his build and determined nature. He only stopped as their arms both reached full tautness. "Then let me talk," she said. He stared at her, then at the wall to the side. "What do you need?"

He tightened his lips and swallowed hard. "Nothing," he answered, a purposeful gentleness hewing the words. Blanketing what he felt beneath. "I don't need anything but a good sleep."

Arwen risked a step forward, hoping the slacking of their arms wouldn't give him the opportunity to move away. But he remained in place, so she took another. "It was Nesta, wasn't it?" The flare in his nose answered. "What did she say to you?"

"Something that shouldn't piss me off but somehow did." The muscles of his jaw rippled. "I don't know how she manages it."

A wrinkle formed between her brows as she examined him again. "Would you like to work it out?" she asked. "Train, I mean. I know it's late, but we could take up some torches."

"Train?" he echoed. "You and me?"

Arwen nodded. "We could get into one of the fighting rings if you want. Punch it all out." She hadn't been in the training ring for such a long time that she would be lying if she said the idea didn't make her nervous. But her feelings didn't matter when it came to helping him. If that's what he needed, Arwen would make it happen.

His lips careened into a smile that she knew was for her sake yet it made her feel like a child who had just naively asked for the impossible. "I appreciate the offer, sweetheart. But you wouldn't take one hit with the way I need to punch right now."

She sized herself up. "I could. Let me help you."

Cassian sighed and turned to face her fully. He pulled his hand from hers then settled both around her waist, the curve of his thumb to indexes measuring its width. The flame of determination in her flickered, but did not extinguish. His warm hands slid up either side of her rib cage, pointedly marking each one with his thumb that could easily be felt through her skin. Then they cupped each arm, encircling the flesh, stroking his hands down as he lifted them between their bodies.

"If you want to train," he whispered, "I will train you every single day until you could face the Blood Rite like it was a training course. But you have to eat more than you are. I know my own strength and I refuse to put us into that position tonight."

Arwen let out a sharp breath of despair. It returned again—the feeling of uselessness. Only this time, it wasn't something beyond her that kept her from helping. It was her own inability. "Can I do something else, then?" she pressed. "I can bake you brownies?"

Cassian gave a sharp chuckle, the bitterness still seeping through it. "You don't need to do anything."

She bounced on the balls of her feet. "I do," she whispered feverishly. "I do, Cass because you've done nothing but be here for me. I don't want to be a burden."

Louder, sterner, he said, "You are not a burden, Arwen." His hands lifted to clasp either side of her face and the distance between them shortened. "It has been my absolute honour to be at your side. In the years gone and those to come."