𝒜 𝒞𝑜𝓊𝓇𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝑅𝑒𝓈𝒾𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒮𝒸𝒶𝓇𝓈 | ᴀᴢʀɪᴇʟ

Chapter 75

Chapter 75

Arwen stood in front of her long mirror, adjusting the loose sleeves of the emerald dress that had come to be her favourite. She could hear her family moving around downstairs. Lucien had come earlier, a pleasant surprise though he hadn't stayed long. But Arwen managed to give him her gift, surprised to see that he had bought her one as well. It was a gold cuff that would fit her bicep, decorated with a carving of flowers.

Not for Spring, he had assured her, but because she reminded him of violets.

Azriel had stiffened from the threshold he was passing through just off to her left. "What do you know?" Arwen had gone pale at his voice which sent a trill down her spine.

Lucien had stammered. "Her eyes," he answered eventually. "They remind me of violets."

Arwen's eyes dropped to Azriel's hand which danced around the hilt of Truth Teller at his thigh. She took his hand, alarmed at the sudden snap of his temper. But Lucien's answer satisfied whatever he was looking for and he pulled away from her, leaving for another room.

Violet Death, she remembered later. The poison. 

That was an hour ago. The presents that had lain neatly in a pile on her bed disappeared around that time, joining the main pile that Rhysand had amassed. Cassian had already tried snooping in her room yesterday as he feigned interest in asking about her day, but she had watched him in the mirror investigate the present with his name inked into the tag and told him that it was socks. He promptly put it back down. 

Arwen left her bedroom. Elain was in the hall. She had changed out of her flour-stained shirt from that morning into an amethyst-coloured dress that softened her already smooth curves.

Arwen hesitated. "Thank you... For cooking," she said. "I'm sure it'll all be gone by tomorrow."

Elain frowned at the space between them. "It was distracting," she replied before continuing down the hall. Arwen glared at the empty space, contemplating whisking away the present that had Elain's name labelled on it. She had no doubt Feyre's sister did not bother with a present for her.

But by the time Arwen reached downstairs, most of the thought was pushed into the dusty corner of her mind.

Arwen took her spot next to Cassian at the fireplace where they toasted. Amren stood with Varian, her chin high and haughty. She couldn't help but watch as Azriel entered, decked in a rather handsome attire of a black jacket and pants. Two siphons remained on the back of each hand and his shadows trailed him like whisps of smoke. Not swirling wildly and reaching or hiding away. Just a part of him.

He went to Elain.

Arwen turned around, smiling to Cassian and then looked to the fire instead. Her knees weakened, but not for the reason they had been for the past weeks. She stared at the flames, half-listening to the conversation between Mor and Amren behind her.

The fire faltered, shrinking down into itself like it was suddenly being starved. Shadows replaced it. Azriel appeared in the corner of her eye. "Are you prepared to be spoilt?"

"What?" Her voice barely formed the word.

He smiled at the room, his attention constantly shifting but there was no mistaking he was speaking to her. "Spoilt. You think we wouldn't spoil you on your first celebration with us again?" Azriel turned around as Rhysand kissed Feyre's cheek and left the room. Arwen stilled as he inched closer to her, both facing the fire. "I shouldn't know this, but... Rhys bought you something every year."

The heat in her cheeks could only partially be explained by the fire. And it wasn't comfortable—not even in the way of a blush. It was hot like a fever. "What do you mean?"