𝒜 𝒞𝑜𝓊𝓇𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝑅𝑒𝓈𝒾𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒮𝒸𝒶𝓇𝓈 | ᴀᴢʀɪᴇʟ

Chapter 81

Chapter 81

Rhysand sat in front of the fire in the town house's sitting room. Feyre gripped his arm. "Helion needs a week to..." He sighed and shook his head. "...Figure the spell out. If it's even possible."

"How is she taking it?" Mor quietly asked, peering up towards the ceiling in the direction of Arwen's bedchamber where she had taken off to the moment they got home. Since there was no need to remain at the Day Court, Rhysand had winnowed them home the moment they packed their things. Azriel had returned to the House of Wind.

"Hasn't spoken a word." Rhysand looked at Cassian. "I was hoping you might try and speak with her. Tomorrow. See where her thoughts are at." Cassian nodded gravely. A coin of decision had been in Rhysand's head since sitting in that room with Helion. It flipped back and forth, like a gambler playing with his winnings. One way and then the next. Yet it wasn't his decision to make. It certainly felt like it rested on his shoulders.

Amren inspected her thumbnail. "How long do we have to make the decision?"

"Does she have to make," Cassian snarled in correction.

The once-demon (still slightly demon) female arched a dark brow, the dull silver eyes still sharper than ever. "You think she's in the position to make it?" Rhysand fell under the glare next. "She's not well, Rhysand."

Cassian stared ahead, speaking into the rim of his glass tankard as he muttered, "That's a lot of bullshit for a small mouth. She is sick, not mindless. I want her to stay but I'm not going to chain her down."

At the sight of Amren's indeed small mouth snapping open, it was Feyre that cut through. "If you two are going to fight, you better leave this house." Rhysand's lips twitched into what might have been a smile at another time. He could listen to her telling them off any day. "It will be Arwen's decision."

Rhysand nodded in confirmation. "The answer is weeks. Maybe two months if her body isn't pushed. I don't want any of you pressing on her. This... This is a decision she needs to make. That's an order."

He knew better than any of them in her once unwavering comfort in the thought of having a life after this one. Telling him at Starfall that she would be one of them one day, shining over their world. It had kept hope in her through dark times. He had gotten through his own times of darkness believing that he would reunite with his family in death. To take that choice away from her would be cruel. And Rhysand has had enough of making the wrong decisions. Enough of placing her fate in his hands.

Yet, the idea of letting her go again was almost too unbearable to even imagine.

Cassian, Mor and Amren each took their leave. Rhysand buried his face into his hands, elbows driving divots into his thighs. Feyre's hand ran down his back, a soothing act but it did little to help. "Azriel was right."

Her soft brows moved together. "About what?"

He locked his fingers together, resting his jaw on weaved thumbs. "About it being my fault." His heel bounced against the ground.

"You know it's not true. Fault implies intent. You and I both know, and Azriel knows, that you would never intend anything to happen to her." Feyre leant forward, searching for his gaze back but he couldn't offer it. "Nobody could have known this would happen."

"I was supposed to meet them." His voice croaked but he forced himself to continue. "I was supposed to meet Arwen and my mother halfway to the camp. I didn't because I was busy and thought what I was doing was more important. It cost my mother her life and my sister her wings."

"You were betrayed."

"Arwen told me that she wasn't feeling well. More than once." Rhysand couldn't make out the tongues of flame anymore, his sight tainted by tears that he fought against falling. "I ignored her and she died."