𝒜 𝒞𝑜𝓊𝓇𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝑅𝑒𝓈𝒾𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒮𝒸𝒶𝓇𝓈 | ᴀᴢʀɪᴇʟ

Chapter 82

Chapter 82

Arwen's hand moved loosely around the smooth parchment, listening intently to the soft scratching of her pencil against it. Honeyed light blanketed the small sunroom, stretching in from the three windows that made the walls of the alcove to her small chaise that gave her a view of the garden below. Her eyes were set beyond it today though, the light lines on the page forming a rugged mountain horizon.

Arwen had come to the sunroom to forget. For the time that she belonged to nothing but the earth, she forgot the looming decision, forgot the turmoil that she forced herself to shed before entering.

But she was also trying to remember. Remember what it felt like to be alive—truly alive. The type of alive where simply feeling the kiss of sunlight and hearing the song of wind was a beautiful thing. Because as much as she did want to forget, Arwen needed a decision. She just hoped it would come to her. 

With the scraps of her drawing done, Arwen returned to her room, tossing the new book on her bed. Sitting at her vanity, she brushed out the messy of her sleep hair since it was well near mid-sun already. Having thought nobody was at home, the gentle knock at her door took her by surprise. "Come in."

The shock weaned when it was Rhysand that appeared. He smiled at her, closing the door behind him—it had only taken three years' worth of scolding for him to have the action finally ingrained into him. Arwen's caution bubbled at his placid composure.

Wandering around her bed, he caught sight of the drawing pad and inspected it. Arwen watched him from the vanity. "You should let Feyre take you down to her studio," he said, flipping to the page before which she had left blank. "I know you don't usually paint, but who knows, maybe you'll like it."

"I don't mind painting," she said. "I just hate getting paint on me. Feels gross." He snorted at that, though she didn't catch the reason for it. "Are you here to look at my masterpieces or just check that I'm alive?"

It struck something in him as she received a quick, "Neither." A pause, then, "Both. It's good to see you drawing again." It hadn't really been a conscious choice. Arwen had just picked up the book with the intention of giving her hand something to do and those lines became what they did on their own. "How do you feel about going to the theatre tonight? Feyre wanted to get Elain out of the house. I don't think she's convinced but I thought it would be nice to have a family night out anyway."

"I don't know if I could sit through a two hour performance," she admitted. Theatres had never been of much interest to her. Arwen was sure the stories were fascinating and the actors terrific, but could never sit through one without nodding off or becoming so disassociated that she may as well have been sleeping.

A corner of Rhysand's lip reached higher. "Well if you fall asleep, nobody can judge you. We'll go for dinner too. A proper night out."

Twisting her lips, she traced the grain of her vanity's wood. "Is there a specific reason we're going?"

"As I said, Feyre wanted to get Elain out. But I thought it would be a good idea for us to spend some time together out of the house."

He was ignoring well what she knew was plaguing both their minds. Whether for his own sake or for hers, it didn't matter. Still, she couldn't help but feel this was an attempt to lure her out of a shell. If their roles were switched, Arwen certainly wouldn't be making conversation about family night whilst her brother was nearing his deathbed. "What time should I be ready by?"

He smiled. "Seven."

~

It was seven and Mor and Cassian were late. Arwen waited with Feyre as Rhysand and Azriel talked in another room. Amren had something else to attend to. And by that, Arwen guessed it was something on someone named Varian. Mor and Cassian showed up just a little past seven.