𝒜 𝒞𝑜𝓊𝓇𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝑅𝑒𝓈𝒾𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒮𝒸𝒶𝓇𝓈 | ᴀᴢʀɪᴇʟ

Chapter 84

Chapter 84

Arwen and Cassian sat at breakfast like nothing had ever happened. Which was exactly how she knew it would be. The thing she hadn't expected to feel, was the upset gargling of her stomach when Azriel sat down next to her. Like she had done something wrong. He hadn't said anything, which was usually expected on a quiet morning. But today... She knew something was off. 

Rhysand flew up to meet them sometime after breakfast, lines of distress marring his forehead. He requested Cassian to go with him to the camps for the day. Of course, Cassian quickly obliged, kissing Arwen on the cheek before flying off with her brother. She stood on that balcony for some time, watching the sun continue to rise, the arms of light reaching across Velaris. It was hours before she even crossed paths with the shadowsinger again. Even then, they only passed in the hall with nothing more than a remark of greeting. But having seen his shadows crawling around all day, there was little chance they weren't reporting to him her every move. They had been for days.

The next morning, Arwen was delighted to find Feyre in the sitting room. "How are you?" her High Lady inquired.

"Fine," Arwen answered, taking the seat next to her. She had come to, strangely, find some sort of solace in Feyre's presence. A soothing like a balm to a burn. In a way, it reminded her of Lucien. Someone that was not her family, or that she grew up around. Someone who she had to nurture a relationship with, rather than have one by default. "How's Rhys? He hasn't reached out to me." Arwen left her mind open enough for him to enter. It was her memories that she kept locked away.

Feyre waved her hand. "He's fine, just busy. I think he doesn't want to stress you."

"He has a habit of doing that," she muttered through a smile, pulling a cushion to her stomach. "Not telling people what's wrong. He thinks it's easier on us if we don't know."

"Don't worry, I'm beating the habit out of him." They shared a laugh. Feyre turned more onto the lounge to face Arwen. "I was hoping to speak with you." She tilted her head, seeking Arwen's gaze. "Perhaps offer you an ear that isn't... That you might feel freer talking to."

Arwen toyed with the frills of the cushion, mulling over the offer.

"I know it's hard when just being alive feels difficult," Feyre continued in the silence. "I've been through that. But it's worth fighting for."

"You have to understand, Feyre," Arwen murmured, her voice raw like she had been screaming for hours, "that it isn't just a choice of giving up or living. If I chose to stay, I lose any possibility of moving on after death. I have watched Starfall every year, and every year I have hoped that when I die, I would become one of them. Reunite with my mother, travel across the universe, even if I'm not consciously aware of it. It's the hope of knowing that I'm somewhere better. That is a belief that I have held since your great ancestors were alive."

"But you give up everything you have here," Feyre added softly. And if she chose wrong, she would be placing herself in a prison. Another silence lapsed between them before she spoke again. "Rhys feels guilty. He thinks that you never wanted to come back. That he forced you here."

Arwen parted her dry lips but her mind ran blank in how to respond. Because what could she even say? Yes, that was exactly what happened. Rhysand had grabbed her and pulled her back when she was finally free. When she finally felt the pull of death's hands, the first thing she felt in two hundred and fifty years, he had snatched her away from it.

Arwen still blamed him for that. Still couldn't help the resentment that she might have been in some form of peace if he had just not reached for her.

"Arwen?"