𝒜 𝒞𝑜𝓊𝓇𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝑅𝑒𝓈𝒾𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒮𝒸𝒶𝓇𝓈 | ᴀᴢʀɪᴇʟ

Chapter 96

Chapter 96

Starfall was here. And she still didn't have a dress to wear. Arwen tried not to think of it which ultimately wasn't that difficult. It had been many years since that tradition had taken place and grappling for its return was a weak attempt at resetting her life where it did not need to be reset.

Still, it stung a little.

Arwen grinned and laughed with Mor as they ate breakfast in the sun-lit dining room. Nesta was the only one who hadn't joined. "I may not have my muscle back yet, but my bones are certainly as strong as they should be," she sang, stabbing a cut of orange and plopping it on her tongue as she recounted her early morning training session with Cassian. It was their second—both taken slow and focused on regaining full mobility and testing her returning strength. Arwen had given a sharp jab between his legs with her knee to prove a point. He hadn't been expecting it.

"No wonder he's been pouting all morning," Mor said, sipping her goblet. Both females glanced across the table to the spoken-of warrior. He was talking blithely with Elain but at the weight of their gazes, sought them out. Hazels narrowed into glares before he turned back to his significantly smaller companion, ignoring them completely. They snickered. Mor laid her hand on Arwen's. "I have missed you. Missed this. I'm glad that you decided to remain."

Arwen smiled and sipped at her juice. Underneath the table, to her other side, she rested her hand on Azriel's leg. A reason to stay, she reminded herself. Looking across the table, she spied on Feyre and Rhysand. How simple the moment was; two mates talking over breakfast with their family. She could see it on both their faces how happy they were.

Rhysand and Arwen had spent the night on the rooftop of the House of Wind. They talked. Talked about things Under the Mountain that they wouldn't share with anybody else—not even Feyre or Azriel. Arwen spoke of the day that he had been whipped. The Attor's lashes had been so horrific that his entire back had turned to a canvas of dark blood. She couldn't even make out one wound from another. After his suffering, Amarantha had healed him. Not a scar left to be seen. Scars left stories. Stories that perhaps Rhysand, High Lord of the Night Court, was not so contently warming her bed as it seemed. Arwen had stood in front of him, but each time the whip just went through her. Still, she felt his pain as if it were her own.

Rhysand spoke of the day that he had to kill one of Azriel's spies. A High Fae that lived in Hewn City but had become trapped Under the Mountain. The male was loyal to them, had even helped prevent an uprising decades ago against Rhys and worked with the wraiths Under the Mountain for him. But he was a risk to Rhysand when Amarantha's attention drew to close. Rhysand wished he had just wiped the male's mind, but in a moment of panic, crushed it instead.

After breakfast, Arwen returned to her room. Upon her bed was a white box, the length and width of her arm. Frowning in caution, Arwen inched towards it and knocked the lid off.

The dress. The dress that looked like a thousand stars had been woven into it, silver and glittering. Hooking her fingers around the thin straps, she lifted it from the box to let the material fall to the floor. The back had a mesh fabric sewn in that would make it melt with her skin. It was hers. It was her Starfall dress. She bit her lip in an attempt to hold her grin but it was impossible. Carefully laying the fabric out along her bed in preparation to change into it come nightfall, Arwen left her room.

In and out of halls and chambers she weaved in search of him. It wasn't until reaching the grand entrance with the open pavilion, did she see Cassian talking with Rhysand. Not caring that she would be interrupting their conversation, Arwen darted toward him, flinging her arms around his neck.

He laughed and caught her, knowing exactly what the gesture was for. "I thought you might want it," he said once her feet were steady on the ground again. "I don't know how you're going to wear it all night. That thing is bloody heavy."