𝒜 𝒞𝑜𝓊𝓇𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝑅𝑒𝓈𝒾𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒮𝒸𝒶𝓇𝓈 | ᴀᴢʀɪᴇʟ

Chapter 104

Chapter 104

Her cheeks were aflame, the constant drizzle of tears doing little to soothe the burn. Rhysand hadn't moved from her side since they dropped onto the chaise near the small heart. Hadn't said anything either. But she knew that somehow he heard every single word of the rambling pouring from her mouth, even though she barely knew what she was saying herself.

"I-I can't help it," she wheezed, hand fisted around the material of her nightgown at her chest, mimicking the constriction on her heart. "Something inside of me is missing and I don't know how to find it. I don't think I ever can and—and it hurts. I want to be here." She didn't know whether the statement was to convince him, or herself. "But I feel so lost. I think it's because I shouldn't be here at all."

He stroked the back of her hair, keeping his thoughts behind steeled eyes. "That must be hard." Squeezing her eyes, Arwen bowed her head toward her lap, resting her forehead on arms crossed over her thighs. A pause lapsed. "Have you told anybody else how you're feeling? Azriel?"

"No," she rasped.

"You need to tell him. If you don't, I will."

Her head whipped up, a painful strain shooting down her neck as she shot her brother a wide-eyed expression. "No," she repeated, reaching out to seize his wrist. "No-no-no you can't, Rhys. You can't!" His frown told her all she needed to know and panic swelled like a wild current inside her. "I want to forget." It slipped out before she could think about what she asked for, but she didn't take it back. Her nails dug into his tanned skin. "Erase it. The decision. I don't want to feel like this anymore and he doesn't need to know. Please, Rhys."

He stared at her, long and hard. "I know the feeling," he said eventually, and Arwen knew her wish would not be granted. Tearing her hand back to herself, she brought her heels to the chaise and buried her face between her nose, another sob racking through her body. "Memory erasure is tricky," he continued—a careful, soft tone. "I can't just pick things out. It's like a thread; you pull on it and it begins to unravel everything. You would forget weeks of your life."

Gathering enough of herself, she choked out, "I can live with that."

"Can you? Think about everything that happened between when we went to the Day Court and today. You would lose too much."

Azriel. She would lose Azriel. Or rather, Azriel would lose her as she would be the one to not remember. Her teetering grip on life was the push they needed to be raw with each other.

"And I don't think it will help you," Rhys added after a moment, gently attempting to pry her arm away from encasing her face, but she refused. "What you're feeling might not change, even if you didn't understand it. It is just going to take time."

Her brothers' hand settled between her shoulder blades instead, just about the jagged stems of her once-wings. "I can't do it anymore," she whispered. "I can't stand this feeling, I can't breathe." The very air turned hot and thick, choking her as it clogged her lungs. That constriction on her heart grew, spreading further and deeper into her chest like talons clawing into her flesh. She lifted her head to try and take in more air, but no matter how hard she breathed, that strangling sensation wouldn't fade.

Slipping to his knees in front of her, Rhysand took a firm grip on both her hands, pulling them away from her hair which they had begun to tear through. "Arwen, you need to focus on me."

She looked to the window, trying to remember if there were latches to open it—to let in cool and fresh air. Air grated in her throat, rough and coarse enough that she could hear her own wheezes. The tears streaming down her cheeks became itchy so she yanked on her arms to try to scratch it away, a scream building in her chest when she couldn't.