𝒜 𝒞𝑜𝓊𝓇𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝑅𝑒𝓈𝒾𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒮𝒸𝒶𝓇𝓈 | ᴀᴢʀɪᴇʟ

Chapter 64

Chapter 64

Arwen contemplated for an entire day. When Cassian proposed the idea, she had straight-up refused. She could already picture how it would go. He had given her until the sun reached the horizon to think by herself—to work up the courage and convince herself one way or the other.

So now she stood on one of the House's balconies, dressed in a simple white dress that she knew was once Morrigan's and waited for Cassian to take her down to the town house for a dinner party. Just the Inner Circle, he had promised, with the inclusion of Feyre's two sisters—if they deigned to join.

The idea of being around them all, being around two people she had yet to formally meet—Arwen couldn't begin to imagine what it would feel like. Would they expect her to speak, or would she be allowed to slip among Azriel's shadows? Did she even want to remain unnoticed? After so long of being stuck unheard and unseen, perhaps she could be the night's entertainment.

But the urge didn't arouse itself. Not in the ferocious, consuming way it had on that day she pulled the sitting room apart and abused her brother's chest. Since then, that fiery anger had weaned. It still existed, but not in a way that it shrouded everything else.

Cassian appeared from behind the glass door, Azriel on his heels. They were both dressed smart—not in their leathers, but draped in dark, fitted fabrics. Cassian's hair even looked somewhat tamed, half pulled into a tie at the crown of his head. Azriel, she found, looked remarkably handsome. Still on each of their hands were the siphon-embedded gauntlets.

"You said this wouldn't be formal," she demurred to the general, pinching the side seam of her dress. It wasn't the dress that was anything terrible, but her hair was flat and her skin wasn't in its best condition. She could have done with some kohl around her eyes and some colour to her cheeks.

"It's not," he said through a click of his tongue. "But we haven't had the chance to play dress up in a while."

Azriel gave a sidelong glance to his brother. "And he has someone he wants to impress."

Arwen frowned in confusion as Cassian sent him a light scowl, before realising that Nesta Archeron may be present that night. Arwen has her suspicions, but she avoided attempting to confirm them. Nesta had saved Cassian's life, but it didn't blur the rest of her treatment towards him.

"You're no less overdressed than I am," Cassian barked back.

Azriel only shrugged, making a small glance her way. 

Arwen let her thoughts rise to her face, but dared not speak them aloud. She looked back down to the city, spying the outline of the town house far below. She wrung her fingers at her stomach. Cassian stepped up to her side, bracing his hands on the ivory railing.

"We can leave tonight at any moment," he told her quietly. "Just give me the signal."

Arwen nodded but knew by this point that she would refuse to use the offer. She was going, and she would stay the entire night. With her mouth dry and her stomach unsettled, she selected to wrap her arms around his neck in an urge for them to leave rather than voice her readiness. She heard Cassian grunt something of a short laugh and lift her off the ground.

Her eyes caught Azriel's over the general's shoulder. He smiled at her—the movement tight, and made for her benefit, she noted.

Soon they were in the air. Cassian didn't take his time flying this time, perhaps cautious that too much delay would offer her the chance to change her mind. He informed her that Lucien was invited, but had declined on the point that he and Elain had a recent interaction that had not ended well for either of them. Part of Arwen was upset that he wouldn't be there, but a greater part happier to know that she wouldn't have to sit in the middle of that tension.