𝒜 𝒞𝑜𝓊𝓇𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝑅𝑒𝓈𝒾𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒮𝒸𝒶𝓇𝓈 | ᴀᴢʀɪᴇʟ

Chapter 69

Chapter 69

The sun was beautifully warm against the back of Arwen's neck that early morning. Despite the blanket of snow covering most of the land, the sky had not a cloud to be seen and was a pleasant companion as she sat on the mountainside rooftop.

Cassian, however, was not.

They sat across from each other, one of his knees tented toward the sky with his elbow thrown to rest on it. In his other hand, extended to her, a chunk of apple was being offered on the end of his knife. Arwen shook her head, her voice breaking. "I can't."

"Then we don't train," he stated. "Simple."

The bargain she had accepted the day before. Eat more, she could train with him. She was clad in thick leggings and a loose black sweater, keeping her arms warm until she was feeling the heat of a training session. All he expected of her this morning was to eat the apple. The red skin was beautifully ripe and the juices looked sweet as anything, but the mere thought of it in her stomach was revolting. He had even cut the small piece off to break the process down, offering it to her now. Bit by bit, he told her. He would sit there with her until the entire thing was eaten.

Reluctantly, she took the small piece from him and forced it into her mouth. The initial sweetness turned to ash on her tongue, and she barely held back a gag. She couldn't do this. She couldn't eat the whole thing.

Cassian cut a new piece.

"Do you take pleasure in being cruel?" she drawled, clawing at the piece and shoving it into her mouth as she had the first.

He pointed a hard gaze at her. "I take pleasure in seeing you healthy. Trust me, I want to train with you. I like knocking you on your ass." He cut her another piece and winked. "I get a good view out of it."

Arwen took it, but this time she had to pause when it reached her lips. Her stomach made a loud complaint and her mouth dried. She pled with her eyes, letting the paleness she knew had overcome her face speak for her. But Cassian only arched his dark brow. Squeezing her eyes tight, Arwen forced it past her teeth, each chew slow and like grinding through dirt.

As soon as she swallowed she knew it was a mistake.

Lurching off to the side, it all came back up her throat, leaving an acidic taste in her mouth. She threw up all the small pieces of apple she had eaten and then dry heaved until her stomach cleared itself off any remaining traces. Cassian pulled her already tied hair away from hanging at her neck. With the contents of her stomach fully expelled, Arwen slumped back against his front, her chest shaking in a dry sob of exhausted frustration at herself.

"I can't train you like this. In fact, you should be in bed being checked over by Madja."

She pushed away from him, burying her forehead into her knees. "No."

He sighed. "Let me take you down to the town house today. I'll have Rhys send for her—"

Arwen slapped away the hand that aimed for her shoulder. "No."

"Fine." Cassian pushed off the ground and left her to sulk alone, moving on to stretching by himself. It wasn't long before he was joined by Mor, Feyre and Azriel who all donned their training gear.

Arwen buried her head deeper between her knees, stubborn enough to not move from the rooftop as they trained off to the side of her. But everything inside of her felt weak and broken. She was sick of it—sick of feeling sick. Sick of crying and being like she was.

At the sound of boots against stone, she forced her head high, watching from the corner of her eye as Feyre sat down next to her, a glass of water in hand. Despite being mid-winter, the High Lady had beads of sweat across her forehead.