𝒜 𝒞𝑜𝓊𝓇𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝑅𝑒𝓈𝒾𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒮𝒸𝒶𝓇𝓈 | ᴀᴢʀɪᴇʟ

Chapter 100

Chapter 100

Arwen swung into Rhysand's office inside the town house, grinning coyly as she leant against the doorframe. Her brother glanced up from his paperwork, arching a brow at her composure. "Dearest brother," she sang, taking more light steps inside. Pulling up the spare chair, she flopped into it and braced her arms on the edge of the darkwood desk. "I have a proposition to make."

His chair creaked slightly as he leant back into it. "Does this proposition include spending exorbitant amounts of my money?"

Arwen blinked and looked to the side in thought before answering. "No."

"Good," he sighed. "Cassian and Mor decided that they would celebrate his birthday early and pay for every drink of every guest at Rita's last night. On my account."

Arwen hid her laughter behind her hand but then realised that she had spent the night at home and slapped that hand on the desk. "Why wasn't I invited? Who went to this?"

"Mor wanted to go dancing apparently and Cassian was already in town with her. I think he added the part of his birthday just this morning when I asked about it." Rhysand waved his hand. "So proposition me away."

Collecting herself, Arwen straightened her back and interlaced her fingers. "I want a position in your court again. A proper position with work."

She watched as he drew into a contemplative expression. "You know you don't have to work if it's the money you want. We're blood—my wealth is yours. Your paycheck would literally just be numbers."

"I'm sick of forcing myself to doodle just to fill in the hours of the day," she said, rolling her eyes. "I feel like an ornament around this place."

He nodded slowly, looking off to the side of the room as he continued to think. "I can restore you as Third in Command. Mor's duties lie with Hewn City mostly and now with the mortal lands."

She took a long breath. "I was actually thinking about a position as your emissary."

He blinked.

"I know everything there is to know about this court," Arwen continued. "I know about the other courts. I grew in this type of life as you did. I spent two hundred and fifty years stuck at your side and I'd like to think I've learnt a thing or two from it." She gestured to his desk. "Besides, I'm already answering half your letters and I organised that new trade agreement last week that you forgot about with that merchant from the continent. It would take some of the weight off you, Feyre. This is something I could be good at."

He chewed on the inside of his cheek, but she was prepared to fight his reluctance for this. "You would leave home often. Go to meetings with people that you probably never want to see again. I know you don't like leaving Velaris."

"I don't like foul smells either but I put up with you lot after you've been training."

"There will be times that you may have to be alone with powerful people that don't particularly like you. It's a dangerous game."

"You've been surviving that game for four hundred years."

"I just—" he breathed out— "want you to understand what the job entails."

"I already know the risk, Rhys," she said. "Perhaps your fear blinds you."

He gave her a pointed look. "My fear has me keeping you safe in this city. But I won't stop you from leaving it." She smiled as he leant against the desk. "We'll transition. Slowly. Take on some responsibilities each week, perhaps visit the Day or Summer Court on my behalf. You can back out at any time and nobody will think less of you for it. But I'm not sending you to Hewn City alone—that'll remain Mor's duty."