𝒜 𝒞𝑜𝓊𝓇𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝑅𝑒𝓈𝒾𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒮𝒸𝒶𝓇𝓈 | ᴀᴢʀɪᴇʟ

Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Arwen had been checked on a few times that day. Probably to figure out if she was faking it or not. Bastards. They should know that she enjoyed training enough to put through with it if it was nothing more than a headache and a bit of tire from the night before. If she had the mind, her brother would have a broken nose from one of her shoes.

By the time her stomach was calling for dinner, which had yet to appear in her room, she was frustrated enough with staying in the one room all day to go searching for it. Each step was slow and calculated.

It was a bitter reminder of the months after she had lost her wings. A time when simply walking was such an effort that there were days Arwen did not have the stamina to even try. Stumbling, off-centred, over-compensation for a weight that was no longer there. Wings were like tails, helping them balance and could be twisted and shifted around like extra limbs.

She kept a hand to a wall. Arwen's body kept switching between abnormally light, and like the weight of the mountains were upon her shoulders. Her skin itched and something buzzed through her. The sensation was new, and if she deigned to admit it—frightening. I'm not sick, she kept telling herself. Arwen knew sick, she knew hungover.

She found Cassian, Rhysand and Mor waiting in the main gallery near the pavilion entrance.

"What are you doing up?" Cassian asked, the first to notice her.

"I'm starved," she answered through a weak smile.

He gave a grunt of agreement as Rhysand took her arm once the wall disappeared. "Az will be here any minute. He's dropping off paperwork then we're heading to the townhouse for dinner." They had been waiting for some time, but Rhysand assured them that he had entered through Velaris's wards not long ago.

"Do you want to come with us?" her brother asked. "Or I can send food to your room again."

"I'll come," she said, determined to at least enjoy one meal with her family.

Sure enough, the sound of wings came as Azriel landed with the swift grace of a feline. He tucked his wings in tight, extracting folded papers from his inner jacket pocket. As a natural movement, he surveyed his environment with a trained eye, noting everything he could see, hear, smell. His shadows whispered into his ears of everything else. Azriel's eyes lingered on his mate, who leaned against her brother as he handed the same male his report. Rhys took it, flipping through the first couple of pages and then with a swish of his hand, it disappeared.

He heard Rhys mention something about dinner down at the townhouse and he gave a mute nod of agreement. His desires before returning centred on crawling to his own room and spending the night alone after the long and hard day of flight, tracking, and reporting. That was until he watched Arwen tiredly blink up at him, her lips careening in a small smile of welcome. He hoped he managed one back. Now, he knew he would have to follow them, so he could put his mind at rest at seeing her poorly appearance. What had happened since last night?

They made their way to the pavilion, Cassian hauling Mor to his chest who theatrically draped herself. Azriel stayed behind Rhysand as he picked up Arwen, her cheek resting on his shoulder where Azriel could watch her face.

Arwen smiled at him again. Azriel was sure he managed one back this time.

Her untamed hair tore against the wind as Rhys took to the sky, her fingers holding his jacket tight. She watched Azriel over his shoulder. The way the wind rippled through his short waves, the slight adjustments of his wings. The way is his eyes would drift over to hers every few seconds. Devastatingly handsome. Arwen tucked her head back into her brother's neck, so she didn't stare the entire time.