𝒜 𝒞𝑜𝓊𝓇𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝑅𝑒𝓈𝒾𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒮𝒸𝒶𝓇𝓈 | ᴀᴢʀɪᴇʟ

Chapter 43

Chapter 43

Arwen startled awake despite the gentle hand that awoke her. The sun barely slit through the closed drapes, but the line of light cutting across the floor was a striking mix of deep pink and gold. She sat up, the mound of blankets piling into her lap as she wiped at her face.

"My lady." The servant. "I'm sorry to awaken you so early but the other servant has taken leave and I'm the only one available to attend to all three of you. I thought you may want to prepare for the day."

Arwen gazed around the dark chamber. Rhysand had slept on the chaise in exchange for the comfiest pillows on offer. By the looks of it, he was still asleep. "You should have woken Cassian first," she said with a morning croak. "He takes longer than any of us." With a stretch, she slid off the side of the bed and greeted the serving girl with a calm smile. "I'm rather easy to tend to. Perhaps just assistance with my hair after I have dressed? I wouldn't mind something to eat, either."

The female nodded but looked over her shoulder. Arwen followed it to her brother.

"I will go fetch something from the kitchens. Will he awaken before I return?"

Arwen shook her head and pulled on the robe hanging across the closest chair. "Probably not."

"Perhaps it is best if you return to your personal chambers, my lady. We can leave the High Lord to his rest." Before Arwen had the chance to debate the offer, the servant placed a hand on her back and began guiding Arwen from the chamber, picking up her small bag along the way. The night's sleep had placated some of her panic about the High Priestesses presence, so instead of rising into an argument, Arwen simply allowed the servant to take her back to what was supposed to be her guest chamber

She squinted as the door opened. Although not facing the eastern horizon, dawn had well breached the extent of the room, flooding it with gilded light that was flecked with pinks. The Dawn Court truly had the right name. The large chamber hosted a four-poster bed with cream bedding, a smaller sitting area than Rhysand's but with a hearth and beyond two arched windows stretching to the high ceiling, was a joined balcony.

"I will see to the kitchens while you dress, my Lady."

Arwen nodded in approval and the servant left the room in a hurry. Pondering over the female's odd actions, she stripped and changed into a black dress of velvet with a generous cut down the front. A perfect representative of the Night Court.

The scent of fresh bread signalled the servant's return long before Arwen heard the door open. The female placed a tray of bread and a selection of fruits down on the small table at the seating arrangement. Next to it, a silver flagon. Arwen immediately went to the tray, prying at chunks of the freshly baked goods that had been slathered in butter. "This is probably very improper of me, but your bread is amazing."

The servant smiled shyly. "It is my sister's doing. She works a marvel in the palace kitchens. Come sit. You may eat while I do your hair." She brought the tray and flagon over to a vanity with an almost too-wide mirror. Arwen seated herself at it. "Please, you must drink as well." The servant took the small goblet resting on the tray and pour the contents of the flagon into it. Orange juice, if Arwen could guess from sight alone.

Arwen took the goblet but placed it aside for the time being.

"Tell me about your life at the Night Court," the servant inquired as she unbound Arwen's pathetic overnight braid. "It must certainly be different from this."

"Not so much as one might think," Arwen divulged.

"You and your brother are close?"

Arwen sighed contently. "He does make it worth it from time to time." The servant gazed at her through the mirror's reflection and Arwen caught those grey eyes again. "You seem curious about him. Is there something you wish to know about my brother?"