𝒜 𝒞𝑜𝓊𝓇𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝑅𝑒𝓈𝒾𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒮𝒸𝒶𝓇𝓈 | ᴀᴢʀɪᴇʟ

Chapter 91

Chapter 91

Arwen had her head laid on Azriel's bare stomach, looking past his smooth skin to the window that brought in the morning light. She mutely traced the tattoo that curved from his back over the bone of his hip. It was a dream.

Or at least, that is what it felt like. The world beyond her window and door did not exist. If she could lay there forever, it was a temptation Arwen didn't think she could resist. Azriel had long ago hooked a leg around hers, as if making their joining permanent. He made lazed trails at the low of her back where his hand naturally fell. His wings were comfortably situated and supported between a mess of pillows and the quilted headboard.

But it wasn't a dream.

"Must you go?" she asked. "Will I sound like a child if I cry for you not to?"

His hand smoothed over her hip. "I must," he said softly. "I will be back in two weeks. It was meant to be three, but I'm a skilled negotiator."

She huffed but it did make her feel better that he had fought for that quicker return. Rolling onto her back, Arwen lodged her head in the space between his bicep and ribs, and looked up at him through her lashes, pouting.

"I don't want to leave you," he said. "But Rhys needs me to make sure Beron isn't forming plans to breach the human lands. My plants haven't been able to receive any solid information."

"That is a pity." She looked towards the window again. It felt like they were now taking back stolen time. So many years that they could have had together, taken away by their own stupidity and fate. "Bring me a souvenir, will you?"

Azriel chuckled. "What is it that you want?"

"Beron's head."

The laughter grew and Arwen smiled at the sound. "How about some fire lilies instead?"

"Beron will have your head if he finds you snooping around his gardens." Fire lilies, a treasure of the Autumn Court, only grew within the High Lord's privately tended garden, overlooked by the pavilion leading to his personal wing. "I would rather have that than flowers."

"You trust me to sneak around his court undetected, as I have done so many times over the centuries, but do not trust me to pick you some flowers?" he inquired, toying with a thick strand of her hair. "It is confusing."

"What you do for this court's greater good and favours for me are very different."

Azriel hummed quietly, his thumb tracking down the outer side of her face until he reached her chin, pushing it so she looked back towards him. "I will bring you fire lilies." Not arguing, she settled into his hold for the hour that they had left together. In the end, she fell into a light sleep and when she awoke at high sun, he was gone.

Arwen lamented for some time, burying her nose into the sheets where he had laid through the night. After not having him for so long, letting him go again felt so wrong. Smiling, she felt for the strength of the mating bond, feeling his soft caress through it, acknowledging her as she acknowledged him. It might have been a phantom sensation with how light and distant it felt, but she was certain it was him.

Finally leaving her bed, she pulled on loose pants and a matching top. Expecting Feyre down sometime soon, she may as well spend her late morning preparing an assortment of bite-sized food to graze on. Arwen danced on her toes with a lightness that she had not experienced in many years, humming as she milled about the kitchen.

The front door opened not long after she set down the finished plate. She had been nibbling on cheese, contemplating the new blooms in the garden and which would be most interesting to draw. Elain had gone to spend the day in town.