Chapter 65
Cassian was gentle in placing her down on the balcony, but that was the only moment of tenderness to be seen from him. His wings were tight to his back, stiff shoulders hardly moving with each stride that led him inside. Arwen pinched the skirt of her dress and hurried after him.
It took a moment of jogging to reach his side and even then she required a longer-than-usual gait to keep at his pace. "Cass?" she called softly. He didn't answer but a head tilt and a glance that didn't quite make it to her signalled that he at least listened. "Cassian, please talk to me."
"Not in the mood for talking, princess," he grumbled.
She caught his hand and had to dig her heels into the marble floor to hold against his build and determined nature. He only stopped as their arms both reached full tautness. "Then let me talk," she said. He stared at her, then at the wall to the side. "What do you need?"
He tightened his lips and swallowed hard. "Nothing," he answered, a purposeful gentleness hewing the words. Blanketing what he felt beneath. "I don't need anything but a good sleep."
Arwen risked a step forward, hoping the slacking of their arms wouldn't give him the opportunity to move away. But he remained in place, so she took another. "It was Nesta, wasn't it?" The flare in his nose answered. "What did she say to you?"
"Something that shouldn't piss me off but somehow did." The muscles of his jaw rippled. "I don't know how she manages it."
A wrinkle formed between her brows as she examined him again. "Would you like to work it out?" she asked. "Train, I mean. I know it's late, but we could take up some torches."
"Train?" he echoed. "You and me?"
Arwen nodded. "We could get into one of the fighting rings if you want. Punch it all out." She hadn't been in the training ring for such a long time that she would be lying if she said the idea didn't make her nervous. But her feelings didn't matter when it came to helping him. If that's what he needed, Arwen would make it happen.
His lips careened into a smile that she knew was for her sake yet it made her feel like a child who had just naively asked for the impossible. "I appreciate the offer, sweetheart. But you wouldn't take one hit with the way I need to punch right now."
She sized herself up. "I could. Let me help you."
Cassian sighed and turned to face her fully. He pulled his hand from hers then settled both around her waist, the curve of his thumb to indexes measuring its width. The flame of determination in her flickered, but did not extinguish. His warm hands slid up either side of her rib cage, pointedly marking each one with his thumb that could easily be felt through her skin. Then they cupped each arm, encircling the flesh, stroking his hands down as he lifted them between their bodies.
"If you want to train," he whispered, "I will train you every single day until you could face the Blood Rite like it was a training course. But you have to eat more than you are. I know my own strength and I refuse to put us into that position tonight."
Arwen let out a sharp breath of despair. It returned again—the feeling of uselessness. Only this time, it wasn't something beyond her that kept her from helping. It was her own inability. "Can I do something else, then?" she pressed. "I can bake you brownies?"
Cassian gave a sharp chuckle, the bitterness still seeping through it. "You don't need to do anything."
She bounced on the balls of her feet. "I do," she whispered feverishly. "I do, Cass because you've done nothing but be here for me. I don't want to be a burden."
Louder, sterner, he said, "You are not a burden, Arwen." His hands lifted to clasp either side of her face and the distance between them shortened. "It has been my absolute honour to be at your side. In the years gone and those to come."
Arwen held his forearms in return. "Then let me share the sentiment. Please."
She felt the brush of his sigh against her hairline, his thumbs making idle strokes against her cheekbones as he took the moment to think. "I suppose I could use a drink," he murmured.
"I'll get you a drink if you get a fire going in the sitting room," she bargained. At his agreeance, Arwen swiftly veered herself into the nearest cellar and poured him a glass of his favourite wine, but kept the bottle in hand as she sought out the closest sitting room.
Cassian knelt in front of the hearth, stoking the fire which was just beginning to eat at the wood. The rest of the sitting room was unlit, leaving the room in a soft darkness. Handing him the glass and placing the bottle aside, she dragged over pillows and piled them on the floor in front of the flames, then tossed a throw blanket to soften the carpeted ground. Only then did she kick off her heels and sink into the makeshift arrangement, sitting at a generous recline with the pillow's support. Cassian soon joined her, staring languidly at the fire.
Their settling was followed by a long silence, a void that neither was eager to fill.
Arwen blinked warily. "I'm trying," she said quietly. Cassian arched a brow, half-turning his head away from the hearth. "To eat," she clarified. "It's just hard to some days. My body doesn't want it." She didn't want him to feel like his efforts were in vain—that she did hear him, did listen and try.
"I know you do. You had quite a bit at dinner—nearly ate all of it."
Her head lopped to her shoulder, a huff of amusement escaping her. "I was attempting to speed up the night. Apparently, I've lost all my diplomatic skills."
"Elain wasn't exactly that welcoming of you either," he offered.
Arwen interlaced her fingers over her knee. "No surprises there. She could barely take her eyes off him all night." Cassian tightened his lips, sealing whatever struck his mind behind them. Dropping her shoulders, she nudged his. "I know, Cass. I know that they grew close. I can't exactly blame any of them, but..." Arwen stared at the fire for a moment before peeling them away to meet the hazels. "But it still hurts to know."
"Well, whatever it was, won't matter." Shadows and light danced across his face. "You have something with him that she never will."
Her lips tightened, an emptiness settling once more in her stomach. The expression crossing her face betrayed enough that Cassian frowned at her. "No," Arwen whispered. "I don't. Not anymore."
"You mean..." His voice had turned hoarse.
Shrugging, she wiped pre-emptively at her cheeks for the tears that had yet to fall. "It's broken for him. Like I'm still dead. And I feel nothing. No bond, no shattered remains of it."
Arwen listened to the long breath he took and watched his slow blinks as his eyes shifted towards the darkness beyond her. "Fuck," he uttered, lips barely moving. She mouthed an agreement. "How.... How are you taking that?"
"How am I supposed to?" she shot back, letting her head fall against the pillows to look at the ceiling. She didn't need some service repayment for her efforts all those years ago. Not some affection out of debt that he felt. Shaking those thoughts, Arwen turned onto her side. "Enough of me, I'm here for you. What happened back there?"
His mouth drew open, and from it came a deep laugh. Short but warm and true. Small wrinkles formed at the corners of Cassian's eyes as he faced the fire first then her. "I can't tell you now."
Hooking a hand over his shoulder, she leant in closer. "No, you have to." Despite the even smile, there were still remnants of what was beneath it. He shook his head. "Cass, please. It clearly upset you."
"And now I feel a little pathetic," he drawled, taking a long swig of his wine. "I told you it's nothing. I'm not upset about it anymore."
She poked his cheek. "Then you can tell me."
He shook his head, but she saw the wear of her argument. A long sigh filled in the short silence before he spoke. "She insulted my hair," he declared in a single breath through bared teeth.
Arwen cocked her head, lips parting. Her eyes traced along the landscape of his face then to his dark locks. "Your hair?" she murmured in a haze of confusion before the amusement hit her. Her lips curled into a smile that Arwen adamantly attempted to smother. A General Commander of one of the most fearsome armies, insulted by a comment on his hair.
Cassian snarled into the air as she pushed her mouth into the end of his shoulder to hide it. "I told you, it's pathetic. I don't care what she thinks about my hair, but she just knows how to piss me off at every exact moment. We haven't even talked in... In weeks."
"I'm sorry," she said, lifting her mouth as the grin refused to waver anyway. "I shouldn't be..." Laughing? She wasn't laughing. Moving her line of thought on and pushing herself up straighter, she told him, "If it's any consolation, I love your hair."
A dark brow arched to her. "Is that so?" he hummed, humouring them both.
Arwen nodded and rested her weight against one arm so the other could reach up to his face. She raked the tips of her fingers through the strands that had been pulled into the tie, letting her fingertips scrape against his scalp. He smiled curiously down at her, blinking in rhythm with each stroke. "It adds to your charm."
His smile tipped higher on one side. "And what charm would that be?"
Her eyes squinted with her grin and she shook her head. "You can't trick me into flattering you."
He laughed, letting his head drop against the pillows. The sound ebbed naturally, and he let his fingertips trace the length of her spine. "Is it so terrible to want it?" he asked. "I can flatter you right back."
Arwen shook her head again to hide her growing amusement. Her eyes found their way back to his hair where her fingers twisted around a loose strand just behind his ear. "Sometimes when you would be sleeping, I would make small braids."
His lips shot into a grin. "I was never asleep." Arwen bowed her head as heat prickled at her cheeks, much to his mirth as a deep laugh followed. "You always thought you were so sly. You enjoyed it so I pretended."
Burying her face in the front of his clothed shoulder, she let out a muffled moan as he continued to laugh. His own fingers clawed their way up through the nape of her neck, through her loose hair, offering a small massage in consolation. When Arwen finally brought herself to lift her head, she found him with a gaze set on her that held none of the bitterness of before. Taking the victory of her efforts, she turned her head to rest her cheek on the muscle just under his collarbone, dropping her hand from the side of his head to his chest. Her fingers made idle strokes to trace the tattoo that she knew was underneath his clothes, stretching from his far pectoral to his shoulder.
"Do you think Rhys messed with Feyre's mind?"
She felt his small jolt underneath her. "What?" he uttered, if a bit defensive of his High Lord and Lady.
Arwen smiled and gave a loose shrug. "Azriel and I are anything but perfect. Lucien and Elain could barely say one thing about each other. My mother and father were hardly in a healthy relationship." She avoided speaking any assumptions of Cassian's situation. "I'm not sure I even know of any mates that are happily together except for them. And they're grossly perfect which leads me to assume he's turned her mind to mush."
His chest rattled with another chuckle, reading her derisive tone. But it was softer, because what she said was true—not about her brother and Feyre, but the rest. And if Arwen was right, he would be adding himself to that list. Cassian blew his lips out as his hand dropped from her hair to the small of her back. "Kallias and Viviane are happy from what I hear. They're mates."
"Damn."
Her eyes closed as he gave the crown of her head a kiss. They remained closed, her mind even wandering to contemplate the idea of falling asleep where she was, rather than going back to her empty room. A hand lay on her wrist that had stopped to rest on his chest. Cassian's thumb rubbed gently over the scarring that looked like dozens of hot wires had been wrapped around her skin. Arwen's arm clenched, a knee-jerk instinct to pull away. But she held that impulse and instead of an ache seizing her heart, it became a new tether. A soothing link between them and proof that it was real. That she was there.
His shirt wrinkled under her fisted fingers, a silent plea for time to stand still.
His chest lifted with a deep breath, lulling her eyes back open. "It still feels like a dream sometimes," he said. "That you're here."
"It does for me too," she replied, staring at the tethering of their hands. Under her palm, each thud of his heartbeat was a constant promise.
Cassian moved his hand up from her wrist, smoothing his palm over the back of her hand. "A good dream?"
Arwen didn't answer.
The hand at the small of her back crept higher until he was curling hair away from the side of her face and hooking it behind her ear.
Swallowing the lump in her throat, Arwen tilted her head up until she could look him directly in the eye. He was still awaiting her response. "I... I don't think I would have made it this far without you." Her eyes dropped down to her wrist and the weight of his gaze followed. "And I don't think I could ever thank you enough for that."
The hand over hers squeezed as she tipped her head back up. Cassian's hazel eyes shone with a watery reflection of the fire, glints of moonlight between. Placing her other hand against the floor, Arwen pushed herself up higher and pressed a kiss to his cheek. Lingering there for a moment, she tried to convey her every ounce of gratitude. Every ounce of affection for him she held.
Sinking back down, a serene quietness encapsulated the room. Arwen settled her cheek back down on his chest. Cassian said nothing, but with his fingers, trailed them first along the line of her jaw, then the backs of them repetitively against her cheek. And finally, his palm shrouded away the rest of the world as the pad of his thumb stroked down the bridge of her nose, dipping down to her lips where he pulled gently at their slight pout before restarting at the top of her nose. Over and over again.
"Sweetheart?"
Near asleep, she could only hum in response.
"Is the offer of baking some brownies still on the table for tomorrow?"
A smile stretched over her cheeks and she nodded against his chest. Anything he wanted.