𝒜 𝒞𝑜𝓊𝓇𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝑅𝑒𝓈𝒾𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒮𝒸𝒶𝓇𝓈 | ᴀᴢʀɪᴇʟ

Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Arwen was training. And she was training hard.

Something had bothered her, Rhysand had noted, almost as soon as she met them on the training grounds of the rooftop that chilled morning. He held the training pads up, letting her beat her fists against them in whatever pattern she liked. Arwen was growing stronger by the day. Physically.

Cassian and Azriel spared a gaze in their direction during the small water break. The former eyed how Rhysand readjusted his footing for a better hold against her. Azriel's eyes, however, did not so much as turn to Rhysand. His eyes lingered on her body, the way her hips turned to follow the punches. How her tightly braided hair of raven brushed against her spine and the beads of sweat that splattered her forehead.

Arwen wasn't even seeing her brother. In front of her were only the two black pads that her wrapped fists were pounding against. Again and again and again. Spikes of pain now shot down her wrists as her aim grew sloppy and broke through her threshold of toughness. It was only when her arm literally shook that she stopped.

Rhysand lowered his padded hands slowly, a brow peaking overtop of them. Arwen smiled tightly and stretched out her fingers. "Did I hurt you?" she taunted.

Her brother scoffed heartily. "Hardly." He grabbed her wrist and held it up between their faces. "You think this little hand is going to hurt me?"

Arwen only smiled again, taking advantage of the loose hold he had, furled her knuckles, and punched him straight into the nose. His head flew back with a shout of pain. Snickering, she let her legs take her in a swaying jaunt across the ring to her own glass of water. Cassian and Azriel were biting down their own laughs. "I'm sorry Brother," she called over her shoulder, "did my little hand hurt you?"

"No." Despite that assurance, the High Lord held his nose which had a drizzle of blood flowing from it. "Brat." His hand covered his grin as Arwen threw one of the other training pads his way, ducking just in time for it to go flying overhead.

Cassian gripped her shoulders from where he stood behind (and tucking his wings close just in case). "Why don't you and I have a spar? Give both the weaker links a break." Her energy was nowhere near spent, despite the intense training. He'd be a good run for her money.

"You're the one that called for a break," Azriel shot back. Rhysand just turned his face into a bitter frown, figuring that speaking with a bloodied nose from a single punch wouldn't help his cause.

Cassian bowed back at him. "For your own sake. I'm a gentleman at heart."

Arwen wiped at her brow. "Two minutes?" she bargained for. Cassian nodded and patted her shoulder. She rubbed her temples and yawned. Despite her bursting character that morning, she'd hardly slept that night. It was spent mostly on the small balcony that extended from her room in the townhouse.

When they got into the ring, Arwen's attention had drifted. Her brother and Azriel stood next to each other, discussing something lightly but it wasn't the words that caught her attention. Azriel had begun pulling off his top layer of training gear to counter his growing body heat—something she wished she could do, but that was an entirely different matter. He had broad shoulders. Not quite as broad as the general in front of her, but they were carved from muscle. The indents of the muscle seemed to lead her from his shoulders, down to his forearms then his hands which rested on his hips. From there, she could see the—

"Ow!"

Arwen fell on her arse, heels flying above and nearly over her. Cassian stood over her. "Dead," he pronounced.

Shaking her head to get rid of the dizziness, she shot back up to her feet, forgetting about her half-undressed mate and giving her entire focus back to her sparring partner. There was no need to wager coin as Cassian easily won each round, but neither could deny that she was getting far better each week.