𝒜 𝒞𝑜𝓊𝓇𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝑅𝑒𝓈𝒾𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒮𝒸𝒶𝓇𝓈 | ᴀᴢʀɪᴇʟ

Chapter 6

Chapter 6

"I think you have five that look exactly like that."

Mor held the earrings away from her pointed ears and back in front of her face. They were gold plated with large rubies embedded. "I wear them a lot, don't I?" Arwen nodded with a lopsided smile. Mor's lips widened. "Then I know I will wear these too."

The darker haired female laughed and followed her to the store worker. The other three Illyrians that had been following them for some time, decided that a short stop for food was far more fulfilling than joining Mor and Arwen in one of their favourite jewellery stores. Pity, because there was a bracelet that she had been eyeing off and wanted to hint to her brother, so he'd have some idea for her birthday.

She preferred these things as gifts, rather than spoiling herself. It wasn't that she was against the occasional splurge, but wearing them and knowing that they were from someone else just meant more. It was a reciprocal thing, too, for she always adored whenever she saw them with her own given gifts.

"So," Arwen sang, hooking her arm around her cousin's elbow, "any recent developments with the lovely occupants of our favourite pleasure hall?" Mor hissed through her teeth and turned her head away. Arwen chuckled, and said, "You can tell me. The others are still in that bloody shop no doubt."

"Nothing...special," Mor carefully divulged. "Just some alcohol-induced fun."

"Isn't that the best kind?" She tipped her head against the blonde's shoulder as they laughed. "We should go tonight." Dusk had just come, the paints of orange, blues and reds splattered across the horizon, casting the red mountain where the House of Wind stood into an even deeper hue.

"You won't hear me arguing."

They eventually found their companions who were stepping out onto the street just as they arrived. They smelt of savouries and pastries which began to bring a pout to her lips until Rhys tossed them both a package. Inside, Amren had a lemon tart, Mor a cream pastry. Through a large bite of the tangy treat, she managed to say something along the lines of, "We're going to Rita's."

Cassian was the first to understand what she had said. He held his hands up and said, "I'll go for the gambling and drinking." Arwen rolled her eyes at him—that was only half the fun. But she didn't argue, she'd drag him in one way or another. "Rhys?"

"I think I'll retire for the night."

Her jaw opened. "Why?" she whined. "It's still early."

He smiled knowingly down at her, hands deep in his pockets. "Because I know that you won't go home until the rest of the city is asleep. And I want to be asleep with it."

"You can go home early," she bargained. "Just come for a drink. Or three. Five if you feel like it." At his still apprehensive expression, she took a step forward, shooting a brow to her hairline and muttered, "Do you really trust us three to all get home safely? We'll make it to the gutters without you."

Rhys set his jaw to the side, laughing in both mirth at her attempt and disbelief that he knew the coercion was working on him. He also knew he could waste the next morning and a good night in town might be worth the headache. Though he never liked to, he used to be able to say no to her more often. Now every time that he intended to, a pang of fear struck through him like a plucked chord. She was still alive, and he couldn't bring himself to deny her anything.

His lips pursed as he looked back down at her.

Arwen bit her lip to smother her grin. "Hooked like a hungry trout," she mused joyfully. Before he could change his mind, she grasped his arm and held it tightly in her own before turning to their final companion. "Az?"