𝒜 𝒞𝑜𝓊𝓇𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝑅𝑒𝓈𝒾𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒮𝒸𝒶𝓇𝓈 | ᴀᴢʀɪᴇʟ

Chapter 62

Chapter 62

It was a narrow, two-story building with a cherry-red door that Arwen found particularly fitting. Cassian thumped the side of his fist hard against the wood. It took a minute and another loud knock until the door swung open to a scowling Lucien. At the sight of them, which she imagined was rather pathetic, the scowl was erased.

"Are you going to gawk or let us in?" muttered Cassian.

Lucien skirted to the side and opened the door wider. Snow flurried in with them as they scuttled into the building. It was homely, with an open sitting room and dining space connected. A staircase acted as a separator between a short hall to a kitchen and a washroom on the other side. "What in the Mother's name are you doing out in that storm?"

Arwen held up the box which her fingers had permanently frozen around. "Shopping." Part of her was surprised she could say anything, given how stiff and frozen her face felt.

"Shopping?" he yelped. "There was a storm warning given last night."

She turned towards Cassian who had already found his way in front of the raging hearth. The blizzard could still be heard through it as a whistling howl. "Nobody told me," she said to the air, but there was no doubt who it was pointed to.

Cassian rubbed his hands together and his wings let out a shiver, shaking off the stuck flurries. "I told you I forgot how long it takes you to shop. Get over here." It was her turn to submit to him, so she offered a weak smile at Lucien and joined in front of the hungry flames.

Lucien went upstairs, returning back down with two rugs. They were soft, so she accepted one and wrapped it around her shoulders. Cassian denied needing the other so Arwen took it as well.

"I have a soup cooking," Lucien informed them. "It'll be ready soon."

She went to deny the offering, but her teeth chattered. "Thank you," she said instead. Even if she couldn't eat it, the bowl would be warm to hold.

Cassian settled in his spot by the flames. "This is cosy," he muttered with a brow arched at the expanse of the apartment. Arwen rolled her eyes at his tone.

"I'm hardly in it," Lucien replied. "This storm isn't supposed to pass until tomorrow. Since I haven't been given the choice, I suppose you'll be staying here?"

Cassian tightened a smile. "Such a host you are," he crooned. "You're welcoming nature has warmed me from the inside out." 

Lucien glowered at the general.

"He means to say thank you," Arwen interjected. "Unless he wants to be kicked out to that crate he was talking about." His smile loosened into something more natural for her before moving it to Lucien, revealing his playful nature—if still one that bit, as the shapely canines promised.

Lucien eyed it. "I only have one bed but it's big enough to share if you want both want to take it."

"I'll take the lounge," said Arwen, then patted Cassian's knee. "He's happy to take the floor." Her own grin rose at the sound of his spluttering and swift opposition. Even Lucien revealed his amusement with a tip of his lips. "It is only right to offer it up for me."

"My wings," he griped. "If they hurt in the morning, I won't be carrying you back home."

"Fine," she said with a feigned sigh.

Lucien's soup was sent from the Mother. Arwen attempted to huddle her entire form around it, leaving the hearth to warm her back, managing to eat half. Cassian even acquiesced to forming a compliment. It set them into a genial evening where a bottle of wine, gifted from Feyre, was broken into. Arwen hesitated at the offered glass, having not touched alcohol for so long, but took it in the end. She and Cassian migrated onto the lounge, Lucien taking the armchair adjacent.