𝒜 𝒞𝑜𝓊𝓇𝓉 𝑜𝒻 𝑅𝑒𝓈𝒾𝓈𝓉𝒶𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒮𝒸𝒶𝓇𝓈 | ᴀᴢʀɪᴇʟ

Chapter 85

Chapter 85

Azriel knocked before he entered, but there was no response. Inside Arwen's room in the town house, her curtains had been pulled mostly shut except for a slit about the width of his arm that Rhysand left to allow some light to penetrate. That was hours ago, for now there was only night. He took the steaming bowl of lentil soup and placed it at her bedside table, eyeing the small form that was curled up in a mound of pillows. Arwen was gaunt and pale, hard to look at knowing what she once was.

Azriel sat down on the edge of her bed, facing the headboard. With his scarred hand, he reached for the head just poking out of the blanket and hooked the raven strands over her ear. "Arwen?" he called softly. Her brows twitched. "Arwen?"

With a quiet groan, Arwen rolled her head and peeled her eyes open. The violets behind them were a dull shade that made his stomach queasy. They found him and he allowed her a minute to awaken properly. She looked at the curtains and sighed.

"I have soup," he told her, picking up the bowl and frowning at it. "Lentil. Elain wanted to cook something for you, and I told her that you liked the one you had at the restaurant. She's not sure how close it will be, but it looks similar."

Pushing herself up against the headboard, she asked, "Elain made it for me?"

Azriel smiled softly. "A peace offering. I've made it clear how I feel about you. She knows where my attention and affection lay. Elain doesn't want to be in your ill graces."

That had been a hard conversation. Not by Elain's account, but because he had no idea what he was supposed to say. He had weaved it into his explanation to Rhysand and Cassian of what had occurred between himself and Arwen at the House of Wind when he returned to the town house with her sleeping in his arms. Elain had been listening by the stairs. Rhysand had been a little confused at Azriel's confession of loving his sister.

"I know you do," he said, sharing a look with Cassian and Feyre. "If you're going to do some great proclamation, wait till she's awake to hear it." But it wasn't Arwen or Rhysand he needed to know. Because he had grown close with Elain, and he had been unwilling to cut anything between them for the fear that he would once again be alone if Arwen turned her back to him. Every time she turned to Cassian, he wanted someone to turn to as well.

And that fear might have cost him the one thing he was fearful of.

"You mean Rhys's ill graces," Arwen croaked, humour shining through her broken smile.

Azriel dragged the spoon through the soup. "After the way he kicked Nesta out, I don't think any of us can blame her for sweetening up her image." She hummed in agreement. He hovered the spoon near her mouth.

"I can feed myself. I'm not a baby bird."

He reluctantly placed the spoon back into the bowl but kept a hold of it after putting it in her lap. Arwen picked up the spoon, dipping it a few times to investigate the soup's consistency before bringing a spoonful to her lips.

"Not bad," she admitted with some reluctance that had him smiling.

"Is it similar?"

"Try some."

Arwen spooned more and like he did for her and hovered the spoon in offering.

His mate was offering him food. She was going to feed him. Accept him. Their proper mateship would be sealed and—

And it wouldn't. Because there was no bond to accept. And by the tightening of her lips, she had those exact thoughts. So Azriel leant forward and put his mouth around the spoon. It wasn't the soup he ordered at the restaurant, but it was close. Just missing a spice that he couldn't identify. As he licked his lips, Arwen went back to feeding herself, leaving him to contemplate the nothingness of it all. How nothing changed after accepting food offered by what was supposed to be his mate. He carefully watched each mouthful, her attention moving to something on the other side of her room, seemingly in distant thought. He had to keep nudging her hand to remind her to lift it.