𝒲𝒽𝑒𝓇𝑒 𝐼𝓉 𝒜𝓁𝓁 𝐵𝑒𝑔𝒶𝓃 | Prequel

Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Rhysand landed only feet away from the entrance into the family cabin. Snow shot up around him, thick and deep from the overnight snowfall that seemed to span the entirety of Illyria. He shivered and tucked his wings in tight, trying to ignore the powder that managed to fall inside his boot. Buttery light spilled from the windows, the world around it washed with blue and white, the east a scrape of dark brown of mountain stone. He was quick to enter the warmth the cabin offered, rubbing his hands together.

His mother sat on the floor in front of the blazing hearth, a shimmering fabric draped across her lap, needles and thread scattered around her. Arwen sat beside her, fiddling with a pincushion—that very clearly had no pins since she had it half in her mouth. "Rhys," his mother breathed.

He had just gotten away from Windhaven for the first time in months, barely able to scrape in visits with his mother and sister who had until recently been ordered to remain in Velaris. Rhysand shed his jacket, hanging it over a hook on the wall and headed to his family.

Arwen glanced up at his approach and while Rhysand adorned a smile, she frowned. As if she had the independence and composure of a queen, his sister stood, clutching the pincushion, and waddled away without looking at him. He tipped his head in wonder, feeling as though he had just been dismissed in a humiliating fashion, but dropped to a knee and embraced his mother as best he could without the threat of a needle through his flesh. "How are you?"

"Oh, we're enjoying ourselves," she said. "I was hoping you wouldn't arrive for another few hours. I wanted to make you a nice dinner."

"Don't be ridiculous." Thank the Mother, he thought. His meals at Windhaven were nothing more than slush in a bowl. Sometimes there was even meat that was recognisable. "I can help you with it." He shoved a thumb in the direction of his leaving sister. Her steps were still uneven, body tipping from side to side. "She still remembers me, right?"

His mother pursed her lips but it in no way shielded her amusement and sent him a look of mock accusation. "She's upset because you haven't been around to cuddle her."

"Cauldron boil me, I'm in trouble," he muttered, sitting on the floor. "Arwen," he called. "Come here." She ignored him. He flopped a hand against his tented knee and turned back to his mother. "Mor is coming around tomorrow. I was wondering if you'd be up for hosting another Illyrian as well?"

She hummed. "I know Azriel is busy so that must mean Cassian." The affection sung into his name was as strong and unmoving as the mountain the cabin was built upon. "Yes, he's more than welcome as long as your father has no intentions of visiting. Not that he ever would bother coming out here. How long has it been since you've seen Cassian?"

"Two years." He itched at his chin, trying to scratch away the guilt that seemed to stick to him. "He's sneaking away so he won't be able to stay long but it's been too long."

"I agree."

Rhysand sighed a little and turned to face the hearth as his back grew too warm for his liking. "He's still mourning," he murmured. They hadn't been mates, but Cassian had fallen in love with that warrior female. He could feel the devastation still seeping from his brother's invisible wounds even through their connected minds.

"One will never stop mourning," his mother said. "They just learn to live with it. Now please go satisfy Arwen. She'll fret if you don't follow after her."

He laughed softly and agreed. Rising back to his feet, he ambled down the length of the cabin, peering into rooms until he found her in none and restarted his search. Of course, it was his own room that he found her in, huddled under his bed and still playing with the pin cushion. "Hello sweetheart," he sang, bent over at his bed's edge. She was almost a completely shadowed form, her eyes nearly glowing like some creature found only at night. "I'm not crawling under there so you've got to come out for me."