A Court of Bastards [ACOTAR]

Chapter 18

~ Rhys POV ~

Rhysand stepped out of a dark purple haze and into the sun soaked Southern corridor of the Mountain Palace. Eris was waiting for him by a large bay window, though he was lacking the cavalier nonchalance that Rhys had come to expect from Beron's son. As he spotted the Lord of Night, Eris crossed his arms and walked over, his face bathed in shadow and light as he strode past glass and stone.

The last century had not been kind to Eris, Rhys decided. He had always been rather sharp of feature but now his eyes were rimmed with red and his jaw looked far too thin. At least in the throne room he had played the part of the greedy lord with some sense of arrogance – in private it seemed Eris had shed that skin in favour of a mask that reeked of desperation.

It was unnerving.

"Always a pleasure to see you, Eris," Rhys bowed mockingly low, hoping for a reaction. Eris merely scowled as he came to a halt before him. "I would say you're looking well," he smirked. "Only I don't feel like lying."

"I'm not in the mood for games, Rhysand." Eris glanced over his shoulder. "Where is she?"

"Rhysand? It seems I am in trouble." Rhys chuckled, but Eris was quiet as the grave.

"Really, Eris. You're no fun today." He made a show of sighing. "She's recovering in Velaris. Safe, and well."

"And what proof do I have of that? Your word?" Eris snorted, though the effect was somewhat ruined by the panicked edge to his tone.

The moment of silence that followed was broken only by the whining of a distant door. It was one of those moments where Rhys wished rather desperately that he lacked a moral compass. If he did, he could very easily have slipped into Eris' mind, broken whatever meagre defenses he had in place, and found the answer to that very nervous glimmer in his eye. Ironically, it was Feyre's voice who rang in his head as he resisted the urge.

Instead, Rhys dropped his lazy smile. "Surely you don't think I would harm the girl?" he replied, more gently. "She's a friend of my son, and my friends' sons. If you have no faith in my character, then have faith in my love as a father." He lifted an eyebrow and looked pointedly at Eris' stiff figure, the lines on his face. "As I have clearly underestimated yours."

The comment coaxed a wry smile from the male. "We have always been very good at underestimating each other, Rhysand."

"I suppose we have."

The smile vanished as quickly as it had appeared. That hard, shuttered look returned as the High Lord spoke again. "Niceties aside, I demand that you return Fiona at once."

"We didn't steal her," Rhys bristled. "She winnowed to Velaris of her own volition. She will therefore return of her own volition." He was watching Eris carefully, trying to ascertain whether this was news to him or not. If the male was surprised, he gave nothing away.

"I'm warning you," Eris took a step closer, and threw a finger in his face. Though he had never struck a particularly imposing figure, Rhys sometimes forgot that Eris was, in a lot of ways like himself. He dressed well not for vanity, but to hide a body lean with muscle, and despite his currently rigid posture, he was a toweringly tall male. He looked down his nose at Rhys as his nostrils flared. "I have borne many taunts from your family since arriving in this gods damned court. But I will not bear the insult of you taking one of my kin so lightly. Do not think that I will not return with an army, should you refuse me now." said Eris gravely.

Rhys was so surprised he actually laughed. "Dear Eris, forgive me," he grinned. "Only you have so many nieces and nephews, I'm shocked to hear you so vexed at the loss of one."