A Court of Heart and Fealty | Rhysand

Chapter 12: Velaris

Chapter 12: Velaris

She was stuck here, Galadriel concluded. She was stuck in Velaris unless she intended to brave the world alone. And alone was not something she had been before. So when Rhysand bombarded her that morning, telling her to dress for a walk in the city, she reluctantly agreed. He did not speak of the previous night and Galadriel had shoved it from her thoughts well before, but still glared at the back of his dark head. He could probably see that too.

He dressed in a plain black tunic and pants, once again in the long boots. Irritatingly immaculate as always. Galadriel strode down the hall and into the foyer which she had yet to explore beyond into the city. She had glimpses of it past the view of her garden but it was hard to see anything beyond the roofs. The pale green material of her dress danced between her ankles.

"I only accepted your company so I don't get lost," she said tersely to him as she reached the small front foyer room, a door away from the outside world. "I don't fancy trying to navigate my way back here in heels if I do."

Rhysand lifted his nose as if scenting the air. "I did sense a lack of insults recently. Will you be making up for it today?" He hooked out an elbow. Grey eyes narrowed.

Galadriel leered down at it. "I've had the entire night to prepare." Her heel clicked against the polished stone floor as she attempted to veer around him, but a large hand planted firmly against her stomach. Swallowing, she looked down at it, then back along the dark fabric of the sleeve to the face of a High Lord. Her High Lord? The title did not sit right.

"I'm sorry." Rhysand, for all it was worth, seemed somewhat remorseful. "What I said last night about Azriel clearly upset you."

"It hasn't upset me," she lied. "I just don't like the accusation."

Galadriel tried for another step, but the hand remained solid against her until she slunk back. "And I can read you," he reminded her. Her face hardened. Rhysand sighed out something between amusement and exhaustion. "I don't judge you for it. And I promise that I will not speak of it to him."

"To anyone."

"What?"

"You will not speak of this to anyone," she repeated. "Especially since you plucked it from my mind without my permission." He rolled his lips as though withholding the desire to argue the fact that he hadn't searched her mind for it but nodded to her terms. "I believe you have a city to show me."

"It would be my honour."

And something told her that he wasn't lying about that either. About it being an honour and that he would not speak of her feelings towards his spymaster. The hand at her stomach dropped then settled on the doorknob. Galadriel waited, growing impatient to see what was beyond and she swore there was a hint of a smirk in the corner of his lips as he turned away from her. But the thoughts of the irritating High Fae in front of her washed away like the tide claiming the waves. Galadriel's face softened at her first glance onto the street of Velaris.

It was so alive. She stepped across the threshold first, Rhysand's weighty presence a step behind her. It was a quiet street, each building a private residence of clearly affluent residents yet even here she could feel the energy across her skin. They had copper roofs and white chimneys. The warmth of the summer sun beat down onto her body, drawing her out like a flower in search of it.

They were in some deep-set valley, rolling hills rose around the city, the northern most ones with sharp peaks that reminded her of teeth. The closest mountains were red-stone, flattened at the top and built within one, Galadriel could see some sort of construction of carved-out spaces alike windows in the tallest peak. The House of Wind, she put together.