A Court of Heart and Fealty | Rhysand

Chapter 14: Distractions

Chapter 14: Distractions

Galadriel sat between the warrior Illyrian on her right and the High Lord on her left. Mor, Azriel and Amren sat on the far side. The sound of metal scraping the plates filled what little silence there was between their chatter. Galadriel attempted to keep up with most of it, even chiming in here and there but she couldn't help but remain out of place amongst them. His family. A stranger at dinner with a family. How could she not not fit in?

Cassian chewed fervently on a chunk of meat, catching her gaze which was directed at the gemstone on his leather-bound hand. "Pretty, isn't it?"

She nodded, sipping on her wine. "What are they called?"

Something close to surprise flashed on his face. "Azriel never told you?"

Galadriel's voice was lost for a second as she looked across the table. Azriel said nothing, eating away at his meal. "No. We didn't talk about much else other than work. I suppose I've never asked before."

"That does sound like our Az," he mused lightly across the table before addressing her again. "They're called siphons. They help us control our magic."

"Magic?" she echoed. "I thought lesser fae didn't have magic like that."

Cassian blinked, his jaw protruding for a moment and Galadriel instantly realised she had something wrong. Glancing around the room, each had their own hesitant expression plastered except for Amren who seemed to care little. Even Azriel flashed with something dark that had her stomach clenching. Rhysand, at least, had something akin to understanding.

"Ah," Cassian coughed, "We prefer not to be called that. We prideful Illyrians find it a derogatory term."

Her mouth rounded. "I'm so sorry," she blustered out. "I didn't realise. I didn't mean to insult you, that's just the term we used in the Autumn Court for everyone that isn't High Fae. You prefer being called just Illyrians or do you consider yourselves High Fae?"

At that, Cassian snorted and a soft round of laughter sounded across the table. Galadriel flushed with the sudden desire to crawl underneath the wood.

"The day these bastards consider themselves High Fae is the day they've let all that war-mongering finally drive them insane," Rhysand said, filling the otherwise silence of response. "We prefer just being called Illyrians. Neither lesser nor High."

She nodded in understanding, wiping her hands roughly across her thighs until that gentle, yet frighteningly large hand gripped her thin forearm. Galadriel looked up to Cassian who was, fortunately, smiling at her. "We're not going to bite your head off," he said, tittering. "But if you do like biting, just ask."

"Cassian," Mor groaned and even Azriel coughed away a laugh.

"You can't help yourself, can you?" Amren commented with a sneer.

Rhysand, however, was swaying his glass in a circle, eyeing her. "If anyone is doing the biting around here, it's Galadriel. Like a provoked dog. And one of those small ones that are surprisingly vicious."

She half-turned into her seat towards him, Cassian's hand slipping away. "Yet you keep provoking me. I may bite, but it seems like you're the one around here that likes to get bitten. Do you prefer sweet nips or those from tiny, vicious creatures like myself?"

Mor tossed her head back, blonde waves bouncing off her shoulders as laughter rack through her chest. Azriel hid his face behind his drink but the transparent glass did little to hide the teeth-bearing grin. From next to her, Cassian gripped at either shoulder from behind, head appearing over her shoulder. "Oh, we're keeping this one around, Rhysie."