A Court of Heart and Fealty | Rhysand

Chapter 18: Midsummer

Chapter 18: Midsummer

Galadriel didn't know what to do. She had ventured into the city several times over the past week, sometimes filling the basket hooked in her arm, other times simply wandering through the streets with no mind for where she was headed. Those times, she listened. Galadriel listened and watched the people around her, gathering titbits of gossip that were entirely useless to her. But she needed something to keep her busy. There could be spies, she reasoned, snaking through Velaris. Highly unlikely but if the thought distracted her for only a moment...

Passing by the town house on her way home one afternoon, Galadriel had peered in through the windows as she always did. And as she always saw, the town house appeared empty. It had taken her a few days to realise the glamour that lay over the building, shielding the occupants from view.

She wondered if Rhysand ever stood naked at the windows, drinking coffee and bathing in the morning sun in all his glory.

She snorted.

Back in her home, the tiles in her bathroom were cold enough to sting her bare feet. She watched the water gush from the bath's faucet, goosebumps snaking up her arms and legs in anticipation. In fear and memory. The plumbing creaked when she turned the taps off, ebbing away until only silence remained.

She sunk to her knees at the tub's edge and stared at the water until the surface flattened completely. Her knuckles turned white from gripping the lipped porcelain edge so tightly it might crack under her fingers. Eventually, Galadriel let her fingers drift down, scooping them through the water.

The frigidness shot through her arm, something in her chest seizing painfully. Hissing, she looked away but forced her entire hand to remain under. She had to learn, she had to get over this fear that has kept her captive for nearly two hundred years. So rising, Galadriel toed the freezing water.

Air trapped in her throat as she stood in the tub, water encircling her knees but still she did not stop and lowered herself down. Behind the darkness of her shut eyes, she found herself on that lake again, the freezing water making her muscles ache so loudly, so blindingly, that she had screamed mutely into the darkness. Galadriel's nailbeds throbbed as she remembered scraping the ice above her as the current tore her away from the hole she had fallen through. She remembered that feeling, knowing she was alone. Knowing that no matter how hard she screamed no one would find her. Knowing—

Galadriel shot out of the tub, knees and elbows smacking against the wet tiles. Gasping for the air she thought was lost forever, she forced her eyes open, to look around and know where she was. Not trapped underneath a frozen lake.

A heavy knocking at her door is what had broken her from the memory. There were only so many people that it could be. Shouting out to them to wait, she scrubbed herself off with a towel and shoved her dress back on, unbothered to even think about the sopping hair hanging down her back.

"Rhysand," she breathed, trying to not let the dwindling panic show itself to him. The High Lord stood on the single stone step before her door, dressed as he always was in that immaculate black tunic and polished boots.

A smile had been set on his lips, which widened as he took in the sight of her unruly appearance. Then it simmered as he read something else on her. Galadriel focused on her breaths, not yielding to the desire to crawl away from him into her bed.

"Bad time?" he asked with not a hint of mocking.

She swallowed. "No, no. I was just having a bath. Fell asleep I think."

He nodded as if he didn't believe her. "It's midsummer's day today," he said evenly. "There a few celebrations happening in the main market squares. I thought you might like to join in with some company."