A Court of Heart and Fealty | Rhysand

Chapter 38: Sombre Talks

Chapter 38: Sombre Talks

Galadriel couldn't bring herself to lift her head enough to watch ahead, eyes vacantly pointed at the ground before her feet as Rhysand led her through the House of Wind to whatever dining room Cassian had chosen. It turned out to be one of the smaller ones, barely larger than her bedroom, designed with intimacy and familiarity in mind. Not a place to host guests. The round window was almost as large as the far wall it was cut into, and if she walked right to the glass, she'd probably see down to the foot of the mountains.

In her mild pondering, Galadriel missed whatever short interaction Rhysand and Cassian shared, only drawing herself back to the present when the latter's chair scrapes the ground. "I'll go check on Mor," he said. "She's probably sulking about being left behind." He clapped Rhys's shoulder as he left.

Galadriel eyed the serving platter on the modest table. Despite it being near dinner time, breakfast foods were heaped on the silver—bacon, baked tomato, eggs, toast. Easy foods. Her guts rumbled at the sight and smell but she couldn't distinguish if it was in hunger or queasiness. In her indecision, arms curled around her stomach, Rhys had already moved towards it, plating something of everything.

Setting it down, he pulled out the seat and motioned to it. It took a moment, but she made her way to over. As she prodded the egg with her fork, willing herself to at least try and eat something, she said, "I brought you food. Every week."

Rhysand sat down next to her. He never usually did that unless they had other company. He always preferred taking the seat across from her. More selective, he only plated a few pieces of bacon and a buttered slice of toast. Perhaps their appetites had ventured off together. "I think you already know I never ate any of it."

Yes, she had made that assumption. Always avoiding her inquiries about new recipes, finding the basket in the House of Wind instead of the town house. And now she knew the reason. "You asked me to bring you something when I baked. Why ask then?"

He focused on his dinner. "Because it gave you an excuse to see me. And I wanted to see you, if only for a few minutes each week."

Galadriel brought her fork to her mouth, chewing slowly on the egg. "How long have you known?"

"Since I first saw you," he answered. "I suspected something linking us in the dream I had, but I wasn't certain until we met." Still he did not look at her, as if facing her would be too hard. "Do you not feel it?"

It was a struggle to swallow the egg. When she did, she placed the fork down and folded her hands in her lap. Rhys regarded the movement in the corner of his eyes. "I do," she whispered. "I think I've felt it since that day too but I... I didn't want to. I blocked it out, refused to put a name to it. You confused me, Rhys."

His smile was bland. "You've said so a few times now."

"You're not supposed to." The sight of the food became too much. Galadriel shoved it forward—out of sight from her lowered gaze and replaced her folded arms in its spot. "This is supposed to be punishment. I am supposed to hate this place and everything about it. I failed my job and you—you and Azriel—it's—I'm not supposed to feel this way. I'm not supposed to get this."

"This was never meant to be punishment." Abandoning his meal, Rhys leant toward her. He hooked her hair over her shoulder, smoothing his hand around the nape of her neck, eyes trying to snag hers like a baited hook calling for its catch.

She let it bait her, and when their eyes met, he reeled her in, locking them together. "That's why I had to go to the Autumn Court," she told him quietly. "I was trying to convince myself that I did the right thing. I had to see her. Amoise was my friend and now I know for certain that I would never have done anything differently. This." She looked around them. At the food, the mountain, the city through the window. Him. "I couldn't accept it. You are so good, Rhys, and you shouldn't have been." She was glad for the fact that she'd hidden her hands beneath the table. Maybe her subconscious knew that they would start to shake as they did now. "I'm terrified that it's going to be taken away. That it's some trick of fate and what I deserve will come, because a cell would have been nothing compared to having this all ripped from me."