A Court of Heart and Fealty | Rhysand

Chapter 74: Three Things

Chapter 74: Three Things

The scent of the feast, the butter coated chicken, the rosemary potatoes, chocolate tarts and honey-glazed pork—all of it wafted under Galadriel's nose, tugging on her to devour everything she could see. But she'd been commanded to stand at the wall, holding a heavy pitcher of wine that made her arms ache. Not to touch the food. Her stomach growled. She hadn't eaten since dawn when Yarro, the fat little creature that supervised her work, roused her awake at the communal table she'd fallen asleep at.

Rhysand ate at the seat to Amarantha's right, cutting into a steak. Tamlin was not in the seat he usually took on her left. But in the midst of her search across the banquet hall, her heart leapt out of rhythm, finding a head of fire within the crowd seated on the main floor. She leant forward, making sure her eyes were not deceiving her.

Lucien.

Tall and proud faced. Though he had been fully grown when he fled to Spring, he hadn't seemed that way to Galadriel. Back then she still saw the chubbiness in his cheeks, the bright gleam in his eye. But there was no sign of the boy she knew. The Lucien at that table was a warrior through and through, even if he wore no weapons.

She almost shoved the pitcher into the arms of the nearest servant to run to him but managed to restrain herself beyond the forward sway in her weight. Lucien had not been Under the Mountain when Amarantha took control. Most representatives could come and go as long as they didn't piss Amarantha off. The courts still existed and needed to be run. Amarantha just had her way of ensuring that they were run to her satisfaction. That the power in Prythian remained hers.

For two hours, Galadriel could barely take her eyes off him. Even at Rhys's probing in her mind, she could not tear her eyes away. It nearly cost her a hand when she spilt wine on a faerie's lap, trying to watch Lucien talk with his table companions. Rhys had noted her interest and the few times that she did catch his eye, his gaze was...Well, it wasn't soft but it was gentle. Cautioning.

What would she do if Lucien saw her? There were enough crowded in the large room that the entire night could pass without his amber eyes even fleetingly passing over her. Did she want them to?

Of course she did. She wanted him to find her, to embrace her, to tell her he didn't care about his father's bounty on her head. But dreams were not always answered, especially when the stars were sealed from her. Galadriel lifted her eyes to the dark ceiling, seeing nothing but rock and candlelight. If she felt this trapped, this cut off from her home—Rhys had to be withering inside by now.

"Amarantha."

The room quietened. Galadriel weighed the pitcher in her hands, wondering if it was empty enough to throw up in, the very sound of Lucien's voice making her stomach squeeze. Damn it all—she'd just throw up in the wine and serve it.

Lucien stood before the raised dais that the head table stretched across. Rhysand was the only High Lord amongst Amarantha's specially chosen guests, the others Galadriel recognised as the bulls that did her dirty work.

Lucien, regal and poised, placed his forearm across his naval, bowing.

Amarantha cocked her head in consideration. "You are one of Beron's, are you not?"

Lucien flinched. "By blood," he answered wearily, eyeing his brothers in their seat on the far right. "But I speak to you on behalf of the Spring Court. On Tamlin's behalf."

Hushed, excited whispers rolled like a wave throughout the hall. Galadriel inched forward, straining to see him as best as she could. Rhysand sat relaxed in his chair, chin rested in his fingers.

"Has he finally come to his senses?" asked Amarantha. She tapped gold, metal nails that fit like rings on her finger knuckles against the wooden arm of her chair. "I thought he would have been brave enough to accept me in person."