A Court of Heart and Fealty | Rhysand

Chapter 78: Masques

Chapter 78: Masques

A masquerade ball. That is how Amarantha decided the first night of Autumn would be spent. As Galadriel looked around the large ballroom, her face bare and composed, she wondered if the magnificent decorations—the green and gold ribbons hanging from the walls and the enormous bushels of roses and tulips in ceramic pots taller than Galadriel herself—were an attempt by the Queen Under the Mountain to woo Tamlin. As if he'd be bought over by her attempts while his emissary still bore the evidence of her strike. Even though Lucien wore a mask, a sly portrait of a golden fox, she could still see the raw pink lines jaggedly cutting from just above the top of his mask down to his jaw.

Galadriel hadn't known Tamlin since she was a girl at the height of his hip, but she recalled enough to know that the few friends he kept were dear to him. And the way he kept to Lucien's side, like Tamlin was the guard watching over his charge, Galadriel knew Lucien was certainly one of those.

The masks were an act of apology, Galadriel had heard rumoured, for those new scars.

She hadn't originally been placed on duty for the night, but she couldn't resist offering herself up just to see Tamlin again. It felt somewhat wrong to yearn to look at him knowing what he had done to her mate's family. But the nostalgia, however tainted, still called. Knowing that Lucien was an invited guest only made her that more determined to stand in the crowd at the beck and call of low lords and Amarantha's creatures, even as her head and neck throbbed.

Rhys had come, as all the High Lords of Prythian did. The stately black tunic looked impeccable as always, the silver threading on the hems like a little secret only they shared.

Even if she refused to look him in the eye. He avoided her as well.

Galadriel swept forward under the guise of replenishing a lord's drink as Lucien neared. She tried to catch his gaze, but as soon as he recognised her, a golden eye widening, his lips thinned into a sneer and he swivelled from her path.

"You have history."

Galadriel kept her head forward but espied the figure that appeared on her left in her peripheral. "Who are you?"

"A handsome onlooker." Handsome enough in the simplest of ways, she concurred, tilting her head to inspect him better. His clothes were neat but simple. Servant. His chestnut hair was half pulled back into a tie at the crown of his head, hanging straight just past his shoulders, making the square line of his jaw all the more prominent. High Fae. She'd never seen him before and that made her wary. "Former lovers?" he asked, hazel eyes scanning the crowd.

Galadriel frowned. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"I'm observant," he said. "And you're a terrible liar. Lucien. The Spring Court emissary. The look you two passed didn't speak of fond memories on his part but you had a certain longing in yours. Certainly not the cause of the bruise under your eye."

She unconsciously graced her fingertips over the point of her cheekbone, wincing at the flare of pain from the spot that had struck the hard ground too many times to count. "Not observant enough," she muttered, and without waiting for his response, glided away to another part of the hall.

After five minutes, he found her again, sidling up to her side. "So he did cause that bruise?"

More irritated than she probably should be, Galadriel gritted out, "You never answered my question, so I'm not bothering with yours."

He sighed good-naturedly, leaning back on his heels as if swaying in a summer breeze. "That's alright. Gossip travels. I heard that the Spring Court emissary's lover was killed which is why he left Autumn and abandoned his kin. If he's still mourning the tragic loss, it would mean that he likely hasn't taken any serious bed companions since then. Which leaves me to conclude that you shared a night—maybe two or three—full of lust and sexual desire, and now you find your heart full of unrequited love for the fox-faced Vanserra. But he does not love you and is tired of your attempts to gain his attention. Or maybe—" the male turned and looked directly at Galadriel for the first time "—he does love you but the pain of his first love's horrible death hurts too much. He could not bear the thought of you suffering the same fate. Truly heartbreaking."