A Court of Heart and Fealty | Rhysand

Chapter 84: A Battle in a War

Chapter 84: A Battle in a War

Galadriel didn't know how long she sat there, but her face had gone numb from crying and the bones in her fingers had already tried to begin healing, calling on magic that was no longer hers to use. She'd crawled some time ago to the side of her bed, too exhausted to climb into it, leaning her head against the side of the mattress. No one came to collect her for work.

All she felt was hunger. Growling, painful hunger. She hadn't eaten since last night's dinner.

Her hands lay limp in her lap, shattered fingers curled and twisted in a way that told her they'd never be perfectly straight ever again. Her eyes itched from the dried salt of her tears, but she had nothing other than her shoulder to rub them against and it caused too much pain to knock even that far up her arm.

She couldn't even react when the door to her bedroom opened. It clicked softly shut behind the intruder, the soft footfalls that followed agonisingly familiar. Galadriel did nothing as Rhysand knelt beside her, intently searching for her eyes with his own. He was breathing hard, as if he'd just run. "You shouldn't be in here," she croaked.

He let out a ragged sound and sunk down fully beside her, breaking her stare at the wardrobe. He looked down at her hands. The shattered remains of his work. "I threw up on her," he said, equally as quiet. "After you left."

Galadriel stared at him. She supposed he said that to make her feel better. To help her remember that he didn't want to do this to her. But she already knew that and it made no difference.

Rhys seemed to pick up on that too, bowing his head. "She would have known if I took away the pain—"

"Stop defending yourself," she uttered, closing her eyes. "Nobody has a choice here."

"You can barely look at me."

"Or you me. Why are you here?" Had they not just spent a morning of torture being disciplined not to be seen with each other? His hand ghosted the side of her head, barely a touch as if he couldn't bear anything more, but with it, tore the pain away. It left her with only the numbness.

"I promised you so much more than this."

Galadriel opened her eyes. She remembered those promises, remembered what it had been like before when he could make them. But she didn't care for them anymore. They were too far away to believe in. "We're surviving, Rhys. I'm surviving, just like you told me to." His brows bunched over his nose as he turned his head, resting his temple against the mattress as hers was. "She did this to hurt you too," she murmured. "We are both hurt." It was as much as she could gather to say that she knew it wasn't his fault.

His hand came reaching for hers, delicately, the night wrapping up around his wrist, she knew, as soft as silk. But she shifted herself away before his touch could graze her. Hurt flashed through his features, but she had to ignore it because her own was too strong. All she could think about was the echo of her bones snapping, how he had been the cause of her pain.

That was exactly what Amarantha wanted.

And she had won.

Only a battle, but the Queen Under the Mountain had come out victorious and Galadriel didn't know when she would be able to fight another. How long she could keep fighting a war?

She turned her face into the mattress. "Please just go." Leave her to lick her wounds in peace.

There was nothing from Rhys for a moment, then, "I love you. More than my crown, more than my court, more than myself." She thought that was meant to be some arrogant jest, intended to draw her out more but when she peaked from her lashes, his face was solemn and she understood. He valued her life over his.