A Court of Heart and Fealty | Rhysand

Chapter 90: Atticus

Chapter 90: Atticus

She was going to die.

That is the thought that tumbled and spun and trapezed through her mind like a deer shot in the liver. She couldn't stand upright properly, swaying, arms hovering beside her that found nothing but cold, sharp air. She was going to die, she was going to die, she was going to die.

Nobody was going to know what happened to her, nobody would bury her on some romantic hillside that overlooked a spring meadow or the crashing waves of the ocean. At least nobody would know that her last moments were spent cowering, crying and shuddering in debilitating fear.

Atticus grabbed her arms from behind, guiding her forward with sickening gentleness. Galadriel yanked herself free. Her chest heaved in rugged pants as she lifted a finger to him, right at his chest, but the words would not make it past her quivering lips.

"I told you," he said, only a croak cracking the emptiness in his voice. "It's for my daughter. I made a deal."

"What deal?" Galadriel breathed, shoving his hands away as he went for her again, stepping back. "What deal Atticus? What did you give her!"

He barged through her swatting arms, held against her kicks and screams as he pushed her back and down until she was sat in a chair. Metal clanked. He chained her wrists first, then her ankles, locking them to the armrest and feet. Galadriel hissed as small spikes inside the cuffs pricked at the soft skin, then cried out when she felt whatever coated them seep into her body. Faebane. Atticus, still kneeling before her, said, "You would have done the same for him."

But she understood what this meant. Not death. Not yet. Subdued, and maybe only until she was given a formal, public execution, but that precious time might be enough. Amarantha remained silent, admiring the scene before her with a little smile. Galadriel bared her teeth as he stood over her, faltering when she felt the brush against her mind.

Rhysand.

Heart hammering, she looked around the chamber, investigated the dark corners, listening for something outside of the door, but he was not there. And that presence wasn't entirely familiar.

She went quiet. Still.

Atticus.

He shrugged. "I'm not as good as the High Lord of the Night Court, but I've trained to remain undetected. You were a hard mind to get into." 'I tried not to' he said in her head. 'I tried not to find this.'

Galadriel thrashed her limbs again, the chair and chains squeaking, almost tipping over completely. The faebane pulsed through her, dragging what little magic and energy she had to spare down into the pits of exhaustion.

"A fighter," the Mountain Queen said. "I'm not surprised. Rhysand's mate could never be a meek little thing you had the world fooled into believing you were." Vomited pooled in the back of Galadriel's throat. She knew. Amarantha glided around to the back of the chair, alabaster hands gripping the spine by Galadriel's shoulders. Her nails were as sharp and long as claws. "Does he know the secret to your power too? I'm sure he does. But I figured you'd be the easier one to break. I'm also sure you have plenty more secrets to offer me."

Galadriel couldn't find it in herself to be ashamed of the sob she let loose, the burn in her chest and throat aching too powerfully. Rhysand had once told her the story of his capture, the torture he endured.

"Careful," Amarantha tutted, motioning to the chains. "Do that too long and you'll burn yourself out."

Galadriel registered the heat taking the place of her magic, then noted the orange glow in the metal emitting the brightest from where her fingers clenched around them. She didn't feel near burning out at all, but stopped anyway. The heat that it would take to melt the metal would melt her too. She was not immune. "I," she said, "have nothing to give you."