A Court of Heart and Fealty | Rhysand

Untitled Part 101

Chapter 100: One Thousand and One Things

It started the same as always, though this time she woke with a particular awareness. The sun poured in through translucent drapes but they were still, the window shut. As if it were begging her to open it. It wasn't a room she'd seen in years—the one Rhysand had first given her when he took her from the Day Court. She laid there for hours, soaking in the nothingness, hearing little pitter patters of movement downstairs.

When she had enough of the nothing, Galadriel rested her feet on the rug, the soft fabric weaving between her toes. She was dressed in a silk set of nightwear; pants and a top. She had to sit back down immediately after standing and let the blood rush back to her toes before trying again.

When her head stopped being woozy, she strode across the room, ignoring the window, and sat at the vanity. None of her belongings were spread across it and the mirror reflected a girl she didn't know.

Her hair was shorn short, right below her ears. A face that used to be soft and supple had an unsightly sharpness. Her cheekbones, which had never really shown themselves before now looked as though they were about the cut through her skin. Pale and colourless, Galadriel looked like an unfinished painting. A mere sketch of the image an artist had in mind but never got around to finishing.

Not bothering with a robe that modesty would have required if they had guests, Galadriel went into the hallway. It smelt odd, like pinewood. Cedar. Citrus—oranges more than lemon. Left and right. Everything looked the same.

Her bare feet were silent, her weight adding little to each step as she went for the stairs and descended. The second creaked and the house hushed. Galadriel held the railing with both hands, continuing down the grand stairwell.

From below, emerging out of the sitting room, was Rhysand. He was standing and tall and alive—the blush in his cheeks a sure sign of it, if it weren't for the more obvious telltales. He looked up at her and sighed loudly, smiling. "I didn't expect you to wake yet."

Galadriel stopped a few steps from the bottom where he waited for her. "I slept for hours. It's almost lunch." Her eyes shifted to the movement behind him. A tall and broad-shouldered boulder of a male followed Rhysand out first, wings tucked tight to his back but his hands loose at his sides.

By the time her gaze roamed from his feet to his face, taking in the mismatched assortment of leather pants and a cotton shirt, Cassian was grinning at her, his hazel eyes bright. "You certainly did," he said. Galadriel didn't know what he found so humorous about that.

She took the last steps down, keeping her head low. It would be over soon. She wouldn't let it hurt this time. Rhysand opened his hand for her but she didn't want to take it. She stopped again at the bottom, catching another form hiding behind the other two. Cassian shifted to the side, revealing Azriel in his fullness.

Galadriel examined him the same way she did Cassian, running her eyes from his leathered toes to his leathered shoulders and that dark, lethal face. His wings were so large that the ivory talons nearly scraped the arched entryway between the two rooms. Azriel looked nowhere but her, his expression betraying nothing.

Rhysand breathed heavily, watching carefully. Waiting for something.

"I want something to eat," she said and turned, heading for the kitchen opposite the sitting room. There was a long pause of silence behind her, then shuffling feet. Rhysand followed her in but the two Illyrians hung in the hallway. She reached for the bread, but it wasn't where it usually was.

Rhysand looked between her and the spot. "Here," he said quietly, summoning the wooden bread box from a different counter. "Can I make something for you? You must be starving."