A Court of Tears and Starlight

Sweet nothings

I woke warm, content and pleasantly disorientated. I had once again been dreaming. In my dream I was a star, spinning freely across a lovely black velvet night, lit only by the cascade of violet galaxies unfolding in the heavens.

I stirred, rolling over, eyes still shut, too comfortable to join reality and leave this delightful limbo of in-betweens. A gentle warm breath tickled my face and drew me forth into consciousness.

My eyes opened.

Rhysand.

Next to me lay the Prince of Night, sprawled out like some legendary demi-god. The covers had fallen down to his waist. He lay face down with his head turned towards me. Powerful muscular arms were tucked up under the pillow where he dozed. Silken messy stands of his black hair fell in disarray, framing his sleeping face.

He looked angelic. All the mockery and petty meanness were gone. He slept deeply. Peaceful. Innocently. Long dark lashes fell across his cheeks and fluttered slightly like butterfly wings with the rise and fall of each breath. He truly was the most beautiful man I had ever seen.

With difficulty I pulled my eyes from his perfect face and allowed my eyes to roam boldly over the rest of his body. His broad well built shoulders flowed down into a smooth perfectly tapered back and waist. In the soft light of the moon I could see silvery lines criss crossing over his lovely back and shoulders. My eyes narrowed as I realised they were scars. Jealousy and fury burned me. We Fae healed instantly. Only the slow prolonged intentional suffering of magic-proof torture could cause such marks.

An image came unbidden to me. Rhysand chained to Amarantha's four poster bed. Cruel sensual nails cutting into his perfect flesh as he made love to her.

He groaned in protest in his sleep, tight cords of muscle tensing in his back, preempting the pain.

Cold dread washed over me. How terrible to be used in such a way. I looked back on his lovely face. It now held a slight frown and the shadow of unspeakable things. What had he endured in those endless pain filled years of Amarantha's rule.

I swallowed, thinking again of my knife plunging into the innocent chests of those lovely Fae.

Do we ever get to come back I mused.

Lucien had said I would.... and perhaps I had, just a little since arriving here. Night stirred in me feelings I had thought were gone forever.

My eyes returned to Rhys, half naked and sprawled out only inches away from me.

Believe me, I would have liked nothing more than to enjoy you...

His words from under the mountain came back to me. I blushed, suddenly aware of the thin shift I had slept in. My dress lay careful spread cross the near by armchair. He must have undressed me. I felt suddenly very self conscious. I needed to leave before he awoke.

As if in answer he softly stirred. Two deep violet eyes opened and stared mesmerisingly at me.

He looked at me and smiled, as if recalling for the first time where he was. A soft moan of pleasure escaped his perfectly shaped lips as he reached out, stretching his powerful limbs. He rolled onto his side still facing me.

He was so still. Like an animal who has spotted a rare timid creature and knows that the slightest move will startle it into flight.

He waited.

I waited.

The edges of his mouth twitching up into a beautiful uncomplicated smile.