A Court of Heart and Fealty | Rhysand

Chapter 1: The Day's Come

Chapter 1: The Day's Come

It was not an unusual sight to see that placid and composed smile sitting on her cheeks. She was, after all, content by many means as she wandered through the halls of the Day Court's main palace. She had reason to trust in her safety here. For some time, at least. But the smile was still a trained expression. One that was simple enough that people looked straight past her, one that hid anything below the surface of her skin and into the wild thoughts and avid attention that she paid to everything around her. A smile that gave no hint to her true intentions.

But High Lord of the Day Court gave her little reason for doubt beyond her innate scepticism of anything and everything. He trusted his son's judgement and she had earned his son's trust. Besides—he owed her.

Her hair of light gold was loosely braided down her back, complementing the slight tan of her skin. The few strands around her face hung in loose coils. Grey eyes darted from point to point, noting everything in the small space in the back of her mind, ready to be recalled if it were ever needed.

Contouring her tall frame, a dress of light green, tight to her bodice, but loose from her hips onwards. It hid the outline of the knife strapped to her thigh. It was a special knife, given to her nearly two hundred years ago, kept in pristine condition ever since. The hilt was plated in gold with thin straps of leather tightly coiling around it, but the small scabbard is where its beauty lay, with tendrils of gold curling like vines across the metal.

It was in a terrible position, considering there was no slit in her dress to reach it in one swift motion, but she was never without it and had little other choice.

In her arms, held tightly to her chest was a book. A romance of all things, and she couldn't help but scoff upon seeing the title laid at the end of her bed when she retired to it the previous night. Now, with the help of some serving ladies, she hunted down the Son of Day to his private west wing.

Smiling softly, the backs of her knuckles rapped on the lightwood door before turning the golden knob. The door opened to a room of light. Wide, ceiling-to-floor windows with transparent drapes pushed to their far sides, casting the ground in squared lights of gold. Along either wall adjacent, bookshelves filled every nook. A desk with scattered belongings was empty, but the chaise in the opposing corner was not. Helion, son of the High Lord lounged in his white tunic. It had gold embellishments along the cuffs and collar and was unbuttoned to show his carefully crafted dark hills of muscle underneath.

He looked up lazily, but with a wolfish smile. "Did you like the book?" he questioned, eying the cloth-bound pages in her folded arms. Raising a brow he added, "Have you finished it already?"

"Yes," she answered with her own version of the same smile. "About two years ago. I've come for another one of your recommendations."

"Ah." He folded the book on his lap. One leg was draped down to the floor, the other tented with his wrist hanging over top. "And here I was thinking that you were far too innocent for such a story, Sahra"

"Do not let appearances swindle you," Sahra warned in a crooning voice that his grin widened at. With her chin tilted up, looking around at the titles in his private sitting room, she said, "I am not all that I seem." It was true. Though she was exactly what Helion believed her to be, the former handmaiden of Amoise, the Lady of the Autumn Court—that was not all she was. But it was all she needed to be for him to offer her refuge. They had known each other for over one hundred and fifty years. "What do you suggest?"

"Depends." He rose from the chaise, meandering up behind her as she wandered down one of the walls. "Are you looking for something with the same...details? Or are you looking for something more modest in taste?"