A Court of Heart and Fealty | Rhysand

Chapter 10: The Town house

Chapter 10: The Town house

Galadriel's fork scraped the ceramic of her breakfast plate, the delectable eggs now gone but the others still had not finished so she cornered and ate every scrap leftover. She was packed, with nothing more of her own belongings other than her book, the dress and the shoes she wore, out of her bag.

"Hungry?" Mor inquired with a small, bemused smile. Galadriel nodded and tried to poke another piece of egg with a single prong but it broke apart. "Would you like some more? There's no need to lap at scraps like a starving dog."

"Sorry." Her fork clattered against the plate, hands dropping to her lap. "I was hungry. I'm full now."

"With the serving you had, you'd better be," Rhysand muttered into his goblet of juice. Galadriel formed a brazen glare from across the table and he avoided avidly it by peering into the goblet as he gulped it down until she gave in and looked elsewhere. In the interest of keeping her body moving, she refilled her own goblet and spaced our short sips.

Azriel was eating calmly on the other side of the table, and Galadriel couldn't help but notice the short glances he kept sending to her side. But not at her. No, they were being sent to Mor on Galadriel's right. Mor ignored them for the most part as if they were a usual part to their routine. Galadriel knew that Azriel was always observant, so perhaps there was something she had not picked up on just yet that was happening with the High Lord's cousin.

Azriel was marginally paler than usual, but she figured that had more to do with the dull lighting in that place than his true complexion. His hair was the usual styled mop of soft waves, a shade lighter than Rhysand's but still a true dark. He had a far more traditionally handsome face than the High Lord too. One that would be a painter's muse, if they dared tried.

Rhysand sighed audibly, garnering the chamber's attention. "You're coming with us today, Mor?"

She stabbed her own egg. "I'd rather carve out my eyes than stay another day."

"Delightful." Rhysand grinned. "Galadriel, I believe you share a similar sentiment."

"Yes," she smiled. "But it won't be my eyes that I'm carving out."

He nodded, grin unwaveringly. "Delightful. We'll leave within the hour."

With nothing more to do in the chamber to shake off the ever-growing bout of energy, Galadriel gave her terse, but polite dismissal and careened around the table, out into the hallway and back to her chamber. Slumping into the desk chair, she heaved her legs underneath herself and filled her time reading another chapter of the book. It is about the Weaver; a creature that she had heard of before, residing near the Middle. The words inked into the parchment were harsh enough that she couldn't even begin to imagine what such a creature would look like.

When knuckles rapped at her door, Galadriel only slipped from the chair, her eyes unmoving from the page as she ventured blindly across the room. Her hand found the cold metal knob and turned it.

"Interesting story?"

"Yes," she found herself murmuring unconsciously. "What do you want?"

"And here I thought you were eager to leave." Galadriel peered over the top of her book. Rhysand leaned against her doorframe, arms folded with a nonchalant sigh as he looked between her and the chambers behind her. "Or would you rather stay another day?"

A resounding smack echoed throughout the chamber as she clamped the book shut. His laughter followed her as she dashed back to her pack, lodging the book between her shoes and dresses. Firmly settling it across her shoulder, Galadriel hooked her thumb underneath the strap and strode back up to the High Lord.