A Court of Heart and Fealty | Rhysand

Chapter 42: Peppermint

Chapter 42: Peppermint

"You're a Reaper."

Galadriel's stomach coiled into a tight knot as the heavy word rang like a low drumbeat against her ears. "What?"

Amren's silver eyes ran over her, a curiosity that seemed born of boredom for all else filling them. "A Reaper."

Rhysand moved past his Second toward Galadriel who stood in the hallway, flour still on her hands from the baking she'd just been pulled from. He stood at her side, not touching her, but a presence for her to draw on if she needed it. Which might be soon.

Cocking her head, Amren didn't so much as look at the High Lord. "It took me a while to find the book. They're thought to be little more than legend. Reapers didn't originally belong in this world but there are portals now lost to even my kind that Fae once travelled through. Reapers were one of those Fae."

Galadriel held a shaking hand to her abdomen, the world feeling too light. She could almost sway, like a ribbon on the wind. And sway she did, right into Rhys. He took her arm and said over her head to Amren, "I think we should sit down." The hardness behind those words suggested that Amren's blunt announcement hadn't been his intended plan.

They'd been talking quietly in the sitting room when Galadriel roamed downstairs and into the kitchen. She hadn't thought much of it, Amren a usual presence around this place. Now Rhys led her to that sitting room, Amren trailing along. He sat her down on the main lounge, occupying the seat next to her.

"Have you heard of them before?" he asked her quietly.

Galadriel shook her head. No, she'd never heard the term before. Not as a label. But she knew what reaping was. Knew what it implied. Amren perched on the armchair, her face the picture of stilted manners. "You killed that boy in Autumn, didn't you?"

Rhys sneered. "Have some tact, Amren."

That male had hardly been a boy, but knowing that was the term Amren tended to use with anybody other than herself, Galadriel nodded, that twist in her stomach tightening. "He was going to hurt me," she whispered in defence.

"He was going to do a lot worse than that," Rhys told her. Meant to be in comfort, she assumed. "He deserved a lot worse than that."

"Yes, yes," Amren huffed, waving her hand through the air. "Get over that protective mate bullshit so I can get on with what I was saying. Nobody here cares why you killed him, only that you did."

His eyes shot to his Second, simmering with irritation, but he decided to say nothing of it. Galadriel shrunk further against the soft cushions. "Why does it matter then?" she asked.

"Because," Amren said, leaning forward, "the thing that makes a Reaper is their ability to reap the power of the lives that have passed on. They were once a guardian race over Death, who carried magic from the souls they claimed until another was birthed and called for it. But some rebelled, found out how to claim it for themselves and fled their world to escape punishment."

"You're suggesting I'm one of them," she choked out. Rhysand's hand smoothed over her shoulders. "That I'm some rebel fae from a whole other world."

"A descendant," Amren clarified. "It wasn't just magic you had, girl. It was fire magic. That male you killed was Beron's second cousin and a captain of his guards. More powerful than most Fae, though nowhere near Rhysand or even Beron's sons."

Galadriel felt sick. This thing inside of her, now constantly pulsing like a second heart never belonged to her. She had always known that. But now knowing that she'd stolen it from another, had taken it with their life... It felt like some sort of parasite. "I don't want it. How do I get rid of it?"