A Court of Heart and Fealty | Rhysand

Chapter 65: Siphon

Chapter 65: Siphon

Time passed slowly even when Galadriel was sleeping. She tried to sleep in her bed but it felt too lonely while Rhys worked downstairs in the office he rarely used. So, bundled in a blanket, she created a little cocoon around herself on the lounge in the sitting room, head buried within the soft and heavy material. She slept on and off for hours, only peeking out beyond her dark cave of luscious feathers to glance at the clock.

The events of last night had left her body drained, like the last leg of her menstrual cycle, aching at her hips and back, eternally uncomfortable. At her muttering of the comparison during some point of the night, Rhys had taken to treating her the same way he had during the cycle she'd had a few weeks prior. Which mostly consisted of leaving her be and checking in once an hour to see what her latest demand was, a jug of warmed cocoa constantly available nearby.

When she woke again, it was to the sharp but kind face of Mor crouching in front of her, slender fingers running through Galadriel's hair. "How are you feeling?"

"I have a headache that comes and goes," she muttered. Rhys walked past, eyes examining the room as though to find anything that needed fixing. "Oh, there it is again."

"Tired," Rhys replied to Mor. "She acts like a bitter hag when she's tired."

True enough that Galadriel didn't fight it. If she were to be philosophical and deep about it, she supposed that it came from some form of trauma and that she did it so they'd leave and not see her in such a state. But Rhys didn't turn away, let alone run. It threw her back all the way to the first weeks of their meeting. Where he took every jab and snide remark like it was a game they were playing, just as he was doing now, letting her take it out on him.

"Calling your mate a bitter hag isn't going to help," Mor drawled.

"She called me a frumpy lump of skin when I asked if she wanted breakfast," Rhys defended. She had.

Mor's face went indignant but a clipped voice cut off her protest. "Don't bother," Amren snipped. "It's their love language. Trust me, I've been listening to it all day." Amren had come down to work with Rhys in his office, the pair holed up over something that he didn't bother to make her privy to. Amren crossed her arms over her small body, pursed lips aimed down at Galadriel. "Feel like you're going to explode?"

Frowning at the sudden existence of the possibility, she said gave an unsure "No."

"That's not going to happen." Rhys poured the cocoa she hadn't touched in hours into a glass, handing it to her. It was the only thing that she could willingly swallow. Galadriel sat up properly, pulling the blanket into her lap and Mor sidled up to her, clasping Galadriel's free hand in her own.

'It's a shame that you love this bitter old hag,' she sent when she felt Rhys poking around her mind.

He granted her a smile from the seat he took in the armchair. 'It's a shame you love this frumpy lump of skin.' "Feeling up for a meal?"

With another glance at the clock, it read somewhere around their usual dinnertime, the last dregs of sunlight bleeding in through the window. "Not really." She sipped at the cocoa. "Did Cassian go back to Wingshield?"

"No," Mor answered with a ragged sigh. "He flew home through the night. He said that the camp lord barely blinked when he learned what happened."

Galadriel couldn't imagine that under any other circumstance that a High Fae female coming into their camp killing one of their own would have been taken that well. The ring of bruises on her neck had already faded, but she could see Rhys's eyes sometimes linger on the pale skin.