A Court of Heart and Fealty | Rhysand

Chapter 88: A Wink in Time

Chapter 88: A Wink in Time

She was supposed to be working and Galadriel knew that Yarro would be squawking through the halls about her absence, but she couldn't stop herself from climbing to the higher levels of the mountain palace. There was a wind under her heels, quickening her pace, guiding her through the corridor towards the familiar door.

She could now see his door in the middle of the empty corridor, shut and likely locked. But she hadn't reached it when a thick shadow materialised from the wall beside her, slapping a palm over her mouth and devouring her into its form. Galadriel went to scream but her body knew before her mind did.

"I felt you coming," Rhysand said as he dropped his hand. Galadriel panted slightly, blinking as she took in the odd brightness of his room, all the candles alight. "You shouldn't be here, Galadriel." His voice was rigid and cold, as if he'd spent these past years building a wall of solid iron between them. Perhaps there was. Perhaps he had to.

"I had to," she said. She didn't want to hear that empty voice rejecting her again, didn't want to see the mask he kept in place turn on her, even if it was for her own good. So instead, she raised her hand, placing it on his cheek.

Rhysand frowned, enveloping her wrist to pull it away like her touch burned but paused at her stern expression. "Look," she instructed. His touch softened but he remained tensed as he willed his mind into hers. She left it wide open.

His lips parted, a gentle breath passing through them as he watched that tiny smear of blue-green spirit. She replayed it over and over again, entranced in her own memory of starlight. "It was all I could see," she whispered, wanting nothing to break him from her mind as he closed his eyes, leaning into her palm. "But I had to show you."

They sunk to the rug, knees fitted together as he pulled on her memory until it burned behind her eyelids. "I can feel you," he murmured. "How happy you were." Galadriel pulled her hand from his face only to smooth it around his neck with her other, crawling onto his lap. He held her close, trading the opportunity to touch her wherever he pleased for simply keeping her in place. "She doesn't let me breathe," he rasped into her shoulder. "Every part of me belonged to her last night. If she sensed that I wasn't thinking wholly of her—" he cut himself off.

It was seldom that Rhys ever let himself shatter the image of a powerful High Lord, even with her. And though she loved every part of him she preferred his arrogance. Enjoyed his wit and humour and the way he'd allow his brothers to goad him. The way he only was with his family.

He smiled weakly, straightening and relenting part of his hold to twist a strand of hair away from her face. "I don't like seeing you like this either," he said. "So overwhelmed by the stars that you fall to your knees."

Despite herself, Galadriel chuckled. "I think I was being a little dramatic."

Taking the bait that lured the tone away from the grief that drowned them, he said, "You always have been. I remember you storming out of our first meeting."

"You made the most theatrical entrance," she contested. "If anyone belonged with a travelling theatre troupe it would be you. Perhaps you missed your calling."

"Maybe we could run away and start a travelling band ourselves. The Night Court doesn't need a High Lord. I'm sure somebody else would love to take over my wretched court."

"Completely wretched. It is unfathomable anything beautiful comes from it at all."

"We steal it." Those violet eyes lowered, landing on her lips. He thought for a solid moment, then dipped forward, kissing her. She vowed that she would gather enough power, enough magic, to stop time just to seal herself forever in that moment. But unfortunately, she hadn't collected as much as she needed because he broke away. "I stole her from Autumn. From Spring. I intend to keep her for myself." There was a rolling growl to that proclamation that informed her he'd also seen what Atticus had done. Guilt prickled through her, even if she had only allowed the kiss for less than five beats of her heart. "No," Rhys said tightly. "No, there's no guilt here. Even—" he swallowed "—even if there had been more, you don't get to feel guilty about wanting that. Needing it."