𝙰 𝙲𝚘𝚞𝚛𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚃𝚑𝚘𝚛𝚗𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚁𝚘𝚜𝚎𝚜: 𝚂𝚊𝚙𝚙𝚑𝚒𝚌 𝙴𝚍𝚒𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗

𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔴𝔢𝔩𝔳𝔢(𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔰 5-7)

     Rhys hadn't been lying when she said I was to join her for breakfast.

"I'm not a dog to be summoned," I said by way of greeting.

     Slowly, Rhys looked over her shoulder. Those violet eyes were vibrant in the light, and I curled my fingers into fists as they swept from my head to my toes and back up again. She frowned at whatever she found lacking.

"I didn't want you to get lost," she said blandly.

     My head throbbed, and I eyed the silver teapot steaming in the center of the table. A cup of tea . . .

"I thought it'd always be dark here," I said, if only to not look quite as desperate for that life-giving tea so early in the morning.

"We're one of the three Solar Courts," she said, motioning for me to sit with a graceful twist of her wrist. "Our nights are far more beautiful, and our sunsets and dawns are exquisite, but we do adhere to the laws of nature."

     I slid into the upholstered chair across from her. Her dress dipped at the neck, revealing a hint of her tanned cleavage beneath.

"And do the other courts choose not to?"

"The nature of the Seasonal Courts," she said, "is linked to their High Lords, whose magic and will keeps them in eternal spring, or winter, or fall, or summer. It has always been like that--some sort of strange stagnation. But the Solar Courts--Day, Dawn, and Night--are of a more symbolic nature. We might be powerful, but even we cannot alter the sun's path or strength. Tea?"

     The sunlight danced along the curve of the silver teapot. I kept my eager nod to a restrained dip of my chin.

"But you will find," Rhysand went on, pouring a cup for me, "that our nights are more spectacular--so spectacular that some in my territory even awaken at sunset and go to bed at dawn, just to live under the starlight."

     I splashed some milk in the tea, watching the light and dark eddy together. "Why is it so warm in here, when winter is in full blast out there?"

"Magic."

"Obviously." I set down my teaspoon and sipped, nearly sighing at the rush of heat and smoky, rich flavor. "But why?"

     Rhys scanned the wind tearing through the peaks. "You heat a house in the winter--why shouldn't I heat this place as well? I'll admit I don't know why my predecessors built a palace fit for the Summer Court in the middle of a mountain range that's mildly warm at best, but who am I to question?"

     I took a few more sips, that headache already lessening, and dared to scoop some fruit onto my plate from a glass bowl nearby.

     She watched every movement. Then she said quietly, "You've lost weight."

"You're prone to digging through my head whenever you please," I said, stabbing a piece of melon with my fork. "I don't see why you're surprised by it."

     Her gaze didn't lighten, though that smile again played about her sensuous mouth, no doubt her favorite mask. "Only occasionally will I do that. And I can't help it if you send things down the bond."

     I contemplated refusing to ask as I had done last night, but . . . "How does it work--this bond that allows you to see into my head?"

     She sipped from her own tea. "Think of the bargain's bond as a bridge between us--and at either end is a door to our respective minds. A shield. My innate talents allow me to slip through the mental shields of anyone I wish, with or without that bridge--unless they're very, very strong, or have trained extensively to keep those shields tight. As a human, the gates to your mind were flung open for me to stroll through. As Fae . . ." A little shrug. "Sometimes, you unwittingly have a shield up--sometimes, when emotion seems to be running strong, that shield vanishes. And sometimes, when those shields are open, you might as well be standing at the gates to your mind, shouting your thoughts across the bridge to me. Sometimes I hear them; sometimes I don't."