The Prince of Darkness is a gentleman

Chapter 11

~ Rhys ~

We walk through the door, arm in arm, and I direct Feyre towards the back of the hall. Silence falls, as it only does on my entrance. Thousands of faces turn to watch us. Feyre is calm and regal beside me, but I can sense her mind noting every detail. Just as the Court is noting her.

The table circles perimeter of the room and had a empty centre, forcing us to walk around the room and past half the Court to reach our reserved seats. We are at the very back of the unimaginably huge room and so to save some time, I pull us through the shadows until we're behind our seats. I pull out her seat for her and she slides into it with a feline grace.

I sit beside her and dip my head in respect to the Court. Conversation resumes with a loud and raucous vigour, now containing interpretations of the beauty sitting beside me. I stay calm and tune my ears and thoughts to as many Fae as I can, in all four corners of the hall.

Someone on the same row as Feyre and I whispers covertly to the Fae beside him: 'She seems a bit lifeless. Just a pretty face I think."
A woman on the left side table: 'She's clearly planning something. Silent and observant to report to her master.' I make a note of him.
The back table, parallel to us: 'She's hot. I'd do her.' I took a note of him too.
The right side table, someone thinks: The High Lord is smitten, clearly. I whip my head over and search for the face of the thoughts. My eyes meet those of Octavius, a trusted companion, who I find staring me down and smirking. I roll my eyes dismissively.

The variation of views works to our advantage as once they all swap opinions they will realise they've been unable to pinpoint her. Beside me, Feyre whispers to Tatiana who I've seated beside her, pointedly ignoring those around her. She then turns to me.

When will we eat?
When I request it.
Request it now, I could eat a horse.
I comply to her wishes, sending my thoughts into the shadow void, pulling the food through and dispersing it onto the tables. The volunteers in the kitchen send the food there before they take their seats so everyone knows not to hesitate to dig in.

Feyre sends me a shock-filled thought but her expression remaining neutral. She doesn't hesitate either. We both slide plates from nearby over to us and join everyone in piling everything that looks good- which is everything- onto our own plates. Something from down our table is being passed down and I receive it, a platter of different ham slices, and take a couple for myself before passing it on to Feyre.

Octavius gave me a thoughts warning before throwing me an apple across the centre of the room. I swiftly catch it with one hand and sink my teeth into it, the sweet flavour exploding in my mouth; apples are my favourite. With my spare hand, I catch the one he throws to Feyre- she was chatting to Tatiana, not playing attention. I inwardly roll my eyes, so much for cold and calculating, that disappeared with the arrival of food. I think she's making a friend.

I tap her on the shoulder with the apple before passing her the treat with a wink. She takes note of my apple missing a bite from it and without any questions, takes a bite from her own. Her eyes widen in surprise, my smile grows smug. Night has the best apples in Prythian as they grow off our starlight trees, they're extremely valuable for trading with other Courts. I brag to Feyre about this into her thoughts. She rolls her eyes but takes another bite.

The atmosphere of the Court is light and flirtatious- which will become more noticeable as the celebration nears. Thankfully, Feyre doesn't take any notice of the lingering glances and featherlight touches that pass around the feast. She does however gasp in objection when I throw my plate off the table.

"What the hell was that for?" She yells at me, gesturing to the hole in the middle of the tables, the centre of the room. Heads turn towards us then quickly away.
"It didn't smash, love, it just got transported to the kitchens."
"Oh." She says, peering over the table to further inspect the lack of smashed plates. The layer of magic is only visible when something passes through it, it ripples. Without further ado, she throws her knife into the centre. It then obviously disappears. She turns and tells me, completely deadpan,
"I need a new knife."