A Court of Light and Melody

Play the Fool

Gwyn placed her hands on her hips, catching the breath Rhys had stolen from her when he'd made such a theatrical entrance (but, what else was new?). "To practice balance. For stakeouts. Ever seen one?"

Rhys nodded, closing the distance between them. He ran a hand along the surface of the beam. "Yes, we had a course in Windhaven. This was among the equipment. I, of course, mastered it."

Gwyn's lips turned down at the corners in approval. "Want to give it a go?" She observed his clothing. Indeed he wore what appeared to be training apparel. Loose pants, a fitted tunic made of flexible material. "You appear to be dressed for the occasion."

"I came here to train with Azriel actually," Rhysand remarked, drumming his fingers on the beam. "But it appears he is absent."

Gwyn grimaced. "Went to see his mother. We're going to visit her tomorrow. He wanted to make sure she was in good health beforehand."

Smirking, Rhysand crossed his arms. "Meeting his mother, now, Gwyn?" He tilted his head. "Things are very serious it seems."

Gwyn snorted and arched a brow at the High Lord. "Was it Azriel's breaking your nose that made you realize that things were 'serious?' Or did you make such an impressive deduction with your daemati magic?"

His violet eyes glinted. "What happened to the priestess that couldn't so much as leave a room without her High Lord's approval? Now you antagonize me."

"It becomes more and more obvious by the day why the High Lady refers to you all as 'Illyrian babies', if you think my behavior is 'antagonistic'..." Gwyn laughed.

"If I didn't know better, I'd say that you're trying to provoke me."

Gwyn's brows shot up as Rhys started to drift towards the ring and onto the sparring mat. "Well, if I didn't know better I'd say you were desperate for a fight."

The High Lord shrugged. "Might as well. While we wait for your Spymaster."

" My Spymaster? You're his High Lord. You give him missions." Gwyn entered the ring. "Is he not in your employ?"

"Yes, but he isn't exactly making moon eyes at me ," Rhys grinned. He widened his stance. "So? Shall we?"

Was it prudent to enter into a fight with your High Lord? Your High Lord who was also the most deadly and powerful High Lord to ever exist? Probably not. But he was presenting a challenge. Not necessarily with his words, but with that wicked glimmer in his eyes. The smirk on his lips. The way he observed her stride, already trying to determine her movement before the fight had even begun.

"Are you certain it's fair, High Lord?" Gwyn asked with a wince.

Rhysand's expression softened. "You've been through a battle , Gwyn. And you have my word, I won't use any power on you. Just standard sparring."

"I never said it wouldn't be fair to me, " Gwyn retorted. Rhysand's eyes danced with amusement and she continued, "Before the battle with Graysen's men, when was the last time you were active in physical combat?" she asked with feigned concern. "And as far as power goes..." she gestured to the glaring afternoon sun overhead, "Are you scared for night to face light?"

Rhys's posture relaxed and he chuckled darkly. "Fear has nothing to do with it. But it is the mark of a real warrior to fight without power." He cocked his head. "Have you forgotten what that's like already?"

Oh, he had started it now... Gwyn felt the surge of a challenge set her blood aflame. Her limbs tingled with anticipation. If the High Lord wanted a fight, he would have one.