A Court of Heart and Fealty | Rhysand

Chapter 12: Velaris

Rhysand only smiled down at her, like he knew otherwise. The bitterness that boiled in her ruined the scone. They continued a slow pace down the street. She stopped at the end of it. He noticed after two steps that she wasn't at his side and spun back on his heels, hands removed from his pockets.

"What's wrong?"

She stared up at him, ignoring the bodies wandering around them. "Why?"

"Why?"

"Yes, why." Her chest heaved as she looked around the city. The buildings of white marble, others of sandstone. "Why are you doing this? When I first asked you at the Day Court, Azriel answered but you never did. I could understand why if you were going to keep me locked away in the Court of Nightmares. I would have been out of sight and mind, yet you bring me to your city—one you have just told me that no outside soul knows about and hasn't been breached in five thousand years. Why bring me somewhere so protected? Why offer your family's money for me to use. I have been nothing but a pain to you and still you treat me like a special guest."

"Why would I treat you with anything less?" he asked.

Galadriel clutched at the blouse of her dress. "My mistake could have cost your spymaster more than just a single spy. My mistake could have had terrible repercussions for you and your court if Beron knew of my allegiances."

Rhysand licked his lips, glancing around with a softened face. "If we judged everybody on a single mistake that they made, the world would be a terrible place. You acted to protect people close to you—that is how I see it. That is something I value in people."

She looked away from him, letting her gaze linger on the outside of a restaurant instead where a matron was setting up chairs and tables just outside of large glass windows. "Not many people do. Not many High Lords would see it that way."

"Then maybe you should stop seeing me as you see the other High Lords. Stop seeing me as Beron."

Greys snapped back to violets. Galadriel swallowed a pit in her throat but it only slithered down to settle in her stomach instead. She knew Rhysand wasn't oblivious to her harsh treatment towards him, but— "I don't see you as him. I never did. He was cruel, and never would have offered me a chance to begin with." The confession lightened something in what she hadn't realised was darkened in his face. "But the fact that I don't understand you makes me like you less."

Intending to end their conversation, she brushed past his shoulder.

"You have an aversion to the unpredictable I see. I'm welcome to being understood more, if you'd give it a chance. You're the one refusing to."

"Well, you haven't given a good first impression. I'm constantly drowning in your arrogance."

"You get used to it." He smirked down to her as she glared right back up. "We're having dinner tonight at the House of Wind. Will you eat with us?"

"Is that a request or a demand."

"I would not demand anything of you."

"You locked me in my room."

"Because Azriel had alerted me that Beron had just sent twenty of his best soldiers looking for you in Hewn City. I had to give clearance for them to ransack through the palace or I would have looked thoroughly guilty." Galadriel stilled, chin twisting towards him but her eyes pierced the ground just past her feet. "I locked you in and glamoured the door so it appeared nothing more than a stone wall and I invited his men to search. I still stand by what I told you—that I am sorry and locking you in was distasteful of me. You were upset and it was the first thing I could think of that would keep you safe."

She kicked a stone with the enclosed toe of her heel. "Why didn't you tell me that?"

"I didn't want you to worry. You were already unsure about being there and I didn't want to give more reason for it."

Galadriel let his answer sink into her. She let it all sink into her. How everything he had done so far had been to help her. To truly help her, even if she did not always see it as such. Galadriel still did not want to be in Velaris (as much as she was enjoying the city), for what it meant to be there. But to Rhysand, this place was no prison—no punishment. It was his home and sanctuary, and he has invited her into it.

"This dinner. Who will be there?"

"Everyone," he answered. "Mor and Azriel. Cassian and Amren."

"Amren?" The only unfamiliar name to her.

"She's a dear friend. Someone that's been around my entire life. And second in charge of the Night Court," he added with a tipped grin. "I'll warn you now to watch yourself around her. I fear that your personalities may... clash."

"I'll be sure to make a lasting impression."