A Court of Heart and Fealty | Rhysand

Chapter 32: The Forest House

A bird called out, echoed by another with the same tune before being returned with a lower two-note tune. Not a bird. Fae. They were changing shifts, calling to make sure they hadn't been incapacitated before sending more soldiers out. If one group didn't respond, the entire place would go into lockdown. There were many signals that Galadriel had learnt from listening and simple observation, others she had to ask about after handing a guard one too many glasses of wine when they gathered in the mess hall in the lower levels of the House.

She waited in the empty shell of an ancient tree as they changed over. But new eyes meant fresh ones. More keen and alert. But she was only one fae, with hair and pants and boots the colour of bark. Counting their cadence, Galadriel waited until they were out of sight and would no longer hear her as she bolted past the first layers protecting the Forest House.

Panting, she latched onto another tree, bracing herself tightly against it as she caught her breath. She could hear the waterfalls now, pouring out from the stone that made the foundations of the High Lord's home.

The guards were more visible now, standing gracefully on those moss-covered roofs, bows strapped across their chests, short but lethal swords in scabbards at their hips. Galadriel could also see the waterfall she needed to get to, right between two balconies carved from the stone mound, where even more sentries guarded. They were never there in the times that she had used it, which meant that Beron was now likely aware of the passage. And it damned her chances.

Splinters dug beneath her nailbeds as she scraped them down the tree, heavy in thought. She'd come all this way. Maybe she could have message sent to Amoise to meet her in the city, but there would be guards watching her from all angles for certain. Her private quarters in the palace were the only space she was granted complete seclusion.

The sun was high above them now, glaring down on her, leaving gilded speckles on the forest floor where it managed to spear through the dense canopy. It would take an hour through the tunnel itself if she managed to not get lost. An hour to get back again and then another to navigate her way through the sentries and find that spot in the forest. She'd barely make it before sunset at the rate she was going now.

Cupping her hands together in front of her mouth, checking that the fern she had crouched next to covered her enough, the sound of a woodland songbird pierced over the tumbling water. A five-note tune that she'd only heard once and prayed to the Mother that the drunken guard who had shown her wasn't so drunk to get it wrong.

There was a pause, tense and long. The hairs on the back of her next stood on end. The sentries on the shingles stood as still as stone pillars, some already drawing out their weapons, scanning the forest.

The sound echoed back to her, the exact same she had sent. Cupping her hands again, she copied it a final time.

Breach. North corner.

At her confirmation, the sentries flurried into motion. The captain bellowed orders, sending over half his force towards the northern border of the palace. It would put the palace on lockdown, and make her journey inside of it all that much more dangerous, but it was her only chance of getting in. Once they realised the alarm was false, security would fade and she'd be able to get back out.

As soon as the remaining sentries had lowered their defences in order to confer with the others on duty, bowed heads occasionally turning to the north—perhaps grumbling about being left behind, or already propagating rumour—she shot forward, darting between the cover of trees and rocks. Galadriel pressed her back flat against the side of the stone mound. They would be right above her, but unless they looked directly down and over the edge, they wouldn't see her.

The waterfall was to her left, boulders and rocks dotting an unmarked path. She had to wade through the shallowest part before climbing onto the first rock which was flat and just above water level. Glancing over her shoulder with every step, she leapt from stone to stone until the waterfall was right before her. The thundering sound of water beating against water drowned out everything else and it was so thick that she couldn't see the other side. Beron might have placed guards there too, but she'd never know until she was there with them.

Holding her breath, Galadriel took a leap of faith and broke through the wall of water.

Gasping and tumbling as the pressure crashed down on her shoulders, her knees barked as they slammed against the moist, rocky platform. The space was almost a cave and looked like it had been carved with a spoon. The waterfall was absolutely deafening in here, echoing right back at her.

Cringing at the sloppy, squelching sound of wet clothes clinging to her skin, she pushed back to her feet, wiping her face clear of water. No guards. The entrance to the tunnel remained unsealed. A few strands of hair had come loose from the bun, hanging around the frame of her face.

Blonde. Dark and wet, but no mistaking it.

Galadriel looked back at the water. It must have a spell on it, one to wash away glamours and spells. They knew of it. 

Wasting no time, she went straight into the darkness.

There were wards around the House that tracked the use of magic. Even though a partial drying—she wasn't strong enough to fully dry herself—might usually not draw attention, with the alarm bells now pealing in the distance, if Beron was home, he'd be aware of every little flicker of magic.

It was dark enough in the tunnel that she could barely make out the path ahead, running her hand along the gritty stone wall to guide her step. The occasional echo of feet stomping nearby had her head snapping over her shoulder, but it was on the reverberations of people above her in the outer sections of the palace. Every step she took echoed, every kicked pebble like an explosion going off.

She knew it would usually take an hour to reach the other end, but there was no way to tell how much time had passed other than the weariness of her mind from navigating without her sight. The shivers started not long into the journey, water squeezing out from the fabric of her boots between her toes with each step. At least her braided bun had survived, keeping hair from her face. More than once Galadriel hit her shin or toe on a bulge in the stone, another time she slipped over completely, grazing her knees open. Hissing when her fingers felt the torn material of her pants and the loose gravel embedded in the shallow wounds, all she could do was bite her lip and brush them clean with the sleeve of her shirt.

The finally—finally, the end came.

She nearly buckled over at the mere sight of light slipping through the cracks. A banister hung on the other side of the wooden door, but the corridor it led through was a quiet one, an entire wall open to nothing but woodland, level with the branches. Galadriel peeked around every corner, hiding in empty rooms until she made it to the corridor she'd walked down a hundred times.

She spotted Amoise talking with one of the sentries, her hands neatly folded in front of her stomach. She was frowning, clearly upset at whatever she was being told. The deep red hair, the colour of a blossoming rose, rippled with every motion of her head, offset by her pale skin. There was a gauntness on her face, a sunkeness in her cheeks. Maybe they had been that way for years, but Galadriel was only now recognising it after being away for so long.

When the sentry returned to his duty, Amoise kept her chin poised. A dutiful, calm expression that remained even when she was alone in her chambers. As though nothing in the world could shake her after what she had already been through.

When Amoise turned around, Galadriel let herself slip into view.

For a moment they just stared at each other, barely able to latch gazes across the space between them. Amoise's hands fell back to her sides. She didn't baulk or cry or shout. The Lady of Autumn simply turned around once more and began to walk to her chambers. Galadriel followed behind, keeping her distance.

The door was open when she caught up, leading into the large suit.

One step, two steps, she was inside.

The door slammed shut behind her. Whirling around, Galadriel prepared for an embrace but was instead met with a wicked slap across her cheek. 

P.s. I don't know what was happening when I wrote this chapter but forgive me for any strangely worded sentences. I don't have the time for a thorough proof read atm. BUT - two chapter update.