A Court of Heart and Fealty | Rhysand

Chapter 34: The Ring

"Stop your gawking," the sap-colour-haired guard snarled, banging his fist on the bars of one of those cages, the metallic clang ringing deafeningly. The male inside had indeed been staring at Galadriel but his eyes were so glazed over that she didn't think he was really seeing at all.

The small meal she'd had for breakfast, hours ago now, curdled in her stomach, threatening to rise into her throat. Her mouth wet in anticipation. It was hard enough to focus on walking without bumping into her guards let alone breathe properly, making her light-headed and queasy by the time that she stood in front of a thick, wooden door. The hinges were reinforced steel, painted black. No light slipped through the thin crack inches from her toes. She bit her bottom lip to stop it from trembling.

The guard with the keys unlocked the door, the bolt heavy. Impenetrable. It swung open with a low moan and her knees nearly gave way.

The room was all but empty except for the chair, and a brace on the wall. Displayed on it, were the most vicious-looking blades she'd ever seen. But it was the chair that made her blanche—the cuffs that would trap her wrists to the wooden arms. So she couldn't move, couldn't help herself.

Panting, she stumbled back, but the shorter male behind her shoved her inside. The bolt in the lock slid back into place. The taller, plain looking one, waved his hand and an oil lantern mounted on the wall came to life, lighting the small chamber in a dreary amber gloom. Fire magic. She could scent that distinctive tang of magic.

The shorter one seized her wrist, dragging her to the chair—

That's when she snapped.

"No! NO!" Galadriel buckled at her knees, using her weight against him, tearing herself free from his grasp. She wasn't strong enough for this—not even for a day.

He grabbed at her again as the other two sprang into motion, but she kicked at him, hitting the side of his knee. "You bitch," he growled, twisting away.

Another grabbed her under the arm, right beneath her shoulder, thrusting her again towards that chair to restrain her. Galadriel screamed, knowing that nobody but them would hear her. Kicking and thrashing, a second pair of hands wrestled her down. She managed to clock one in the face with her elbow, who yelped and loosened their grasp enough for her to slip out of it and punch the other's throat. The one with sap-coloured hair gasped and spluttered, bowing at his waist as if being lower would allow to suck more air back into his lungs.

She barely scrambled three feet away before the shorter one had regained his bearing, hoisting her up by the waist, her feet leaving the ground. Unable to reach him with any amount of twisting or screaming or throwing her limbs around, he hauled her to that chair. Galadriel kicked and the seat skidded across the cold stone floor, crashing against the wall. The fae growled in her ear but didn't release her to fix it, instead just dragging her the extra distance towards it.

When it was within reach, she braced her feet against the wall above it, her thighs burning as she pushed back against him, refusing to be put in that thing. When he started to lower her, heels grating against the stone, Galadriel reached behind her, finally getting grasp and threaded her fingers through his hair, tugging with all her might.

Roaring, the short male let her go and she collapsed to the floor, brown strands of air knotted between her fingers. He grabbed at his head, a notable patch of his hair now missing, blood beginning to freckle at the pale skin. Throwing herself back, Galadriel shoved her body up against the wall almost hoping it would engulf her as she kicked the chair into his path. The guard waved his arm and magic hurled it against the wall across from them so hard that it shattered into a hundred wooden shards.

She hurtled for one. Her fingers curled around a shard the length of her forearm, the jagged end reminding her of teeth. Screaming, her stomach scraped against the stone as someone latched onto her ankle, dragging her across the room. Her knuckles whitened around the wood, the nails in her other hand desperately clawing at the ground as the skin on her stomach tore.

The yanking stopped and she felt the heat of the body behind her, overbearing and imminent. Before they could do anything, Galadriel twisted, teeth gritted.

And thrust that jagged end right into the male's throat.

It was the plain-looking guard, with fire magic. His eyes widened, air catching in his throat. The wooden shard stuck out the side of his jugular. Blood pooled around the wound. He made a wet, choking noise. Weak hands grazed at her but Galadriel burrowed her heels into the ground, crawling away. The last mistake he would ever make was yanking it out. Blood spurted in rhythm with his heart, drenching his tunic and baldric, spraying across the floor. The two other guards stared at him in disbelief as he sunk off his knees, gurgling, dead within the minute.

Galadriel's throat was dry, the hand that had dealt the killing blow shaking at her side. She'd never killed before. She didn't realise that she would feel the way the weapon sunk into the flesh. The intimacy of the act.

Horror and disgust and fear exploded inside her, tampering with her thoughts until they were as incoherent as the blubbering sound currently pouring from her lips.

The shorter one, nostrils flared, turned to the wall with the weapons, taking his time to regard them. Choose which one he felt worthy of collecting revenge with. The male with the brighter hair stared her down, rising to his full height and from her spot on the floor, she was merely an ant to him. Whatever they had planned for her, whatever mercies they intended on offering in the name of needing her well enough to talk, died along with their friend.

They hadn't even started on her and she was a whimpering mess. No—no she had fought. She had killed someone to protect herself and the secrets she carried. But they wouldn't stop until they leaked every one from her.

That couldn't happen.

Galadriel willed her face to an image of cold steel, unfeeling and unremorseful. There was a flicker in the guard's eye as he noted her change in demeanour, but he wasn't fast enough to stop her as she brought her fingers to her mouth and placed her lips around the band of the ring.

She bit down on the stone. It cracked, crumbling into her mouth.